Sara Lance spent the majority of her week with amateurs. The "up and coming young professionals" of her company required attention and, despite her intentional hard-lined demeanor, she had been carefully chosen to help them learn and grow and, evidently, cry because there were no cut and dry answers to the design and maintenance of civilization. It shouldn't be shocking that people tend to make improving their lives an almost insurmountable task, but alas it was a lesson best learned early. Her interns asked questions better answered with some internal reflection and the search engine of their choosing. She had learned quickly that their favorite form of both was her.

It was maddening, but after relying almost entirely on patience she didn't have, Sara welcomed a Friday design meeting at which at least some semblance of maturity would be present in full form. She was currently seventeen minutes late, so that maturity only came in the form of the new Director of Strategic Planning and Development, Ava Sharpe, who had already called to ensure she hadn't forgotten. The woman was certainly intelligent, but it was her zero tolerance for incompetence that had Sara almost giddy at the opportunity to think critically and quickly about solutions to problems that didn't start with someone forgetting where the bathroom was, again.

She pulled the front door open and was met by a man leaning comically close to his screen, his eyes flashed quickly between the keyboard and the clipboard to his right. The similarities between him and her interns was unnerving: confused, just stubborn enough to be dangerous, and an inhumanly high need to please. She cleared her throat over dramatically, in an attempt to not startle the man into injury.

"You must be Miss. Lance," he greeted, extending his hand toward Sara. She took it with a smile and nod. "Gary Green. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yeah, you too." The ear to ear grin he produced left Sara curious how a woman of Ava Sharpe's reputation would hire a man as generally happy as the one still shaking her hand; perhaps opposites do attract, even in a professional setting.

"Gary. I'm late."

"Oh, yes! Sorry. Right this way. Director Sharpe is waiting for you."

With a mixture of clumsiness and grace, he rose from his chair and made his way around the desk to the security door, only displacing two picture frames in the process. He opened the door and waved his arm, allowing her to enter first while remaining noticeable close to her as they walked down a hallway. The narrow corridor was blindingly white save for the dark wooden doors and sky-blue name plates metered down the wall. Sara always marveled that any productivity came out of offices with such blatant disregard for taste.

"It's the next door on the right. I'll just let her know you're here," he said while trying to squeeze past her to reach the handle first. His knock is more forceful that Sara would have anticipated and he didn't wait for a response, which Sara assumed to be a poor choice.

"Excuse me, Director?"

"Gary." The voice behind the door was forceful, direct, and wholly unconcerned that it was received harshly, despite the hints of fatigue and softness it contained. "What have we talked about?"

"Knock, wait for a response, and then enter," he answered, gleefully, overly proud of himself for remembering. After a moment of silence, his face shifted down in a gradually stream of understanding. "Right. Sorry, Director. I'm working on that middle part. It's just that you the only one here with that rule."

"Gary."

"Yes."

"Why did you knock?"

"Oh! Miss. Lance is here for you." He was back to inhumanly giddy in an instant. If Sara had more energy, she be interested in how he functioned so animatedly but the sound of heels against the carpet grew and her interest was drawn to the striking woman who revealed herself behind the door.

"You're late, Miss. Lance. That will be all Mr. Green. Thank you," she said, before turning to Gary who stumbled backward, waving goodbye before moving down the hallway in a motion Sara was forced to assume was nearly skipping.

"He's quite...unique."

"He came with the position. Close the door and take a seat." The director moved swiftly and with unparalleled grace back to her desk. Sara took the five strides from the door to the chair as an opportunity to notice the wall of accolades hanging behind the dark oak desk. Knowing the reputation of a person and seeing it in framed form were surprisingly different experiences.

"While I was waiting for you to arrive, I took the opportunity to familiarize myself with your submittal. There are several questions that come to mind."

"Well I am here as long as it will take to answer them."

"I think we should begin with whether or not this is a serious proposal."

The fact that she hadn't been asked a question was surprisingly low on Sara's list of possible comments. There was little about her driving across town during peak traffic on a Friday afternoon to personally meet with the director that screamed joke to her. But, she also knew nothing about the woman in front of her other than the rumor that her sense of humor was lacking at best, so it was safe to assume that the concern was genuine.

"I don't see why I would waste either of our time with something that was not a serious, Director."

"For starters, this goes against our standards, the standards of the state, and in general what is considered normal."

