Dawn shakily entered the Cohen mansion and hurried into the kitchen, Sandy following close behind her.

"Hey Dawn" Kirsten said softly. Dawn looked at her with teary eyes and in a matter of seconds the two women found themselves in a tight embrace.

"Poor Ryan, I can't – I just can't believe it. He looked so…" Dawn sniffed as they pulled apart.

"We know" Sandy replied, placing a hand on the small of his wife's back. "We have trouble fathoming that that's our Ryan lying there…it's just not right."

"And to think I bought him that damn car!" Dawn sobbed.

"Hey" Sandy said sharply. "This is not your fault; do not blame yourself for buying Ryan that car. None of us could have foreseen this and the only person we need to blame is Kevin Volchok."

"You did a great thing buying him that car Dawn; you saw on his face how much it meant to him."

Dawn nodded and smiled faintly. Once again the Cohen's were showing what amazing people they were.

11111111111111111111111111

Weeks rolled by and still there were no signs of Ryan waking up. The doctors were quietly confident that he was at least stable now; he wouldn't suddenly be leaving them. At the same time though they had to acknowledge that the longer the coma continued the chances of Ryan waking up and making a full recover diminished.

Dawn had gone home after a couple of weeks, needing to return to her job which she had promised Ryan she would maintain. The Cohen's were under instruction to call her if there were any developments. Once again she left, telling them to take good care of her son, care she'd never been able to give him. So they had parted, with Kirsten quietly whispering to Dawn that Ryan needed her to be strong at this time, which meant she should refrain from drinking and going back to that downwards spiral. For Ryan's sake, Dawn had concurred, ignoring the overwhelming urge to buy a bottle of vodka and escape the situation.

Marissa's body was gradually healing but the emotional scars ran much deeper. She was a shadow of her former self; barely eating and barely talking. The doctors informed her that they heavily recommended therapy to help her deal with what had happened, but Marissa refused point blank. She didn't want to talk to someone about her problems until she could talk to Ryan. Thoughts of therapy reminded her of Oliver, and thoughts of Oliver reminded her of Ryan, and the conversation they'd shared moments before setting off in the car for the airport on that night.

Since the day when she'd collapsed in Ryan's room, Marissa had been allowed to visit a few more times. Having seen just how broken Ryan was, Marissa was sometimes reluctant to see him; on her bad days she wanted nothing more than to wallow in the memories of the good times they had together; seeing Ryan in his current state burst that bubble and brought her crashing back down to earth. Little innocuous words or phrases people uttered suddenly had greater meaning to her and took her back to a moment with Ryan. Everyday –

"Did you ever wonder why I went to the poolhouse to find you?"

"Everyday.

Here's your chance. Clear the air. Tell me"

- she found herself remembering moments she had previously forgotten about.

And what hurt the most was the fear that she'd never have moments like that with Ryan again.

Which was why on those visits to Ryan's room, she'd yet to actually say anything to him. There hadn't been another passing out incident though; instead, Marissa would sit, or stand, and stare at him, tears silently flowing down her cheeks as her mind wandered to some poignant moment in their history. To speak would mean disturbing those memories; speaking would also brutally highlight the fact that Ryan wasn't going to respond to a word she said.

11111111111111111111111111111111

Tentatively Marissa stood outside his door, bracing herself for the familiar shocking sight she knew awaited her. Its only Ryan. Pushing the door open with as much force as she could muster, Marissa marched quietly over and sat in the bedside chair, refusing to look at the bed until she felt ready.

Breathing out heavily, Marissa opened her eyes as she reached for Ryan's hand. Which memories is it gonna be today then Ry? God I wish you could talk to me.

"Look, I don't talk, alot about…stuff and I really don't trust people… but I trust you, and I wanna make it - this - work, no matter what..."

Marissa smiled to herself as she remembered their first kiss on the Ferris Wheel. That was arguably one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for her; the parallel's to The Notebook making it all the more perfect for her.

Communication. That's what so many of their problems boiled down to. But on that leaving day, they seemed to be taking steps in the right direction to remedy that; summing up their relationship and being able to look back on it fondly.

It felt almost like an epiphany to Marissa; all those times they'd condemned each other for not talking enough, and here she was, refusing to speak to him. Its time.

"Hey Ry…" she gasped. Words stuck in her throat and refused to come out, but at least she'd done it, she'd spoken.

And through the tears clouding her eyes, Marissa was sure for a fleeting moment she'd seen the smallest twitch of Ryan's finger in her hand.