Canon appears to have made a decision, but since it is a fucking stupid decision, I have elected to ignore it...

Okay no, not really. I don't believe for a moment that he's dead, so this is actually the sort of thing I think they could do with it.

Hold out hope, me Hearties. Just remember that Wynn doesn't die in the books!

(This is in no way a part of Digital Media, which will update on Friday, per the usual schedule.)

Outside the small, private room in the sanatorium, Elizabeth took a deep, calming breath before stepping through the door.

The eyes of the man in the bed, peeking out from under the slash of white bandage wrapped around his head, were familiar, even if the expression in them was not. Elizabeth was used to dancing laughter and affection, not politely distant curiosity.

"Good afternoon, Miss," he said, and the distant formality in his voice nearly made her crumble as she had when they had first told her. As she had when she'd thought him dead.

Even that first day in the saloon which had been acting as a schoolhouse, he hadn't been so cold. He'd laughed at her then, dimples popping out in his cheeks, and blue eyes twinkling.

They had warned her about this- that a fall from a horse during a drill had robbed him of all of his memories, save his name. The doctors had told her what to do. Elizabeth swallowed her tears and smiled at Jack, stepping forward and offering a hand.

"Hello, I'm Elizabeth Tho-Thatcher," she said, stammering on her own surname. She'd spent several weeks getting used to the new one. It was a wrench to go back, but the doctors had told her not to give Jack too much new information at any time. The fact of a wife he did not remember would be rather shocking and he wasn't to be shocked.

"Elizabeth Thatcher," he said slowly, frowning.

"Does the name ring any bells?" Elizabeth asked hopefully. They had said any little thing might bring memories flooding back, and she couldn't help but feel a desperate hope that his love for her might heal him.

Jack's eyes met her again, and he gave her a small, sympathetic smile.

"I'm afraid not," he said. "But they did ask me to try to remember every name. So I take it you're a friend, not a nurse then?"

"Oh yes," Elizabeth confirmed quickly. "I'm from Hope Valley. That's your home."

"Hope Valley," he tried, much as he had tried her name, and with no more success.

"It was Coal Valley when we moved there, but they changed the name when the mine closed." Elizabeth explained as she took the seat beside his bed.

"We moved there?" he asked, jumping on the most interesting part of her story quickly- ever the investigator, even when he couldn't remember that he was. "You and I arrived together?"

"No," Elizabeth said slowly. "We arrived in town around the same time though. We're both transplants- you the sheriff and me the school teacher. They've told you you're a Mountie?"

He nodded. "A small mining town with a Mountie as a sheriff and a woman with your accents teaching school?" He asked, and for the first time, Elizabeth recognized her Jack's teasing amusement in his raised brow. "Must be a special place."

"If you could remember it, you would know it is," Elizabeth said. "You love it very much."

"Hmm," Jack said, not as though he didn't believe her, only as though he we're filing this information away with the rest he had been told so far.

"Did anyone come with you?" Jack asked suddenly. "Anyone else from Hope Valley?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, surprised that he would ask. "Carsen Shepherd, our doctor."

"Oh," Jack said, sounding disappointed.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Elizabeth asked, bemused. He didn't even remember anyone.

"I'd hoped that my wife might come," he said, simply.

Elizabeth had no idea what to say, she only stared at him open-mouthed.

"Wife?" she gasped after a moment.

Jack lifted his left hand from the blankets, turning it slightly so the gold band on his fourth finger caught the light.

"I woke wearing it," he said, simply.

His eyes fell to Elizabeth's hands, and the gold ring that she had refused to take off. The match to the one he wore. He raised his eyes to hers. "Do I know Mr. Thatcher?" he asked, softly. "A friend, perhaps?"

Elizabeth let out a near-hysterical bark of laughter at the thought of Jack claiming her father as an intimate. They were comrades at best- brothers in arms in the interest of Elizabeth's well-being and happiness.

"You know him," Elizabeth said. "My father. I recently married and took my husband's name."

"Oh?" Jack asked reaching out and taking her left hand, running his thumb over her ring as though to polish it. From another man, it would be impertinent. "And what name is that? Perhaps I'd remember him."

"Jack," Elizabeth whispered, meeting his eyes. He knew. Of course he knew.

"Elizabeth Thornton," Jack said slowly, as he had everything else he had tried to remember. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

"Do you remember?" Elizabeth asked breathlessly.

"No," he said, but he was still smiling. "But I like it. It sounds like something I really must find a way to remember. You remind me of something I wouldn't want to forget."