The Memory Agent & Fool Me Once (7 page)

“He doesn't need to have his memory back for the surgery.”

“If he doesn't regain his memory before surgery what are his chances of
regaining his memory post surgery?” Claire asks.

“I think the greater concern should be whether or not he survives the
surgery.”

Claire's completely startled by the doctor’s declaration.
 
“He could die?”

“Yes. That's a strong possibility. The failure rate for this particular
procedure is far greater than the success rate.”

So the odds aren’t in his favor?”
 
Claire asks, trying not to sound personally concerned.

“They'll be greater if he feels like fighting.”

“Can you wait to have the surgery?”

“If he doesn't have the operation very soon, he most assuredly will
die.”
 

The doctor leaves Claire alone.
 
She phones Whitmore.
 
She
gets his voice mails so she leaves a message, trying to sound detached.
 
“Hey Whit, He has his sight back but
not his memory.
 
They’re going to
operate the day after tomorrow.
 
It’s a risky procedure and the odds aren’t good.
 
That gives us twenty four hours to
trigger the memory and get him to give us Riker’s location.”

Claire puts her phone away, wipes her face, takes a sip of water and
focuses, determined to stay professional and complete her mission.

Claire enters Duke’s room.
 
Duke appears to be sleeping, but he's not.
 
He takes in a breath of the jasmine scent.

He smiles knowing that Claire has joined him.
 
“You're back.”
 
He says before he opens his eyes and looks intently at her.

“I'm assigned to you.
 
You're stuck with me,” she teases, trying hard not to get lost in his
eyes.

“The one true bright spot in this mess,” he smiles as he studies her,
appreciating what he sees.

“I just spoke with the doctor. Your surgery is the day after tomorrow,”
Claire shares with Duke.

“Are you going to be around?” He asks with a touch of vulnerability.

Now that he has his sight back,
Claire sees it in his
eyes
,
he's scared
.
 
“Yes, I'll be around.”
 
She takes a seat next to the bed and takes his hand in hers.
 
“I'm not going anywhere.”

Duke admires Claire's beautiful wide band silver and turquoise bracelet
on her wrist. “Very special.”

“My high school graduation present.
 
My Aunt Rita made it for me.”

“Is Aunt Rita your dad's sister?” He asks, clearly and honestly
interested in learning about Claire.

“Yes, actually.
 
My mom died
when I was two so Aunt Rita helped my dad raise me.
 
Now he's gone.
 
She's not only family, she's my best friend.”

“Sorry about your dad.”

“Yeah, me, too.
 
He was a
Coast Guard captain, died while attempting a rescue during a storm.”

“He's a hero.”

“Yes he is. Was.”

“I'm no hero,” Duke reveals, his expression pained.

“There are different ways of being, or becoming, a hero.”

Duke shrugs.
 
“Odds are I
won't get a chance to find out.”

Claire does not want to hear this, neither Claire does: neither the
Claire on a "Get Riker" mission who is trying desperately to stay
focused on playing Duke for information or the Claire who's falling in love
against her better judgment.
 
“You
most certainly will.”
 
Claire
encourages.

“I hope you're right.”

“I'm counting on you to prove me right.”

Duke appreciates her comments, but he still looks big time worried; he
doesn't look like he's ready for a fight for his life.
 
He does, however, look exhausted.

“You really should get some sleep.” Claire encourages.
 
Duke squeezes her hand as if he doesn’t
want to sleep and he doesn’t want her to leave his side.
 
I'll stick around if you’d like,”
Claire offers.

“I’d appreciate that.”
 
Duke
says shyly.
 
His eyes close as he
drifts away.
 
Claire remains in the
chair, her hand in his, as a peaceful look creeps into his sleeping
expression.
 

Claire storms into her condo, a flurry of energy and emotion.
 
She tosses her shoulder bag near her
desk.
 

She tears down a few of the photos of Duke on her presentation
board.
  
She replaces the
photos with photos of: Brent, Riker, the
store owner
Riker killed.
 
She looks intently
at the photos as if trying to exorcise her feelings for Duke from her being and
to remember what her goal is.

Claire puts on shorts, a sports bra and sneakers and hits her
treadmill.
 
She gives her workout
every ounce of energy she has in her, trying to sweat out all of her conflicted
feelings.
 
Once she feels satisfied
that she's released the demons and is back on her mission, she leaves the
treadmill and takes a seat at her desk.

She flips through Duke's dossier, focused on his time spent in prison.

From close-ups on specific pages, she learns that Duke was a voracious
reader, checking out at least two books from the prison library a week. He read
all of the classics, from William Shakespeare to Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce
to Arthur Miller.
 
He read biographies
of historical figures and history books.

She reads over a list of items that were in storage when Duke was in
prison.

The list includes his mom's jewelry box decorated with seashells.
 
Inside the box is a photograph of
Duke's parents on their wedding day, a couple of wedding rings and one of William
Shakespeare's sonnets - Sonnet 116 - handwritten on a piece of paper.

