EARLY MORNING - 1AM

Kimble stirs awake, aware of voices at the other end of the building. He cautiously moves toward the door, ready to run. In the dim light cast from a streetlight outside, he sees a teen-ager arguing with another young man.

"I told you, I'll get the money, Tony."

"It's too late for that. Nobody rips me off!" the man answers, drawing a knife. He lunges at the boy who swerves and falls to the ground, the other man on top of him. Kimble rushes over to pull them apart. In the ensuing scuffle, his arm is slashed. He manages to grab his attacker and force him to drop the knife. Pushing him away, he kicks it to the other side of the room. The man scrambles to his feet. He stares at Kimble, but thinks better of renewing the fight and turns and runs.

Kimble grabs him arm, wincing in pain and turns to help the boy on the ground who is clutching his stomach, his hands covered in blood. Kimble pulls his hands aside and rips his shirt open to inspect the wound. He face registers his concern as he applies pressure to stop the bleeding. As it begins to lessen, he looks up to find the boy staring at him. He turns back to the wound, averting his face. "You need to get to a hospital."

"No!" the boy protests at once, then adds, "I don't want the police asking a lot of questions…"

Kimble hesitates at the mention of the police, but he does not let the subject drop. Wiping his hand over his face, he says, "You've lost a lot of blood. You can go into shock."

The boy avoids answering by climbing to his feet. "I need to get home. Just help me to my car, OK?"

By the time they reach the car, the boy's face is pale and beaded with sweat. Kimble helps him into the passenger seat and searches his pockets for the car keys. Kimble slips into the driver's seat, as a Medic-Rescue van drives past with flashing lights. With a glance at the boy, Kimble pulls out and follows it down the empty streets until it stops in front of a hospital emergency room. Kimble brings the car to a stop behind the ambulance.

The EMT workers hurriedly take their passenger inside, while Kimble gets out and helps the boy from the passenger seat. The van's driver approaches him.

"Hey, buddy, you can't park…" Seeing the boy is hurt, he takes charge and motions for help. As someone helps the boy into the emergency room, Kimble turns to leave, but stops short at the sight of a policeman walking over to investigate. As he turns in the other direction, the EMT worker notices the blood on his arm.

"You look like you need some help yourself, sir. Let's get you inside."

Eager to escape the policeman, Kimble allows himself to be taken inside. Mindful of the policeman following him inside, he quickly answers the admitting clerk’s questions, making up the facts. A nurse interrupts them. "Let's get this arm taken care of. You can get the rest of the information later," she tells the admitting nurse, leading Kimble inside to an empty examining room.

"The doctor will be with you shortly," the nurse says, walking out. Kimble watches her leave with relief, then shuts the door and pulls open a drawer in a nearby cabinet and hurriedly searches for bandages. The door swings open and Kimble looks up with a guilty start to see a woman doctor in the doorway. A flash of recognition shows on his face and he looks quickly away.

The doctor is staring at his chart as she enters. She comes over to inspect his arm. "It looks like you were in a good fight. You're going to need some stitches," she says, finally looking up at Kimble. As he avoids her gaze, she stares at him more intently, a look of puzzlement turning to recognition.

"Richard?!"

A quick denial dies on his lips as she glances behind her and closes the door. "My God, what are you doing here? I thought…"

Kimble stands up and moves toward the door. "Just let me take the bandages and leave. Don't get involved, Ann, " he pleads with her.

As he tries to brush past her to the door, she grabs his arm. "We've been friends too long for you to expect me to do that, Richard!"

They both jump as there is a knock on the door and an aide opens it slightly to peer in. "Dr. Bowers, when you're done, the police would like to question him."

As Kimble steps back, slightly shaky on his feet, Ann answers, "Thank you, Kathy, can you get me a tetanus shot?" and shuts the door. She turns back to Kimble. "You have to let me help you."

As he hesitates, she takes charge. "I'll have them take you for an X-ray of your arm, while I distract the police. There's a restroom around the corner from there. Go in and lock the door. I'll come as soon as I can." As though reading his thoughts, she adds, "You've lost a lot of blood, Richard. You can't just run out on the streets, not now. Please let me help you!"

As he nods assent, she opens the door and slips outside.

A quiet suburban neighborhood, 30 minutes later:

Ann opens the door to her house, waiting for Kimble to get inside so she can shut the door before turning on the lights. She leads him into a bedroom, where he sinks weakly onto the bed.

"Let's take off the filthy shirt," she says, helping him remove it. She removes a temporary bandage from his arm and begins to expertly stitch the cut.

"How did you get this?"

"I broke up a fight."

"And you risked coming to the hospital?"

"A boy was hurt. He was going into shock. I had to get him help."

"I guess I'm not surprised."

Kimble looks at her with chagrin. "Can you find out how he is?"

"Of course. What's his name?"

Kimble shakes his head. "I don't know."

"You still have amnesia? They said on TV…" she asks in concern.

"No," Kimble replies flatly. "I remember everything. Some things I wish I could forget." As Ann stops to look up, he changes the subject. "The boy was just someone I met."

"You risk being recognized to help a stranger but you expected me to look the other way?" she says in mild rebuke. "Why didn't you come to me for help?"

"I didn't want you or Paul to get in trouble. I shouldn't have come here, Ann."

"What do you want to do? Wander the streets waiting for someone to recognize you?" she responds in exasperation, then stops. "I'm sorry. I'm just so glad to know you're alive. The newscasts…You'll be safe here." Despite his protests, she sees the look of relief in his eyes.

She finishes the stitching expertly. "There, that should hardly leave a scar."

"It won't be the first one."

She glances at the bullet wound scar on his chest, but says nothing.

"I'll find an old robe for you to wear. Leave your clothes by the door and I'll wash them. I'll let you handle the tetanus shot and the IV", she says, turning to leave.

"I'm looking forward to talking to Paul. Its been a long time," he calls after her. "Some of my memories are good ones."

She pauses at the door. "We'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. Just get some rest."

Fifteen minutes later

Ann knocks on the door and quietly enters. Seeing Kimble fast asleep, she cannot resist going over to check his pulse. As she rearranges the covers, she looks again at the scar and her eyes moisten with tears. She turns to gather up the dirty clothes and pull the door softly shut.


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