"That is still not a question," Sara pressed, leaning further back into her chair, folding her hands on her lap, unwilling to have the work of her team belittled. "Instead of calling this meeting to chastise me and my team's ideas, why don't you think of it as an opportunity to be on the forefront of innovation."

"While I will certainly give you innovative, you haven't shown that it will work. There is no data to suggest these design features are better than the current governing standard."

"It works just fine."

"Show me," Ava challenged in a voice that pulled Sara forward slightly further than she would have liked, bringing her to the edge of the desk and no more than three feet from a woman who appeared to be enjoying the interaction more than Sara was comfortable admitting. "Show me, Miss. Lance and we can discuss the mound of variances you are going to need."

"Cool." Sara heard the word, not sure when it had formed, or why her brain didn't better attempt to stop it from coming out. Ava's eyebrow perked up and there was a slight uplift of her lips that Sara wished looked less like the beginnings of a smile. "I mean good. Good. The interns showed up this week and I've been training them. Unfortunate side effect."

"I see. Ours arrived two weeks ago, unfortunately." The director leaned back in her chair, adjusting the line of buttons on her shirt. Once they were back in a straight line, she raised her head but didn't look at Sara when she spoke again, rather her eyes stayed trained on the desk in front of her. "A word of advice: try teaching them to stay within what is considered conventional before involving them in your grand ideas. It is best to know the limits before you try to exceed them."

"Director Sharpe. Where would the fun be if all I ever showed you was the same boring idea as every other company you'll work with? You wouldn't want just a carbon copy of what everyone else is doing."

"I never said I didn't like it," Ava bit back. "Or that I in any way falsely expected carbon copy ideas from you. Your reputation precedes you as well, Miss. Lance."

"Then you know that my team and I don't back down easily."

"Hence the meeting today." Clearing her throat, Ava wheeled her chair closer to the desk, forcing herself to sit up straighter as she grabbed the handful of bound pages. "So, shall we begin with page one?"

The bar is absent of music but loud with chatter and the unmistakable sound of glass hitting wood. It would be difficult to admit that perhaps Amaya had a point about Sara getting out more. She hadn't been to Mick's in a couple months which he more than let her know by asking for her order instead of just handing over the usual. He did however clear a table for them, so she figured they would call it even.

For the most part she let Ray and Zari control the conversation. They were working on some highly important scientific something that she was aware of but had no tangible knowledge about and their stories were infinitely more exciting than interns and diagrams. Apparently, Zari had almost ruined Ray's year long experiment because she unplugged the wrong cord. As the story went, friendships were tested.

Nate chimed in at an inappropriate time and Amaya kicked him under the table. Amaya seized the silence as opportunity to talk about the new proposals she was working on and Sara found herself zoning out.

"Sometimes, crazy works, Ava. Sometimes rules are meant to be stretched a little, adjusted for the betterment of society.."

"Miss. Lance."

"Call me Sara. It takes less time."

"Sara, people weren't ready for self-driving cars, and you want to introduce pods that shoot them from one place to the next at half the speed of sound. How do you expect to convince them that their tax dollars aren't being wasted on a hyper-pod"

"Hyperloop and no one is ever ready for their everyday lives to change: for better or worse. That doesn't mean we shouldn't push them towards it."

"Kicking and screaming, I presume is your prefered shoving method?"

"If that's what it takes yes."

"Have you ever considered asking them what they want before you spend thousands of dollars on far-fetched ideas?"

"Yes and it's a horrible idea."

"Of course it is," Ava sighed, grabbing the proposal from beneath the mound of loose, sketched on paper that littered her desk. "That actually brings me to page 54."

Sara looked at the clock on the wall. They had been at this for nearly two and half hours. Based on the established rate, they had another hour to go and they hadn't reached the most complicated part. She rested her head in her hand and waited for the almost assured late evening.

The pressure on her thigh shifted Sara's attention from her thoughts to the conversation she was supposed to be in though she had been content to just enjoy the company. But, like every other well intended plan, this one would be short lived and poorly executed.

"Sara had a meeting with the new director in Central City this afternoon," Amaya responded, though Sara was unsure to what the question. "The message I got after was that is was fun, though I am not sure we have the same definition of the word."

"Sara, you can't rely on pissing off every office in the greater central area as your definition of fun."

"I didn't piss her off," Sara defended, snapping her attention to Nate who didn't appear ready to back done.

"Her," Ray asked, pulling his chair back to the table, though Sara hadn't recalled him leaving.

