4Author's Note: Hey, this is my first fanfiction story so be kind and let me know what you think. I got the idea after reading the novel, Love Water Memory and I just had to write it. I'm not sure how long it will be or how often I will be able to update but I will try to finish it as fast as I am able. Thanks for reading!
Summary: He was on the edge of a bridge, but why was he there? Was he planning to jump? He can't remember. He can't remember anything, not who he is, not where he's from, he can't even remember his name. After being put into the hospital and given the diagnosis, dissociative fugue, Sebastian's forced to face who he once was and figure out if he still wants to be that person or if he wants to change himself completely. And if he does change who he once was, what does that mean for his fiancé, Kurt Hummel?
Chapter 1
He became aware when a soft, warm wind blew towards him. He didn't know where he was but he knew he was there for a reason. That reason, however, he did not know. He looked out at the river below him, wanting to find some type of answer. Answers of why he is there, how he got there, who he is. He could feel all the eyes staring into his back, probably all wondering the same things the man on the edge of the bridge was.
He chanced a quick glance behind him, seeing a group of different people standing like frozen statues, probably all wondering what they should do.
The man on the bridge is wondering the same thing. What should I do?
He doesn't know who he is let alone know what he is doing on the edge of the bridge. Was he planning to jump off? Was he just wanting to see a better view and he believed he could only find it on the edge? Well whatever the reason, all he knows is that he does not want be standing on the edge any longer.
"Um, sir?" A tentative voice said from behind him. When he looked back he saw a skinny woman in her forties, stepping out of the crowd of gawkers and taking a couple of steps toward him. "Please don't. I don't know what your life is like, but don't jump. You must have family, friends, a girlfriend or wife, maybe even children. They would miss you if you jump. Please. Just step over the railing and stand on firmer ground; prevent yourself from hurting the people you care about."
That's just it, he though to himself. I don't know who I care about, nor do I know who cares about me. I don't even know what my life is like. Though I do know I don't want to standing on the edge of the bridge anymore than the woman wants me standing on the edge.
"What's your name?" The woman asks.
"I-I don't know," he answers as he nervously and very carefully starts to twist himself around to face the crowd.
Instantly, the people begin to panic. A round of "no"'s and "don't jump"'s are yelled as a few people take a couple of steps towards him even though they wouldn't have been able to reach him if he did, in fact, jump. He would have laughed if he wasn't literally a step away from death.
"I-I just n-need help...g-getting over," he says, pointing towards safe ground, unable to find the right words to say.
Just as before, the people instantly take action. A few people rush towards him, taking his arm, telling him which leg to lift first and telling him what they are doing to help him get over the railing safely. Once they get him on the right side of the railing, people begin to fuss over him, asking question after question that he can't find the answers to; simple questions like, what's your name, where do you live, how old are you, how did you get here, what is the last thing you remember? He could not answer one. All he knows is that he's confused, cold, and that he can still count how many fingers the paramedic holds in front of his eyes after they lift him on the stretcher. So all he truly knows is that he can still form words, count, and feel. Nothing personal or anything that could make him believe that he was a real person who actually lived.
As the paramedics pushed his stretcher towards the ambulance, he could feel sleepiness begin to overwhelm him, but before blackness took him, he heard one of the paramedics say that he would probably be placed in psychiatry if he doesn't regain his memory soon or find any relatives or friends who know him.
It was on his first day after arriving at the hospital and being placed in psychiatry that he learns he is in Paris for reasons unknown and that he was standing on the edge of the Pont Neuf bridge. He also learns that he had no wallet or any identity on his person, so the nurses and doctors all began to call him John Doe, because that's completely original.
That first day was also filled with many questions that he could not answer—same questions he could not answer when he was on the bridge surrounded by many people. He could not give the doctor his name, address, birth date, age, any names of family members or friends because he just could not remember anything. However, funnily enough, he does know how to answer math questions, fix spelling mistakes, and do anything that he must have learned a long time ago, even though he doesn't remember learning it. One of the doctors even said he must have been a lawyer as he can argue any practical subject, even if the answer is clearly another.
Lawyer isn't me though, he thought to himself. I am definitely not a lawyer. It just does not feel right at all.
Once the questioning was finally over, he still could not give any concrete information about who he is. It is a few hours later after the doctor—Dr. Goodfellow—leaves him in the room he's placed in the psychiatry floor that Dr. Goodfellow returns with his diagnosis. Apparently he has a rare disorder called dissociative fugue. It is like dissociative identity disorder, known as multiple personality disorder, but instead of many different personalities in one head, there is now no memory of who he/she is or any sense of identity. The disorder is apparently caused by traumatic events and sometimes even by the use or abuse of alcohol and certain drugs. The doctor even asked if "John Doe" remembered a traumatic event happening to him or if he was drinking or doing drugs and he just laughed.
"If I don't even remember my name, do you actually expect me to remember something that happened to me, let alone something traumatic? If I remembered I would have told you because that would be the only thing I could actually tell you. So no, I don't remember anything traumatic happening to me!"
A couple of days after his diagnosis, John Doe learns his story was on the news. Apparently someone who forgets everything about himself and is also a jumper, is newsworthy. Who knew?
The nurses on the psychiatry floor were all gossiping about it. They believe that if the news reaches enough people then maybe they might find who "John Doe" belongs to. As if he no longer belongs to himself now that he doesn't know who he is. Now, someone else out in the world is able to tell him who he is, what he does, where he lives, as if he no longer has a choice to become...someone else. He wants to have the choice to become the person he wants to and not have to maneuver himself into the person he was before.
Though, it would be nice to know someone who knows something, he thinks to himself. Someone to tell him what his name is, who his family is, where he lives, if he has a girlfriend or wife...or maybe boyfriend or husband. Does he have kids?
I really hope not, he thinks. I cannot be the type of father who would leave his children.
It is then, on the third day of sleeping and sort of living in the psychiatry floor that he finally learns something about himself, or at least, learns that there is someone who cares for him.
It is two in the afternoon when one of the nurses, nurse Dorothy, knocks on his assigned room's door. The room was nothing special but it is the first real place that he is able to call his own for the time being so he enjoys it. It is the only place where he is able to think, relax, and sleep in peace. The best thing about his own room though is that he can slam the door closed when one of the other patients or nurses annoy him. The door does not stay closed for long, however, as one of the nurses always comes to check on him to make sure he doesn't do anything drastic, like jump out the window even though there is no way to open it. It's the action that counts. He can close out the world for a few seconds before it comes knocking at his door.
"Come in," he says to nurse Dorothy even though she is already opening the door. "What did I do to earn the pleasure of your presence?"
Nurse Dorothy laughs. "As charming as ever John Doe, but I'm afraid this visit is not just for me to see your handsome face."
"Oh well," he says with a shrug. "Your loss, my gain."
The nurse lifts her left eyebrow at him and then shakes her head. "I actually come with good news. Apparently you did not fall from the sky and grace your handsome face on earth as a gift from God to humanity, as you like to call it. You, my dear friend, are just like the rest of us, with a name, address, friends, family, and even a fiancé."
"Fiancé?"
"Yes, that's actually who just called. Claimed he knew your name, where you lived, even had pictures of the two of you together," she says excitedly. "You'll finally know who you are, Sebastian."
"Sebastian?" He asks incredulously. "That's my name? Seriously?"
"Apparently so. At least that's what he said your name was."
"He?" Sebastian asks.
"Yeah, he; your fiancé," Nurse Dorothy says, smiling. "Kurt Hummel."