Bring 'em Back Johnny

I really hate being rushed into major decisions.

"Tell you what," I said, "you have given me so much to think about that I need some time to go through it all. Come back tomorrow and we can talk some more."

"But..." she didn't look happy. This was not a girl who was used to being told 'no'.

"If you aren't going to give me the time to process all of this you aren't going to like my answer," I interjected, and she stopped talking.

"I, uh, OK," she said, and then she pondered for a moment, then she obviously made a decision, gave me a really cute smile, and left with an exaggerated sway to her hips.

Damn, she had a great ass.

Vicky had left me in such a dilemma, but I wanted to look at my thoughts about myself first before I decided what I wanted to do about her.

Like I said, I really felt foolish. My gut instinct had been that I was a reasonable person, but the evidence presented to me by the doctors, the police and by the porno film scene had clearly shown that this wasn't true. I had let all of this evidence convince me that I wasn't a good person, and I shuddered when I thought of how close I had come to trying to end it all as a result of that. But, of course, the fact that I had no memories of anything before the accident had left me particularly vulnerable. There had been no evidence for the defense, as it were, so I had blindly believed everything that was presented. I had been totally convinced by a one-sided argument.

But now that was over. I could be the me that I had initially believed I was, and I could get on with life and concentrate on getting better.

But what did I want to do about Vicky? From our brief discussion I got the firm belief that she wanted to totally switch teams. She wanted to stop being my enemy and start being, well, my lover. That was a huge shift in the dynamic.

As I mulled it all over, I realised that I could see where she was coming from at the beginning. She too had only seen the damning evidence against me, and on top of that she had suddenly lost her identical twin sister. That would be enough to turn most people to 'the dark side'. But she was a nurse, and her job was to heal people, not torture them both physically and psychologically.

Could I ever get past what she had done to me?

Physically she was gorgeous and judging by the fact that it was Sally-Anne who was I was going to marry she was obviously 'my type'.

Then my deliberations were interrupted as Doctor Arnold turned up, and he brusquely looked at my chart. He was obviously still angry with me for giving up, and I needed to fix that so I decided to think about the Vicky situation later.

"Hi Doctor Arnold," I said cheerfully, "I'm sorry about my recent attitude, but I am over it now. What do I need to do to help you to get me better?"

He looked up doubtfully, but then he saw how serious I was and he smiled with relief. This was going to be alright.

My whole body ached, but it was the satisfying ache of progress. My physio session had been really intense, and I had pushed myself as hard as possible. All the while I was trying not to worry too much about how weak was due to my extended inactivity. I knew I had a long way to go before I would be able to even just stand unassisted without pain, but I was going to work as hard as I could to get there.

My short-term goals were to walk, to use the toilet without help and to shower without help, and I could see that these were achievable with a lot of painful effort from me.

I had a much harder time with long term goals. What was I going to do when I was finally ready to leave the hospital? I had no idea of who I was or where I lived. With the level of scarring I had on my body from the burns I doubted that I would still have a job, and even if I did, I had no idea if I would be able to perform that job anyway. Along with my memories my experience had effectively disappeared. I was really going to need a lot of help to transition into the outside world, and I idly wondered yet again if helping me with that would be a suitable penance for Vicky, just to make up for the evil things she had done to me. But then there was the nagging issue of Susan.

I hadn't seen Susan since the night that she confronted Vicky, but I really wanted to. Susan had never been anything but nice to me, and for some time there she had been the only light in the fog that had almost smothered my very existence. With her small, boyish body Susan certainly wasn't anywhere near as physically attractive as Vicky, but she was a hell of a lot nicer on the inside. I had pretty much come to the conclusion by then that nicer was better. Sure, physical beauty was great, but mental beauty was critical, and Vicky didn't have that.

A very worrying side issue to all of this was my complete lack of sexual response to anything since I had been in hospital. To be blunt I had not had an erection, or anything approaching one in the entire time that I had been there. I hopefully assumed that this was due to some sort of medication which I was being given to assist with the healing of my burns, but it was another major concern that I was going to have to address.

