He found her standing at the top of the stairs, staring out the small window above at the moon. She had been pensive and decidedly quiet all afternoon. She wasn't apprehensive about the barbeque, or meeting the people he worked with and had allowed into his inner-circle. That kind of stuff had never bothered her, even after the accident. He watched her for a few moments, then startled when she spoke without turning around.

"You always know, don't you?"

He favored her with a warm smile as he took the stairs two-at-a-time until he reached her. "I don't know about that, but I try to keep attuned. You figure it out yet?"

She let out a deep sigh and turned to look up at him. "No. I wish I could explain it… I just… it feels… like when you know a storm is moving in and you have to brace for the worst… I dunno. Feels like something big is coming, but I have no idea what that might be."

At that precise moment, the doorbell rang, prompting both of them to smile at the timing.

"Speak of the devil," he quipped before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead and going back down the stairs. "Come on out when you're ready," he called back before disappearing down the hallway leading toward the front door.

She nodded to herself and glanced back up at the moon. Yes, something was coming. Bad? Good? She had no idea. But something was about to change in a big way, and it wasn't just their move to Virginia. That had been a long time coming. And once she'd made the decision, she wondered just why it had taken her so long to agree. She loved it here.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter wafting up from the patio below. She had never met his subordinates before, which was rather odd, considering their relationship and history. The timing, it seemed, had always been off. She'd been to his office maybe a handful of times, but usually after hours, when most everyone had already left for the day. He'd spoken quite fondly of a few of them, and she was eager to meet anyone who had managed to breach his walls to become more than just subordinates.

Smoothing her dress, she turned and made her way downstairs, through the hall and into the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the cooler, she headed for the patio door, only to stop short as a tall, very tall, dark-haired man opened the door and stepped inside. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly froze in place, his mouth and eyes going wide in shock. She felt an inexplicable sense of recognition as she stared up at his face, but couldn't figure out why. As far as she knew, she had never met this handsome stranger before. Then again, maybe she had. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking on her part? He was very handsome, after all.

"My apologies," she said, finally finding her voice. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Startle…?" he managed to choke out.

"My name is…"

"Bronwyn?!" he gasped, cutting her off.

Obviously all of their guests had been told the name of the woman they were here to meet this evening, but the way he'd said her name came as more of a stunned surprise than an introduction.

"Yes, I'm Bronwyn O'Malley, and you are…?" she prodded, feeling somewhat disjointed by his continued stare.

"Bron… you can't be… real…" he shook his head, as if to clear his vision.

"I'm pretty sure that I am," she countered, a nervous smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Last time I checked anyway."

"No," he shook his head again. "You… five years ago… you were…"

Realization dawned on her. "In a car accident, yes."

"Killed," he corrected her. "In a car accident…" he moved closer, studying her face in wonder and even dismay.

"Killed?!" she shuddered involuntarily. "It was bad, but not that bad." She couldn't recall ever meeting him before, but there was something incredibly familiar about him. His eyes, the shape of his mouth – very familiar.

A single tear slid down his face and he tentatively reached out, intending to touch her face. Ordinarily she wouldn't allow it, given that they were complete strangers, but something made her stand in place and let him lightly brush his forefinger down the side of her cheek.

*zing*

That one gentle touch sent a wave of electricity coursing through her body. A second tear slid down his face as he stared at her in horror and disbelief.

The door opened again and the man stopped short at the sight of them, standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at each other and looking quite shell-shocked.

"I see you two have already met," he began. "Rabb, if you're about to get any ideas…" he stopped short and suddenly froze as well.

How had he not seen it all these years. Maybe it had come to him because he'd just been sharing recent photographs with the others, but he could see it now – clear as day – what had been eluding him before. The burning, unanswered question that had been hanging over their heads for the last five years. It was him. All along, the man he'd sought had been right in front of him all this time, and he hadn't seen it.

Sensing that something monumental was about to come, Bronwyn turned and looked at the man who had taken on the role of her father following the death of her parents shortly after her fourteenth birthday. AJ Chegwidden had been on the same SEAL team with her father, and the two men had been the closest of friends long before she'd been born. He was her Godfather, her legal guardian until she'd reached her majority, and had continued to be an active father-figure to this day.

"Pop?" she croaked hoarsely.

"Pop?" Rabb repeated, staring at Chegwidden in confusion until all the pieces fell into place. "Pop… this is your Pop? The man who took you in as a kid and raised you after your parents died?!" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I… how did you…" she trailed off and shook her head.

It was becoming more obvious by the moment that the two of them did indeed know one another from before. From before the blank hole in her life – the memory loss that had been a result of the car accident. She'd lost a year's worth of memories, thanks to the traumatic brain injury she'd suffered. She must have known him during that time. She must have…

"Oh my God!" she gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth as she stared up at him in utter shock. A glance at Chegwidden confirmed that he had reached the same conclusion. The hair, the eyes, the mouth – they were all the same.

"She doesn't remember you, Harm," Chegwidden stepped in.

"She looks like she does now," Rabb countered, still trying to recover from his own shock.

"No, she doesn't. What you're seeing is a reaction to the realization of something I should have seen years ago, but didn't."

Rabb tore his eyes away from Bronwyn long enough to glance at his Commanding Officer in curiosity. "Which is?"

Chegwidden moved to stand before Bronwyn and place his hands on her shoulders. "We need to go someplace more private to discuss this. Bron, you'll take him to my study?"

"Yes sir," she nodded, resisting the urge to run from the room.

"I'll be along in a moment," he assured her; his intention being to inform his guests that they should continue the party without them for a while.

