Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Big Time Rush and make no money off this at all, I do it because it's fun.

Author's Notes:

Another Jagan, yay! Or at least I'm excited, because we know I love Jagan. About a year ago I wrote a story for kathrynew30, it was a gift for our one-year friendiversary. The James Diamond in this story is taken directly from that one, though he suffered no amnesia in it. So for that reason, I dedicate this to Kathryn. The title comes from the song by Arcadia, which is basically the theme song for this entire fic.

I also must dedicate it to joyousbrokenthing, who is entirely to blame for this being written at all. She tweeted me one night about a vision of Logan as a scientist building a robot James. This story is of course not that at all, but it got me thinking about a situation where Logan basically helps put James back together and within fifteen minutes I had this story pretty much written in my head. I wasn't planning to write a Jagan next, but it wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. Thanks a lot, Tammy. XD

Aranelle is always so awesome about reading this stuff and giving me feedback, so thank you for that, Sarah. I love you.

I'm breaking my "Write what you know" rule here and stretching myself on this one, so I've had to do a lot of research and ask advice. I've tried to make it as realistic as I can but I'm sure it won't be completely accurate. Any mistakes are mine, and I thank squoctobird for the info she was able to give me about hospital procedure regarding amnesia patients.

One last thing. Because it's a similar situation (Dr. Logan/scared patient James) you may experience flashbacks to "Because I Wanted the Best" if you read that story of mine. I can promise this story will be very different from that one, but as these are the same characters, so to speak, they do act somewhat similar in the same situation. I've also been reminded of "To Each His Own" as I write more of this, with clingy James who has no one to really reach out to except the one who "rescued" him, so to speak. Hopefully that's not too annoying, but again—very different stories.

Enough rambling. Read on and I hope you enjoy!

The glass doors slid open with a hiss, the chilly waiting room emitting the sounds of a baby crying over a televised newscast. It wasn't exactly comforting, but it was almost familiar.

Or was it? That was the problem, he didn't really know.

He edged to the right to avoid a wheelchair being steered his way, the old man in it looking lost and alone and scaring him almost as much as his current predicament, though he couldn't have said why. He stood watching as the man was rolled to the curb by an orderly, the young pretty thing saying to him "Don't worry, Mr. Pilson, someone from the retirement home will be here any minute to pick you up."

"I'm in no hurry," the old man wheezed. "It's hell there anyway."

He wondered for a moment why the words left him shivering in dread of something he couldn't name. When he was shoved aside by a tired-looking woman dragging a young boy behind her, the child holding his arm as if it was in pain, he realized he needed to move. Following the woman deeper into the emergency room, he stepped up behind her as she signed in at the window.

"Mom, it hurts," the boy whined.

"Just go sit down, Billy. It's your own fault, I told you trampolines were dangerous."

He watched Billy take a seat near the television, looking excited for a moment but then it died when Billy realized it was nothing more thrilling than the local news.

"Sir?"

Facing forward again, he shook himself into action and stepped up to the window. "Hi."

The receptionist didn't even look up. "Sign in and have a seat."

Looking down at the clipboard she'd shoved at him through the opening, he frowned as the panic started to edge in again. "I uh..."

"Just write down your name and the time."

"I can't."

Finally giving him more than a speck of her attention, she glanced up. "You can't read?"

"I can, it's just-"

"Can you write? Did you hurt your hands?"

"No, I can write, but-"

"Name and time," she repeated, dismissing him again.

The panic ratcheted up a notch, oxygen not seeming to enter his lungs when he inhaled. "I don't know," he said, hating the whine in his voice.

"It's 3:15."

"I know, it's just..." Wrapping his arms around himself he tried to fight off the tears.

The woman looked up again, sighing as she took pity on him. "What's your name, sweetie?"

He blinked a few times as if that would make it come to him, but in the end all he could say was, "I don't know. Please help me."

Dr. Logan Mitchell was just about to sign out for the day when he was hailed by an intern. He was tired, hungry, and wanted nothing more than a hot cup of his favorite tea (possibly after a quick trip to his favorite fast-food place) before crashing into bed for the evening, having put in a double shift at the emergency room. Had it not been Tommy, an intern he truly liked and was taking under his wing, Logan would have waved a hand in dismissal before calling out that he was done for the day. Instead, he held in a sigh and stood waiting at the nurses' station while Tommy approached.

"Got an interesting one for you, doc."

"The only thing interesting to me right now is a juicy burger, some thick-cut fries, and my bed. I'm so ready to go home."

