Yeah, so, As any of you who have any of my other stories in their alerts may have noticed, I'm not actually dead. After we got robbed my plot bunnies did a runner and left me with no direction, no desire and no ability to write. Now, with the luring of copious amounts of carrot cake and the promise of a party, the bunnies are back!

Let the fics roll on once more!

The Right Direction

Watching the world pass her by, Nadia sighed and leant her head against the many pillows piled against the headboard, staring longingly at the layers and layers of snow that dusted every surface beyond her private suite. Behind her, her therapist smoothed his shirt and tie against his chest and placed his briefcase between his legs.

"It's been twenty four hours since the accident," the old man reminded her, and Nadia flinched involuntarily. Dr Mareo was an immigrant from Spain. He had travelled to America with his parents when he was just a child and, as a result, had almost completely lost both his accent and his native tongue. He leant forwards in his chair and tried to get a look at her face, but half of it was buried in a mountain of pillows.

He leant back in his plastic chair, fidgeting uncomfortably before continuing: "What do you remember?"

Lost in a dreamy state, Nadia was effectively drowning out the overpaid man behind her to focus on the world beyond her hospital bubble. The whisper of robin calls floated through the barely open window as the sun beat down on the snow, the light reflected almost blinding on the piles shovelled away from the stairs to the main entrance. These had been gritted too, but many parts of the steps remained treacherously icy and threatened to upturn many a visitor hurrying to their beloved.

"Nadia?" The psychotherapist tried again, a flutter of hopefulness shooting through his heart as she sluggishly turned to look at him. She cringed as she lifted her plastered arm, the metal screws holding the bones in place poking out of the cast, onto her stomach before turning her head in his direction.

The man reached for his briefcase. "The doctors tell me the memory loss is not as severe as they thought it would be," he reassured his young patient as he unclipped his case and flipped it open. Though this would put her therapy back almost four complete stages, it could have been a lot worse. "They tell me it's confined to the last month, is this correct?"

After a short pause, Nadia nodded, and the old man smiled at her encouragingly before returning to rifling through his many papers. He had brought all of the material they had used in the last month with him, but seeing her current state he'd quickly decided reminding her of the news articles and her mother's death may not be the best approach to getting her back on her feet.

Instead, he produced four photos, closing the case and tidying the tiny collection into a neat pile before meeting her eyes again. She was staring at the back of the photo pile, the plain white back of the last one, intently. Recognition cards was a frequent exercise is Dr. Mareo's sessions, though they didn't usually involved photographs but ink splodges. Without a moment's hesitation, he flipped the first photo over.

Recognition shone across her face. She smiled at the photo, and without being prompted, said "Dad."

The psychologist smiled as well, tucking this photo at the back of the pile. "Seems like the Doctor's were right, since this is a very recent photo." He neatened the pile again, tapping the photos gently on the bench to line the edges up. Though he was a therapist he had issues of his own, obsessive compulsion to tidiness being one of them. He glanced up at Nadia, meeting her eyes for a few seconds, before flipping the next photo.

The teenage girl frowned, which the therapist mirrored as he held the photo out to her. Though she took it and studied it carefully, after a few minutes contemplation she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head sadly, holding it at arm's reach for Dr. Mareo to take back. He did so almost immediately and waited for Nadia to meet his eyes again.

"Who is he?" The young girl asked, curling her left hand into a fist, fighting back tears of frustration. She had been doing this kind of therapy about her Mother for years in the practitioner's office, but it was still as hard as it had always been.

Dr. Mareo turned the photograph back to face her. It was an olive skinned boy in his late teens, long dark bangs cut just above his chocolate brown eyes. He was in a uniform she did not recognise and, as hard as she tried, she didn't remember anything about him.

The psychologist glanced down at the picture, then back at his patient. "This is Nickolas, or Nick." He stated evenly, his tone of voice automatically dropping into a soothing, soft tone. "Do you remember your Father's remarriage?"

Nadia looked at the ceiling for a few seconds, squinting at a tile. "Vaguely," she whispered. "I was a bridesmaid..?"

She smiled when the man smiled and nodded, glad she hadn't forgotten everything. "He married this boy's Mother, a lady by the name of Nancy." He packed the photo behind that of her Father and flipped over the next one, revealing a woman who barely resembled the boy at all. Her hair was a lighter brown and her face rounder and kinder. She wore a wide smile on her face and a large, oversized summer hat.

The teen's eyes opened a little wider. "Nancy!" She said more with surprise and recognition. "She was in the hospital room when I woke up! I remember her! She was holding a great bouquet of blue and white flowers at the wedding…I held them for her while she made her vows to Dad…"

Gazing up at the wall, she smiled to herself as the events of that day came back to her. There was a horse drawn carriage and a church filled with flowers matching Nancy's bouquet. Very few people came to the wedding, it was almost like a secret, but the crowd were so happy, and Nancy had looked so beautiful.

She frowned. "I wonder why Nick wasn't there," she thought aloud, looking back at her psychoanalyst for guidance. He was, however, unable to offer any, and instead just smiled encouragingly as he prepared to turn the last photo over.

She had forgotten so much, it seemed, but not all was lost yet. If just a picture of Nancy made her remember so much about the woman, then there was a chance he could pull the same trick with yet another one. He hesitated slightly, causing the teen to frown even further, before flipping the final picture over.

Nadia could not have been more surprised - in his hand was a picture of her Mother Nadia had never seen before, though now she was sure video clips of the short time their lives overlapped began to play behind her eyes.

"You need to remember, Nadia." Dr. Mareo stated, his sudden seriousness taking Nadia off guard when she met his eyes. "For Nancy and Nick's sake, you need to remember."