AN: Hi all! This is my first attempt at a Joa fic. Please read and tell me what you think. Next chapter should be up soon.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.    

David Chase glanced at his watch as he entered his department and headed down the hall to his office. It was only 6 in the morning and he had an important meeting to prepare for later that day. He was still the 'new guy' at the precinct and wanted to make a good impression.  He paused as he noticed a man who he didn't expect to see at that time of day.

            David stopped at the entrance to the office that was occupied by said man. He wrapped softly on the open door. "Hey Detective Girardi, what are you doing here so early?"

            The detective looked up, obvious dark circles under his eyes. If David new him better, he would make a raccoon joke, but he was still the new guy. "Chase. Hey, I couldn't sleep, so I thought I should come in and make myself useful."

            David felt sympathetic towards the older detective. He was obviously very dedicated to his work. "Still working on the grow house-explosion case?" A grow house had exploded two weeks before, and the explosion had destroyed practically the entire block before it had been contained. The number of missing, dead and injured still weren't adding up.

            Girardi nodded. "Three bodies have yet to be identified and four are still missing. My favorite part is the six year old in critical condition in the hospital who no one has asked about yet." He finished sarcastically. "We also haven't finished picking through the rubble. Who knows how many more remains are buried."

            David nodded in understanding. "I worked on a similar case a few years ago. It was hard, took its toll on all of us."

            "Where'd you move from again?" Girardi asked, half his attention still on the folder in front of him.

            "Atlanta."

            Girardi looked up, full attention on the younger man. "The Grand Atlantis Mall explosion?"

            David nodded. "I'm impressed."

            "July 14th. Explosion of unknown cause, origin in boiler room. Foul play not suspected. 37 bodies have been identified. 2 bodies remain to be identified. Both male. 83 injured, 12 of which serious. More remains to be found."

            "Wow, detective, I'm very impressed. Didn't think you guys cared if it were out of your jurisdiction."

            Detective Girardi gave a sad smile. "Call it personal interest."

            "Oh, I'm sorry," David said, unsure of what to do.

            "Don't worry about it. It was two years ago." Detective Girardi said forcefully, like he was trying to convince himself that it didn't matter. But David knew better, before he had become a cop, he had gone to school for psychology. He knew that the detective was hiding something deep in himself.

            Instead of pushing the matter, he decided to brush it off. "You're right. Two years ago and they still haven't identified all the bodies, let alone the many Jane and John Doe's."

            "What?"

            David was surprised by the detectives forwardness. "There were a few unidentified injured, five last time I heard."

            "Why didn't I know about this sooner?"

            David shrugged. "These people may not have had anyone to identify them. They could have been alone, or had family or friends die in the explosion."

            "Or their families could think them dead."

            David nodded. "I guess that could happen. I really don't know. I wasn't in charge of that division."

            "Can you tell me who was?"

            "Detective Sharp took over."

            "Thank-you," Detective Girardi said, motioning that the conversation was over.

            David went to leave.

            "Do you mind closing the door behind you? I have a phone call to make."

            Will sighed as he stared at the phone, knowing he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be allowing himself to feel hope once again. He pulled off his glasses, resting his face in his hands. He'd felt false hope so many times and it was harder to recover every time it came crashing down around him. He'd gone to see so many bodies after the accident…

Will stood beside the long, occupied gurney. The room around him white, sterile and cold. It sent shivers up his spine just thinking about it. How could it have come to this? His gaze shifted to the body on the gurney in front of him. The only thing separating him from body was a thin white sheet. He gave a nod to the medical examiner who quietly reached forward to pull the sheet back over the body's face. Will knew the answer before he even saw the face. He knew it wasn't who he was looking for, but he still waited, still hoped, just incase.

"Well?" The examiner asked softly, no demands in his voice, no pushing, just simple understanding. Obviously he had done this many times before.

Will simply shook his head.

            Will sighed again, knowing he was going to make the call, so he might as well get it over with. He picked up his phone and dialed to the call center. "Can you put me through to the Atlanta division please? Thank-you."

            He heard the phone begin to ring, meaning the connection had been made. There was no turning back now. The ringing stopped. "Atlanta Police Department, how may I direct your call?"

            "This is Detective Will Girardi from Arcadia. I need to speak to Detective Sharp."

            Again, the phone was ringing.

            "Sharp here."

            Will cleared his throat. "This is Detective Will Girardi, Arcadia division, I have a few questions about the Grand Mall explosion."

            "From two years ago?"

            "Yes, if that's okay."

            "I'll tell you whatever I can."

            "A source told me there were five injured that were never identified. I'm looking for information on them."

            "Hold on a sec, let me pull the file."

