It felt like torture, it really did. There was torture, and then there was agony. At this minute, Rachel Wilson was in the middle of feeling like she was experiencing the second option. Or at least, it felt like she was.

Rachel gritted together her teeth, and tried to think about anything but the situation she was in. The ceiling was entirely too close to her face, she was feeling very claustrophobic and there was a thin layer of sweat forming on her skin. She had tried the deep breathing exercises to calm herself but nothing seemed to work. The only thing she was thinking, was that if she didn't get out of here soon she was about to go stir crazy and somebody would feel the wrath.

"Just a little bit longer, Rachel."

Fucking fabulous. That was exactly what she wanted to hear, not. Rachel knew she wasn't allowed to move, because that would make this stupid experiment last longer, but surely this was taking longer than it should?

She'd never been a patient person. The doctor himself had told her that was probably the reason she hadn't stayed dead in the first place. He said she'd given up waiting for the life to be sucked from her, and grown impatient. But Rachel wasn't convinced on that fact. Partly because she couldn't remember anything about that night at all. It was the medical staff at New York Medical Center that had filled the gaps for her. They said her "death" had lasted only one hundred and twenty seconds. One hundred and twenty seconds that had changed her life forever.

Rachel had no memory of her car accident, the crash that had left her car in a heap of metal mess. She had no memory of the other driver, the one who'd walked away from the scene without scratches whilst she'd been fighting for her life. She had no memory of her life before the accident either, period.

Her mind drifted to Dan, their anniversary tonight and the dinner she had planned. Eight years…. It didn't feel like eight years. In some ways, Rachel felt like she barely knew him. The past year and a half blurred into a series of tests and more tests on her body, undertaken by her doctor. She'd had to familiarize herself with her husband and her friends again. A side effect of your accident, Dan had told her. Though her husband did travel a lot with work, so Rachel felt as though she'd done most of the re-familiarizing by herself.

He was due to fly in tonight, she could surprise him by being romantic. She wanted to sigh as she thought about Dan. Okay, so he was dedicated to his job. He loved it. Rachel often thought he loved it more than her.

Rachel felt elated when the machine buzzed and the table retracted from the dark tunnel. Done. Finally. Fifteen minutes of hell, that's what it felt like. The technician emerged from the screening room and unstrapped the fastenings that had been holding Rachel in place.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Like shit she wanted to say. Like absolute shit. "Fine," she went with.

Her one word response earned a laugh from him. "You'll need to hang here a little while, so we can check we got what we needed."

Rachel nodded, that was normal after her monthly brain scans. She'd been through this many times before, so she knew she wasn't going anywhere for a little while. She rubbed the lengthy scar on the side of her hair line. When the tech had left the room, she got dressed and headed into the waiting area.

The TV flickered with a surreal image: it looked like a war had broken out, there were so many people on screen. There were flames, smoke and sirens. Flashing lights, and Rachel shivered as she watched the action on the TV unfold. She shuddered even more as she saw horror develop.

The camera zoomed on a plane wreckage. A banner showed at the bottom of the screen, with the label "Breaking News."

"The crash happened just minutes ago. Flight 109 from Lincoln to JFK crashed just before landing. Many witnesses claim the aircraft burst into flames minutes before the runway. We have officials on the scene and an investigation is happening. But our earliest reports suggest there are no survivors."

Rachel felt the air catch in her lung, and she temporarily forgot how to breathe. Quickly, she scrambled for her purse as she frantically searched through the numerous receipts for the note Dan had left her. The note that contained his flight information back from Nebraska, where he'd been for several conferences. In the process of her search, she sank to the floor.

"Rachel, is everything okay?"

She didn't raise her eyes to see who was speaking to her, too focused on finding the note.

It wasn't the same flight, it couldn't be. Dan was probably landing right this minute, and she'd see him soon at home when she was cooking dinner. He'd be in the same house as Rachel and their son Freddie, soon.

"Rachel, what is it? Do you need something?"

She vaguely recognized that it was the nurse talking to her. "A note. Dan's note. I have to find it-"

Okay she was overreacting. Dan was going to be fine. She scanned the entire contents of her purse until her fingers felt the slip of paper and she pulled it free from the inside. Dan's messy handwriting on a scrap bit of paper. Her fingers shook as she drew it close and read the words.

MY FLIGHT INFO: RETURN LINCOLN TO JFK, FLIGHT 109.

The paper slipped through Rachel's fingers. The room started to spin.

Her CAT scan, the anniversary dinner she'd prepared, the last year and a half of her life swam before her eyes. The nurse's voice was muffled now. Everything was going wrong.