"Yeah, but Dr. Statler said to put you on this."

"Statler?" Logan frowned. Statler hated him, hated his reputation for being one of the best at such a young age. Logan had flown through med school, and though it hadn't been a breeze he had completed it more quickly than most due to his devotion and ability to understand complex subjects as if it was simple arithmetic. Because he was a likable sort of guy who worked hard to keep from stepping on anyone's toes, Logan hadn't made too many enemies since starting at the hospital a year ago. Still, he'd proved himself time and again as someone who could be depended on to have the answers and a plan of attack to cure any ailment, and so the occasional veteran of the staff had seen him as a threat. Statler was one of them, and Statler would only suggest passing a patient off on him in hopes to see him fail in some way. Logan hoped it wasn't some contagious flesh-eating virus he would be dealing with. "Why didn't he handle it himself?"

"He just told me to find you and get you over there." Leaning in confidentially, Tommy said in a low voice, "He probably knows you're trying to leave and wants you to suffer. That guy's such a dick sometimes."

Smirking, Logan refused to be baited into agreement. Instead he replied, "Where am I headed?"

"Bed five. I got his chart right here."

Running one hand through his short brown hair that always stuck up randomly at the end of such a long shift, Logan reached out for it and skimmed it as Tommy shuffled alongside him, rambling. "Dude just showed up off the street, claiming he doesn't know his name or have any memories prior to about an hour before coming in. Everything normal in triage, guy seems healthy enough. I talked to him for a minute when I got him settled in the bed, he's scared. You can see he's trying to be calm, but dude is scared."

"No identification on him?"

"No. Looks like he was maybe out for a run or something, he's got workout clothes on. Sweats and a tank top. He's built, too. Maybe a workout nut."

Biting his lip in concentration, Logan ran over the stats. Blood pressure a little high, but that was to be expected if the guy was scared. Same with pulse. Lungs clear. Could've been anywhere from eighteen to twenty-seven, though he appeared to be closer to eighteen. "Have the police been called yet?"

"Police? You think he's a criminal, doc?"

"No, but someone might have filed a missing persons report on him. Then again, if he's only been like this an hour..." Wracking his brain, Logan tried to recall what he knew of amnesia. He hadn't treated it before, but of course had studied it in psychology and trauma classes. "He's not injured in any way? No bumps to the head or bleeding or anything?"

"Well, that's for you to figure out. But he looks fine, totally normal."

"Not banged up at all?"

"Nope. Clean, takes care of himself, looks like he probably showered this morning. Definitely not homeless."

"If he doesn't get his memory back, he will be soon. Do me a favor and run off a copy of the hospital's policy on amnesia patients? I need to know what to do with this guy if it ends up lasting longer than a day or two."

"You got it. Good luck, doc. Work your magic."

Logan grinned but rolled his eyes. Tommy's worship made him uncomfortable at times, but occasionally it left him feeling pretty good about himself, too. "Get me that paperwork."

Once Tommy had disappeared, Logan crossed the hall to approach bed five. He stopped at the next one over, taking a minute to skim the chart one more time. He recalled that there were different types of amnesia and that they were brought on by various triggers, but truly he had no experience dealing with it. He was nervous, feeling the constant pressure to prove himself and to be the best (or at least better than most). Reminding himself that whatever he didn't know at this point he could easily learn, he took a deep breath and moved forward to turn into the cubicle that housed bed five.

The first thing Logan was aware of was a pair of wide hazel eyes glancing up suddenly from the floor. They locked onto his in fear, Logan slowing his pace to a stop both from the need to communicate a non-threatening vibe and because he was slightly breathless. He hadn't formed any ideas of what their John Doe might look like, but he certainly wasn't expecting such beauty. The man was definitely built, as Tommy had said, and definitely took care of himself. Clothed in gray sweats, a tight black tank top, and sturdy running shoes, the man sat with his legs dangling off the edge of the bed while his elbows rested on his thighs. His hands were clasped together as if he didn't know what else to do with them, and as he met Logan's gaze he sat up straighter, dark chestnut hair falling over one eye. It was long enough to brush against his collar had there been one, and Logan imagined it would shine under bright lights or in the sun, that those eyes would sparkle when amused. How it was possible that even the man's lashes and eyebrows were beautiful was a mystery to Logan, who normally didn't fall for the pretty ones. He liked quirky, unique types with more understated beauty, but this guy already had his pulse racing just from a nervous lick of the lips.

"Hi," he started, reminding himself that he was at work, not at a club looking to find the man of his dreams. Calm and professional at all times, that was Dr. Logan Mitchell. "I'm Dr. Mitchell."

