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I can’t remember your name...But I know I love you
“...kota! Dakota!” a voice was coming from far away, on the peripheral of his awareness. Whoever he was.
The funny thing about consciousness is that you’re never really sure when it begins and where it ends. The same could be said for relationships. Trivial things like starts and stops don’t belong in the ebb and flow of life. Everything is mixed up in the crashing waves of feeling and responsibility. One minute you’re doing something and the next you’re lying on the ground (probably) with a skull-splitting headache with no recollection of who you are or what your life entails.
You learn to roll with it.
There was a severe pain waxing and waning in the half-cognizant man’s head and as curious as he was about who he was, he really wished that the person pestering him in a posh accent would leave him alone already.
“Dakota! This can’t be happening! Open your eyes, please!” The voice pleaded
Dakota...That must be his name. Alright, he’s Dakota.
Off to a good start.
Emanating from somewhere in his currently inaccessible memory, he could tell that he would inevitably give in to the man nagging him. There was some sort of pattern. One of them would eventually bend and while it usually wasn’t...Dakota? Yeah that’s him. While it usually wasn’t Dakota to back down, he would do anything for this man in dire straits. He was that important.
Dakota dragged his eyelids open with great difficulty, the fading, red light of day searing his brian from the optical nerves out.
The first thing he noticed after the initial wince -damn, it’s bright - was that everything was dyed in red hues. He came to the conclusion that he either had blood in his eyes, or was wearing some groovy sunglasses. Maybe both. Man, he apparently knew how to party.
A severe Victorian-looking man swam in his vision. What year was it? Maybe he was at a hipster convention and this is all due to the avocado booth falling over on top of him. That would explain the muted green colors he could barely make out from behind his shades.
“Oh thank heavens!” The man threw his arms around Dakota, “I don’t know what I would do without you!”
Huh. Maybe waking up with a serious head injury and amnesia wasn’t half bad. Dakota’s life remained a mystery to himself but the warmth that overtook him in the embrace indicated that the teary-eyed man pulling back sharply played a key role.
“Blast! You’re not supposed to jostle a person with cranial trauma. What a foolish mistake.”
A nostalgic twinge of annoyance came unbidden at the man’s superficial and unnecessarily verbose language. Dakota let it go.
“It’s alright, I’m sure I’ve survived worse...uh, jostlings.”
“Well, you’ve been jostled enough for one day, If I do say so myself,” he placed a hand gingerly on Dakota’s arm, “I thought I lost you. I… I was devastated. Your life is of far more importance to me that our jobs combined, let alone some bloody pistachios!”
Grinning made Dakota’s head feel like it was splitting but he didn’t care, “Pistachios? What are you talking about?”
The man drew his hand back slowly and Dakota keenly felt the loss of physical connection.
The man - how about Mr. Mustachio, that seemed fitting. Mr. Mustachio the pistachio hunter - paled, “Dakota, do you know what happened?”
Dakota noted they were in a large room with nuts scattered across the floor and it looked like they had crashed a beater of a car through a wall. He did his best to shrug (it hurt a lot) “Well, I woke up, got a nice hug… Uh, you looked at me like you were way worried and that’s pretty much all I got. So, here we are!”
Mr. Mustachio’s concerned frown deepened, “ Dakota, do you remember what our job is?”
“Something we messed up, if the concussion is anything to go by.”
Mr. Mustachio blinked a few times, wet his lips, “What is my name?”
Mr. Mustachio, Mr. Mustachio, Mr. Mustachio , aw man, that’s all Dakota could think of! The name was too fitting! He paused before saying the nickname, the other man seemed too distraught to mess with at the moment. Regardless, he couldn’t help but try to use humor to soften the blow. Dakota managed a weak laugh, “Gimme a hint, what does it start with?”
The man froze, looking lost. He blinked hard. He cleared his throat, “Right. So amnesia is it?”
“Yep.”
A long sigh.
“You didn’t give me a hint.”
“My name is Balthazar Cavendish.” he snapped and immediately reined himself in, “I’m sorry, I should not take my frustration with the situation out on you. You’re the one with the injury. I can’t imagine how you must feel right now.” He pulled a device out of his jacket pocket and tapped at it, shook it and tapped some more on the unresponsive screen before heaving a sigh.
Dakota’s heart hurt, seeing how much distress Balthazar was in. Yes, he was the one who may or may not have a brain swimming in his own blood. He couldn’t even remember his full name, but his devotion to the man in front of him still pumped strongly through his veins. Dakota could tell how easily he played things off. It must be a defensive mechanism of some sort. Balthazar looked on the verge of throwing the device across the room.
