Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Paging Doctor Haught. Paging Doctor Haught for a consult in the ER.”

Nicole fought a grimace as she stretched out her long legs down the halls of the hospital. She was no stranger to people poking fun at her last name, but having it announced over the hospital PA system was the worst.

The whispers picked up as she passed the waiting area.

“That is one hot doc.” A couple jocks in hockey uniforms whispered.

“Burning red hot.” Probably waiting on an orthopedist…or if she was really lucky, a neuro consult for a concussion. She eyed them without turning her head. One of them was holding his arm at an awkward angle. Orthopedist then. She wasn’t usually paged for someone who was conscious. He winced as he forgot about his injury and nudged a friend with his injured arm.

The neurologist reminded herself that the people in the ER waiting area were stressed out. They were in pain or worried about loved ones, teammates, dreading bad news. If joking about her last name brought them a moment’s distraction, that was a good thing.

“Whoooeee think if I broke my arm I could get a special consult from the hot doc?” The jock leered at her.

Her teeth clenched. You took an oath to do no harm.

Dropping her gaze, she checked her pager again and headed to the nurse’s station on five to get some background. The charge nurse Alex smiled briefly at her, his mustache twitching at her exasperation, he knew she hated the announcement. His face turned serious as he held out a chart. He wouldn’t page her without cause…well usually.

His voice was all business as he rattled off information. “Mid twenties female. Brought in alone, unconscious. Suspected motorcycle accident. She was wearing a helmet. Mostly bruised ribs and bruised body, a few lacerations.”

Nicole arched an eyebrow as she picked up the chart. “Really? That’s incredibly lucky. Any idea what caused the accident?”

Alex shook his head. “No. A crew of high schoolers called it in on their way to a night out in the Big City.” He rolled his eyes. “Seems the bike was heading towards Purgatory…that road’s as empty as they come.”

Under less serious circumstances, Nicole would have joked with Alex about the teens looking for some excitement. He’d left a small town himself, and they would tease eachother about being city mouse and country mouse all the time. She looked down at the chart. It was December. The rider probably slid out on black ice. How long had she been unconscious? The road to Purgatory was definitely not well traveled...ironically. It could have been hours before another car came along. Her brain was already sorting through possible issues that could cause.

Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, Nicole stepped into the room to see her patient. Long brown hair cascaded down her shoulders. Thanks to the helmet’s protection, her face was clear of injuries. She looked peaceful, but Nicole’s eyes tracked down her body. The chart indicated her left side took the brunt of the impact. Bruises bloomed around her elbow. No doubt there were worse injuries under the sheets. Motorcycle accidents were a crapshoot, if the patient was lucky enough to survive.

The neurologist ran through her usual checks first - vitals, responsive pupils, reflexes - thankfully everything seemed ok there. She put in a request for a CT scan and walked back to the nurse’s station. “You said she was alone. Did they find ID?”

Alex scratched the side of his chin. “We did. About five of them. All with different names but matching pictures.”

Nicole’s eyes widened with surprise as he continued. “We’re running them all in the system. Hopefully one’ll hit. My money’s on Pamela Donovan.”

”Oh? And why that one in particular?” She kept her face straight but her eyes were crinkling with amusement.

“Because Wynonna Earp sounds totally made up.” Alex scoffed. “And if I had the name Pamela Donovan, I’d want to switch things up.”

Nicole chuckled, her pager buzzing in her pocket. Neuro consult for hockey injury. She groaned but started walking. Over her shoulder she called. “Call me when the tests come in yeah?”

“You got it Doc Haught.” Alex winked.

A few hours later, Nicole was sitting in the mystery woman’s room filling out charts. The CT scan didn’t show anything concerning, but there was no doubt the woman’s noggin had been rocked hard in the crash. Nicole didn’t want the woman to wake up alone, and it was nice sometimes to have someone to talk to…even if they didn’t talk back.

”I swear Lucado has the worst handwriting. I mean I know it’s a cliche for doctors but seriously!” The orthopedist’s notes were nearly incomprehensible, and she refused to take any feedback on it. Nicole was certain her patient would agree wholeheartedly with her concerns.