"Hey. I'd tell you my name, but uh..."

"Yeah." Logan chuckled slightly and it seemed to put the guy at ease a bit. "I read over your chart, you're having a pretty bad day."

"You could say that," the man laughed, watching Logan take a seat on a stool by the bed. "Can you at least tell me what city I'm in?"

"You don't even know that? Didn't they have you fill out paperwork when you came in?"

"There wasn't much I could write. I was freaked out while trying to do it, this kid Billy kept kicking my chair and instead of paying attention to what I was doing, I spent the time trying not to haul off and deck him."

"Smart move, that wouldn't have gone over well with so many witnesses around," Logan grinned, pleased to see that the guy was relaxing even more. "You're in Los Angeles."

"California?"

"Yeah, that's the only one I know of," Logan quipped, but then felt bad. Who knew just how much of this man's memory had been erased, or even if he was educated? His manner of speaking left Logan reasonably sure that he was at least of average intelligence, though. Or so Logan hoped. "Does that feel weird to you? Like maybe California isn't your normal place of residence?"

"I'm...not really sure. And I hate that, I hate not knowing something that simple. I should know where the hell I live."

"Does anything feel wrong? Other than the obvious loss of memory? Are you in any pain at all, feel disoriented, nausea, anything like that?"

He shook his head, bangs shifting slightly as he moved. "I feel great. And I checked out a mirror, I look fantastic. I just can't seem to remember how I got this way."

Logan couldn't argue that. His eyes traveled down over the muscular frame, taking in the hard ab muscles that were hinted at through the tank and what he imagined were toned thighs. Focus, Dr. Mitchell. "Tell me what you do remember."

He took a breath, relaxing even more and allowing his posture to sag slightly. "I was in a park."

"Okay."

"There were kids skateboarding and I heard them coming up behind me, recognized that sound."

Logan made a note on his chart. "When was this?"

"About an hour before I showed up here."

"Go on."

"And I moved, sat on a bench because suddenly I felt kind of...weird."

"Weird how?"

"I don't know, just weird. Off."

"Disoriented?"

"What exactly does that mean?"

"It means you lose your sense of time, place, even your identity sometimes. You're basically lost, but in your mind."

The snapping of fingers was followed by the guy pointing at Logan. "That. That right there. I sat there on the bench feeling...disconnected. I watched the people around me, looked at the trees and buildings in the distance and like...it felt like I'd never seen them before."

"No dizziness or nausea?"

"A little bit, I think, my stomach started to act up. Like I wanted to throw up."

"Did you?"

"No. I just sat there wondering what the fuck was—oh. Sorry."

Logan nodded. "Go on, and don't hold back. There are clues in the way you speak and the words you use."

"So because I cussed, that means something?"

"You never know, it might. If you feel like saying something or doing something, do it. It's all pieces of the puzzle."

The man considered that, chewing on his lip before speaking again. "So anything I do know, I should tell you?"

"Yes. It will help us determine your lifestyle and hopefully where you came from, if it's not here."

"Okay. Can we uh...close the curtain for a minute?"

"The curtain?" Logan stood up, reaching out to grab it. "Sure. You want to show me something?" And damn if that didn't get Logan's heart racing again. Knock it off. Professional.

"No, I just...well." Once the curtain had been pulled closed, blocking them from view of others, he gestured Logan closer. "I've figured out something," he said, voice just above a whisper.

"What?" Logan whispered, feeling like a kid sharing some monumental secret that was too cool for adults.

"I like guys."

Logan stepped back suddenly, eyes wide as he fought for composure. The last thing he needed to do was make the man feel like any more of a freak. "Okay." Clearing his throat, Logan acted as if that hadn't been the best news he'd heard in weeks. "So you're gay."

"Maybe."

"Maybe? If you like guys..."

"What if I like girls, too?"

"That wouldn't be a problem," Logan smiled. "Some people like both, it's fine."

He nodded. "I haven't felt the pull with any girls I've seen, though."

"How did you know you liked guys?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, face reddening. "I saw one that woke me up to that fact. So to speak."

"Okay. Nothing wrong with that, we don't judge here." Attempting to reassure the man, Logan smiled and then jotted down another note. "What happened after you felt sick to your stomach?"

"I sat there until it passed, and then started thinking about my day. When I realized I couldn't even remember how I got to the park or anything before that, I got scared."

"I imagine so. You honestly can't remember anything at all prior to that moment? Not what you had for breakfast or what time you woke up or even if you drove there?"