She flips through more Duke information learning that his mom died from
cancer just months before the liquor store robbery that landed Duke in jail.

*****

Claire, dressed as a nurse, enters Duke’s room.
 
She’s pushing a wheelchair with a book
bag resting in the seat.
 
Duke is
no longer hooked up to monitors, but he is still handcuffed.

“Good morning.”

“Jasmine.”

“I guess the nickname's sticking.”

“Do you mind?”

“No. I like it.”

“How come you’re back so soon?”

“Tired of me already, Duke?

“Not at all,” he quickly counters with serious conviction.

“I asked for extra shifts until we get you safely through surgery.”

“I appreciate that,” he whispers, heartfelt.

Claire wheels the chair next to the bed.
 
She takes the book bag and places it in the pouch on the
back of the chair.
 
She then
unlocks the handcuffs.
 
“We are
getting you out of the room today.
 
The doctor
okay’d
it.”

“Are we running away together?” Duke asks flirtatiously.

“Not until at least after the operation,” Claire deadpans.
 

Claire puts her arms around Duke to help him out of the bed.
 
Duke, with his face close to her neck
breathes in her scent and smiles letting out a faint “hmm.”
 
She moves catching his cheek on her
neck, his scuff momentarily rubbing her neck, which sends tingles down her
spine.
 
It’s a highly erotic brief
encounter.
 

With her help, Duke lowers himself into the wheelchair.
 
Their lips are close, and desperately
want to meet, until Claire pulls away, flushed.
 
She might have broken the physical connection with him, but
even without touching the sparks between them are combustible.

She handcuffs his wrist to the armrest of the wheelchair, “ready for a
ride?”
 
She asks breathlessly.
 
He nods, himself flustered, as Claire
pushes the wheelchair out of the room.

After Claire pushes the wheelchair out of the room, she hands the cuff
keys to the cop.
 
“Thank you.
 
We'll be in the solarium.”
 
She tells the guard.

Claire pushes the wheelchair into the solarium.
 
She positions it so Duke has a view of
the water feature and the cityscape.
 
She takes a seat in the chair next to Duke and removes books from the
bookbag
.

“This morning I stopped at a used bookstore and picked up some books
from the bargain table.
 
I thought
I'd read to you if you'd like.”

Duke looks distracted but appreciative of Claire's efforts.
 
“That'd be nice, thanks.”

Claire holds up a William Shakespeare book.
 
“Can you believe William Shakespeare was on the bargain
table?”

“That is unfortunate,” Duke teases.

“I'll start with the sonnets so I don't have to do voices.”

Duke smiles. “Good thinking.”

Claire flips through the sonnet chapter, landing on sonnet 46.
 
She begins to read.
 
"Mine eye and heart are at a
mortal war. How to divide the conquest of thy sight; Mine eye my heart thy
picture's sight would bar, My heart mine eye the freedom of that right..."

Duke, looking miles away from Shakespeare, interrupts.
 
“I guess it really shouldn't matter
what happens in surgery tomorrow.
 
If I pull through, I'm going to jail.
 
Either option
ain't
all that
pleasant.”

“Please don't think that way, Duke.
 
A positive, hopeful attitude will help you pull through
this.
 
You need to fight.”

“What's there to pull through for?
To fight for?
 
Jail time?
 
I don't have the memory of it, but I feel it, I don't have
anyone,” Duke says with such heartache it touches Claire deeply.

“You have me,
”
 
Claire
tenderly touches Duke's inner knee.
 
It's meant to be a display of comfort
and empathy, but it's most highly erotic.
 
Their eyes lock, and stay locked for a long moment.

Claire, shocked as hell by her actions, removes her hand, averts her
eyes and returns her attention to Shakespeare, wanting to distance herself from
her comment and actions.
 
Duke,
surprised himself by Claire’s actions, is deeply pleased.
 

“Billy boy wrote one hundred and fifty four sonnets.
 
I haven't even finished the first one
yet,” Claire says, trying to sound calm even though she’s shaking on the
inside.

“Read on,” he encourages as he studies Claire with a look of true
affection and appreciation.

Claire flips through the book and picks another sonnet – the
sonnet listed with Duke’s mom’s jewelry box items.
 
“Sonnet one hundred and sixteen.
 
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
,
admit impediments
. Love is not love, which alters
when
it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to
remove: O no!
it
is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on
tempests and is never shaken..."

She looks over at Duke while reading and notices that it looks like his
eyes could be misting with memories.
 
She turns her attention back to the sonnet pleased that the efforts
could be working.

"It is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth's unknown,
although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and
cheeks, within his bending sickle's compass come:
 
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it
out even to the edge of doom.
 
If
this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

After she finishes reading the sonnet, she looks at Duke.
 
Something's wrong. “Duke?”

He begins to convulse.
 
She
rushes the wheelchair out of the solarium.
 
Claire hollers as she hurries towards the nurses' station.
“Help
!!!”

Claire watches with incredible concern and worry as the nurses,
orderlies and doctor attend to Duke.
 
They manage to get his convulsions under control before wheeling him
away.