”And don’t get me started on Nurse Stephanie.” She looked down at another chart with tiny hearts doodled in the margins. “I swear ever since she found out I’m a lesbian, it’s been nonstop. I mean I already get enough crap for being Doctor Haught…now I have to deal with her hitting on me?” Nicole fumed, eyes on the chart as she scratched out the doodles. “It’s just unprofessional.”

“I don’t know hot sauce. I’m straight and even I’m thinking about it.” A voice slurred.

Nicole’s hands froze as she whipped her head up. She met clear blue eyes struggling to stay open. The woman had a lopsided smile on her face. The doctor jumped to her feet and approached the bed.

”Hey there, welcome back. You had me a little worried.”

“Couldn’t be that worried if you’re telling me about your love life Doc.” Dark eyebrows twitched slowly.

Nicole blushed. “I’m sorry that was unprofessional. I just…you were…” she gathered herself. “I’m Doctor Haught. You’re in St. Carlo hospital after a motorcycle accident. Can you tell me your name?”

The woman’s eyes opened fully and her brow furrowed as she listened. She bit her lip in a moment of indecision then her face turned serious, a mask slipping into place. “Not sure I should tell you mine if you won’t tell me your real name. For all I know you’re just trying to hit on me Hot Doctor.”

Nicole fought the urge to roll her eyes. “My name is Doctor Nicole Haught - H-A-U-G-H-T. It’s Dutch, maybe Flemish. Believe me I’ve heard all the jokes.”

The eyebrows softened and a tint of color crept into her patient’s cheeks. “I…I’m sorry. That must be hard…having everyone making fun of your last name. Judging you for it...” Her speech slowed and she pressed her eyes closed tight as if trying to ward off an unpleasant feeling. When her eyes opened again, they were wide and scared.

“Doctor Haught…I umm I don’t remember my name. I can’t remember my own name…” her voice jumped higher.

Nicole could see the panic setting in and gripped the woman’s hand, forcing her to meet her gaze. “It’s ok. It’s ok. You’re ok. Take a breath with me ok?”

They took three deep breaths together as the woman gripped Nicole’s hand like a vise. “Listen to me. I’m a neurologist - brain specialist - this type of thing can happen. It’s normal after the accident you had. You were unconscious for a while, we’re not sure how long, but you’re safe, you’re alive, and I’m going to help you.”

The woman pressed her lips together tight but nodded. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Another day had passed and Jane Doe was still a mystery. Nicole’s patient had slept most of the day, giving in to the pain killers for her other injuries. Her left hip bore some deep cuts from taking the brunt of the impact. The brunette downed her pain pills plus antibiotics with aplomb. While still a stranger to herself, the woman was no stranger to taking pills. Nicole had flipped back in her chart to her tox screen from the night of the accident, but it was clean.

The way a person’s skills, habits, personality traits could still stick with them when everything else was gone fascinated Nicole. It’s why she chose to focus on the human brain. A head injury in the right spot could cost someone their speech, but they might still be able to swear because curse words lived in another part of the brain. Swearing elicited an emotional response that could release tension and lessen pain. She’d seen this phenomenon up close in her fellowship. The loss was always tragic, but humans were endlessly resilient finding new insights and gains. The doctor wished for that kind of outcome for each of her patients: whatever the cost, she hoped they found something new and positive. Of course, it was her job to make that cost as low as possible.

Circling back on her last rounds of the day, Nicole found the woman awake and eating some orange Jell-O.

“Orange huh? Not a common choice.” She entered the room with a smile.

Her patient shrugged, pulling the spoon out of her mouth. “Can’t remember which is my favorite so I’m trying them out.”

Nicole settled onto a stool across from the woman. “Smart.” She smiled again. “What have you tried so far?”

Blue eyes rolled up in contemplation. “Cherry red and strawberry red. Green. Blue. Hard pass on the yellow.” She stuck her tongue out.