"Nothing. It's a complete blank. I know I must've eaten a long time ago, though, because I'm starving now."

"Well, it's almost five o'clock. Even if you'd eaten breakfast, you'd be hungry now."

"Doc? You in there?"

Tommy's voice had Logan holding up a finger. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

He laughed, relaxing again. "Yeah, got nowhere to go. No problem there."

Logan stepped out past the curtain, where Tommy was waiting with a small packet of papers. "Here you go. It says if he has no money he can stay here for a little while, but then he has to go to a home. They have those set up for people on charity care, which is what he would be."

"Right. Thanks, Tommy." Logan took the paperwork, scanning it quickly with a frown.

"So is he okay? Still scared?"

"Yeah, but he's starting to relax." Keeping his voice down, Logan continued, "Discovering things about himself, even if he can't remember the vital information. I don't think he's from around here, though I guess he could be."

"What are you gonna do with him? Admit him?"

"I'll have to if he doesn't have any breakthroughs, and he doesn't seem anywhere near that at this point."

"It's sad, a guy like that probably has a wife somewhere, or at least a girlfriend. They'll worry about him."

Logan doubted that, considering the man's recent omission about his preferences, but he said, "At least if that's the case they'll file a police report. I wonder if his fingerprints are on file anywhere."

"Yeah, I saw that on a T.V. show. Some lady had amnesia but the cops were able to identify her that way and it turned out she killed a bunch of people. Crazy, huh?"

"Well, let's hope this one hasn't killed anyone." The thought hadn't even crossed Logan's mind even though Tommy had mentioned the possibility of him being a criminal earlier. "I don't get that vibe from him, he seems like just a normal guy."

"So did the lady. Be careful, doc."

"I'm really not worried about it," Logan chuckled. "Thanks again."

He stepped around the curtain, eyes still on the paperwork.

"I didn't kill anyone."

That had Logan's head shooting up. "I'm sorry?"

"I heard what that guy said. I didn't kill anyone."

Wanting to smack Tommy, Logan replied, "I never said you did. He has a very active imagination, please don't take it personally."

"Okay, I just...I would know that, right? If I killed someone?"

"The truth is you might not know. I'm sorry. But there's no need to worry about that yet. We're going to make sure you're all there physically before letting you loose, so even if you did do something illegal we won't know it for a few days. Unless of course your memory returns sooner, which happens sometimes. As far as you know, this isn't a recurring thing with you, right?" Logan realized it was a dumb question as soon as he asked it—how would the man possibly know in his current state?

"I don't think so. I mean, I can't really tell but..."

"Yeah. How did you end up here?"

"After sitting at the park for a while, I started to freak out. Couldn't breathe, my throat closed up and my chest was tight and I felt like I was gonna pass out, but not like I was sick, just..."

"Panic attack. Totally understandable in your situation."

"Once I calmed down, I thought maybe something else was wrong with me, so I came here. Asked a woman in the park where I could find a hospital, and she pointed me here."

"Were you at the park down the street?"

"Yeah. I walked here, it's just a few blocks."

"Got it." Another note was made, Logan thinking to pass on that information for the police to research. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna check you out for any immediate physical issues, get you some blood work and urine tests ordered, then we'll-"

"Blood work? Like...needles?"

Smirking, Logan added another note. "Yes, needles. It's necessary."

"I don't like needles. Write that down on your little chart."

"I just did," Logan chuckled. "How do you feel about changing into a hospital gown? Any anxiety over that?"

The man frowned. "No. None at all. I could probably walk around here naked and it wouldn't bother me."

"Whoa. Really." That was interesting, and possibly telling. Another note was scribbled. "Well, we're not going to allow that. A body like yours would have everyone in the cardiac unit within five minutes."

"Oh? A body like mine? Just what sort of body do I have, Dr. Mitchell?"

The flirty tone had Logan blushing, but he kept his eyes on his clipboard. "Obviously a rather nice one. You definitely work out. Tommy, the intern who brought you in here, suggested you might've been out for a run when this hit. Does that sound plausible?"

"A run. Hmm." After considering it, the guy shrugged. "I guess that's possible. I was a little sweaty."

"Okay, good to know. See, every tiny piece of information like that is helpful. It may seem like nothing important, but again—it's all pieces of a puzzle."

"My life is a puzzle. Great."

