Who Am I?

The first thing he thought when he began his drift toward consciousness was of the pain. What was this terrible pain in his head? Not only in his head, but in his whole body? He opened his eyes slightly. It was too bright for his eyes to adjust, painfully blinding. He squinted, attempting to bring his hand to his head. He groaned.

"My head…" he said in a raspy voice. Why did it feel so strange to talk? Not a second had passed before a voice sounded from beside him.

"You're awake! Don't move too much, you hurt yourself pretty bad." The voice advised.

He just groaned again, resting his hand on his forehead. He opened his eyes. This time, there was a figure blocking the light. As his eyes began adjusting, he took in the figure next to him. It was a man, who was eagerly leaning over him. He was handsome, with dark hair, which seemed to glow with the light behind him, and silvery-grey eyes.

"How are you feeling? Do you need anything? I was so worried! The doctors said you might not wake up, and-" He cut off the man's rambling.

"Who are you?" He asked, slowly, meeting the man's gaze. The man stopped abruptly, confusion apparent on his face.

"Do you not-" the man started, just to be cut off again.

"Who am I?" he asked, clutching his head.

The man's face noticeably paled. He turned, stepping out of view for a moment. "Someone go get the doctor! It's urgent!" There was a muffled response that he couldn't hear, before the man came back into view. He sat himself down heavily in an armchair that was facing the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his hair. Finally, the man looked up at him, his brow furrowed.

"You… You don't remember anything." The man's voice shook. Before there was even time to respond, the man sighed, and began to speak again. "Your name is David Alkin, but you usually go by Davie. You're 26 years old. You-" The man cut himself off. He looked away, before continuing. "Right. You still don't know who I am." His voice was still shaking, but as he quickly swept a hand across his face, he continued. "My name is Simon Whitney." Simon clenched his fists.

Davie considered this for a moment. "Simon?" He asked. Simon looked up at him and smiled slightly.

"Yeah?" he answered

"How did I get hurt?" he asked.

Simon closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath of air. Finally, he just said, "Saving my life."

Somehow, this left Davie with more questions. Before he had a chance to ask any of them however, Simon continued.

"We were on the roof of building. It was a few stories high. Someone began to threaten me. You must have seen him reaching for his gun, because the next thing I knew, you had jumped to push me out of the way. The bullet ended up hitting your shoulder, but the momentum ended up knocking you off of the roof, since we were all standing near the edge. We all thought you had died. Jesus, Davie, the sound when you hit the pavement…" Simon buried a hand in his hair and shuddered slightly.

"Are you alright?" Davie questioned after a second. Simon snorted.

"Look at you! Half your bones are broken, you were shot in the shoulder, and you couldn't remember your own name a few minutes ago, yet you're asking me if I'm alright?"

Davie just shrugged. Or, at least attempted to shrug. "I already know I'm not alright. I just don't know about you. Clearly you're upset. Who… Who were we, to each other?"

Simon looked Davie in the eye, smiling slightly. He hesitated, before finally saying, "We were… the closest that two men could possibly be." He looked away.

"I'm sorry." Davie said quietly.

"What for?" Simon gave Davie a slightly amused smile.

"That I don't remember you." Davie said, meeting Simon's gaze, who quickly looked away.

"It's not your fault. You don't have to apologize." Simon said softly, his eyes closed. He was shaking slightly, and Davie realized that he was crying.

"Hey, don't cry." Davie's uninjured hand reached out, seemingly on its own, grabbing Simon's fingers. He eyed his hand for a second, his heart beating faster for some reason, before continuing. "If we were really that close before… I mean there has to be a reason. Maybe I don't remember, but I can still make new memories. If I cared about you enough to risk my life for you, well, surely I can care about you again, right?" He squeezed Simon's hand before letting go.

Simon took a deep breath, shaking his head slightly and smiling. "You know, you haven't changed. You'd think a near-fatal brain injury would do something to your personality. I- thank you, Davie." Simon met his gaze once more and smiled. He looked like he was about to say something when a knock sounded from the door.

"Ah- that would be the doctor. You-" he eyed Davie, "try to get some more rest. Let me know if you need anything." Simon got up and made his way out of the room.

The room felt emptier as the door closed. Davie let out a sigh, pulling up the covers with his good arm. He closed his eyes. He still had so many questions, but they would have to wait. He tried his best to ignore the pounding in his head and the aching of his body. Things would get better. They had to. At least he had someone who would stay beside him as he tried to rebuild his life. With that thought, he finally drifted off into sleep.