"Is that why you didn't answer any of my calls," Nate asked in a tone that could have passed as accusatory to anyone else. "I tried calling like four times. At least three interns were looking for you."

"You can just tell them I ran away next time."

"Wait, Sara Lance spent all afternoon in a confined space with another human being and she called it fun?" It was Zari's incredulous voice and the half hearted apology in Amaya's eyes that caused the drink she was holding to be consumed in one long gulp.

"Well, I need meet this woman." Ray was almost hopeful and the rest of the table was staring at her like she was required to expand on the topic.

"You might get your chance," Amaya said softly, almost prodingly, as she trained her eyes on Sara. "That's her at the bar, isn't it?

"So it is." Sara was noticeably surprised to see her there, but it was the jacket covered empty chair next to her that fully grabbed her attention. Ava was there with someone. Before she can stop herself, Sara pushed her chair back and made her way to the bar with Nate yelling behind her.

"Sara where are you going?"

"To get a drink," she responded, leaving no room for further discussion.

"So, she does take breaks from single handed standardizing the world in the dark ages." Sara leaned against the chair, keeping respectable distance but not allowing the other woman to ignore her. If Ava was affected by her it didn't show. She acknowledged Sara's presence but made no effort to continue the conversation. Sara couldn't blame her; she used to intentionally keep her personal and work life separate. It kept them both from getting messier. But then she saw the bottle Mick has lazily left on the bar in front of the director and was too impressed to let it slide.

"And she drinks good whiskey."

"To soften the stick up my ass, I am sure," came the surprisingly soft response the surprised Sara but gave her the permission she was seeking to continue the conversation.

"You know, I've heard that rumor, too"

"I might as well include it on my resume."

"I feel it's more impactful in an interview setting."

"Can I help you with something Miss. Lance?" Ava met Sara's eyes for the first time with a haze of annoyance that covered something that seemed more like fatigue. Though, as long as it wasn't entirely annoyance, Sara had more reason to stay than leave. Her reasons may have been her stubborn nature, or her still empty hands, or the curiosity about a woman who appeared less imposing in front of a dusty bar than behind a pristine desk.

"Are you just going to stand there all evening?"

"Undecided."

"Sara…"

"How about I stand here until Mick gets my drink and the owner of this jacket returns, then I will leave you to enjoy your evening."

"It's not what you think," Ava said, shaking her head and taking a sip from her glass. The lack of response found her looking over to see a thoroughly confused woman who was clearly not thinking on the same wavelength Ava had been. She took another sip before responding.

"The jacket. It's Gary's."

"I'm not here to judge."

Ava laughed, loudly and unabashed and Sara could not stop the small uplift of her lips. She filed away a metal note to make the woman laugh again somehow.

"It's definitely not what you think." Sara put her hands up in surrender. "For some reason, he thought we didn't spend enough time together this week. We needed a few more hours."

"You could have said no."

"He's a good guy," she defended, watching the ice cube swirl in her glass. "Besides, a few drinks weren't a bad idea."

"Don't tell anyone, Director," Sara countered with a smirk, seeing through the transparent façade Ava created to mask her, apparently, genuine concern for other people. "They may reconsider your hard-ass scale."

"Director Sharpe's not a hard ass." The voice was unmistakably Gary's, though it held an air of defensiveness Sara was almost proud of him for having. "Who says that?"

"Everyone," Ava says and Sara shrugs. Gary looks like he wants to continue the conversation and Ava looks like she'd rather publicly admit she's wrong so Sara takes a step back and pulls his chair out.

"Sit, Gary." The distraction works and his ear to ear grin assured Sara that he was done speaking for at least a few minutes. Waving her hand, she got Mick's attention quickly. With a grunt and a heavy roll of his eyes, he stood and watched as Sara pointed to the table she was supposed to be sitting at and the two people she stood beside. Ava went to protest but Mick was already pouring with one hand and opening beer bottles with the other.

"You shouldn't feel obligated to buy our drinks"

"Accept that people want to do nice things for other people, with or without a public hearing to support them."

Mick returned and Sara handed him a couple of bills before grabbing the glasses. Positioning them in her hands, she gracefully maneuvered away from the bar.

"Besides, I thought it might make you smile a little more."

"That's so sweet of her," Gary practically sung as Sara walked away without looking back, Ava watched her until she stopped at the table on the other side of the room.

"Gary. Drink."