Nicole’s eyebrows rose. “That is a lot of Jell-O in twenty four hours.” Usually patients got a max of two Jell-O cups a day. “Someone must like you.”

Her patient smirked. “I can be very persuasive. Nurse Stephanie felt bad for me not remembering anything.” Nicole’s eyes narrowed. Stephanie harbored some strong Florence nightingale fantasies…well really she just wanted to meet someone at work. Nicole couldn’t blame her entirely - finding time and energy outside of work to date was not easy, and it would be easier to just click with someone that was right in front of her. This particular someone in front of her though was a patient and also had already established that the nurse was barking up the wrong tree. Nicole shook her head.

“So you’re using her sympathy to raid the hospital’s Jell-O supply?”

Her patient pulled a face and then waved her spoon in a triumphant circle. “When life gives you a head injury, make lemonade.”

That was…sort of the spirit.

“If you’re making lemonade, why did you skip yellow?” Nicole asked. “It’s literally lemon.”

“Says you.” Her patient snarked. “Nothing good comes from yellow - snow, fever…” she waved a hand to indicate ‘and so on.’

Nicole chuckled. “I don’t know. I had a champagne flavored Jell-O in college. That was kinda yellow.”

The woman’s eyes widened with interest. “Now we’re talking.” She wiggled her cup. “You holding out on the Jell-O shots there Haught Shot?”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Definitely not. This is a hospital.”

“Yeah there’s hella drugs here.” Her patient shrugged as she dug her spoon deep into the Jell-O. “I hate champagne anyway.”

Seeing the woman’s personality shining through, Nicole decided to show her the IDs she had been carrying in case one triggered something.

“You know, you were carrying identification when you crashed out.” Nicole began.

Her patient stiffened, eyes accusatory. “What the hell Haught? Why wouldn’t you just tell me my name then?”

Nicole held up a hand. “I’m not holding out on you I promise. You had four IDs with you for different names and states.” She handed them to her patient who snatched them up. The brunette flipped through them then dropped her hands to the bed.

“I mean who needs four fake IDs? What kind of person am I? Some kind of…criminal?” Her fingers fidgeted with the blanket on her bed.

Nicole stilled the hand with a squeeze. “Hey now, plenty of good guys have fake IDs - James Bond, Jason Bourne, Sydney Bristow…”

“So spies. You think I might be some kind of spy?” Her brow was wrinkled, but Nicole picked up on a slight hint of intrigue, of want, of hope in those clear blue eyes. Patients needed that, and Nicole wouldn’t snuff it out.

“Who knows?” She winked. “Could be you’re an ass kicking super hero of some kind. Any of the names feel familiar?”

Long fingers ran over the IDs. “This one is definitely fake.” She showed Nicole Pamela Donovan’s ID.

“Oh? Why does that one stand out?” Nicole couldn’t wait to tell Alex he was wrong.

“The lettering is off on the Arizona ID. The weathering is a nice touch, but it doesn’t make up for the extra pixels here along the edges. It’s sloppy. Plus, who’s named Pamela?” Her nose wrinkled as she said the name.

Nicole decided not to comment on the impressive display of knowledge consistent with an expert forger. Maybe she was a cop or…Nicole wasn’t sure what other occupation would have that skill, but she wanted to keep an open mind.

“Huh. I hadn’t noticed that. Ok so Pamela’s out. Anything else ring a bell?”

The woman gave a small shake of her head, her voice dropping as she exhaled. “No, nothing else.”

She pushed away the rest of her Jell-O cup. The doctor’s heart clenched.

“You know,” Nicole leaned in close, dropping her voice. “The chocolate cake here is actually pretty good. Want to see if you like it? You know, for medicinal purposes?”

She was relieved to see a smirk creeping onto her patient’s face, mischief lighting her eyes again. “Well, if it’s for medicinal purposes, then I have to right?”

Nicole dropped off the cake herself. It was still early days; her patient could remember, or they could find a family member. Alex was reaching out to a few numbers. Until then, they’d make lemonade. Of course her patient did like it, but then again she might need a second piece to be sure.

