| 
  • If you are citizen of an European Union member nation, you may not use this service unless you are at least 16 years old.

  • Stop wasting time looking for files and revisions! Dokkio, a new product from the PBworks team, integrates and organizes your Drive, Dropbox, Box, Slack and Gmail files. Sign up for free.

View
 

MistakenIdentity

Page history last edited by nate 10 years, 3 months ago

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters here in, and it is not my intent to imply that either Mark Harmon or Michael Weatherly are in anyway involved, to the best of my knowledge: neither one is gay or bisexual, no defamation of character or distress to the people depicted is intended, this is purely for my own amusement/to get the killer bunny out of my head. No money has or will be made.

A/N: This idea came to me recently, after Richard Hammond’s high speed crash . He suffered from a significant head injury, but is going to be ok. It set me thinking on the things that could cause. Of course, memory loss is one of them, but what if it was a selective memory loss? And what if the person who was injured spent most of their lives pretending to be someone else? What would happen when the line between the two was blurred or completely removed?


 

 

 

 

Mistaken Identity

 

 

 

He woke up, his body full of pain, his head throbbed and he felt like he’d been put through a meat grinder. He gave a loud groan and his eyes slowly flickered opened. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air and the distant beep of monitors were what started to clue him in. There was a hum of movement and voices that he couldn’t quite distinguish.

 

“It’s ok, Michael, you’re fine, you’re in the hospital,” a soft voice was saying nearby. Confirming what he’d suspected, but he wondered whom she was talking to.

 

He turned his head with a wince of pain; the nurse was talking to him. He frowned.

 

“My name’s not Michael, you must have the wrong ID. Tony… Tony DiNozzo. Where’s Gibbs? He should be here.” His voice was croaky and rough; he wondered how long he’d been out for. He didn’t know what had happened, couldn’t remember anything about it. His boss was going to be so pissed at him this time.

 

“I’ll be right back.” The nurse told him gently, a hand briefly rested on his arm and then he heard the swish of the door. The voices outside grew instantly louder before the swish of the door closing dulled them back down to unintelligible once more.

 

Once outside the nurse allowed her face to show her worry as she approached the nurse’s station. “I think we have a problem with Mr. Weatherly.”

 

“What’s that, Ma’am?” A voice asked from behind her, she turned to look at the grey haired man. She’d seen him there a lot over the last couple of weeks while her patient had been in a coma. She remembered him from when she used to watch Chicago Hope; he was one of her favourites back then. She offered him a small smile.

 

“I’m Nurse Marie, Mr. Harmon, while it’s good news that he’s awake, I’m afraid Michael thinks his name is Tony. Does that make any sense to you? He was asking for someone called Gibbs.”

 

Mark’s face was serious, “Crap. He said that? Are you sure he wasn’t messing with you?”

 

The nurse shook her head, “He’d only just woke up, I doubt he’s up to joking around much. Why?”

 

“Tony and Gibbs, they’re the characters we play on NCIS.” He frowned, “Is it possible the accident left him thinking that he *is* that character?”

 

“I’m not sure, I need to speak with the Neurologist.” She hurried away to place a page.

 

He heard the swish of the doors and cracked an eye open, a smile tugged at his lips as the older man just stood there and looked at him. “Hey, Boss.”

 

“Hey.” Mark pulled up a seat and then took his hand.

 

The two of them were good friends in real life; they spent so much time on set together it was natural that they would build such a strong rapport. Seventeen-hour days would do that to you.

 

“Sorry, guess I messed up again, the nurse… she didn’t tell me what happened.” He gripped the hand weakly, his strength drained by two weeks spent unconscious.

 

“It was a car accident, they said you were run off the road.”

 

“Did you get ‘em, Boss?”

 

It became obvious to Mark, the longer they talked, that there was no way Michael was putting it on, he really did think he was Tony. It wasn’t that farfetched in a sense, he was a dedicated actor, and put a lot into learning about who Tony was. But still, to have no clue who he really was; that was scary in the least. He shook his head, it was a hard thing to see, but it was even more difficult to know how to deal with it. Did he try to convince him that he wasn’t who he thought he was, or did he let him carry on with the delusion until his memory came back on it’s own… if it ever would.