"What the hell was that?" Zari's interest was more visible than vocal but the rest of the table had their attention trained on their friend as they grabbed drinks out of her hands.

"I was being polite."

"You were being polite. To Director Stick It Where The Sun Don't Shine Sharpe?"

"Hey. I resent that. I am a nice person!"

"Lay off, guys," Amaya said as Nate opened his mouth to speak again. Before he could utter a word, Sara took his glass and drank it, glaring at him until the last drop was gone. Her eyes dared anyone else to continue, but they all sat a little further back in their chairs and waited until Ray eagerly changed the topic.

"You shouldn't be so hard on them," Amaya whispered, leaning close to Sara. "They just want to see you happy."

"I am happy."

"Sara, you know what I mean. They want to see you put yourself out there and find happiness that isn't ice cold or a gym bag. They mean well."

Of course, they meant well. Sara knew that, but it didn't change the fact that she needed some privacy, some semblance of choice or decision that wasn't passed around and through the table of opinions first. She could feel the beginnings of invisible pressure around her lungs as the moments ticked by and quickly downed her drink before standing up and grabbing her jacket.

"Hey, whoa, where are you going," Nate rushed to say. "We just got here."

"Been a long day. I just want to go home." She wasn't in a mood to further explain. Offering everyone a tired smile, she placed a hand on Amaya's shoulders with a weak squeeze. "I'll see you guys next week."

Sara pushed her still full drink in Nate's direction and walked through the bar. She was hit but a gust of the coming winter as soon as she opened the door. It was oddly quiet once the door shut behind her. The streets at night had long been a type of therapy for her: the stillness, the quiet, the absence of other people. Her apartment was a little over a mile away and the walk did wonders because she was barely inside her apartment before she crashed awkwardly on the couch. Not bothering with trying to find her bed, she shut her eyes and was asleep in record time.

The beginnings of light broke through the window, bouncing against the walls and falling on Sara's cheeks, slowing creeping up to force her eyes open. She blinked quickly, cursing the world for having to spin around something so bright and demanding and punctual. Burying her face in a pillow, she wrapped her arms around it, hoping to cling to sleep for a moment long and took a slow deep breath.

Her body froze.

She exhaled quickly and tried again, filling her lungs with the same foreign scent from moments before. Lifting her head, she took in the smoothness of the lavender pillow case that was not hers. It wasn't her pillow. It wasn't her bed. Against her better judgment, Sara peeled the matching sheet and comforter back and let her feet drop on the floor, her toes sinking into the plush carpet. In front of her stood a dark brown chest, a light grey flannel top lying haphazardly across it. A large leather chair sat in the far corner of the room next to the window. It was worn with use and given the large bookshelf beside it, Sara could imagine its use, though she couldn't think of anyone she knew who read enough to need chair dedicated to the task.

An overwhelming sense of dread settled in her stomach and quickened the beat of her heart until she was sure it was moments from jumping through her skin. Wherever she was, she hadn't an inkling of how she got there.

Beyond the bedroom door she could hear the muffled sounds of dishes clanking against each other and the soft hum of recorded laughter followed by a low chuckle. There were people out there, two if she had to guess, and she was separated from them by a partially closed door.

With her senses heightened, Sara walked to the door and peaked out, trying to gain traction before fully emerging into the modestly sized living area that waited at the end of the small hallway. Her bare foot met the cold tile and she gasped, gaining the attention of the young boy who couldn't be more than fourteen who sat on the couch, his feet thrown on the coffee table.

"Good morning, how'd you sleep?" The voice came from a woman Sara knew to be Ava Sharpe. She was the first thing Sara recognized, though her presence did not offer an explanation. While she didn't know much about the director, she would have assumed the woman would have mentioned having a son. That seemed to be something parents did: comment on their children constantly.

"That well, huh," Ava offered again when Sara remained silent, her eyes tracing the woman's face, trying to remember how they had gone from strategic planning meetings to domestic good morning's in what Sara was concluding was the director's apartment overnight.

"It is Sunday," he said as though Sara was supposed to understand why that was relevant.

"Sunday," she muttered to herself, adding losing an entire day to the building list of things that didn't make sense. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"They say I'm yours, but I've come up with eight convincing reasons why I'm not," the boy said, giving no real attention to Sara or their conversation. He sounded entirely too much like her for comfort.

"It's too early for your sass, young man."

"Who is that," she asked again, her voice rising, desperate for something to start making sense again.

