2007-06-12: She Has Amnesia


Taine_icon.gif Erin_icon.gif

Summary: A mysterious woman wakes up in a hospital bed and can't remember anything about her life. Also, she is mysterious. GASP.

Date It Happened: 12 JUNE 2007

She Has Amnesia

A Hospital. OR IS IT?

Sterile, white. The normal room in a hospital with a single private bed. A heart monitor beeps in steady pace, keeping track of blood pressure and pulse. An IV drip silently works under the buzz of lights and machines.

The door opens, admiting a young blond man, in a white lab coat that sits over a suit. Shirt untucked on one side, he gives off a whimsical aire, that continues when he speaks to the patient, "Good evening. I'm Dr. Pryce from Neurology. Dr. Morton referred you to me. Do you recall why you are here?" His voice has a tone and texture, a soft sound and a gentle accent that stresses vowels and consenants in a much different way than most people would be used to.


She didn't wake up too long ago. In fact, when the doctor enters the room, blue eyes are just fluttering open. She moans a little, grumbles, shifts on the bed as if trying to get her bearings. That's when a realisation strikes her; she opens her eyes and stares blankly at the man in front of her. Following the long pause, she looks to the left, the right— it's definitely a hospital room.

Reaching for the IV in her arm, she suddenly pulls it out, a frightened look on her face, as she struggles to get to her feet. Unfortunately, it seems as if she's been injured; her legs are bandaged, and this causes her to fall onto the cold floor.


Putting the clip board aside quickly, the young doctor steps forward and puts his hands on her shoulders, trying to keep her steady, "Miss, you can't leave. You have suffered a severe trauma." Normally this is when someone would page for the nurses, or a security professional, but as the monitors start going off with the loss of her heart rate, he doesn't even bother to make a move for that. Instead, Dr. Pryce seems content on handling everything on his own, including touching a patient in a bedrobe.

"We found no identification on you. Do you recall your name?"


She hasn't said a word yet. Instead, the woman concentrates on rubbing her arm where the IV was pulled out, lips pulling back as she winces. Pain. On top of that, she looks confused, eyes unfocused, looking somewhere beyond the doctor's shoulder.

Until he speaks, then she meets his eyes, her own narrowing as she reaches up to put a hand on his shoulder— In order to shove him away. Her hands move up to the bandage aroud her head, and finally, a sound— "/Ah!/" says, glaring angrily at him over her shoulder. "I… I need just a minute."


The doctor looks annoyed, and even perhaps frustrated at this particular patient, standing up when he's shoved away. The first order of business is to walk over to the monitors and shut them off, stopping the annoying sounds that are really getting to him, and then walking back towards the door, where he stands in front of it, "Take your time, but it would be a good idea for you to get back into the bed," he gestures towards said bed, abandoned by it's patient.

There's no sign of anyone else coming to investigate what's gone wrong, the bright lights continue to glare down from above. With less noise, it's easier to hear his steady breathing as he crosses his arms and waits.


Still on the floor, knees drawn up under her, the woman seems to be in some sort of deep state of concentration, before she looks up, into his eyes, her face just falling apart, stubbornness vanishing, tears appearing, as she /SOBS./ "I don't know! I don't know who I am, or where!" she yells between cries, and suddenly the reason for her previous fear has become apparent. She can't remember a thing. Whatever injured her, the reason she has a bandage around her head — she can't recall it.

"You— " she points at the doctor, hand returning to her face to mop across her nose, her cheek, and she appears surprised to find tears there. "Where am I?"


At her outburst, a softer expression appears on the annoyed face, a long look where the expression holds firm as it is. Under the softer expression is a noticable flicker of surprise. That fades as the look drags on. After the extended pause, he moves away from the door, unfolding his arms and stepping back over to her. He kneels down, resting his arms against his knees as the long lab coat splays against the floor at his sides, "You're in Llanview Community Hospital. You were found about a mile outside of town on the side of the road. It's possible you were hitchiking. Your injuries are limited to blunt trauma to the head and legs— I was called in to consult for possible neurological damage."