 

He reached up and stroked some loose strands of hair back from his friend’s face. “How you feeling?”

 

“They gave me some good stuff, there was pain, but now it’s gone. I feel a little detached and floaty.”

 

Mark grinned. “You should get some rest. And no hitting on the nurses.”

 

He looked and sounded affronted as he said, “As if I’d do that, Boss.”

 

“Pfft, I know what you’re like. If it’s got a pulse you’ll flirt with it.” He received a dazzling smile full of mischief in response.

 

“I’ll be a good boy, promise. Will you stay ‘til I fall asleep, Gibbs?”

 

He didn’t have the heart to say no, so he nodded, “I will.”

 

“Love you, Boss," the injured man told him, drowsily.

 

This was a big mess, not only did Michael think he was Tony, but he thought Mark was Gibbs and that they were in love? There was nothing in the show that said they were, but the two of them had often joked together about the subtext and euphemisms. What the hell was he supposed to tell his wife? Pam would no doubt think it was hilarious. But they both had children to consider and while his were old enough to find it amusing, Michael’s son was only ten; he wouldn’t understand that his dad didn’t know who he was.

 

He watched as Michael drifted off to sleep, the rise and fall of his chest letting him know when he’d gone deep enough that he could leave without disturbing him. He felt a strong affection for the younger man, he was great to work with and he loved having a laugh with him. He had feelings that had once been acknowledged and then shoved aside, Pam knew all about it, which was part of the reason why she would find this amusing, but the current situation could have far reaching consequences in both men’s lives. As far as he knew, Michael had never shown any bisexual tendencies and it would be taking advantage to encourage this fantasy.

 

Mark eased his hand out of the sleeping man’s grip and slipped out of the room. Out in the corridor he scrubbed at his face in frustration. He spotted the nurse and made his way over to her.

 

“Ma’am, did you get to speak with the doctor?”

 

“I did, he’s going to come and check him out as soon as he’s finished in the clinic. He’s concerned though. He’s never heard of anything quite like this. We need to determine just how much of his memory is affected.”

 

“He doesn’t seem confused at all, he just thinks that he’s Tony. That the person he plays is real and the world he plays that person in is real. This could all get really messy.” Mark told her. “There doesn’t seem to be any conflict of memory.” He sighed, “I’m not sure what to do, do we humour him or try to put him right. I just avoided making any references, didn’t use any names. What’s the best thing to do here?”

 

“The doctor will have a better idea of how to proceed when he’s examined him.” She told him, reassuringly.

 

“He thinks…well, he thinks that we’re lovers.” There were times when Mark could be shy, and this was one of them, his cheeks flushed slightly, it was uncharacteristic of him, he wasn’t usually a blusher. All the same, he felt it might be important to let the nurse know that.

 

“I see. I can understand how that would be uncomfortable for you, Mr. Harmon.” Her voice said she understood, but he knew that she couldn’t really.

 

He shook his head; “It’s not uncomfortable for me. I’m worried about him and how he’ll feel when…if his memories come back.” He pulled his wallet out and produced a card from it; he quickly scribbled his cell phone number on it. “Please, call me when you know anything or if he wakes up.”

 

She took the card and nodded, looking at him curiously. She offered him a smile and went back to her duties as he walked away.

 

******

 

Mark pondered how easy it had been to talk to his wife about all the things that the situation had stirred up. He shouldn’t have been surprised, you didn’t survive nearly 20 years of marriage without knowing someone, not in their business. She did find it amusing, but not for the reasons he’d expected. Then she’d turned from being amused to being saddened. Pam had a soft spot for Michael, he’d come over for dinner sometimes and Mark and he were good friends. He was good looking and an all around nice guy. Of course, he was also 38, while both Mark and his wife were 54; they were almost old enough to be his parents.

 

The nurse from earlier approached him where he sat in the waiting area and he stood to greet her. “Nurse Marie. Is there any news?”

 

“The doctor finished speaking to Michael about twenty minutes ago. He thinks it would be best to try and help him remember who he really is. He’s concerned, it’s not like other amnesia cases that he’s dealt with.”