"Your son," Ava chuckled nonchalantly, as though the question had been asked and answered many times instead of the life altering information it was to the woman who now stood, mouth agape and eyes wide as her mind began to process.

"My so...I don't have a...you mean he came out of-" she stumbled, looking down, trying to figure how she could possibly forget such an event, She had heard of women giving birth before. There was pain, and pushing and yelling and waiting and more pain. It was not a process one easily forgot. "I think I would remember pushing an eight-pound bag of organs out of my...out of me."

"He knows you didn't give birth to him, Sara," Ava responded, setting the coffee pot and placing her attention fully on the blonde noticing the confusion that lined her face and the panic that filled her eyes.

"So, he's your kid."

"He's yours, too."

"No, please, not everyone claim me at once."

"Hey, kid. Zip-it. In the middle of a crisis here."

"My existence does that to people."

"I'm sorry did you say parents? As in together? As in you and me and him..."

"Both of you stop it. Right now," Ava said, her voice solid with no room to argue or discuss further. "Zachary go to your room. Sara, sit down."

With a lack of better options, Sara obeyed quickly. She gripped roughly at her thighs, nearly shutting circulation off from her legs. The muscle in her back pulled in more directions than she thought they could and she was fairly certain her heartbeat was visible. Her breath was labored and coarse and she was sudden thankful humans had two lungs because her right rib cage felt as though she'd been punched repeatedly for the last hour. The sound of a distant door shutting and of bare feet moving across tile brought her back to couch she was sitting on that most certainly wasn't hers and she tried to count her breaths until she managed to look up. Ava had cleared a place on the coffee table in front of Sara and taken a seat, reaching her hands out to Sara who pulled back quicker than she had intended.

"What is wrong with you?"

"With me," Sara nearly yelled, before pulling back into a forceful whisper, realization mounting with each word. "I come home to my apartment and wake up in your house, in your bed, and a random kid who you claim is mine and yours which would mean that we are parents, together. Oh my god, are we married."

"I have a marriage license that says we are."

"I met you yesterday!"

"We met fifteen years ago."

"Fifteen years...is this some kind of joke, because it's not funny guys," Sara yelled to the empty space, hoping that Nate or Ray or Zari or anyone would pop out and save her.

"They aren't here, Sara. Are you feeling okay? Do you have a fever?" She reached out to feel Sara's forehead but was met with a grip that nearly dislocated her wrist. She gasped loudly and Sara released her immediately, a fearful, almost shameful look ghosting over her face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Ava nursed her wrist tenderly, her eyes never leaving Sara, attempting to no avail to understand. Her wife looked at her as though they were strangers, not lovers, not familiar, not even friends. The silence that sat between them was a stark contrast to the comfortable stillness that began that morning when Ava had stayed in bed longer than normal because Sara's entire weight had claimed her left arm. This stillness was empty, void of a decade and a half of memories. Sara need someone she remembered and for reasons Ava couldn't fathom, that wasn't her.

"I am going to go into the kitchen and get my phone," Ava said, hoping to not spook Sara further by unannounced actions. "I'm going to make a call. Can you sit right here until I get back?"

Sara nodded and wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach in attempt to ground herself. Ava's movements were slow and deliberate and once she was out of sight and Sara could hear the muffled sound of voices, she focused solely on her breath: in, out, in, out.

"Thanks for coming."

"You said Sara and Urgent." Zari rushed passed the open door where Ava stood, her expression unreadable except for the worry that seeped out in small hitches of otherwise steady breathing.

"I'm not sure." Their tones were soft, as they stood in the entryway. Zari placed a comforting hand on Ava's arm, encouragement to continue and reassurance that she wasn't alone. "She woke up and doesn't know we have a son, that we're married, truthfully that we were together at all."

"Have you called Gideon?"

"I didn't want to freak her out more. If anyone can get her to go it's someone she actually remembers."

Zari nodded in reluctant agreement. She remembered years ago when Sara was young and frantic and was eager to avoid frazzled Sara. There had been a handful of occasions were Sara was one step too far toward the cliff. She knew it was better to ease her back gently.

"Where is she?"

"This isn't funny, Z."

"You think this is a joke?"

"I know it is. Last night we were at Mick's, Amaya told me I need to be happy, get myself out there and I wake up in Director Sharpe's bed with a kid she claims is mine and I promise I don't make that good of a first impression."