Vicky turned up at my bedside, looking hot. There was not much movement left in her uniform zip before it exposed her bra, and she was grinning as she saw my eyes drawn to the view.

"Well?" she asked.

"Please tell me about Sally-Anne," I replied, and she frowned.

"Why?"

"I was engaged to her and I don't remember anything about her at all," I said. "It's driving me crazy." She nodded.

"Well, we were really close at school, doing the things twins do like pretending to be each other and stuff, but she was always a bit... wilder."

"Uh huh," I said, waiting for more.

"She smoked first, drank first, and had sex first. It was really hard on me with the boys in school all assuming I was like her when I really wasn't. She eventually did drugs too, and that got her into trouble with the police, so she left home and after that we really lost touch."

I didn't really like the sound of that.

"Was she that bad when I was with her?" I asked.

"I don't actually know myself, but Francine said you were really good for her, and she was starting to get her life back together. But anyway, that's enough about her, I want to know what you want from me."

"Francine?" I asked, hadn't heard that name before.

"Our mother," she said without emotion, "but enough of that, what do you want from me?"

Vicky gave me a seductive look, and slowly lifted her hand to her uniform zip. Her bra was white and very sheer. Of course, there was no reaction from my cock, and when Vicky looked down, she seemed to be disappointed at that.

"OK," I said, hoping I had all the information I needed from her, "I really want to be left alone."

"What?" Vicky obviously hadn't expected rejection.

"What you did to me was unforgivable, even if I had done what we thought I had," I explained. "And I don't think I will ever be able to hear your voice or see you without remembering that."

Vicky harrumphed indignantly, but I carried on.

"I am not interested in revenge," I added, "so you don't have to worry about me saying anything to anyone, or doing anything to hurt your career, but I really don't want to see you again. Ever."

"You would turn down this?" she asked incredulously as she leaned forward to give me a better view of her barely clad tits.

"Yep," I replied, and I looked away. She waited for a while, and then she walked out without another word. I breathed a sigh of relief when she had gone.

"That was pretty impressive," a familiar voice said, and I turned back to see Susan standing in the doorway with a big grin on her face. I smiled too.

"Not nearly as impressive as watching you knocking her out," I replied, "and by the way, thanks. Really."

"No worries, I've wanted to do that for months, and I was so happy that she gave me such an excellent excuse."

We smiled at each other for a while and then she walked in and stood next to me.

"Where have you been?" I asked, and Susan looked down.

"I wanted to talk to you sooner, but I was worried that you would accept Vicky's offer..."

"What?" I was confused. "Why on Earth would I do that?"

"Well, she is gorgeous," Susan said, "and you were engaged to her sister." I nodded.

"Who I don't remember at all," I reminded her. She smiled.

"Must be your type though..." she observed, and I smiled a wry acknowledgement. My thoughts had gone exactly there too.

"Beauty in beats beauty out," I said with confidence, and she looked confused.

"You really think that?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well... you are a porn star." I held my hands up in surrender and conceded that one. Yep, no credibility here folks.

"So, why did I see her?" I asked, "I thought you were going to turn her in?" Susan nodded.

"I considered it," she replied, "but instead I told her she had to make it right with you." Susan grinned ruefully. "Of course, she decided to seduce you instead."

"Unsuccessfully," I observed, and Susan grinned mischievously.

"I don't think she has had a lot of experience with rejection."

I had to agree.

From not having seen Susan in weeks I was suddenly seeing her pretty much every day, and I really liked it. She became my go to person when I needed to interpret what the doctors were saying and often, more importantly, what they weren't saying. She also became my sympathetic ear when I needed to bitch about Anton, who was my physiotherapist.