            Will waited impatiently for a few minutes.

            "Sorry about that, I had to make sure I got the right file. What kind of info are you looking for?"

            "I, uh, lost someone in the explosion and they have yet to be found…if you know what I mean."

            "I'm very sorry to hear that."

            "I wasn't aware of unidentified individual's. I just found out today."

            Sharp sighed on the other end of the phone. "I'm very sorry about that, the detective who originally had control of this case didn't exactly do everything that needed to be done. It took months for me to sort it out. There is a list names of missing people, probably 20 of them. I tried getting a hold of all of the familes, to see if they could identify anyone, but I could only get a hold of so many, managed to get a few criticals identified. But there are still four to be identified."

            "Really, my source said there were five."

            "One was identified last month."

            "Well, that's good."

            Sharp paused. "Well, the individual had been on life support since the accident. The family came to see him, got some closure and made the decision to take him off life support."

            Will sighed, not sure of what to say. "At least they got closure."

            "I don't know why you haven't been contacted yet. Is this person on the list of missing people?"

            "She should be. Her name is Joan Girardi."

            Sharp scanned the list. "She's not here."

            "That's strange…oh, check for Joan Rove."

            "Yup, we have one Joan Rove. Says we were unable to get a hold of husband, Adam Rove."

            "Yeah, he can be hard to get a hold of."

            "Can you give me a general description?"

            "About 5'6, small frame, long hair…"

            "Dark brown hair?" Sharp asked.

            "Yes."

            "First on the list. Jane Doe number one: 5'6, skinny, long dark hair, found with wedding band."

            "Oh my God," Will whispered, "That could be her. What's her condition?"

            Sharp hesitated. "Severe head trauma. Amputation of left arm. She's been in a long-term care facility for the past year. On and off support."

        

            Will sighed sadly. "Where's the facility?"

            "We can send a photo of the girl. That might be easier."

            "No," Will said, stubbornly. "I have to see for myself."

            "I can respect that," Sharp said after a pause.

            Later that night, Will entered the high school art show, in search of his wife. He soon spotted her, in the middle of the room, surrounded by students. He allowed himself a smile. She looked flustered. But, whatever she said to them seemed to work, because she was soon left alone. He decided this was her best chance to talk to her.

            He approached her quickly and tapped her shoulder.

            "What now," he heard her mutter.

            "Don't worry, it's just me," he said as she turned around.

            Helen smiled. "Sorry, it's just been a long day."

            "Tell me about it."

            "What happened in your day?"

            Will shook his head. "Nothing, never mind." He had no intentions of letting his wife know anything until he was sure. However, plans of telling her he was going to a conference went out the window with the look she gave him. He sighed. "Okay, I found some things out this morning."

            "What kind of things?"

            "Things about the explosion."

            Helen sighed. "Will…"

            "I know, I know. I'm supposed to be letting go, but there's a girl who matches Joan's description."

            Helen's breath caught. "A girl? As in a live girl?"

            Will nodded. "I talked to the detective in charge today. Apparently there are four living victims who are unidentified."

            "But if she's alive, why hasn't she… identified herself?"

            "The girl has severe head trauma. She's in a long term care facility."

            "Oh," Helen said.

            "She'll never recover, but at least we'll know, you know?"

            Helen nodded, tears imminent in her eyes. "I can't believe she might be alive."

            "Who might be alive? Jane?"

            They both turned to see Adam standing beside him, showing a rarely seen amount of emotion.

            "Adam, I didn't realize you were here. It's nice too see you." Will offered a hand, which Adam shook.

            "I got in yesterday. I'm helping Mrs. G with the show." Adam said quickly, obviously wanting to talk about what he had heard earlier.

            "Adam, why don't we talk in a quieter place?" He said, motioning for Adam to follow him outside.

            Adam followed silently.

            Will stopped and turned to face his young son-in-law. Adam's tired facial features gave away nothing, but his anxiety was evident with him wringing his hands. Will looked down, noticing the gold band that was still situated on Adam's left hand.

            "I was in touch with a detective in Atlanta. Apparently there is a girl who matches Joan's description in a long-term care center."

            Adam seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say. "Do you think it's her?"

            Will shrugged. "I don't want to get my hopes up. But even if it is her, it won't be her. This women has suffered from severe head trauma. I don't know what kind of life she has, or could have."

            Adam shook his head. "I don't care."

            Will allowed himself a small smile. He had never doubted Adam's love for his daughter, and he certainly didn't now. "I'm flying out there first thing tomorrow morning. Detective Sharp is going to meet me at the airport and take me to the center."

            "I'm going with you." Adam said.

            Will nodded. "I thought you might say that."