Zari took a couple of steps toward Sara who didn't back away but had a glaze over her eyes that she was certain was indication of impulse to flee, so she breathed in deeply and began to tread lightly.

"Sara, what's today?"

"October 27th, 2018."

"Are you sure?"

"Am I… of course I'm sure." Her hands flew widely, coming to a heavy, loud rest on her thighs.

Zari reached for the remote and turned the TV to a news station. There in the bottom left corner was the date which was only reassured by the anchor.

"Good morning, Central City. I'm Heather Thomas and this is Michael Hendrick. The evenings top story comes to us from the recent 2033 fall festival. There have been reports of…"

The rest of the program is a blurred form of white noise. On instinct, Sara snatched the remote and began to find as many channels as possible that displayed the date. To her dismay, she found only that she was somehow wrong.

"Punch me," she ordered Zari without warning, pointing to her shoulder and holding it out for the woman whose eyes became wide with surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"Z, I am giving you permission to punch me. Don't waste this opportunity."

"You aren't asleep, Sara."

"You do it then." Sara turned to Ava who looked like she had aged a lifetime in a matter of minutes, her eyes narrowed in concern, her left hand covering her mouth, her right gripped her side like a lifeline. At Sara's words, she merely closed her eyes and Sara tried to convince herself that the glisten she saw had always been there.

"Someone needs to because I am…holy...what was that?" Sara's head flew forward from the force being hurled her direction from down the hall. She rubbed her neck tenderly and turned to see the young boy standing in the hallway, another throw pillow loaded and ready to fire at a moment's notice.

"Zachary William," Ava bellowed, utter shock evident in her voice, though her words were stern and authoritative, a trend Sara was beginning to notice. "What on earth were you thinking?"

"I was doing what Mom said," he shrugged, looking between the three women staring at him: one with shock, one with fear, and one with the semblance of pride. "She was literally asking for it."

"He's got a point," Sara offered, lamely. "Well, besides the whole Mom thing."

"Sara, you're not helping. And you, young man, know better than that. You are grounded for two weeks."

"Ah, Momma, don't be like that. I didn't actually hit her. I just propelled feathers wrapped in cotton at her in a quick forceful manner."

"I will be however I want and you will go back to your room and stay there until I can figure out what to do with you."

Zari had her hand over her mouth desperately trying to not laugh. He had a point, a very Sara point, but one nonetheless. It was not the time nor her place to say as much, though, because there was still the real and present issue of Sara's lack of memory.

Ava ran a hand threw her hair and braced herself against the kitchen island with the other. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and let out a breath that took the full force of her concentration.

"I didn't mean to get him into trouble," Sara offered tentatively.

"You didn't…It's fine. I'll deal with that later," she deflected with a wave of her hand. "Zari, can you…"

"Of course," she answered without hesitation not needing an explanation, taking the extra two steps to standing directly next to Sara, offering the woman her hand. "Sara would you come with me to see Gideon please? We're going to see if we can get to the bottom of this."

Sara takes her hand and Zari leads her around the couch and to the entryway before turning back to Ava. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

All Ava could muster was a tight nod and a small smile.

"Interesting."

Sara didn't know much about the medical field, but she would place a handsome sum of money that interesting was not a good word. "We're going to run a CT scan to see if we can get to the bottom of this. Sara if you will follow me. Ms. Tomaz, please wait here."

As soon as Sara was out of ear shot, Zari pulled out her phone and dialed the practiced number. Ava picked up on the third ring and although she tried to sound collected, Zari could hear how winded the women was, as if she had sprinted down the hallway to answer.

"What did Gideon say?"

"They are taking her back for a scan now. Gideon asked her a list of questions and the only one she answered correctly was about who I am. We will know more in a few hours." The silence was deafening. What was there to say other than the painfully obvious fact that there was no new information and Sara still didn't remember anything? None of it was helpful. "You should be here, Ava."

"I think it's best that I'm not," came the quick, unyielding reply. "At least not until we know more. I've got to go pick up Zach in an hour and I can already hear the onslaught of questions I don't have answers for yet."

"I know, but…"

"Zari, it's okay. I know when to back off when it comes to Sara," Ava said with a sense of finality that was respected, even though she disagreed. "Can you just make sure she comes home tonight, after you're done?"

"Of course. I'll let you know when we are heading back."

The reply was a short, curt thanks and then she was gone. Zari knew she was right, but it didn't take away the feeling that the entire situation felt wrong.

