Found: His Perfect Wife

The unease slowly began to return. “Why are you repeating everything I say?”

Luc passed a hand over his forehead. “Just trying to get a clear picture in my mind.”

Or any picture, he thought. God, but his head ached. The pain was crowding out any thoughts he was trying to grasp, squeezing them away.

Looking at his eyes, Alison sat back on her heels. “Anybody would be muddled after going through what you just did.” The blank look on his face had her adding, “Coming to my rescue like that was nothing short of sheer bravery.” Something straight out of King Arthur, her favorite section of literature. She smiled at him. “Don’t see much of that these days.” Guilt began to nibble at her again. He did look rather out of it. “Sorry you seemed to have gotten the worst of it. I beamed the second guy with a garbage can lid, but it didn’t seem to hurt him very much. Man probably had a head made out of stone, which would be in keeping with his Neanderthal behavior.” And then she smiled at her rescuer. “Not like you.”

He was trying, but he just wasn’t following any of this. “Not like me what?”

“Hurting him. I didn’t hurt him the way you did the other guy.” Now she was really concerned. She looked at him more closely. Her initial impression held. His pupils hadn’t dilated, but that didn’t mean they were out of the woods. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

The pounding in his head was beginning to jar his teeth. “I don’t know. I’m not exactly sure what all right is.”

Oh, God. Anxious now, Alison held up her hand in front of him.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” When he didn’t answer immediately, she moved her hand back and forth until she secured his attention. “How many do you see?”

Luc blinked, but even that seemed to bring about an avalanche thundering in his brain. It took effort to speak. “Two, you’re holding up two fingers. When you’re not wiggling them.”

“Good number. Could be a guess,” she added under her breath. She tried something else. “Do you know what day it is?”

He thought for a long moment, then looked at her. “No.”

Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s not bad yet, she told herself. There were times, when she was very busy, that she lost track of the days, as well. Still, the uneasiness was building within her. “It’s Wednesday. Do you know where you are?”

Though it hurt to move his head, he looked around very slowly. The street was narrow and there were two tall buildings vying for the sky. A distant smell of something rotting drifted toward him. “An alley?”

Alison suppressed the sigh before it could escape. This was looking worse by the second. “Nothing more than that?”

He looked again, this time moving only his eyes. it hurt less that way. “A dirty alley?”

Batting zero. She leaned in closer. “Do you know who I am?”

Her name, along with a license number, was on the back of the front seat. She remembered he’d read it out loud once he’d given her the address of the hotel, commenting that it was pretty. There had been a short, pleasant conversation about nothing on the drive over here.

He paused now before answering. Was she someone important to him? He had a feeling that she might be, but it was nothing that he could actually put into words. “A beautiful woman?”

The answer immediately dredged up suspicions. Was this all a ruse? Was he just trying to hit on her? He had gotten a blow to his head, but maybe he was all right and just milking the incident to elicit sympathy from her and possibly something more.

She sat back on her heels, straightening. “Is this a trick?”

“No, no trick.” He pressed fingertips to his head, wishing he could somehow push back the all-encompassing pain. “Unless you’re doing it with mirrors.” He winced suddenly as the pain seemed to spike upward, all but piercing his skull.

Falling back on professionalism, Alison examined the back of his head more closely. There was no blood, thank God. Still, that didn’t mean that there wasn’t something going on internally. He needed to be seen by a doctor, the sooner the better.

She sighed again, this time exasperated with the situation.

“No mirrors,” she answered. “Just what do you remember?”

He tried to think, but there was a low-grade buzzing in his ears and it made it hard to knit any words together, never mind forming a coherent reply.

After a frustrating moment, he raised his eyes to hers. “Nothing.”

The single-word answer felt like a bullet that had gone straight to her chest. This was her fault. She should have taken her chances with the construction and just let him off in the middle of the block. But she had been in a hurry and had wanted to get to her next fare.

She struggled against the implications that were staring her in the face. “Nothing? What d’you mean, nothing?”

His eyes held hers. She sounded concerned. Who are you? Are we lovers? Friends? Fragments of questions came and went, leaving small, colored trails through his head, which led nowhere.

“I don’t remember anything. It’s all…just a blur.” There was wonder in his voice, as if he was discovering all this for the first time as well. Discovering it and being appalled at the same time.

“You don’t remember where you came from?” She knew what he was saying, yet she had to say it all out loud for herself, stalling for time. Hoping it would all return to him in a flash and absolve her of the responsibility she felt.

He paused and tried to think again. There was nothing. Except defeat. “No.”

He’d given her the hotel’s address. Maybe he was meeting someone there. At least it was a place to start. “How about where you were going?”

This time, the negative reply came accompanied with a sigh that was both weary and frustrated. “No.”

With effort, she drew on what she’d been taught, plus an inherent way of being able to comfort everyone but herself. Her voice was calm, displaying none of the sympathetic panic she was experiencing for the stranger at her feet.

“Your name…can you remember your name?”

There was something, hovering just out of reach, but when he tried to capture it, it broke apart into a thousand tiny pieces, like confetti blowing away in the wind.

“No.”

And then she remembered. He’d mentioned his name to her just after he’d said hers. He made a joke about not having the time to wait for a formal introduction. At the time it had struck her that he was incredibly friendly. She wasn’t accustomed to friendly, not off the campus. People generally kept to themselves in this part of the city, more concerned with where they were going and how fast they could get there.

She thought now. It was John something. No, wait, Jean-Luc, that was it.

She looked at him eagerly, hoping this was the trigger that would start the process rolling. She knew it could be as simple a thing as that, just a word, a look.

“Does the name Jean-Luc sound familiar?”

Though it hurt, he tried to fit the name to himself, waiting for a flash of recognition. Of another name that might attach itself to the first.

But there was nothing.

The only thing he recalled seemed strange and out of context. “Wasn’t there a science-fiction program on with—?”

It had been something she’d said to him when he’d told her his name. That he remembered. Alison banked down her impatience, knowing it was really directed at the situation, not the man.

“Yes. Star Trek, the Next Generation. Captain Jean-Luc Picard.” Repeating the information she’d originally given him verbatim, Alison waited for a sign of some sort of recognition in his eyes.

Nothing.

Either the man was an accomplished actor, or he really did have amnesia.