“Eh, it’s not so bad. I mean there’s the head-crushing pain but even if I can’t remember anything, I can still tell that I love you.”
Balthazar stiffened, “What did you just say?”
“I’m pretty sure you heard me. It’s quiet in here.” Dakota’s smile turned sly, “Wait a minute, are you trying to get me to say it again? I lo-”
Balthazar scowled, cheeks bright pink, “You’re concussed! You don’t know what it is you’re talking about.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what are we?” Dakota challenged.
“We are partners.” Balthazar sniffed, trying desperately to keep his composure, for some odd reason.
“Aha!”
“No! Not ‘aha!’ We work together. Like, um. Colleagues! Yes, we are colleagues!”
Dakota started to roll his eyes but stopped when he felt like he was going to puke. Why was Balthazar so fervently denying what they were? Dakota just stepped into his own life, yet he could feel the connection between them. You’d have to be an idiot not to notice it. “Yeah, and you’d be devastated and wouldn’t know how to carry on in life without the guy who works at the pistachio stand with you.”
“Wh-We don’t sell pistachios! We’re time travelers!”
Dakota perked up, “We’re time travelers? No way! Hey, that explains the get-up you got going on there.”
“I always dress like this!”, he bristled, then blinked, “I’m not even sure if I should be filling in the blanks for you right now. I’m not too certain how amnesia works.”
“Speaking of, are you going to um, take me to a hospital or something?” Dakota was feeling a little lightheaded.
Fear flashed in Balthazar’s eyes before he fussed with the device again, “I’ve been trying…! The Quantum Localizer is self-charging at the moment and I can’t speed it up!” He looked to Dakota, “Is your head feeling worse? Maybe we need to elevate it.”
Dakota shrugged, “it wouldn’t hurt. As long as you don’t jostle me too hard.”
Balthazar squinted at him and pulled off his coat, tucking it under Dakota’s head gently, “how is that?” he asked, looking concerned and super fucking gay. Seriously, what was his issue? They both obviously meant the world to each other and the fact that he recoiled at Dakota’s heartfelt words was very inconsistent with what he was seeing.
Balthazar dug around inside of the crumpled remains of their car (Time machine? So cool!). He returned empty handed and paced, taking out the Localizer and checking it periodically. The way he cast worried looks at Dakota while attempting to maintain discretion as to how much he cared was both sweet and annoying. Dakota pretended not to notice and bit back a smile at his partner’s attempts at nonchalant yet vigilant caretaking. Were they always like this? Never saying what they really mean and using banter as a way to escape any deeper feelings?
Dakota realized that there may be a possibility that they aren’t in fact an item...Yet. Maybe there was a regulation at their time-job. Or even worse, what if he played it cool/played it off as a joke too often and never really confessed?
“Uh oh...”
“What?”
“Maybe that was supposed to be a secret”
“What?”
“That I love you.”
“Ack!” Balthazar fumbled the device in his hands and it skidded a few feet away.
“What’s the matter?”
“What’s ‘the matter’?” Oh man, he pulled out the air quotes. “ You…! You’ve had head trauma! You’re saying things you don’t mean!”
“Well, maybe I do mean it! How do you know?”
“Well, maybe I don’t know!” Balthazar crossed his arms.
“Well, maybe you’re right that you don’t know and that’s reason why you’re too scared to love me back!” Dakota didn’t realize he was yelling. His brain was going to explode, he could feel it.
Balthazar shouted back, “Well, maybe you’re correct and I’ve loved you for ages and don’t want to get my hopes up when you’ve had a head injury and might never remember all the time we shared and maybe you really don’t mean it and I, “he scrubbed at his eyes, “I… I thought you were dead.”
Dakota blinked at Balthazar.
Balthazar blinked tears out of his eyes in Dakota’s general direction.
The Quantum Localizer beeped.
“The...The thing! Bal, the thing!”
Balthazar blinked at the device flashing in his hands, “oh.”
Dakota struggled to his feet, gratefully accepting Balthazar’s free hand. Balthazar pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned. Dakota tilted his head, “Tell you what, we’ll make our way to the hospital and once this is cleared up, you can take me on a nice date and we can redo this confessions of undying love thing, alright? Your treat.”
Balthazar opened his mouth to speak, closed it, tried again, “That...That would be lovely.” He gave Dakota a watery smile, ”I would be honored to take you on a date, Vinnie Dakota.”
“My name’s Vinnie?!”