The car came to a stop on the street outside of the condo and she could almost see Sara's stomach drop to the floor when she put the car in park. There had been no way to prepare her that, according the medical science, she was a mother and a wife, memories or not. Every test she took came back well within the acceptable range, though Sara had begged to differ on the limits of that range.

"You're going to have to go in there at some point."

"Can't I just sleep on your couch tonight?"

"As your friend, I'm going to say no. You can call at any time and I will answer, but this is your life. You need to be here, with your wife and your son. Running away from something just because you don't understand it is not the Sara I know. I don't think she's the Sara you know either."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she whispered, her words hitting her feet. The car hummed softly under her supplying a constant reminder that Zari wasn't to go drive away with Sara still strapped inside. Sara nodded slowly, a sense of resignation and acceptance in her movement as the car door opened and she stepped out.

The click of the doorknob moving gained the attention of the otherwise silent apartment. Ava focused all of her energy on not moving too quickly or with any outward show of need or concern. If the morning had been any indication, Sara was rightfully frazzled and Ava knew the appointment with Gideon had done nothing to soothe her fears.

"All the tests came back negative," Zari said, fatigue clear in her voice. "According to Gideon, Sara is perfectly healthy. She has no explanation for her memory lapse."

"That doesn't make any sense. How does someone lose a decade and a half of memory?"

"She doesn't know, Ava. I'm sorry."

"So what are we supposed to do?"

"She said to just be normal, go about your day per usual. Talk to Sara like you normally would, tell Zachary to do the same."

"How am I supposed to normal with a wife who doesn't remember marrying me?"

"The best advice we have is to just go with whatever pace she sets. Don't cater to her, but pay attention to how she responds and react accordingly."

Normal. That was what Ava had most taken from their conversation. They had never been normal, never been typical and now she was expected to pretend they were for however long Sara continued to think they had just met. She could feel the knots in her neck pull harshly in opposing directions. A mind-numbing headache was starting to build and it was apparent that she was in store for a long night. But, before she could reach that exciting prospect, she had to get through dinner.

"Zachary!"

"What?"

"Don't what me. Come help set the table."

"Kay."

"You're going to let your son talk to you like that?" Ava whipped around the see Sara, hands in her back pocket, swaying awkwardly in the entryway, impossibly small.

"Some days are better than others." She wasn't sure what to expect, but Sara offered a small smile and it was entirely too much like her wife to not walk across the room and kiss her. Normal, she thought, just be normal.

"Are you hungry?"

Blonde hair snapped up quickly. Under normal circumstances, Ava would have laughed softly and teased the woman about the giant hole that must be her stomach. Instead she reached behind her, removed the lid from the pot and stirring the contents it contained.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Can I help with anything?" The offer, no matter how genuine, was detrimental to any progress, Ava was certain. Sara would realize quickly she didn't know where the salt was, or the plates, or the napkins, or anything in their house. Further showcasing her memory loss was not something Ava wanted to help Sara do.

"That's okay. But, since you mentioned it – you might want to close your ears." With one hand still in her pocket, Sara simply shrugged. She had a feeling whatever was about to happen was a typical occurrence and she wanted to be a part of it. If she was going to be stuck in a time where this was her normal, then she was going to try to be present. Waving her free hand as a gesture to continue, Sara saw the beginnings of a smile from Ava, a sharp contrast to how her voice boomed seconds later.

"Zachary!"

"What?"

"Now! Not when you feel like it!"

"I'm on the pot, Momma! Give me a minute."

"Wash your hands when you're done!"

"This isn't my first time with this. Thank you!"

When the silence settled again their eyes met and the vibrant grin Sara attempted to control spread broadly. Locked in an exchange of apologetic glances and genuine enjoyment, they were taken by surprise when the bathroom door was yanked open and footsteps pounded down the hallway.

"Do you remember you're my mom, yet?" Zachary walked into view, shaking his hands in a blatant display to prove himself which only gained him a stern and fed up raise of Ava's eyebrow. She was about to speak when Sara intervened.

"Sorry, kid. I wouldn't hold your breath."

"Looks like mom, talks like mom, but isn't mom. If it wasn't so inconvenient, it might be entertaining."

"Inconvenient," Sara questioned, looking at Ava who had begun moving pots to the table. To her surprise, she wasn't offended, more curious as to what other piece of information she was missing.