The sarcasm had Logan reaching out to squeeze the man's shoulder before he dropped his hand. "The nice thing about puzzles is that when they're all done and put together, they're beautiful and everything makes sense. You find that the time and effort you put into working the puzzle was worth it. We'll get you figured out. It may not be right away, and you may have a lot of scary moments before then, and honestly you may not like what you find once you do get it all put together. But we'll get there, okay? Try not to worry about it. Enjoy not having any responsibilities for the time being and focus on discovering yourself."

He was quiet for a time, then said, "I'm scared. I can't help it."

"I know. We're gonna take care of you, though. Promise. After the tests, I'm sending you for an EEG and a full-body MRI."

"What's that?" he asked suspiciously.

"The EEG is a test done to measure your brainwaves and study the patterns. We have to rule out certain things that sometimes cause amnesia, like epileptic seizures."

"Is it scary?"

"Not at all, you just lay there. The MRI can be a little scary if you're claustrophobic. Are you?"

"I have no idea."

"Does the thought of being in a small, enclosed space scare you?"

"Wouldn't that scare anybody?"

Pursing his lips, Logan said, "I think you're okay. If it was that horrible of an idea, you'd probably be freaking out right now. If you need something, they can give you a sedative. The bad news is I can't let you eat until all of the tests are done, and that won't be for a few hours, at least. I'm sorry."

"Aw, come on. I'm starving, doc!"

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll make sure they send you some food after, okay?"

"Am I supposed to stay here all night?"

"They'll admit you to a room. I want you to stay here at least until tomorrow, so we can monitor you and go over the tests thoroughly."

"But I don't have any way to pay for anything. My wallet...I don't know where it is."

"Don't worry about that. You're one of those special cases that isn't billed for this stuff, unless of course you do regain your memory and have a place for them to send the bill. So no rush on that, okay?" Logan winked. He was pleased to see the guy smile.

"Got it. You know, you're really cute."

Blindsided, all Logan could do was blink at him a few times before feeling his face heat up as he looked down at the clipboard.

"Sorry. Guess I'm not all that shy."

"No, I'd say not." Logan opened a drawer under the bed, pulling out a gown and tossing it toward him. "Here, get naked under this, Mr. Not-So-Shy. I'll send Tommy back in for your physical exam. A nurse will be in soon to get you fixed up for the tests, and once they get you settled in a room they'll bring you dinner."

"Thanks." The guy let the gown unfold, flapping it to open it completely. "When will I know something?"

"Probably not until morning, unless something is seriously wrong. A doctor will be assigned your case and he'll most likely meet with you in the morning." Logan averted his eyes as the tank top was lifted up and over the man's head, baring him from the waist up. He was even more sculpted than Logan had imagined. Holy fuck, I need to get out of here.

The movements stilled, though, as the black material was thrown aside. "Wait, what? You're not my doctor?"

"At the moment I am, yes. But I'm an E.R. doc; once you move into a regular room, they'll assign you a permanent physician."

"But...I want you. Why can't it be you?" The fear was starting to crowd in again, his eyes slowly filling with terror.

"Hey, relax." Logan stepped forward and laid a hand on the man's forearm. "We're all capable here, and your well-being is our first concern. You'll be fine."

"But I know you. You're cute and you're nice and what if I get some scary guy who doesn't give a shit about me? What if nobody cares, and they throw me out on the street and-"

"Shh. It's okay, that's not gonna happen. I have the policy right here in my hand, and I guarantee you're safe for at least a few days. If it makes you feel better, I'll check up on you tomorrow when I come in for my shift, okay? If there are any problems at all, you can let me know. I promise, though, we'll take care of you."

"How will you find me? I don't even have a name."

"John Doe is the name given to patients with no memory."

"So I'm the only one in the whole hospital?"

"It's not a prevalent condition. You probably are."

"What if I'm not? Look, I'm scared and I don't know who I am, I don't have anyone, and right now the only person in this world I know I can count on is you. Please, Dr. Mitchell. Make sure I'm taken care of."

The pleading went straight to his heart, Logan melting a bit. "Why don't we give you a name? Something that's not John Doe, if that's what you want. I'll make sure all of your information is filed under that name, so that I'll know where to find you."

"Can we do that?"

"I don't know, but we're going to. Pick a name."

"Any name?"

"Whatever works for you."

"Okay, um...what's your name?"

"My name's Logan, but you're not stealing that."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I wanted to pick a name that isn't yours. So no Logan."

"No Logan," Logan repeated.

"What do I look like?"

The epitome of the perfect man. A god. "Uh...I have no idea. Just pick a name."

"Wait. Wait, I know some Bible history."