"You really need to eat something," Audrey, Rachel's neighbor, set down a cup of coffee in front of her. She plonked herself in the chair on Rachel's left.

Rachel didn't look at her, but she could tell without eye contact that Audrey was sad. She'd adored Dan. In fact, everybody had. But that was because nobody except Rachel had been witness to his mood swings. His temper. And the fact that he loved to spend time away from home, on purpose. To everybody on the outside world, Dan Rachel and Freddie looked like the perfect family. Only Rachel knew that wasn't the case.

"Thanks," Rachel reached for the cup and wrapped both shaky hands around it. Audrey was right, she should probably eat something. But food was the last thing on her mind right now. She knew if she tried to eat, it would come straight back up. "But I'm not hungry."

The room went quiet, Rachel knew Audrey would disapprove her not eating. But she couldn't make her.

"I have so much to do," Rachel continued, her head hanging low and her hands on the table. "Fuck, Audrey. I have so much to do,"

"There's so much time to think about that. You don't have to do anything right now." Audrey's hand rested on top of Rachel's and held it.

"No," Rachel stated. "I can't stay here."

"Rachel, take some time. Don't make rash decisions-"

"You don't understand." Rachel felt herself getting agitated and rose from the table. She paced the length of the kitchen. "Living here was Dan's idea. Everything here was Dan's idea. He… he made every decision we ever had to make." She closed her eyes, but it didn't make the pounding in her head any better.

"Rachel, he was your husband. You guys have been through so much this past year, with your accident. Of course he made all the decisions. It makes sense, given your medical history."

Her medical history. Her memory loss. The fact is, her memory loss had been Dan's excuse for everything. He'd been in charge of the finances, he'd made sure she was never alone, he'd even chosen the company that she currently was publishing for.

Thinking back, she should have insisted that he include her in such decisions. At the time, Rachel hadn't thought anything of it, but now she realized she knew nothing about their finance, their insurance or anything to do with money.

"Dan was the one who loved it here in New York. Not me."

"But it's your home, Rachel. You can't just leave. Dan's family all live here."

Rachel wanted to laugh. Dan's family? "Dan and his father haven't even spoken in like a year. The guy doesn't even acknowledge the fact that he's got a grandson. That isn't the type of family I want for Freddie."

Audrey sighed. "Okay, but just promise me you won't make any decisions tonight. You've been through a hell of a lot today anyway, and you're clearly not thinking straight. Which is understandable, but please? Sleep on it."

Her neighbor's concerned eyes stared Rachel in the face. Audrey wouldn't get it. But she didn't have the energy- or time- to explain. Rachel had always had this feeling of not belonging here, and it had been in the back of her mind ever since her accident. It had been haunting her.

"Sure," Rachel led with. "I'm not thinking clearly tonight. I guess I should turn in. Thanks for today," She picked up the mug of coffee and carried it towards the sink, in a bid to get Audrey to leave. She liked the woman, but she didn't take well to hints that she's outstayed her welcome. So Rachel tried to make it clear.

It worked. Audrey got up from the seat and walked towards the entrance of the house. "Will you be okay tonight? Freddie is sleeping, I know, but I could take him over to my house if you need some time alone?"

Rachel looked towards the stairs that led to the upper floor of her house. Where her four-year-old son was sleeping. She shook her head. "No, but thank you for offering. I don't want to disturb him. Plus, I'll need to be with him if he wakes. We'll be okay."

"I'm here for you Rachel, remember that. You need anything, I'm right next door."

"Thanks." Rachel forced the smile she didn't feel like showing. She certainly wasn't feeling like smiling. With the quickest hug, Audrey made her way back to her own home. When she'd clicked the heavy door shut, Rachel surveyed the lower floor of her house.

She was alone. Totally alone. There would be no second car pulling onto the driveway tonight. Dan wouldn't be coming home tonight. She realized she'd never see Dan's face or feel him again. Of course he'd been a shit husband at times but he was still her husband. And now he was gone. From now, it was her and Freddie.

Rachel forced herself up the stairs and towards the door of Dan's office. It was a room she was never allowed to enter, but tonight perhaps she would feel closer to him somehow. She felt a chill when she entered the room, realizing she'd never seen what was inside it, let alone seen it alone.

Her gaze scanned the room. His desk dominated the area, but there was a rather tall bookcase along one of the walls. Medical books on every shelf, the only books that Dan read because of his job. The large L-shape desk in the corner. She got nearer to it. A picture of Freddie with a toothy smile was placed on the corner.

Dan's room, Dan's stuff. His space that he kept private from Rachel.