“Nuh uh.” Nicole shook her head. “I’m no sucker. Order some real food for dinner or I’ll cut off your Jell-O supply.”

Blue eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare. It’s for science!”

“Science also says you need a balanced diet, not just sugar.”

“But maybe I’m different! Maybe I’m like a super hero who needs sugar to activate my powers.” She flexed her hands and then shadow boxed a few punches.

“With all the sugar you’ve eaten today, you should be flying if that were the case.” Nicole crossed her arms, doing her best to school her features. This woman was fun. She made it hard for Nicole to keep her professional persona in place. They could joke around, but Nicole still needed to be her doctor first. Her pager buzzed. She checked it and glanced back at her patient. “I’m serious, order something with protein and fiber.” She softened, “and I’ll think about bringing you a real breakfast sandwich from outside the hospital tomorrow.”

A groan. “You fight dirty Haught Sauce.” A nod. “Respect. Breakfast sandwich and a donut.”

Nicole chuckled as she left the room. As she headed to her next patient, she tossed up a silent prayer that Alex found someone who knew and cared about her patient.

Chapter Text

Waverly Earp had had a day. Eight hours of teaching history to overly energetic teenagers itching for Christmas break and another few hours with the rowdy crowd at Shorty’s had Waverly longing to slip into something more comfortable…like a coma.

She clomped into her home dropping her bag by the door. Her usually nimble fingers fumbled to unwind her scarf and hang it with her earmuffs. She shed her thick parka that her students said made her look like a penguin. She didn’t care what she looked like if it kept her toasty and warm. Besides, emperor penguins looked both cute and stylish. Really it was a compliment.

High school history teacher in her home town hadn’t exactly been the plan, but then again, her plans rarely panned out. Plan to have a happy childhood with her sisters? Ruined by the unexpected death of her father and oldest sister. New plan to make the best of her situation with her aunt and uncle? Dashed by cruel kids who mocked her remaining sister mercilessly until Wynonna lashed out. Waverly always tried to explain that it wasn’t Wynonna’s fault, but Aunt Gus had expectations to turn the other cheek, not threaten to (or actually) set someone’s shoes on fire. Her plan to run away with Wynonna? Scrapped when she woke up on her 17th birthday to a scrawled note of apology and a missing sister.

The plan to remake her reputation outside her sister’s shadow…that one had gone well. No one would have let her near the high school students if it hadn’t. But after she had officially become the nicest person in Purgatory? Horse of a different color. Graduating with a double major in history and ancient languages from correspondence school, this was the only option that allowed her to actually use her degree while saving for a master’s program in the Big City…plus working weekends at Shorty’s anyway. With luck and careful budgeting, she’d have enough saved in another two years.

She liked teaching and knew she was good at it. Even with freedom around the corner, the teenagers stuck with her as Waverly explained the intricacies of Incan inventions, the sailing techniques of the Vikings, and the development of written language in India. Ok, most of them did. Andy York ogled her ass in her pencil skirt whenever she turned to write on the whiteboard, but he was awake at least. Something had to get in by osmosis. Her ancient history rabbit holes weren’t strictly in the curriculum for high schoolers. It was just so cool. She couldn’t help a few detours, and her students did appreciate the extra credit they could earn for catching and following up on her references.

Waverly sighed as she set her keys on her upcycled end table. She had a mountain of essays to grade tomorrow before another shift at Shorty’s. That, however, was a tomorrow problem. Her bed called to her.

She was about to go upstairs when a flashing red light caught her eye. Waverly blinked hard against the tired feeling in her eyes. She must be hallucinating.

No, there it was: A blinking red light on her answering machine.

Her sister, like their mother before her, had left Waverly alone in the world, dissapearing almost five years ago. Waverly had come to terms with it, and sometimes, even accepted Wynonna’s reasoning that Waverly was better off. But there was always one small corner of her brain, of her heart, that held out hope of a reunion. So she had kept the first phone number that she ever memorized and that outdated piece of technology just in case her wandering sister ever tried to call home.