 

In one sense, Mark was disappointed, the way Michael had looked at him had felt so good, but at the same time, he knew it was a lie. It was only fair to his friend to try and tell him the truth. He was afraid though, that the other man would see it as a lie and that they were trying to trick him. How did you tell someone that they weren’t who they thought they were?

 

He stood outside the room watching the other man; he was staring up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath and moved forward. The door swishing open to allow him entry caused the hazel eyes to turn their focus onto him. A smile blossomed across the handsome face and Mark nearly backed out.

 

“Hey, you. Why so serious?”

 

He pulled the chair back over, guessing that the doctor had moved it away. Sitting down, he took his friend’s hand in his and studied it carefully.

 

“Hey,” There was a gentle squeeze, “The doc was in here before; he didn’t give you bad news did you? He was asking all kinds of questions but he never told me anything.”

 

Mark ran a hand through his hair, “There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s not going to be easy.”

 

“Oh god. I did some permanent damage? Am I not going to be able to go back to work? I know there’s pain but I mostly feel fine.”

 

He shook his head, his tone gentle, “You need to listen to me. You’re not… you’re not who you think you are. You’re name’s Michael not Tony and I’m Mark not Jethro Gibbs. We do work together, but not like you think. We’re actors on a TV show, Tony and Gibbs are the characters we play.”

 

Michael stared at him in silent disbelief, then he started laughing. “Oh god, you almost had me there, that was brilliant. Did Abs put you up to that, ‘cause I gotta say, it’s not one I’d have thought you could come up with on your own.” He shook his head, “Good one, Boss. I guess they do say laughter is the best medicine.”

 

Mark sighed, his face serious, “I’m not joking, I wish I was.”

 

Michael shook his head, “No… that’s not… it can’t be right. I’m Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo; I work at NCIS with you, Abby, Ducky and Ziva. Don’t… why would you say something like that?”

 

“Michael…”

 

“Don’t… that’s not my name, you’re lying. Why? Why are you doing this? If you didn’t want me anymore all you had to do was say. This is… this is just cruel.” His tone was desperate and his eyes were filling up with tears. As far as he was concerned, the man he loved was betraying him.

 

“You’re name is Michael Weatherly, you were born in New York and raised in Fairfield, Connecticut. You’re 38 years old, divorced with a ten year old son, called August. You’re an actor; you’ve been in lots of TV shows including Dark Angel, NCIS, and Charmed. Tony is a character you play. You and I are friends, but that’s all.” Mark tried to tell him as calmly as he could.

 

Tears were running down his cheeks, Michael felt like his heart was breaking, he shook his head, “No, you’re making it all up. Get out, leave me alone, if I had a son I’d know.”

 

At that moment the doors swished open and his best girl friend came in. Her bright smile falling when she saw how upset he was.

 

“Abs, thank god, Abby…tell him, make him stop with all the lies.”

 

Pauley looked confused and then realised, he’d called her Abby. She looked worriedly at Mark.

 

“He thinks he’s Tony. And that I’m a bastard for lying to him.” He explained succinctly.

 

P crossed to the bed and sat carefully on the edge, “Michael, you have to listen to him. He’s telling you the truth.”

 

The gut-wrenching sobbing that was coming from the injured man died right down and he stared at her, trying to pull his hand from her grip. “Why?” He whispered, “Why would you do this to me? Leave me alone, both of you.”

 

Pauley looked at Mark like someone had just slapped her around the face. He got to his feet and took her hand, leading her from the room. She was upset and he couldn’t blame her, it was hard for him too. He could only guess at what Michael must be going through.

 

******

 

When the tears finally stopped, he lay there, staring at the ceiling like it held the answer to life and the universe. It didn’t though and he was so hurt and confused. The machine beeped annoyingly onward, and occasionally the blood pressure cuff would inflate and make it feel like his hand would either burst or drop off. Time passed and the tears on his face dried and left it feeling sticky. They were his friends, why would they lie to him? Even if Gibbs was saying it to break up with him, Abby wouldn’t go along with it, she would be more likely to hit him with a shovel and bury the body somewhere it’d never be found.