She pushed the switch on the desk lamp and sank into the chair. There was a stack of mail on the corner of the desk. Bills, junk mail, whatever. She tossed the majority of the pile into the trashcan at her feet. They collided the bottom of the metal with a thud. The mail that was left over, she wanted to open. Dan usually used a letter opener, and it felt right that she did too. It wasn't visible on the desk though, so she searched through the drawers.

Rachel found the letter opener in the back of the fourth drawer, along with another letter than hadn't been opened. Her mind turned to Freddie, maybe he had put it there by accident? He'd gone through a phase of being obsessed with letters and mail.

Still, she tore at the seal and looked at the bill in her hand. Her brow wrinkled when she saw her name. It looked like a bill for her time in hospital, after her accident. There was a balance on there for nine thousand dollars.

Dan had always taken care of the finances, and told her everything was sorted regarding her medical bills. When Rachel looked closer though, she realized it wasn't a hospital bill, rather an invoice from some sort of nursing home.

Nursing home? That wasn't possible. She'd been in hospital for about eight days, she couldn't remember the exact amount but knew it was little over a week. Rachel had spent five days in the ICU, then another three on a more relaxed ward when she'd regained consciousness.

She looked at the bill again. Chicago.

No, that wasn't right either. The accident had happened outside of Brooklyn, she's been driving home from a conference and somebody had ploughed into her. Plus, she'd never even been to Chicago had she?

The dates on the piece of paper were wrong, too. They spanned for more than two years.

Rachel's hands shook as she put the invoice on the desk. She felt an immediate chill.

Medical records. That's what she wanted to see. Dan had never let her see them. Not that it ever crossed her mind to check them.

She wheeled the chair over to Dan's cabinet. Looking for something with her name on. Nothing. She pulled open the second drawer with some force: tax stuff, papers to do with the mortgage and the house, his files from college and medical school etc.

But where the hell were her files?

Rachel was impatient.

It was in the third drawer that she found them. Medical records for herself, Dan and Freddie. Rachel reached for her own folder, flipping it open on the desk. She easily found the records for little things: a dental claim for a tooth removal, something from when she'd broken her little toe years and years ago, medical updates from this year after her accident.

There were no records of her pregnancy, nothing of Freddie's birth, nothing from where she'd been treated after her crash. They had to be in different folders.

Rachel reached for the bottom drawer. She yanked her arm as hard as she could pull. It was locked. She searched through the other drawers and atop the desk, looking for the key. Quick thinking, she padded the carpet through into her bedroom, knowing a person like Dan would keep all things personal in his pants drawer. Her fingers clawed the material of his boxers before she heard a clink. She settled on something that was cold and metal.

She suddenly felt a dull ache from the scar on the side of her face. It happened in times of stress, in times of panic. And in times of anticipation.

A million and one things were running through her mind. Don't open the drawer. Forget the key, hell forget the drawer. Forget about the stupid bill. You've been through enough today. Go to fucking bed.

Before she could change her mind, Rachel hurried back into the office. She tried the key in the drawer lock and it opened with ease.

Inside, there was a long metal box. Whilst she took in a deep breath, she opened the lid. More medical forms and bills filled the inside. Rachel scanned each one in turn, paying particular attention to the dates. All referenced a nursing home in Chicago. All mention dates up to five years in the past.

According to these medical bills, she'd been in a coma for years, not days. Freddie had been born by C-section when she'd been in that very coma.

Rachel shut her eyes, this couldn't be true! She'd had a long labor and Dan had held her hand through the whole thing. Dan had been with her when Freddie had been cut from her. She knew, because her husband had told her all about it. He'd replayed the story of Freddie's birth for her, so she could essentially see it even though she'd missed it.

She felt hot tears form along her bottom eyelid. And she figured another sudden realization.

There were no photographs. No images of her pregnancy. None in the house. Dan had led her to believe that she'd hated the way she looked when she was pregnant, that being the reason why there were no pictures of her with a baby bump. But there were none of her in a hospital gown either, and she couldn't believe that she wouldn't want to document the birth of her baby.

Rachel ran through to the spare bedroom, a room they rarely used for anything else but storage. She tugged down a few of their photo albums from the shelf, quickly flicking through the pages. Dan holding a new-born Freddie, Dan giving Freddie a bath, Dan feeding Freddie his first baby solids. Shit. In every single picture, it was Dan.

Panic overtook her body. Rachel had always assumed that she was the one who was taking the pictures. She tried to subsidize the pain in her chest with her hand, but it didn't work.

Dan was a doctor. He was her husband. She'd believed him, about everything. Why would he lie?

