Speed stared at his family, taking in as many details as he could. He knew that he knew them but couldn't place faces with names. They were still strangers to his mind's eye.

"Oh, my darling," his mother whispered, kissing his forehead. She sat on the right side, next to his head, and hugged him as best she could. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. He had remembered her voice, the kindness and love that it always carried and he wanted so much to be able to hug her back, despite the lack of memories.

'Thank goodness that lady was kind enough to pull the curtain back for me.'

On his left stood his father and a police officer. At the foot stood two other men, one wearing an orange shirt and red baseball cap, and the other wearing a black and white fire suit and mask. He had recognized their voices as well but nothing else. His entire life remained just out of reach, tantalizing yet scary. He had a million questions but wondered if it would be worth remembering at all. Finally, his father spoke.

"How long have you been in here? Have you any idea as to how worried we were?" There was a hint of annoyance in his tone and in his eyes.

Speed started to shake his head, only to have it held in place by the brace.

"No, I didn't know how worried you were," he sighed, frustrated at not being able to move. "According to the nurse and the doctor, I'd been in a coma for a year."

"A coma?"

"Yeah . . ." He sighed once more.

"How did you get here, Speed?" Inspector Detector inquired.

"I don't know," he murmured, his eyes trailing up to the ceiling.

"Don't know?"

"No. I don't know."

"What do you mean by that?" his father asked, his eyes narrowing. Speed sighed once more.

"It means just that. I don't know."

"What happened to you, Speed?" the man in the mask inquired. "You're not acting like yourself."

"Don't know that, either."

His father looked fit to be tied at his answers but he couldn't help it. He really did not know the answers to their questions. The only one who had not asked him questions had been his mother.

"Calm down, dear. I'm sure there's a good explanation for everything," his mother soothed, relieving some of the tension that was mounting. That was when his father turned his attention to the other two occupants in the room, his roommate and his friend.

"And just how did you know to pull the curtain back?" he demanded, his tone filled with accusation. It was enough to make him flinch.

They, however, did not. Torie folded her arms and looked at him. He saw her out of the corner of his eye. She appeared to be used to this sort of behaviour.

"Because he asked me to pull the curtain back," she retorted. "Plus the fact that Sparky had said he thought my fiancé looked like his best friend. How else?"

Pops turned his attention to Robert.

"You know why he's here . . ."

"Only because I was here when he woke up yesterday and heard things that I shouldn't have heard so if you're looking for answers . . . call the doctor. It's his place to tell you, not mine."

At that moment, Speed wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Regret began to nibble away at him. He had not wanted them to be interrogated for things they knew nothing about. Still, there was no going back.

"They didn't know who I was," he sighed. "Hell, I still don't know who I am." That caught their attention.

"What do you mean you don't know who you are?" his friend asked. "We . . ."

"I know what you've told me," Speed interjected. "I know that I know you. I know your voices but nothing more than that. I don't remember why I left or how I even got here."

By now, tears had welled up in his eyes, which were already feeling heavy.

'Not now,' he pleaded to himself. 'I just found them. They know these things and they'll tell me. I know it.'

His mother somehow noticed the sleepiness that had invaded his eyes, even as he fought against it. She smiled sweetly and gently at him then kissed him once more on the forehead, her fingers delicately combing through his hair. It felt rather soothing.

"Go to sleep, baby. We'll be here when you wake up."

Unable to resist any longer, his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep once more.

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Rex watched as his brother closed his eyes and fell asleep. It happened quickly, far too quickly in his opinion. Speed never tired that easily.

'I wonder what kind of pain medications he's on. I've never seen him look so tired before.' From the corner of his eye, he watched as Torie and Robert left the room.

'Curious. What are those two up to?'

Quietly, he excused himself and followed them. After a few moments, they separated, Robert heading towards the nurses' station and Torie for the elevators. He followed her into the elevator.

"Is there something about me that you just find absolutely fascinating?" she inquired, slightly annoyed.

"You said Speed looked like Ryan . . ."

"He does a little. There are very noticeable differences, however," she stated, staring at the elevator door.

"Oh? Like what?"

"Ryan was half-Japanese. You could see it. Your friend does not look like he even has a tiny bit of Japanese in him."

"Good point," he nodded. "You seem awfully . . . moody."

"I am moody," she replied evenly.

"Any particular reason why?"

"Comes with the territory."

"Comes with the territory?" he echoed. "What territory?"