 

It didn’t make any sense. How could he be somebody else? He had memories as Tony, knew his name, his date of birth, his family, his schooling, his career as a cop and then an NCIS agent. How could it possibly not be real? He shook his head, turning to hit the button to call the nurse. He needed some medication; he was in pain, both physical and emotional.

 

******

 

The next day, the door swished open and Michael automatically looked to see who it was. Abby was carrying in a laptop and he smiled at her.

 

“Finally, I was going out of my mind. Did you bring movies?” Their disagreement from the previous day had been pushed aside; he didn’t want to believe it, because if he did then he didn’t know who he was.

 

“I brought DVD’s,” she told him, as she set the laptop up on the over-bed table.

 

She put the first disc in and sat down beside him. He watched the opening credits, a cold feeling rose up his spine. “Abs?” He turned to look at her.

 

“I’m sorry, it was the only way; to show you.” She really did look apologetic.

 

He blinked at the screen, there in colour, was his face and the name they’d insisted was his, but he hadn’t believed. She only made him watch a few minutes of it, but it was enough. He shook his head, still convinced it had to be some kind of trick. The things that were happening on the screen, he remembered, but he knew them as reality.

 

Next came the other programme they’d mentioned, Dark Angel. There he was again, his hair slightly different and he was wearing glasses and in a wheelchair, but it was him. He was with a girl who seemed vaguely familiar.

 

“That’s Jessica.” Abby told him. “You were engaged, but it broke up last year.”

 

He shook his head, “I don’t remember her. I don’t remember Michael Weatherly. Or any of this.” Confusion coloured his voice. “Are you sure?” He looked at her, his face pleading, “This isn’t some really bad joke at my expense?”

 

She nodded, “I’m sure.” Pauley had one last trick up her sleeve and she went to the door and beckoned to someone out of sight as she called, “Sasha.”

 

The woman that stood in the doorway made his heart stop in his chest and his vision greyed out as he forgot to breath. “Kate?” He gasped.

 

When Michael came to, he looked up at the brunette and the girl who was Abby to him, but not. His head swam, “How? I don’t understand.”

 

“This is Sasha Alexander, she’s the woman who played Kate. She’s alive and well, Michael, it was all a TV show.”

 

He stared at her, “But…it’s all so real.” He tried to explain, helplessly.

 

The black-haired girl was patting his hand. “I know. It’s going to be ok, but you do believe us now, right?”

 

He nodded slowly, eyes filling with tears again. Sasha/Kate, left and he looked at Abby who was really Pauley. “So, I’m not having hot steamy sex with Gibbs?” He asked, sadly.

 

Ruefully, she shook her head, “I’m afraid not. He’s married with kids and stuff.”

 

“Well, that kinda sucks.”

 

She laughed.

 

“What if I never remember anything about who I really am?”

 

Pauley shrugged, “I guess we’ll change your name and get you some ID made up as Tony DiNozzo, maybe you can get a job in the real NCIS.” She chuckled.

 

He couldn’t help but laugh slightly at that. It was a shock, and he didn’t feel like he would ever really know who he was, but as long as his friends were still his friends then he had somewhere to start from.

 

“Try to get some sleep.” She told him, gently.

 

They’d talked for a while, and he was still mumbling replies as he dozed off to sleep.

 

******

 

He awoke, gasping, sitting bolt upright in bed.

 

“Easy,” A gentle hand eased him back onto the bed. His eyes opened and he looked into piercing ice- blue eyes.

 

“It’s ok, there was an explosion, you were hurt, but you’re going to be fine, Tony.”

 

“Boss? Gibbs?” He rasped.

 

“It’s ok, darlin’, it’s alright. I’ve got you, Tony.”

 

Tears broke free and ran silently down his face. “I had the worst dream.”

 

Despite his injuries and the pain he was in, he clung to his lover; afraid that it would all fade away again.

 

 

 

 

~~Fin~~

 

 

A/N2: Couldn't resist the twist.

 

 

[ readers]

 

Comments (0)

You don't have permission to comment on this page.