"You do?" Logan immediately wrote that down. "A lot?"

"Enough to know I like Joseph. Do you know that story?"

"Vaguely," Logan replied. "A Hebrew who became the king of Egypt, right?"

"No, not the king. But really high up, he was like second in command to Pharoah."

"Okay."

"I want to be Joseph."

"Joseph it is." Logan wrote that down. "Joseph Doe, or are we changing that, too?"

"That sounds stupid. I also liked David, so let's go with that. Joseph David."

"Or perhaps David Joseph."

"Don't confuse me now, Dr. Mitchell. I'm confused enough as it is."

Logan laughed, reaching out to squeeze the guy's arm again. "Okay, then. Which are we going with?"

"Joseph. Joseph David."

Logan smiled, holding out his right hand. "Nice to meet you, Joseph. I'm Logan."

Joseph gave him a sweet smile, then shook. "I'm your responsibility now. Isn't that some kind of doctor rule or something? You're sworn to take care of your patients no matter what?"

"It's called the Hippocratic Oath, and yes. We're bound by it. I must do everything in my power to make sure you are given proper treatment and taken care of to the best of my abilities."

"There you go, then. I'm your headache, no passing me off on someone else."

"All doctors are sworn to that, not just me."

"But you saw me first. So I'm yours."

Logan chuckled, more amused than he should've been; if this Joseph character wasn't so gorgeous and obviously gay, would he still find the situation funny? Probably not. "Listen. Another part of the Hippocratic Oath is that we're sworn to keep whatever you tell us to ourselves. Your medical conditions and anything else you might say to me. So while your physical issues will be available to anyone with access, what you say to me is between us, unless it relates directly to your condition."

"Meaning nobody else has to know I like guys?"

"Not unless you tell them."

He nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

"Now put that gown on already so I can focus on something besides your pecs."

Joseph grinned, his eyes lighting up in a way they hadn't since he'd first walked into the building. Logan was relieved to see him smile rather than suffer the fear of what must be the most terrifying experience any human could ever go through. "You just want me to take my pants off."

"Keep dreaming, Mr. David." But Logan was smirking as he turned away, one hand on the curtain.

"Wait, I have one very important question."

Logan swallowed. No way was he stupid enough to get into any kind of involvement with a patient, not even a god-like beauty like this man. "What?"

"Why is it named after a hippo?"

It took a second, but then it sank in. Logan turned back to see if Joseph was messing with him, but he was honestly curious. "It's um...no. It's named after the Greek physician Hippocrates. He's the one who's believed to have written that oath."

"Oh." Joseph's face turned bright red. "I guess that's one more thing you can add to your list. I'm not the smartest guy in the world."

"Don't feel bad. A lot of people don't know that."

"No, but I'm probably the only one who thought it had to do with a hippo."

Logan shrugged. "That just makes you unique," he grinned.

"So are you...leaving now?"

"Yes. My shift should've been over an hour ago. Well, technically it should've been over at eight o'clock this morning, but who's counting?"

"Oh wow. Thanks for staying. I'm glad it was you I got, you're nice."

"It's my job," Logan smiled. "I'll check on you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay."

"Don't be scared. I know that's hard right now, nothing is concrete in your life and you're going through all these tests, but you're in good hands. When you feel the panic starting, watch some T.V. or try to figure out what you like to do. Don't worry about regaining the past, work with what you know now. Write down the things you can figure out about yourself."

Joseph nodded, obviously trying to be brave. "Okay. Thanks, doc."

"And if you can't handle it, let the nurses know. They can give you something to help you sleep once the tests come back all clear."

"What if they don't?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Hang in there."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Joseph watched the doctor disappear around the curtain, terror setting in at the notion that he would never see him again. Dr. Mitchell could say whatever he had to right now, but Joseph knew he was just another patient. While he didn't doubt that the doctor would make sure he was taken care of, Joseph feared he would be passed off to someone who didn't make him feel safe the way Dr. Mitchell did.

Logan. His name is Logan. And when he smiles at me, he's really seeing me. He cares. Or at least I think he does.

Trying to relax, Joseph hopped off the bed and kicked his shoes off, then slid down his pants. It felt natural, like something he did often, but then again didn't most people? Taking off your pants was a daily activity.

Don't worry about it. Just focus on what you do know. Like the fact that Dr. Mitchell is hot. He may be straight, who really knows, but at least I get to see that smile again tomorrow. I gotta make him laugh more.

As he worked the hospital gown over his arms, Joseph could only hope that he would indeed see Dr. Mitchell the following morning.