Waverly hesitated, finger over the button, heart racing. It wasn’t Wynonna. It couldn’t be. It was probably a telemarketer, though they didn’t usually leave a voicemail after hearing the message Waverly couldn’t bring herself to change: 10 seconds of the chorus of mmmBop followed by the synchronized voice of her and her sisters asking the caller to leave a message after the beep. It wrapped up with Willa screeching because Wynonna stepped on her toes as she shut off the message. No, her shoulders sagged, she could ignore this and go to bed.

But there was that tiny voice asking what if, what if, what if?

Her index finger pressed the button. There was a small chuckle before a man cleared his throat.

“Hello Miss Earp, my name is Alex Finch and I’m calling from St. Carlo General Hospital in the Big City. This number was listed as a last known emergency contact for a Miss Wynonna Earp. We believe Ms. Earp was brought in for treatment earlier and need help confirming identification. Please come in or give us a call at 555-435-7812.”

Waverly’s finger bowed as she smashed the replay button. Heart racing, she listened to the message twice more.

What the hell did they mean “we believe” Wynonna was at the hospital? Why would they “need help with identification”? Her brain immediately conjured horrific images of her sister bloodied and broken, comatose, dying. She grabbed her keys and strode barefoot to the door.

The cold wind that slapped at her face stopped her in her tracks. It was late. She was exhausted. The drive to the Big City was almost four hours on a two-lane highway in winter conditions. Waverly Earp didn’t rush into things. She needed a plan.

Closing the door, Waverly played the message again. This time she typed the phone number into her cell phone and dialed. She bit her lip as the phone rang once, twice…

“Hello? Fifth floor nurse’s station. This is Greta.”

“Hello, I’m umm I received a call from Alex Finch about my sister Wynonna, Wynonna Earp?”

“Hold please.”

Musak assaulted ear. She tapped her foot out of time then spun slowly.

The terse voice came back. “No patient under Earp. Finch is off right now. He’ll be back at 10AM you can call then.”

The line went dead. Fudgenuggets!

Waverly checked the time: Midnight. If she got some sleep and got up early, she could be at the hospital by the time this Alex Finch guy was at work. Yes, she nodded to herself, that was a plan.

Chapter Text

“Gin.” Nicole’s patient said with a smirk as she laid the cards down.

Nicole frowned at her own fistful of cards. “I thought you said you’d never played this before. Are you hustling me?”

Her patient shrugged and leaned back on her pillows. “I said I didn’t remember playing it before. You’re the brain doc. Am I supposed to know shit like this even if I can’t remember my own name?” She said it with a smile, but Nicole sensed an undercurrent. This woman did not like pity…or feelings. She was sharp, had a quick wit, and was excellent at deflection. Still, it had been a few days now. Anyone would be worried about what was normal, even if her patient didn’t want to show it.

Nicole could relate to the tough act. There were some topics - her family for one - that triggered her defensive instincts. Walls would snap into place guarded with a healthy dose of snark.

The redhead squared her shoulders, voice professional as she said, “It’s not uncommon to retain memories of certain skills like driving or muscle memory like where the plates are stored in your home. That’s why we’re doing this. We’re testing things out.” She shot her patient an upbeat smile that flashed her dimples.

It was technically true. Really she was trying to keep her patient happy and distracted while they tried to find an emergency contact. Still, exploring different games and activities that the woman might be skilled in did give them clues. She was not one for knitting or most crafts. She was excellent at card games. Having spent much of her teen years with her grandparents who were never very able-bodied, Nicole also knew many card games. She should probably be dealing with charts and paperwork, but her patient came first. Nicole didn’t want to leave the woman alone with the emptiness in her head for long stretches. The doctor shuffled the deck and started dealing. “Buckle up Buttercup, let’s test your skill at Texas Hold Em.” She said with a smirk.

Mischievous blue eyes met Nicole’s brown ones over the tray on the bed as Nicole dealt. “So, I thought it was Tuesday, but they tell me it’s Saturday. Got a hot date tonight Doc?”

Nicole rolled her eyes as she checked her cards: a seven and a jack. She turned the first three cards. No help for her there. “Because every date I go on is a Haught one?”