Only people who have suffered a major injury can understand the ridiculous level of agony that can be inflicted by a really good physiotherapist. Anton pushed me through the pain barrier every time. I considered myself to be a smart man, and I knew that strenuously working the damaged and unused muscles was the only way to return to health. But damn it hurt, and it wasn't just briefly, it was for the entirety of every session and for many hours afterwards. This went on for quite a few weeks before it all finally started to come together. My tight skin from grafts added another source of discomfort and pain too. But Susan was almost always there to listen and be sympathetic. That said, she never allowed me to question the value of what we were doing, she just helped me to get through it. But while Anton was always pushing me further, and saying I could do better and try harder, Susan was the one who recognised my progress and showed me that she was proud of my achievements. Sometimes I felt a bit like I was a kid at school, striving to make his mother proud.

During a sponge bath I finally broached the subject of my lack of sexual response with Susan, who just happened to be the nurse washing me.

"Why don't I get erections anymore?" I asked, and she stopped, frowned, and then looked at me.

"Not at all?" she asked.

"Never, since the accident," I confirmed, and she looked confused.

"I thought it was just me," she said, with a downcast expression.

"What?"

"I'm not pretty..." This was a girl with some serious self-image issues.

"Susan," I replied, "you are beautiful."

"No."

"Yes."

She stared at me for a while, and a trembling smile reached her lips. I smiled back and held my arms up in invitation. Susan came to me and I hugged her. It felt right. Initially she was tense and stiff, but as I held the hug firmly, she finally relaxed and melted into my arms. It struck me as funny that moments before this girl had been washing my cock but a friendly embrace felt somehow so much more intimate.

Finally, we let go of each other physically although our eyes never left each other, and Susan resumed the discussion.

"So," she said, lightly clasping my flaccid cock, "if it isn't me then what is it?"

"I thought it might have been medication to prevent it," I suggested, and she shook her head.

"Shouldn't be," she said, "but I'll check." She picked up my charts from the end of the bed and opened the folder. Then she frowned.

"What?" I asked anxiously.

"I'll see the doctor first thing, you're right, it is medication." I breathed a deep sigh of relief. At least there was a reason.

The bad news was that Doctor Arnold believed that the medication was still necessary, and he convinced Susan of that too. She tried to explain why, but I shut it out. To be frank I was pretty pissed off about it. The problem wasn't that I thought I would actually get to use my cock, I had no plans for Vicky or Susan, or anyone else in that regard, my problem was that I still didn't know if it was ever going to work again. I was a guy without any history. No name, no family, no home... you get the picture. So, then they had to go and tell me that I couldn't even find out if the one thing that defines most guys from adolescence to late middle age was actually going to work? To top it off my cock was supposed to be particularly impressive too, and certainly the reactions I had got when it was flaccid had shown that to be correct, but that just wasn't the same. Nobody wants to be well known for having a huge but permanently soft penis.

But regardless of my sulk when it came to my cock I still worked hard with Anton, and my short-term goals were met in under two months. Physically I was soon well able to look after myself. Sure it was slow and painful, but I was finally doing everything that I needed to without assistance. The physiotherapy was still necessary to make me stronger and more flexible, but we all recognised that I had reached a significant milestone in my recovery.

One Monday, about a month later and totally without warning, Doctor Arnold suddenly declared me to be fit enough to go home and continue as an outpatient. The major problem with that was I still had no clue as to where home was, or at least had been. As I was trying to explain this to him Susan turned up with a wheelchair.

"Aren't you dressed yet?" she asked.

"What in?" I countered, "all my clothes were destroyed." Susan opened one of the drawers next to my bed and threw some of my exercise sweats on the bed.

"What...?" I asked

"No time to argue," she snapped, "we have to get you out of here before Jason comes back from lunch." She closed the privacy curtain and I finally got rid of the hospital gown for the last time. The clothing she had thrown to me was a bit baggy, but it stayed on. I had been given two sets to use in my physio sessions and it wasn't pretty but it kept me covered.

As soon as I gingerly walked out Susan put me into the wheelchair. I said a quick but heartfelt 'thank you' to Doctor Arnold and we were on our way. But that brought up the obvious question.

"Where are we going?" I asked nervously.

"My place," Susan said quietly, but loud enough for me to hear, "questions later if you don't mind." I smiled and shut up as she wheeled me through the maze of corridors. I had been allowed to sit outside a few times in a garden area, but Susan took me nowhere near that exit, and she wheeled me through a security door marked 'staff only' as we left.