Which isn't so much possible anymore. It's pretty much a definite.


Whatever the amnesia took away from her, it seems to be the only damage she has - the complete inability to recall anything pertaining to her own self-awareness. Where she's from, who she is. The look she gives the doctor clearly says she's confused and wants - no, /needs/ - answers. Rubbing her arm again, she tries to control her tears, tries to hide the fact that she was even crying in the first place. "I can't— " She thinks again, trying to recall /anything,/ but it's just a blank.

There are a million questions she could ask, but at the top of her list is, "How long was I out?" Establish a time frame. It's important. Who knows why?

There's a bump, which sounds vaguely like it's coming from the next room. The woman ignores it, eyes still focused on the doctor's. "I don't even know my name."


"You'll be fine," he says, looking into her tear streaked blue eyes. His own eyes are intent, lips pursed in thought. This may not be his strong point, explaining issues to patients in a kindly manner. "The neurology department is dedicated to assisting you on your problem." Money issues are never mentioned or brought up, just assurances that something will be done to help her. "You weren't out long, less than a day," he answers.

There's a flicker in the corner of his eye at the bump from the next room, the annoyance returning. Managing to keep his eyes on his patient, he looks as if he's consentrating. The pause is extended again, as if to give her time to settle her nerves. When he speaks, in the same smooth accent as before, he says, "You'll need a name for the paper work until we find what yours is. Surely someone will know who you are."


A day? That's not too long, right? Surely she should remember something. Obviously, she got hit on the head… Somewhere along the line. Hitchhiking? Right. Okay. Possible, but—

Suddenly the question from before - do you recall your name? - registers in the woman's eyes. "You— don't know?" she asks. And at that point, a few ceiling tiles fall into her bed.

"Erin!" Someone calls. The 'patient' rolls her eyes and gets to her feet as another voice calls "/CUT!/"

"Sorry," she says quietly to the 'doctor,' heading off behind the set to figure out what the problem is /this time./ She's already been on set backstage for a couple weeks, though this was her first time on camera… And evidently, they can't handle the set maintenance without her. /Jeez./ Nevermind that this was just a prop error, and no one else's fault. It's excruciatingly frustrating to have to rebuild a damn ceiling on her first day in front of the camera. And so she drags a ladder onto the set, and with a couple other techs, goes about starting the work of securing the tiles.

After awhile, and when the others seem to have the situation well in hand, Erin climbs back down the ladder, reaching the back of her hand up to dry the remaining tears. "Damn, that was a good take, too."


With his mouth opened to answer her question, the doctor gets frozen in place when the ceiling tiles fall. He actually looks over in surprise, rather than groaning. That was really close to his head!


The sound is all that Taine needs to hear before he steps back and moves towards the walls. Surely the ceiling tiles are more secure near the fake walls on the edge. The cameras that swing around in the room are unharmed, and the men work on shutting them off. Straightening his coat first, he watches the techs get to work. After a time, he runs a hand through his hair, before retrieveing a bottle of water from a nearby cooler through the open walled part of the set. Staying out from under the tiles at this point, in case another one breaks off. It isn't his idea to have his first job in American ruined by a falling ceiling tile.

When the young woman he'd been acting with climbs back down from the ladder, he looks relieved, hoping they've passed inspection this time. "Your crying really surprised me," he speaks in the same accent as he'd used for his character of Dr. Pryce, though there's a tone that's slightly different. "Very convincing." Went from surprised to tears in a few moments. "This gonna take a while?"


Thankfully, no one was injured. Besides, at least it wasn't ballast falling onto the set. That could break limbs and damage skulls and a whole bunch of other fun stuff. They needed a ceiling in this shot though. God knows why. Possibly because it was a low angle but it could have been shot higher.

Erin's head is still bandaged, she looks pale, and her makeup makes her look like she's… not wearing any makeup. Yes, irony. In other words, she looks like a head trauma patient, so the make-up and wardrobe department are doing their jobs well enough.

