I remember

2

I've been visiting Ian for the two weeks since I found him. The doctors say he should be ready for release soon.

The cops have been by more than once, trying to piece together exactly what happened to him. I was taken off the case at the very beginning, the reason they gave was I'm too close to the case, which may be true but that doesn't mean I can't do my job.

It doesn't matter, though. Ian doesn't remember much. He describes his abductor as a bright light with dark hair and a high voice. Which is odd of course, given his memory.

I've learned a lot about him in this past little while. The only family he has is an uncle and a sister, who are both in his hometown two hours away. I found out the reason he didn't let us call either of them is his uncles wife is recovering from cancer and his sister is in nursing school, he thought it would distract them from the things that matter.

I told him that was ridiculous and that he matters too. But he wouldn't budge. He got all jittery, so I let it go.

I've also learned that he's allergic to lima beans, he doesn't like watching romance movies, and he can draw.

Sometimes I'll sit in the chair and watch him sleep. He looks so peaceful. And sometimes, I'll be watching tv, and out of the corner of my eye, I'll see him drawing me. I'm pretty sure he knows I've noticed him doing it, but it's nice, so I don't say anything.

That's what we're doing now. I sat down an hour ago to watch the news, but then he got his drawing pad put. The news is over, but I don't want him to stop.

Eventually he sighs and puts the pencil down on the table beside him.

I look over at him, my neck cracking from finally moving around.

Ian is rubbing his forehead between his eyebrows.

"What's wrong?" I ask, worried he's getting a migraine which could be sign of hemorrhaging.

He looks at me, surprised that I noticed

"Nothing. I just wish there was a better background to draw than these ugly walls" he says

I look at the walls around us. The boring blue, almost white kind of blue, mustn't be very exciting to draw.

I look at him, but he's picked up his reading book and is in a world all of his own.

I look at my service hat sitting over on the table. I get an idea and get to my feet.

"I'll be back. I'm taking you somewhere, get ready" I say, rushing out of the room

I walk up and down the hall, making sure there are no nurses or doctors around to stop us.

I get back to the room to see Ian standing there, holding my hat

"Get your drawing stuff" I say, taking it from him and putting it on my head

He looks confused, but he does as I say.

I take his free hand and peek out of the door again. No ones around so I pull him out and over to the doors that open to the outside. We slip out without being detected.

I rush us over to my cruiser. I unlock the passenger side and move out of his way.

Once we're both in and buckled, I turn on the car and start down the street. I drive us down to the south side, past abandoned buildings as I look for the one I need.

I see it then, in all its broken down glory.

I pull up in front of it and cut the engine. Ian looks at it, looks over the pieces of art painted by the neighbourhood. People around here call it the House of Life because all the pieces are illustrations of the most important moments in their lives. People have been painting on it for years. The police have long since stopped arresting the artists who use it. Once in a while, someone will come down and peel away layers of old paint to make room for new paint.

I feel nervous because Ian hasn't said anything, and maybe this was a bad idea.

But then he takes a deep breath and turns to me.

"Can I draw you in front of it?" He asks, obviously getting excited

"Sure" I say, moving to open my door

"But not wearing that" he says, grabbing my arm

I look from my uniform to him and back

"I have a change of clothes in the back" I admit, slightly embarrassed that the reason I have them is that I haven't left his side in days

We get out and he waits as I change, but he doesn't take take his eyes off me and it makes me feel warm. At first, I try to pretend I don't see him watching me, but eventually I stop and just let myself stare back at him.

Once I'm dressed, we walk over to the wall facing us and I let him move me into the pose he wants.

When he's satisfied, he backs up and begins drawing. The look on his face makes me really glad that I thought of this.

I watch him as he draws me; the concentration on his face, the fluidity of his fingers.

Before I know it, two hours have gone by and my bones are becoming stiff.

"At this point, I'm only standing here to watch you, I've been done for a half hour" Ian says, laughing

I blush and shake out my body.

"I think it looks great. You can look, if you want" he says, stretching out his fingers

I go over to him and look at the drawing. I see myself looking back at me. There's me against the wall, but then there's a close up of my face.

I've always liked the way I look, but seeing the way he sees me, drawn onto paper, he made me look graceful and beautiful.

I subconsciously run my fingers along his arm, just to touch something other than the drawing.

"It's amazing" I whisper

He looks at me

"The muse is what's amazing" he says, as if it's obvious

I look up at him, into his eyes

"We should get back to the hospital" I say, after we share a few moments of silence.