“Heather...?” 

She felt her head pound, the blood rushing from her heart to the veins in her temple like an overflowing waterfall.  The pulse was throbbing perfectly in time with her heartbeat, drowning out every iota of sound around her.

“Heather...?  Babe....”

She could barely make out a voice.  It was echoing faintly, seemingly forever away.  She put every ounce of effort she had into focusing on the noise instead of the ever-increasing pulsing that was meandering through her cranium.

Overcoming the droning pressure, she finally recognized his voice and snapped out of her thoughts.  Her eyes blinked a few times, as she refocused her vision on the man sitting across the table from her.

As his piercing blue eyes came into focus across the dining table they were sharing, the realization of who he was filtered through the neurons in her brain.  

“Oh my God.  You’re....you’re the murderer!” she mumbled, a look of sheer terror piercing her pale features.

Justin just chuckled casually.  “If I were a murderer, do you think I would be sitting here with you in a diner?” he asked, incredulously.

She stared at him for a long time, desperately trying to judge what he was saying.  At first, the look of mock horror at his flippant response was dormant on her pale facial features, and then it began to visibly mask itself as confusion, mixed with just a slight hint of mistrust.

Not knowing what to do or what to believe, her eyes shifted uneasily down to her hands and then back up to his face, continuing to confusingly question his entire being.  

“Well, I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that...”  she admitted.

“It’s okay,” he nodded.  He debated on which approach he should take next.  Should he ask her what she remembered?  Should he just...act as if nothing happened?  Finally, he settled on just a simple question.  “Did you...remember something?”  Neutral enough, right?

She looked down again, unsure if she should share with him her previous flashback.  Mulling it over, she decided...what could it hurt?  Obviously, he was one of the few that actually knew what happened; and while she wasn’t sure she could trust him fully yet, she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter  Besides, she trusted him blindly up until this point, and maybe he could help her remember more.  “Uh...yeah, a little.”

“What did you remember?” he asked, curiously.  You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was gently trying to prod her for information without seeming too eager.  He knew how fragile this situation was, and without her full memory, he knew that he also didn’t have her trust.

“I remembered sitting in this diner, talking to my friend Jake about...a plane crash?”

He nodded.

“And...and then you came in here dressed like a tool, and you threatened to kill me before you kidnapped me.”

He nodded again, a little sheepishly.

“I was not dressed like a tool, thank you very much.” he started.

She rolled her eyes.  “You had a foam finger.”

“That makes me a tool?” he asked, incredulously.  “I just got out of the Basketball game...”

“Uh...duh.  No one goes into a diner with a foam finger,” she laughed.
He sighed, succumbing to the sound of her laugh.  “Fine, I was dressed like a tool.  Happy?”

She just stared at him, holding back a slight smile and the mental picture.
“But, uh...anyway...yeah, I’m sorry about that...whole...thing.” he murmured, his hand moving up to run through his slightly shaven head, a gesture of slight embarrassment.

She looked up at him incredulously.  “That’s all you have to say?  Sorry about that?  I’m surprised they even let you back in here...” she joked, but he could tell she was half serious.

He immediately reached for her hand, covering it with his own and quietly shushing her with his eyes.  “Hey now, let’s not ruin a good evening...so far, no one has recognized us or said anything.  Let’s keep it that way” he nodded.

“So why did you bring me here, again?” she asked.

“Because...well, it’s your favorite place.  And we have history here,” he nodded.  He saw the look of disgust register on her face and he chose to rephrase his words.  “A fucked up history, but still a history...”

She sighed.  She took in his facial features again, trying to judge whether he was lying or telling the truth about their history and his character.  

Should she trust him?  Should she not trust him?  What had happened on the plane?  Why had he been following her?  What happened after he kidnapped her?  Why was he sitting in the hospital room with her?  Why were they out in public right now after everything that had happened?  Why hadn’t anyone at the restaurant noticed them or said anything?

There were so many unanswered questions.  But would she ever find the answer?  

“What’s the matter...?” he asked.

She took a moment to mull over her thoughts again, playing with the napkin on the table out of habit.  She finally paused to look up at him.

“I just...I’m really confused.  I have a lot of questions...I kind of want to ask you what happened, but I’m afraid of your answer.”

“You can ask me anything,” he replied.  “I’ll answer it to the best of my ability...”

“See, that’s the thing, though.  I don’t even know if the answer you’ll give me is even the truth, right?  I mean...all things considered, I don’t even know you.”

“True,” he replied.  “But you also know you’re not afraid of me, so that must mean something...” 

“I guess,” she admitted.  

The two of them sat in a long, uncomfortable silence.  It was obvious that this was confusing and awkward for both of them, neither knowing how to act around the other.   Deciding to break the tension, she finally piped up again.

“All I remember is the plane...the dead bodies...the crash...you holding a gun  to my head and dragging me out of here... and well...you sitting in my hospital room.”

He nodded a little.  “Well, that’s...definitely a good start.  I mean, at least you remember something, right?  I mean, it kind of sucks you only remember the bad things, but hey--that’s more than you knew yesterday...”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“I mean...is there something you want me to fill in for you?  I just...I don’t want to just tell you everything.  I know it’s important for you to remember things on your own and everything...at least that’s what Dr. Hopkins said.  I just...” he sighed.  “Look, I know a lot of this is my fault, and I, uh.  I know you probably don’t even want to talk to me, or trust me, and I totally get that...but you have to believe that there’s more to this fragmented story in your head.  And...you have to believe that I want you to get better.  I want to help you.   And after you get your memory back, I...well, I want to make this up to you. ”

“Make what up to me?  The fact you’ve lied to me, almost killed me in a plane crash, and kidnapped me?” she whispered, trying not to get angry or flustered again, knowing it just fueled her headaches.

He sighed.  “Well, Heather...I don’t know if I can give you the answers you want, or the answers you need right now.  I really don’t.  But...I do know that we’re both alive.  We’re both here.  And you know what?  I think that we should just try to have a little fun and enjoy life for a little while.  Get a chance to really get to know one another aside from all the craziness we went through.  And hopefully...one day soon, you’ll remember everything.”

She watched him curiously.  “Yeah, I guess you have a point.  Can we get out of here, though?  It feels kind of...stuffy.”

He nodded, smiling at her before putting money on the table and paying the bill.  One day down--a day in which they were closer than yesterday to restoring her memory, hopefully.  “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here,” she called.