As she comes to stand next to Taine again, she's sorely tempted to tell him that /of course/ her crying was convincing, she is /famous./ Or was, once upon a time, but that's starting off on the wrong foot, so instead, she just says "Thanks." A glance is given upward, and she scratches the back of her neck. "Well, if I was doing it, no," she says quietly, so that the other techs can't hear. "But today's my day off— so to speak. Might take a half hour."


Famous in the Americas, maybe, but Taine'd never seen her previous works, so he's still surprised. Many of the women he'd worked with in his various jobs needed a few minutes to work themselves into tears— they actually required seperate takes for that. Some used eyedrops to help it along. "Set designer turned actress," Taine says with a smile, taking a drink from his bottle of water before he shifts it into his other hand. Luckily it's not making him too damp. The make up department also does it's job trying to make him look free of any such thing, but out of the lights, it's more visible. Just enough make up to keep him from looking wrong under the hard lights.

"Didn't know what to expect when they handed me the script," he admits, looking back towards her. They'd never read together, or even rehearsed. In many ways this was a complete surprise run. He'd been on the screen for a short time, long enough to notice her in set, but this would be the first time he's been given his own storyline— and a new character as well.

"Taine Whitaker," he introduces himself, holding out a hand. "If we got thirty minutes, how'd you feel about a walk over to coffee machine or the cooler?" From the tug of a smile on his mouth, teeth showing, he's fully expecting her to say yes. "It'll be on me," he adds in a sly way. Coffee from the machine and drinks from the cooler are free, aren't they?


Okay, at this point she /will/ correct him, because it's hit that line where it's just a little too much for her to keep quiet anymore. "It's… actually the other way around." Jeez, doesn't this guy read the IMDB or anything? Then again, there's the accent, he might be fresh out of the outback. It's adorable, so she can forgive him this enormous slight… This time around, anyway. "Took a few years off acting to go to school for the whole… design thing." And she likes it! It's fun, she's got a decent eye for it. Sure, she's just an assistant for now, but tomorrow, she'll /take over./


So this is a new thing for both of them, then. Not usual that they'd stick two brand new characters together, but it's not unheard of, either. "I've been watching, I mean… Working back there and all. You kinda see patterns. Y'know, someone likes something one way, someone else likes it another." She resists the tempation to tell the guys to tie the tiles up, because she's not on duty, and if they mess up, it's not going to be on /her./ Is everyone incompetant?

"Erin McCarty," she says, shaking Taine's hand, before turning away from him and back toward the guys working on the ceiling. She hears /every word he says,/ but she can hear that smile, and if she does nothing else in the world today, she intends to take that ego down a few notches. Why? because she can. She isn't mean about it, she doesn't outright say no, but instead, she turns back to him after he's finished, appears completely confused, and asks, "What? I wasn't paying attention. Just— I was watching, up there." Because it's her /job./ Only not really. YOUR TRICKS DON'T WORK ON THIS GIRL. Not the first time, anyway.

Then there's another thud as one of the replaced ceiling tiles falls off the grid and back to the floor. "You want to go get some coffee or something? It's on me." …smirk.


"Other way around with me. Took off university to start acting," Taine admits with a smile, still holding his bottle of designer brand water in hand. Tap water that's been filtered and bottled, he's sure, but it's designer. "If it's what you love to do, then I'm glad you get to do both," he says in that same charming way, looking genuinely interested in what she enjoys in her life, and willing to give her well-wishes for being able to do both of them. Maybe she like set design more than acting, but he does think she's excellent at both. "The sets are better than the ones down in Oz, that's for sure."

And in some ways the writing is better on the soap operas, though there's still something to be desired with storylines. "Both our characters are pretty mysterious. No idea where they've come from, how they got here— though at least mine has a name." Hers isn't so lucky at this point, though he's sure she'll be given a name soon. His character doesn't have a first name, now that he thinks about it.