The redhead’s lips pulled into a grin as she enjoyed beating her patient to the punch. The woman had taken it as a personal challenge to make as many puns as she could out of the doctor’s last name…in the name of mental exercises she had assured Nicole. It should have been annoying, but somehow her patient’s puns didn’t actually bother Nicole. Maybe it was because they were more creative than usual.

“You said it Haught Topic. Getting drinks tonight with a fella?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Or a lady?”

“Why would I tell you, my patient, that kind of sensitive information?” Nicole flipped the next card.

“Why Doctor Haught, do you doubt my ability to keep a secret?” Dark eyebrows softened around wide innocent eyes. Her expression changed in an instant as Nicole flipped the final card, the king of hearts. “Nah, you’re going to do it as payment for the fact that I’m about to kick your ass.” She said.

Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “Oh you think you’ve got the cards? I think you’re full of it.”

A snort. “Bring it Doctor Tater Haught. I bet you your secret weekend plans.”

The edge of Nicole’s mouth quirked up. “What do I get when I win?”

The brunette rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you my real name.”

Nicole’s mouth dropped open. “Do you remember? That’s amazing. I mean…”

“Ha! Gotcha!” Her patient leaned forward flipping both sets of cards revealing her pair of kings to Nicole’s hand of nothing. “I knew you were bluffing!” She exclaimed, pumping a fist in victory.

Nicole frowned and stood, assessing her patient seriously. “Hey Buttercup, are you bluffing or do you actually remember something?”

The woman let out a dejected sigh and sank back into her pillows. “For a second there I was having fun. No Doc. I’m still as empty up here as the day you met me.” She knocked her knuckles against her temple. Nicole’s stomach dropped at her dejected face. This was the opposite of what she was trying to accomplish. Sighing, Nicole relented.

“I don’t have plans…or a date, hot or not. Just me and my cat, Calamity Jane.” She sank onto a stool.

“Blergh that sounds bleak. No offense. Cats are cool, it’s just…the way you said that. Like how is that possible? You’re literally and figuratively a hot doctor.” She waved her hands up and down Nicole’s body. “Are you secretly a serial killer or something? Should I be concerned? Is this even a hospital?” She inched away from Nicole, eyes wide, smile teasing. The doctor noted she winced slightly as the action put weight on her left wrist.

Nicole rolled her eyes. “I don’t…it’s just…” she hated the feeling of having to explain this to someone. She was single and had been for a while now. Her schedule was slammed and dating apps were exhausting. In theory, there were plenty of people at work, but getting hit on by nurses or patients with possible brain damage wasn’t her thing. It would be nice to have someone, a partner, but…she looked at her patient. The teasing had faded from her eyes, and the stark sincerity left behind was startling. The redhead shrugged. If she couldn’t tell a sympathetic amnesiac, who could she say this to?

“Look, I work a lot. For a long time, I also traveled a lot, and it’s not that I don’t want to date. It would be nice to find someone to make a life with. It’s just…it’s not like an angel is just going to walk into the hospital and say she’s looking for”

”Doctor Haught?” A female voice in the hall interrupted her. “I’m looking for Doctor Haught, about her patient. Reception said I should come to the fifth floor nurse’s station.”

The woman stopped a few feet from the door. From what Nicole could see out the opening, the woman was petite with long brown hair that draped down her back. She had on a large puffy coat, skinny jeans, and dark weathered boots. Her patient craned her neck to the side so she could see as well. Letting out a low whistle she arched an eyebrow at Nicole, the mischievous glint back in her blue eyes. “You were saying?”

Nicole made a shushing motion to which her patient responded with a crude gesture. Straightening her white coat, Nicole stepped briskly through the door, pulling it shut behind her as a “Boo no fun! I wanna see…” followed her.

Nicole approached the woman and began to speak. “I’m…”

The woman turned to face her and Nicole froze. Her eyes traced a furrowed brow down to beautiful but concerned hazel eyes and continued on to pink lips pressed together. The woman’s whole body was tense, and Nicole felt an urgent need to banish whatever was stressing this angel out. If only her brain could still form words.