Bronwyn and Rabb reached Chegwidden's study, an awkward silence between them for a few moments.

"Is he right? You really don't remember me?" Rabb finally asked.

"I don't," she nodded. "I.. the car accident I was in five years ago… I suffered a pretty traumatic brain injury and for a while, lost most of my memory. It came back, little by little, over the course of my recovery but I was never able to regain the year before the accident. It's gone. They tried everything, but it's gone. They said I was lucky to have regained anything, let alone as much as I did."

"Oh my God," he murmured, brows furrowed in concern. "Bron, I'm so… so sorry…"

"So you knew about the car accident… but you never checked… uh… after…?" she asked, a million questions were buzzing around in her head – not the least of which was 'How could he not know?'

After all, it was pretty obvious that they had been at least a bit more than mere friends.

"I did!" he squawked. "I did check. I came to see you but…"

"But what, Harm?"

They looked over to see Chegwidden standing in the doorway, a confused-simmering-on-angry expression on his face.

"They told me you had died," he informed them. "Even presented me with a copy of the death certificate…"

Bronwyn shuddered involuntarily and Chegwidden gaped at him incredulously. "What? Who?! Why would they do that?!"

"I swear, sir… I made it as far as the waiting room at the base hospital – about five days after the accident, because I'd just heard about it. Your C.O., I forget his name… he intercepted me, dragged me outside and told me that you'd died as a result of your injuries the day after the accident. I… I couldn't believe it, so he handed me a copy of the death certificate – he'd come to the hospital to get it for your service record or something. I wanted to know where you'd been buried, but he informed me that you'd been cremated, and your ashes spread in the harbor…" he stopped then, realizing just how hard that had to be for her to hear.

"Why in the hell would he do that?!" Chegwidden wondered aloud.

Louden knew that she had survived. That she'd been transferred to a hospital on the mainland. Why on earth would he do something like that?

Bronwyn had gone pale, her skin crawling at everything they'd been told. Why would her C.O. tell the man she… had been involved with… that she had died – and in such elaborate, morbid detail? He knew her. He knew of her circumstances – all of them – and had been the one to handle the paperwork as a result of her changed status. What could possibly make him tell Rabb everything he had?

"We've been searching for you for years, looking for answers, and you were right here under my nose the whole time," Chegwidden grumbled.

"I'm sorry sir?" Rabb stared at him quizzically. "If she didn't remember anything about me, then why would you be looking for me?"

"This isn't going to be easy to hear, Harm, so you'd better sit down – trust me," Chegwidden warned.

Rabb obediently took a seat, alternating a confused stare between Chegwidden and Bronwyn. Grateful for the excuse to sit down, as he was already on very shaky legs, he nodded for one of them to continue.

"Did you see any of the pictures I was passing around outside and bragging about?" he asked.

Rabb shook his head negatively. "No sir, not yet. I believe you mentioned… grandchildren…?" his eyes suddenly grew wide and realization slammed into him like a freight train.

"Couldn't be more proud," Chegwidden smiled warmly at Bronwyn. "Bottom line is this, Harm: with all that Bronwyn lost as a result of that accident, it's what she didn't lose that matters most."

"And that would be…?" Rabb prodded, somehow sensing what was about to come.

"I don't know if I knew at the time, but… I was pregnant, fairly newly pregnant," she told him, doing her best to just rip the bandaid off and get it over with.

"Miraculously, she didn't suffer a miscarriage through all of that," Chegwidden added, reaching for a framed photograph on his desk and turning to hand it over. "Congratulations, Harm… it's a boy…"

Rabb felt his entire world tilt on its axis as he focused on the young, smiling boy in the photograph. A boy who looked so much like him, it was uncanny. And undeniable. The boy had his hair, his eyes, his mouth, even his ears.

Chegwidden cleared his throat and reached for another framed photograph. "And… a girl…" he announced, handing the photograph to Rabb, who looked like he'd just been hit by a truck.

"I… twins…?" he gasped, staring at the two photographs intently.

There was no denying the girl was also his. Though her features were more feminine and soft, it was clear that she, too, had his eyes, hair and mouth, but her mother's ears.

"We had no idea who the father was – all these years. Bronwyn hadn't shared the news with anyone at her duty station, her friends, or me. I knew she'd been seeing someone, but she hadn't deigned to tell me yet – likely out of fear of what I'd put the man through. No one came looking for her after the accident, so we had no way of knowing who you were or where you'd gone. It was a complete mystery. I knew something was off, because I know Bronwyn. She's not the type to have a one-nighter with a random stranger, so I couldn't understand why any man she trusted enough to become intimate with wouldn't come looking for her. We found no pictures or correspondence of you or from you. It was like you didn't exist – except for the fact that someone had definitely impregnated my little girl."

"There were pictures, sir," Rabb informed him. "Plenty of them… of me, of us together. An album full, and ones on the wall of her apartment…"

Chegwidden shook his head. This was becoming even more of a mystery with each passing moment. "There weren't any at her place when I went there to get a few things for her before she was transferred to the mainland for care. Not a single one, and it didn't appear that anything was missing – no holes in the wall, no obvious missing photographs in bare spaces on the walls…"

"Just when we thought things couldn't get any more confusing," Brownyn murmured.

"It's clear as day to me right now, I don't know why I never saw it before. But when I walked in on you two, together in the kitchen, it was crystal clear that you were the father of those two kids."

"I… I'm a father," Rabb murmured incredulously, a stunned yet delighted smile forming on his face.

"Apparently so," Bronwyn nodded absently.