With her hand firmly in his own, he continues to smile, putting her name to memory. But when she puts most of her attention on what's going on above them, he can't help but take a step forward, moving in a little closer, as he lets her have her hand back. "I thought it was your day off?" he says with the same smile. "You should enjoy what free time they're giving you." And that includes going with him towards the coffee machine, it would seem… Holding up his bottle, he gives her the same sideways glance, with all of his perfect teeth visible, "Already covered. This is for you, Erin. They keep this up and we'll actually have enough time for dinner." She'd probably need to change for that.


Erin isn't about to tell Taine her whole story… Not /now/ at least, considering the fact that she was a brat in her youth, and that's not a thing most people want following them around for the rest of their lives. People figure her out eventually, and hopefully by that point, she's charmed her way in enough so that they can forgive the flaws. Sure, Erin doesn't think they're flaws, but everyone /else/ does, so… she'll just cater to her audience. Who's the real woman behind the curtain? "Ah, you'll probably see me backstage more than on a set. Trust me, that's /plenty./ Sure, she's got a bit of a storyline now, but it's up to the writers and producers if she moves beyond that.

"You acted in Australia?" Biting her tongue just before she says something like, 'I wasn't aware Australia /had/ a film industry,' she just smiles interestedly. She hasn't ever been there before, though she'd love to go one day. Cute guy with an accent will have to do for now, though.

"Ah, that's where you're wrong. I have a name. /Two/ names. I get to be Jane Doe for awhile." The second one? He'll just have to /WAIT./ You know, 'til it gets cleared by insurance or something so no one sues ABC.

Her day off is spent wondering if there's a way for her to be in two places at once. "Well, it is, technically. Besides, the set director should be here soon." And then everything will be taken care of! So she should be able to head off with Taine to pick up some coffee before things are fixed. And then there's that smile, which /almost/ makes her want to just melt, but /not today, bucko./ "Okay look," she says, stepping in front of him, holding out a somewhat IV-bandaged hand to his chest to stop him. "You're a reasonably cute guy, I /get that./ You've got this drop-dead /gorgeous/ accent that makes me weak, and that's a compliment. But." And this is the kicker. Pay attention, Taine, she smiling. "I have standards."

It's a tease, really, and that's pretty obvious. It's also a little obvious that she's not /quite/ ready to go out to dinner with some guy she just met, especially when she looks like she just stepped out of a hospital room. "Coffee today, I see you almost every day on set, Mister I-Have-A-Contract, we say hi, we chat a bit, and I see if you measure up. Deal?"


Having been here for a month (his first episodes are just starting to air now), Taine's glad to finally have a storyline rather than just walking through other character's hospital rooms. There's already internet speculation that he's somehow related to one of the major families in the city, a long lost son or brother, or distant cousin, but he's not totally sure on this. Dr. Pryce is fairly easy to act, when his personality is limited to a certain range of close-up worthy emotions. "Australia and New Zealand both— first job in America," he says, same accent, and tossing her another bone. Lord of the Rings was filmed in New Zealand, but she can be sure she won't discover he played an elf, or anything.

"Might even get three names," he says, glancing towards a bag that's propped up against the chair. The script for the next episode hints that you might choose your own name from a magazine, until you find out the next one." He'd gotten the scripts before her, after all. She's the one doing a cold read.

Which from the way the director is rewatching the take and nodding enthusiastically, she's definitely getting the part for true. It isn't even a question after that performance.

Only a /reasonably/ cute guy… At the hand on his chest, his blue eyes slide down, blonde hair falling into his face, obscuring him a bit as he looks down at the hand. Drop dead accent is a good compliment, but… she has standards. At this point he looks back up, giving his head a small toss and sending the bangs out of his eyes— more or less.

A challange.

Though there's a moment where he's looking at her quietly, the smile he had returns, not shining quite as many teeth. "Coffee it is, Miss McCarty." And then they'll go from there.

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