”Doctor Haught.” Alex helpfully filled in for her, pulling her gaze to his smirking face. “Ms. Earp, this is Doctor Nicole Haught, she’s the neurologist working with the patient I called you about. She can fill you in on the details.”

Earp. Why was that name familiar? Which patient was Alex talking about? Nicole needed her brain to get back in gear.

“Is it Wynonna? Is she here? Can I see her?” The woman’s hands twisted in the colorful scarf around her neck. Earp, Wynonna Earp - That is a made up name if I ever heard one. Alex’s voice rang in her head. The penny dropped, and Nicole snapped back into focus.

“Ms. Earp. Thank you for coming. We have had a hard time locating next of kin or an emergency contact for this patient. I’ll need you to answer a few questions.”

Hazel eyes narrowed and Nicole registered the dark circles under them. “Listen Hot Doctor, Doctor Haught, whatever your name is…” the woman stepped closer to Nicole, glaring up at her. “I’m operating on very little sleep, and I just drove three hours to get here so I just want someone to tell me what happened to my sister!”

Surprised by the feisty reaction, Nicole held up her hands in a placating manner. “I understand the frustration Ms. Earp. I really appreciate you coming all this way to help us out. The issue is we don’t know if the woman is your sister.”

”Oh God, why not? Is she in a coma?” The brunette interrupted her, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

“No, no. She’s overall ok. Just please, come with me…” She gave a gentle tug on the woman’s hands. They were small and cold, but then Nicole tended to run warm. She led them into a small office on the floor and invited her to sit. Taking a seat opposite, she took a breath to marshal her thoughts.

“My patient is a woman in her late twenties who was traveling by motorcycle on the road toward Purgatory a few days ago. She was in an accident and has some lacerations that needed stitches and bruised ribs, a lot of bruises really, but she otherwise came through remarkably well from an orthopedics standpoint.” She paused to let the information sink in.

“But you’re not an orthopedist. You’re a neurologist so something’s wrong with her brain. It is a coma!” The woman jumped to her feet.

Nicole held up a hand again. “Ms. Earp, please, please remain calm. I know this is difficult. The patient is awake, but she has no memory of who she is, not even her own name.”

“Ok but she must have ID on her or have a phone with emergency contacts.” Nicole was impressed at how quickly the brunette’s mind was racing ahead of the information Nicole was trying to painstakingly lay out.

”She did have ID…about four of them.” She spoke slowly looking for a reaction.

Ms. Earp crossed her arms and sat back on the chair now, her face unreadable.

Nicole continued. “Among the IDs was one for Pamela Johnson from Arizona. There were a few others. One was connected to you.”

“Wynonna Earp.” Ms. Earp supplied. “Blue eyes, sass mouth, hair like a mare with a Hollywood stylist?”

Nicole opened her mouth then shut it, biting the inside of her cheek to stifle the smile that threatened to erupt at that concise description of her patient. Despite what the woman had been through, her hair still had soft natural waves to it. She nodded slowly, heart rate picking up with anticipation. It had been three days, but maybe now her patient would have some answers.

“That sounds right.” Nicole said. “When was the last time you saw your sister? Did you know she was traveling to Purgatory?”

Something flashed across the woman’s face, but then it was gone. She shrugged.

“Wynonna does what she wants, goes where she wants.” Hazel eyes rolled up in thought, “I haven’t seen her in what, five years? I think last I heard she was in Greece.”

Nicole nodded sympathetically. Given that the hospital had such a hard time tracking someone down, she had already considered estrangement could be a possibility. Still, Ms. Earp was here and concerned about her sister’s safety. That had to count for something. “I realize this is probably very difficult for you. If you can come with me, the door to her room has a window, if you can positively identify her from the hall, I can let you in to talk to her. If not, I don’t…” she trailed off.

“You don’t want to give her false hope.” Ms. Earp finished for her quietly. She nodded as she stood, arms hugged tight around her chest. “Lead the way.”