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When Blair wakes in an extended care facility, he's told that for the past four years he's been in a coma and what he remembers about his life was a dream. To make matters worse, when he asks for his partner, Naomi tells him that there is no one named "Jim Ellison" in his life.
Naomi sighed and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Sweetie, you didn't get to finish your dissertation. I didn't send it to anybody. You were hurt while you were studying for your PhD in marine biology."
"Marine biology?" he echoed.
"Yes, sweetie. You've been interested in the ecology of the ocean and saving the planet from environmental ravages since you were a little boy."
Blair's eyes grew wide. "But my field is anthropology! I'm studying..." He fidgeted, still uncomfortable revealing Jim's special abilities, "...closed police societies. Why don't you remember?"
Defiant eyes bored into Naomi's and he dared her with a look to deny the truth. When she remained silent, he struggled to rise from the bed. "I want a telephone. I'm calling Jim or Simon or Megan. They'll tell you what happened."
Naomi started to cry. "Blair, please, this is so hard... Honey, would it help if I brought things from your life? Photographs? Your yearbooks? I have lots of pic -"
"No!" Blair shouted. "You're a fucking liar and I'm out of here!" He forced his heavy legs toward the side of the bed. "Damn it anyway!"