When Rachel was back in the office, she scanned a note, given by a neurosurgeon. Not her usual neurosurgeon.

DAMAGE TO THE LATERAL CORTEX. AS A RESULT OF SEVERE TRAUMA. PROGNOSIS: MEMORY LOSS, POSSIBLY PERMANENT.

Permanent memory loss. Coma. Years.

Rachel almost choked at the new information, but she still continued to flick through the torturous forms. Her stomach tightened when she saw Dan's signature on most of the slips. He'd been an attending physician.

Her attending physician.

What? Her husband would never have been allowed to oversee her recovery because that was strictly unprofessional. And against the law. Nope. Rachel wasn't a doctor herself, but she knew the rules. Dan would never have been allowed to do this.

By now, she was sweating. There had to be an explanation. Something…

Rachel emptied the entire contents of the box, until she reached one final last parchment. It was face down, and her legs buckled from beneath her as soon as she flipped the image.

If her breathing was hitching before, it was definitely clogged now. She brought the image further towards her face, but it only made her sickly feeling heighten. There was also a blunt stabbing feeling, going straight through her heart.

It was a photograph of a young girl, who looked the same age as Freddie was now. A young girl with a disturbingly familiar face, curls of dirt blond and brown hair and the purest eyes Rachel had ever seen.

Rachel's eyes. They were the same color, shape and size… the same exact eyes Rachel saw whenever she looked in the mirror.

Oh God, Oh Shit.

Rachel had lost the ability to breathe. Something deep inside told her that this little girl, the girl in the photograph with the widetst grin couldn't possibly be anybody other than her daughter.

Jay Halstead tucked a towel around his waist as he walked through his rather plush hotel suite. He picked up the TV clicker and turned on the television. Then he ran a hand towel through his dripping hair and searched quickly for the news channel. It was the only thing he paid attention to nowadays.

The shower in the en-suite bathroom was still running, but it did nothing to disguise the singing coming from inside it. The heavy accent was evident even though she was only singing. She always sang when he had satisfied her, and he'd like to think he had this morning.

What Jay really wanted was coffee. He thought about calling room service, but the action unfolding on the screen caught his attention before he had a chance to locate his cell.

Flashing lights were taking over the screen, sirens sounding and media vans dotted around whatever was happening. Jay sat on the end of the bed as he watched the coverage of a plane crash.

His heart beat hard and his palms were suddenly sweaty. It was like watching Erin's plane crash all over again. It was a memory he wasn't ever going to forget, and his stomach clenched tight as he thought about it.

To make matters worse, he looked at the screen just as the destination and flight number came up. Fuck he thought I was supposed to be on that plane.

He was engrossed in the coverage, but was distracted with the familiar sound of his cell.

"Halstead."

"Dude, that's no way to answer the phone to your big brother. Also, you're an asshole. Have you seen the news? I've been fucking calling you for hours."

Jay couldn't take his eyes from the screen. "Yeah, I just saw."

"Where are you?" Suddenly his brother, Will, had taken to interrogating him.

Jay glanced around the room. "Wisconsin."

"Thank God. I thought you were flying to New York on that flight."

"I was supposed to," Jay exhaled as he thought about it. "But I had a meeting rescheduled."

"Jesus, that was supposed to be your flight man." Will muttered. "You alright?"

"What?" Jay was having trouble putting together coherent thoughts, let along stringing together a conversation with his brother. "Yeah, I'm good."

"When are you coming back?" There seemed to be genuine caution in Will's tone.

"Tonight, I think." Jay rubbed his spare palm across his forehead, he hadn't noticed his growing headache before. "I think Olivia'll be pretty upset by this. Drop by my place and see her, will you? This can't be easy for her to see."

"You got it, bro. Call me before your flight out."

"Sure." Jay ended the call.

He closed his eyes and pressed his cell against his throbbing forehead. The shower had stopped and soon she was gonna come out, but he didn't want to be with her right now. A thousand thoughts and memories were flooding his mind, and none of them had anything to do with her.

Sure, Louisa was an attractive woman and he enjoyed her company at his convenience but he had absolutely no idea to know anything else about her. She was just a good fuck. He didn't want to share certain elements of his personal life with her, or anything about his past. If there were two things that he didn't discuss with anybody, they were his wife and daughter.

Jay turned back to the TV and clicked it off just as soon as Louisa came into the bedroom. She sported a towel that was much too small to cover anything, her fiery red hair dripped down her back. He didn't even know what had attracted him to her in the first place because he wasn't one to go for redheads. He much preferred dirt blond or brunette like Erin had been.