We ended up in a staff car park where Susan got me to walk the few steps to her three year old Toyota Corolla as she returned the wheelchair back to the building entrance.

"So," I asked, as we drove away from the hospital, "what was that all about?" Susan grinned.

"The doctors want you gone," she explained, "they need to free up the bed for a more urgent case. But the accounts people were refusing to release you without a name and address."

"Right..." I responded, mostly confused.

"Jason is the worst of them," Susan continued, "but while he was at lunch, I got Emily to sign your release and I had to get you off the premises before Jason gets back."

"Won't Emily get in trouble?" I asked.

"Not if we can find out who you are quickly," Susan responded with a smile.

"Right." I wasn't too hopeful about that.

I was enjoying the novelty of the sensations that had only been buried memories that very morning. The forces as we cornered, the smell of a car, the sight of the buildings sliding past as we drove. It was great to experience such unremembered but at the same time familiar things. Then the logical question popped its head up.

"Um..." I asked, "where are we going again?" Susan grinned.

"I told you, my place."

"Uh... why?"

"Well," she replied, "one reason is you have nowhere else to go..."

"And?" Susan giggled.

"Now I get to say I picked up a genuine porn star and took him home."

Susan outside of work was a much more playful girl. I liked that.

Almost apologetically Susan passed me a small bag without saying anything. Looking inside I found the meager personal effects that were on me after the crash.

There was a key ring with five keys on it. It had two keys that looked like house keys, two smaller padlock style keys and the last one was a lot fancier looking, obviously for some sort of high security lock. The key tag looked like a slightly melted swipe card. Aside from the keys there was a chunky Rolex watch with a broken glass, a heavy gold chain, a charred billfold with one hundred and thirty-five dollars in it and not a single thing that would help to identify me. I looked at Susan and she shrugged. I nodded.

A song came on the radio, and I groaned.

"Don't like this one?" Susan asked.

"Apparently not."

"Me neither," she said, and switched stations.

I guess that is as good a way as any to describe how weird my memory loss was. If you had asked me what bands or songs I liked I would not have been able to remember a single name from the time prior to my accident, but if I heard the song, or even the title, then I immediately knew what I thought about it. After I had been 'reminded' of names I would also usually remember the information for next time.

After about thirty minutes of driving we pulled up outside a small block of apartments, and Susan got out and came around to my side of the car. Although I had been deemed fit to leave the hospital, I was still weak and a bit unsteady on my feet, so her help as I got out was appreciated. Looking around I could see that we were in a fairly low-end environment. The cars in the car park were mostly old beaters, and the building itself looked rather old and rundown. Susan grinned ruefully as I looked around.

"It's what I can afford, living on my own," she explained.

"I'm sure it's fine," I replied, and she laughed disbelievingly.

"Not so fine at night," she muttered, half to herself. "Follow me."

There was no lift, and we had to go up two flights of stairs to get to her place. I was not too sure that I would make it by the time we got to the start of the second one, but Susan said I could either climb the extra flight or she would take me back to Anton. I made it up the stairs.

The inside of Susan's apartment was warm and friendly. The furniture was older, but very comfortable, and the decorations were pleasant without being cluttered. I sank gratefully into the armchair that Susan had directed me to and tried to rest my screaming muscles. Susan gave me a cold drink and then set about preparing a meal as I slowly looked around. There was an old television and stereo against one wall, and no other gadgets were apparent. On another wall there was a large bookshelf which was overflowing with what looked like mostly paperbacks. Susan seemed to live a rather austere life. I had no idea what a nurse earned, but I she seemed to be doing it tough, and despite that she had brought me to her home, which was only going to make any money issues that she had worse. I realised that she was quite an amazing lady.

Susan came and sat on the chair next to me. She smiled wearily.

"Before we eat," she said, "I will tell you what the plan is." I nodded.

"Good idea," I agreed.

"The way that I see it we have three leads that we can follow to find out about your history," she said.