Floaties, Bars, and Amnesia

Quentin looked at Gideon confused at the tone he had and the fact he stopped calling him daddy when he was about 9 or 10. He gently brushed the long burnette hair out of his son's eyes, "Your head hurts? Ok. It's ok. Let me get a doctor," he assured. He wanted them to fix his son's pain and to get some clarification as to what was going on with him.
Before he could leave the room though, a nurse thankfully came in. Quentin took long steps towards her to reach her faster.
"My son is awake but he says his head hurts," he explained in a low voice. The nurse smiled softly and nodded.
"Well, let me go get Dr. Uretine," she assured, stepping right back out.
Quentin sighed in slight agitation but stepped over to his son again, sitting in the chair he had pulled up at the bedside.
"D-daddy?" the little bounce whimpered again, Quentin looked over with concerned eyes.
"Yes?"
"Wh-whewe am I?" Gideon repeated, tears in his eyes now. The father frowned gently, reaching over and gently brushed his fingers through his hair again.
"Easy, easy, don't cry," he assured, "you're in the hospital, you hit your head."
"D-dat why it huwts?"
Quentin hesitated but slowly nodded, "Yeah, yeah I'd say that's why sweetums," he agreed. Gideon whimpered softly but nodded slightly, seeming to understand but based on the look the boy had, he wasn't sure he really had.
The doctor came in, "We're going to administer some pain killers," he explained, stepping over to a box, getting out a needle.
"That's fine," Quentin agreed, grabbing his son's hand hearing him whimper, "however. I think there's something else wrong."
The doctor arched a brow before stepping over, "What might that be, Mr. Beck?"
"He's.... talking funny, sounds funny. Like a small child," the doctor looked a bit uneasy, but he injected the needle gently, Quentin had gently squeezed Gideon's hand so he wouldn't squirm.
"Can you say something for me?" the doctor asked Gideon gently. The boy whimpered again but sure enough did speak.
"Wike what?"
The doctor nodded slightly, very easily understanding what Quentin meant now, "How old are you?" he asked him gently. Gideon furrowed his brows again as if not understanding why he was asked such a thing.
"I twee," he answered regardless. Quentin's heart did a flip out of worry. His son was 13, not 3. The doctor thankfully understood what was going on. He looked to the concerned father.
"Mr. Beck, may I speak with you outside?"
Quentin swallowed nervously before he nodded, getting up and going to follow the doctor before his son's voice called out.
"Noooo! Daddy, no! Want you hewe!"
Quentin winced but quickly turned on his heel, looking to his son.
"Shhh, shh, settle down Giddy. It's ok. I'll be right back," he assured. He sighed softly at another whimper from Gideon but he turned around to follow the doctor.
"What's wrong with him?" he demanded. Dr. Uretine sighed softly.
"Mr. Beck, he seems to have amnesia. He can't remember anything past age three," he explained. That news struck Quentin hard, he covered his face with a dejected sigh.
"Is there no way to fix it?"
"He will remember with time," the doctor promised, "but until then, your best bet is to simply treat him however old he feels. Doing anything more may cause troubles with his memory."
Quentin blinked, treating his young teen like a toddler. He was very hesitant on the idea but at the same time, if it'd help his son.
He nodded slowly, "Ok," he mumbled in agreement. Dr. Uretine nodded encouragingly, before anything more could be said, cries were coming from Gideon's hospital room and both men rushed back in.