Sylvan continued. “We will do our best to save her, but she has lost a good deal of blood. You know we can’t give her a transfusion, so we’re limited to blood-building medicines and fluids. We’ll move you to one of our residences, and you’ll need to plan to stay here for as long as we deem necessary. As soon as she’s stabilized, you’ll be able to see her. In the meantime, please make yourself at home. You’re a curious creature, Truman … but I suppose we all are in our own way. I hope you’re ready for this.”
Truman was escorted to a large and lavish residence. It was open with two to three-story-tall ceilings. It was in the corner of the building and offered panoramic views of the Boston skyline from its high story level. The walls of windows were draped in dark, velvety drapes that ran the entire height of the ceiling. They were opened at the moment, but could be closed with the daylight. There was an office area with an overlarge desk that sat in front of glass doors that led to the massive balcony. There was a living area with a large flat-screen television, and in a corner against one of the walls of windows and an interior wall was the bedroom. The walls of the bedroom ran only the height of traditional walls and were then open to the large high ceiling above.
As he paced, he found his way into the bedroom and took in the massive bed. He could picture himself making love to Ember here, and he wanted it so much his muscles were tight and painful as his body reacted to the impossible need. He wanted to collapse on the bed and shut down, but he wanted to see her too much, and he was terrified he’d miss something crucial. He had no idea if she would survive or not, and he was clinging to nothing more than a hope she might. Truman walked and paced and stared out the windows. He walked to the rail of the expansive balcony that overlooked the skyline. It was an impressive view he wanted to share with her, but he was helpless. He waited and he waited, and it was an endless battle to keep from going insane. He finally collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It was minutes that passed and then hours, and when the dawn light finally showed, he closed the drapes that surrounded the corner unit, and he collapsed again … and he waited.
When she opened her eyes, she was confused. It wasn’t as if she’d never been confused before. It was only a month or so ago the last time she woke feeling as though something was missing or that she’d lost memories and time that were somehow critical, but this was different. She was in a strange room on a comfortable bed. It didn’t appear to be a hospital, and yet, she was hooked up to an IV, and her vitals were being monitored.
She was alone, and while she ought to be panicked, she was too tired to muster it. Her body felt strange, but she couldn’t decide why exactly. Her jaw ached as though she’d been punched, and she smelled scents she’d never experienced before. It was as if the room was infused with smells; not entirely bad, just overpowering. She could smell antiseptic and alcohol, but it was like they were on a rag directly in front of her nose—too close, too powerful, though she couldn’t see where such a strong smell could be coming from. She could hear people murmuring from far off, but there was no one in the room and certainly no one near enough that she should be hearing these voices. Their words made little sense to her, but they didn’t seem to mean her harm.
“Her volume is up, and her body has started healing itself. The transition is going slowly because of her weakened state, but it is happening. You need to try to release her memories now. But, Truman, she’s mid-transition, so I wouldn’t expect much.”
“I know her survival is the most important thing, but it’ll be devastating if I can’t release her mind. We have so much life together, and it was a mistake to think I had the right to bury it from her.”
“You were protecting her. Quite frankly, it’s the reason she was allowed to survive as long as she has.”
She could hear their footfalls near her room from a long distance off, and she was again reminded of just how odd it was that she could hear them when their endless footfalls told her they were some distance away. When the door opened, she tried to sit up. She was gowned in a white cotton jersey-knit gown that hugged her body. The room was warm, and it soothed her though the gown only had narrow straps and offered little real warmth. As the men entered, one in particular approached her as she tried in her weakness to sit. He sat next to her and gently held her body as though he had a right to be so close. She didn’t know this man, but she still wanted to sink against his strength and let him help her. He placed a couple of pillows behind her back and eased her body back to them.
When she was relaxed, he stayed by her side and watched her. “Ember.” His voice was somber, and she couldn’t tell if he was upset with her or concerned for her, and she gazed at him in confusion. She recognized his voice as the one speaking of a life together, but she didn’t know this man. He was beautiful, his eyes sparkled in an amazing hazel-green color, and he just watched her with no expression. He was neither smiling nor frowning. His eyes were intense, and as he moved his arms from her body, she longed for their closeness again, but she had no idea why. Ember wasn’t one to crave the closeness of a man, but she liked the way his body felt against hers. Was it possible she knew this man and had somehow forgotten him?
“Go ahead, Truman. It’s the most conscious she’s been since you arrived with her. Now is your best chance.” The other man was handsome with sandy-brown hair, but she didn’t know him either, and she was certain of that, though she couldn’t say the same of the man Truman.
Truman approached her again, and his eyes flitted to the other man’s before he took his place by her side again but facing her this time. She studied him, knowing her confusion must be evident to these men, and when he stroked her cheek, she oddly didn’t pull away but instead waited with held breath for his touch. He looked to her eyes, and as he held her gaze, her head hurt and flashed with images of him. He smiled at her in some, he smirked in others, he was naked in many, and she could see every last inch of his body in full detail as though these were memories, but as he continued to look at her, the images failed to stick. None of these images melded well with his stoic and harsh demeanor now. He was happy in the images, and he looked anything but at the moment. There was something so familiar about the images, but she couldn’t piece them together. She shook her head in confusion, and as he watched her, she spoke. “I’m sorry, who are you? Do we know one another?”
His eyes fell to his lap, and his jaw clenched. This stone-hard man was upset, and for whatever reason, it seemed to involve her. She watched him, knowing she was being far too calm for the situation but still too confused and exhausted to care. He stood from her side and walked from the room without another word. The moment he was gone, she missed him and wanted him to return, but he didn’t, and she was left alone with the man in the lab coat.
“Ember, I’m Dr. Quentin Bremmer. We’re happy to see you awake again.” His eyes were warm and comforting.
“Who was that man Truman? Should I have known him? Why am I here, and where am I? What’s happened?” Her questions tumbled out one after another, and he smiled warmly.