"I had a practice tournament today and I didn't have anyone in the stands yelling positions or attacks this time which was just more work for me…"

"Zach," Ava cut in once she saw Sara begin to sway uncomfortably again. As instructed, she logged the motion for the future when she might need to save Sara from the host of people they would see until their lives went back to normal. "Since I cooked and managed to set the table before you joined us, how about you handle the dishes tonight."

Knowing better than to argue, he resigned with a cut nod, making his way to the table, plopping loudly in the chair. Ava mouthed an apology but Sara waved her off. She hadn't eaten since she woke up and, coupled with the fact that whatever Ava cooked smelled familiar, she desperately needed something to do with her hands.

Glassware being arranged in the dishwasher and the sound of steadily running water, helped fill the otherwise quiet room. They had moved to the couch after dinner, Ava offering a glass of wine which Sara accepted almost too eagerly. As soon as they sat, Sara noticed the tension alleviate from the woman beside her. Ava laid her head on the back of the couch, taking long, deep breaths between drinks. Though she had no basis, Sara wondered if this a normal Sunday for them: dinner, wine, oddly comfortable silences. Ava appeared in her element, making it impossible to not notice how her hand traveled without hesitation to the middle of the couch before stopping suddenly. So dinner, wine, comfortable silences, and holding hands were normal for them, for her.

"Alright, Momma, all done. Can I go not be here now?"

"Just don't be loud." Ava waved her hand, refusing to open her eyes in a futile attempt to keep her headache from taking over.

The boy walked over slowly, apparently more aware of the proper protocol for his mother than Sara would have given a teenager credit for, especially one that was hers. He reached down, rubbed her forearm gently, pressed a slow kiss to her forehead, and whispered goodnight before throwing Sara an awkward, restrained wave. With a final squeeze of Ava's arm, he made his way back down the hallway, closed the door, and the muffled sound of laughter and sporadic lighting bounced from behind the wood.

"You're good with him."

"So are you, in your own way."

"You said I didn't you know, have him. Was that…did you….or did we…"

"We adopted him," Ava smiled, taking a long sip from her glass before rolling her head to face Sara. "You argued that if I thought you were hard to handle, I should imagine you with unpredictable hormone levels, mood swings, and morning sickness. It took me all of thirty seconds to agree with you."

The way Ava's face lit up at the memory and the fondness in her tone overwhelmed Sara just enough to continue the conversation. If she kept talking, perhaps she would stumble on a topic that didn't make the woman sitting next to her look at her like she meant something, like she was capable of this lifestyle.

"When did we decide to have him?"

"Oh, it wasn't a we decision," Ava laughed, pinning some of her hair behind her ear, trading looks between Sara, the rug, and the dwindling wine in her glass. "Don't get me wrong, I can't imagine life without him, he's my son and I love him, but it was a you decision. You came home one day with pamphlets and folders of information and said you had counted it out and done all the research and it was high time we become parents."

"And that was enough for you to make a life altering decision to adopt a kid?"

Utter confusion laced the blonde's face and Ava wondered how much more she should divulge. How much was too much? When did it stop being casual questions and start becoming emotionally charged and likely too much for Sara to handle in one day? How much like her Sara was the woman sitting next to her?

Maybe it was the stress, the fatigue, the wine, or maybe it was that Sara had always been able to make Ava gamble on reason but it dawned on her that the bigger risk was not that Sara would react poorly, or pull away. The bigger risk came in assuming their life had meant nothing, had been for nothing. Sitting up slightly, she placed her nearly empty glass on the coffee table and turned to face Sara.

"If it made you happy, Sara, I would have done just about anything." Sara immediately ducked her head, unable to stomach the sincerity in the words. Frustration boiled in her stomach at how she could forget someone caring that much about her. "Look, I don't expect anything from you. I know you're struggling with this; I just want to help. And I…I really want you to stay here, with me and Zach. I know it's a lot but I can sleep on the couch. I just want you here in case something else happens."

Any thoughts of circumventing Zari and asking Amaya, or Ray, or even Mick for help disappeared. It was replaced by a inescapable urge to find out what kind of person she was in a time where this was something she had, something she didn't ruin.

"Okay." Relief flooded Ava's face, forming a wide, bright smile. "I'll stay, but you have to tell me which drawers are mine and most importantly which toothbrush is mine. Also, where are the towels? I need to wash today off."

In any other circumstance, Ava might have taken offense to the statement. Instead, she stood up, placing her hands in her pockets and nodded towards the hallway.

"Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."