Louisa crossed the floor and pouted. She started speaking, but through Jay's eyes, there were mere words falling from her mouth. He knew she was trying to lure him back to the bed, but he avoided her touch.

She fluttered her long eyelashes in a bid to seduce him, but in fact it did the opposite. When he didn't act on her advances, she spoke.

"Well, I'll just have to wait for you to get back tonight." Her eyes travelled the length of his naked torso.

He knew the look she was giving him. She was about to be extremely pissed off when he told her he planned on flying home that evening.

"You said you'd be in town for a few days!"

"I planned on it, but something came up. Family stuff. I have to get back." In a way, he wasn't lying. Just the fact that he'd witnessed a plane crash on TV coverage made him want to be back home in Chicago with Olivia. "I'll make it up to you next time you're in Illinois."

"I don't plan on being in Illinois anytime soon. I'm here now, God damn it!"

He exhaled. "I know, and I'm sorry. It's just bad timing." He kissed her cheek, knowing she'd soon find somebody else to fulfil her needs. Louisa liked men, and she liked them a lot. It wouldn't be long before she'd moved on.

Jay pulled up to his driveway around 7am the next morning. He was jet-lagged and he was exhausted. Because of the plane crash, getting home had been a nightmare: much more of a nightmare than he'd first expected. He quickly grabbed his luggage from the trunk and made for the house.

He hadn't had a chance to speak to Olivia since the TV coverage of that plane crash, and he wasn't sure how much she'd seen. But it would sure open up old wounds.

Olivia's bubbly laughter greeted him as he wandered into the kitchen. She was playing a game with Will before she heard him come in.

"Hey, Dad!" She slipped from the chair she'd been occupying and caught Jay in a hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you were working away for a few days."

"I finished early and thought I'd come home." Jay returned her embrace and planted a kiss into her curls. He dropped his back onto the nearest chair and bent to his daughter's level. He ran his finger the length of Olivia's nose, the one just like her mother's. Every time he looked at Olivia, he saw her mother. And it made his heart ache. "Missed you."

She frowned. "You came back because you were worried about me, didn't you?"

"You caught me. You okay, Liv?"

Olivia rolled her eyes, she acted so much like a teenager even though she wasn't one yet. "I'm fine Dad, really. You shouldn't worry about me so much," She squeezed her arms around her father's stomach and then skipped from the room.

Will turned to his brother. "Damn it, she's just like her mother."

"Don't I know it," Jay's eyes watched Olivia as she ran from the room. She didn't only look like Erin, she sounded just like her too. Every time Olivia laughed he loved it, but it also tugged at his heartstrings. She also had the same smart-ass attitude and driest sense of humor. Again, exactly like her mother. "Son of a bitch, she's growing up too fast."

"Yep," Will didn't offer any sympathy, but laughed at his brother's expense. "You're gonna be in a world of hurt in a couple of years."

"Oh, thanks for the reminder." Jay ran a hand through his hair, it was sticking up all over the place because of how much he'd travelled. "You sticking around for a while?"

"Think so," came Will's response. "Why, what's up?"

"I just think I'm gonna crash," Jay yawned, his day of travelling getting the better of him. "Thanks, Will."

"Sure."

Jay forced himself up the stairs, paused halfway and looked into the lounge. It was his fucking luck that when they were starting to get on with their lives, Erin's absence was back to haunt them: the recent crash reminding them of what they'd lost. Whether Olivia or Will (or Jay himself for that matter) were going to admit, the event had hit them hard. It brought back those torturous memories from five years ago.

He rubbed his aching head and continued the stairs. His memories were now swirling around his mind and he couldn't get rid of them. Jay flopped down onto the bed as that day- the last day he'd saw her- replayed in his brain. The day dropping her at the airport, kissing her goodbye, rubbing a hand over her not-yet swollen stomach and smiling at the news she'd told him the night before. He'd leaned in and inhaled one last breath of her scent.

He'd give anything for one more hour with her.

Jay's eyelids closed shut. There were tears that he didn't realize were there, and they stung him. Sometimes, he had trouble thinking about her face. He didn't know it was because the memory of Erin was too painful, or because it had been so long without her. Erin was etched onto his heart and soul forever but the image of her face was slowly fading. He could still remember the huskiness of her voice, the one that had always tugged at something deep inside him.

His hand went to the burning in his chest. Part of him wished it would just go away, that would be so much easier. The other part was holding on like it was his last lifeline. He'd already lost her once and he couldn't bear the thought of losing what litter he had left of her.

Please Review!

(I know this chapter might look/sound super confusing but bear with me. I promise it'll make sense soon x)