"The territory of being pregnant," she snapped. Then she sighed and rubbed her eyes. Rex blinked behind his mask. She was pregnant? But how?

"You're pregnant?"

"Yeah," she nodded, her eyes holding a far away look. "Ryan and I had been trying for a while now. Didn't want to wait for marriage. We both knew we were getting older and not younger. Figured it would be better in the long run. And I found out the night of the accident. Ryan never knew."

"Oh . . ."

"You might want to get back to your friend," she said. "Robert's already at the nurses' station, telling them about what's happened. The doctor should be up there any moment to explain things. You might want to be there for that."

The elevator came to a stop and Torie stepped out.

"Torie . . ."

"Yeah?" She glanced at him, a deep and impenetrable sadness in her eyes. He felt lost for words.

"I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your fiancé. I really am," he said sadly. "I can't even begin to imagine how you must feel right now."

"Everyone is, Racer X. But what's done is done. There are no such things as happy endings anymore."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked quietly.

"Are you sure that there are?" she shot back.

"No . . ."

"There's your answer then. Have a good day."

The doors closed as she turned and walked away, leaving him to ponder her words.

'At least I know where she's getting her determination to live from. A baby. I wonder if it'll look like her . . .'

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Sparky watched as his best friend slept quietly and shivered. After what the doctor had told them about Speed's injuries and how he obtained them, he knew Speed was very lucky to be alive and even luckier to have had Sergeant Mahoney watching over him.

'Thank goodness his luck didn't run out entirely,' Sparky thought to himself as he watched Pops and Inspector Detector slip out. 'I wonder what will help trigger Speed's memory.' He and Mrs. Racer sat in silence for a while, listening to Speed breathe. It had a rather lulling effect and Sparky found himself drifting off and thinking about how radically everything had changed. Speed's racing days were probably numbered and he wasn't sure how his friend was going to react to that news once he had regained his memory. 'Don't worry, buddy. We'll help you. We'll help you.'

888888888

Speed slowly opened his eyes and yawned. He hadn't wanted to wake up - he'd had a wonderful dream in which he had found his family and someone else, a woman, and he wanted to relish it as much as he could. However, his mind had told his body it was time to wake up. Azure eyes woke up to early morning light.

'Odd . . . I've done this before . . . but where? When? Why does my head ache?'

"Morning, Sunshine," a female voice greeted. He raised his head slightly and saw a familiar looking blonde-haired woman sitting next to him. Snoring greeted his ears and he knew that it had been no dream. He had been found.

"Morning, Torie," he replied softly, gazing over her. "You look tired."

Torie smiled.

"I worked last night and I just haven't gone to bed yet. Thought you might like some breakfast so I fixed some scrambled eggs and brought some bananas and yogurt."

"Thank you," he smiled back. She scooted a little closer and helped him to eat. Speed wanted the use of his arms back so he tried as best he could to handle the fork and spoon Torie had brought with her. She even helped him out when it looked like he couldn't manage.

"Wish I had your luck, kid," a grizzled voice commented. "Not everyone gets to be fed breakfast by a beautiful young lady."

"Sarge," Torie sighed reprovingly yet chuckling slightly. Speed, however, turned bright red. Neither of them seemed to notice. If they did, they said nothing.

Sergeant Mahoney walked up beside Torie and smiled like a Cheshire cat. His eyes shone and Speed thought he saw tears forming in the older man's eyes.

"I never thought I'd see this day," he breathed. "You are one tough young man, Mr. Racer. Not many people live to tell after a beating like that."

"So I've been told . . ."

"Don't doubt it, son. Don't doubt it for a moment."

"I was told that the people who did this to me haven't been caught," Speed said after a few moments had passed in silence. He figured that Sergeant Mahoney was there to talk about what happened but didn't feel secure in how helpful he'd be. The incident, and his entire life, still eluded him.

"This is true," Mahoney nodded. "The investigation is still ongoing but I can't do much more until you remember something about that night. That isn't the reason why I'm here, though."

"Oh? Why are you here?" he inquired, wishing he could push himself higher in the bed.

"To return these back to you," came the reply. Sergeant Mahoney placed two items on the bedside table, a key and a small blue velvet box.

Speed's breath caught in his throat the instant he saw the box. It held the answers he'd been seeking since waking up yet . . . yet he feared to touch it, feared to find out what those answers were. With a trembling hand, he reached for it . . .