Drew kept his hand at the small of Gwen's back as the family completed the check-in process and accepted their room keys. The man who Gwen had spoken to initially introduced himself as Fred and the second man – who was quite obviously his twin – was named George, according to the pin on his shirt.

He did most of the talking, as he was able to feel without a doubt how tense Gwen was as she stood in front of the men. It didn't take a genius to see in them what she had. They had the exact same face as Jill, only older and male, and in ways that made Drew somewhat uncomfortable, he felt a distinct note of familiarity when he looked at them. And a slight tinge of irritation.

The real question, though, was whether or not the twins felt the same recognition. They certainly showed no signs of knowing either Gwen or Drew, but of course that didn't mean anything necessarily, and they would have had to have been blind idiots to not realize the resemblance between them. Most people – upon meeting other people with similarly colored hair – did not immediately strike a conversation about whether or not they could remember their childhood or if, perhaps, they may or may not be related to a perfect stranger.

"We need to stay two nights," Gwen said, finally finding the ability to speak after nearly five minutes. "I'm sorry. I forgot to mention that."

"Not a problem, Mrs. Montrose," the twin named George said. He smiled at her kindly, and once again Drew could feel her whole body tensing. He didn't much want to stay a second night – he didn't want to pay for it, either – but he did realize that Gwen wasn't likely to want to leave after finding someone who may have been a part of her family. And, truthfully, he couldn't blame her for that, either.

Another few minutes passed before the family headed towards the stairs. Their room was on the second level, and to get there, they needed to walk through the external corridors that led up to a small balcony. Room number 218.

The children happily ran through the door, immediately jumping on the bed closest to the window, but Drew took hold of his wife's arm and held her still for another moment. "You don't know who those people are, Gwen. You need to be realistic."

"Realistic?" she hissed. "I was right about the lady with the radishes, and dammit, I'm right now, too! Those men... those men are family. My brothers. I know they are. But maybe they've lost their memories too. I don't know how, but I need to find out. I can't leave here until I know for sure who they are!"

Drew's eyes were fixed on her. He looked at her calmly and patiently, but also sternly. He knew well enough that she was likely right about Fred and George – and of course she had been about the crazy blonde lady, as well – but her first instinct was always to overreact, to irrationally respond to whatever thought entered her mind. In a lot of ways, this trait was what made her such a wonderful mother. She always had the best interest for her children in mind and never hesitated to do whatever was necessary to take care of them for even a moment. But this also made her reckless and careless when it came to her own well-being, and often came as a prelude to things like running through a field after seeing a stranger sitting in the middle of it. It was his job to keep her grounded and safe, and his over-thinking and irritatingly rational sense of reasoning was sometimes the only thing that could keep her in check.

"Listen to me, Gwen," he said quietly. "Get some rest. It's late. We'll... we'll sort through this tomorrow."

She opened her mouth in protest, then thought better of it and stopped. "I didn't plan for this to happen. I couldn't have known that they'd be here."

"Plan for it?" he repeated, allowing the words to roll over his tongue thoughtfully, almost as though he didn't quite understand the meaning of them. "No, I don't think you planned for us to find those people. I do think that you knew, though, when you saw this place, that you needed to be here. And that's all right. You're an instinctive person. But let's be smart about it." He rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to tenderly kiss her cheek. "Even if you're right about them, they might not sense it the way that you do. For all you know, they're perfectly content with living their lives without memories."

And he entered the hotel room without another word, knowing well enough that she was right about them. They were her family and she had found them, and now that she had, she would never leave them until she could be sure that they were safe.

There were collapsed ruins all around them – the stone towers had crumbled like sand in some places and like rubble in others. Either way, it was not the place he had called home for seven years. It was not familiar at all anymore. Surrounding him, he could see people stretching out for miles and miles, all the way to the forest and also headed towards what remained of the wreckage, but he could not identify anyone. All of the faces were blurred.

Except for one.

She was on the ground, kneeling beside something. A person. He was lying spread-eagle on the ground, head tilted to the side, eyes still open. But he was completely still and lifeless. It was obvious that he was dead.

Her red hair was like a stream of fire cascading down her back and hanging like a curtain around her face. Her hands covered her eyes, and he knew that she was crying despite the fact that she was not making a sound. She was completely inconsolable, and even though normally he would have shrugged off anyone who was crying without even a moment's hesitation, something about her made him stop and stare. She was someone he had never seen like this. He had never seen her look weak and vulnerable the entire time he had known her.

Cautiously, he approached her, making certain that he did not look down at the body beside her for even a split second. He had never liked the boy who had died, but he knew better than to think or speak ill of those who had passed. This boy was no exception, and so he willed himself to keep his distance.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, noticing how bony she was, how cold and frail she had become. She flinched under his touch, but he did not back away. "Listen," he said, feeling as his voice got caught in his throat. "You have to..."

She rounded on him, eyes fierce despite the tears welling within, the wet stains trailing down her cheek. The fire within her made her look sharp and beautiful, and even though only a moment ago he had felt great pity for her because of her loss, right then he could not grasp that emotion. She was not someone to feel bad for. She didn't want it, and she was far to strong for it.

"Don't touch me," she hissed. "Haven't you done enough here?"

He felt startled. "I didn't have anything to do with this."

She laughed mirthlessly. "Maybe you didn't point the wand and maybe you didn't say the words, but you are anything but blameless." Slowly and with all the dignity that she could muster, she got to her feet. "These were your people – your father, your master. You've aligned with them, and so whatever they do is also on you."

The blood was draining from his face. "I only did what I did to protect who I love." He kept his chin high, knowing that despite what he felt, he could not allow himself to be intimidated by her and he would not let her look down on him. "I'm not sorry for saving my family."

"You've never been in danger!" she exclaimed, her cheeks pinking with anger. "Your blood is pure. He won't lay a finger on you!"

This made him angry. "You stupid, naive little twit. You have no idea what he'll do to me if I betray him, what he'd do to my family. It's not worth the risk!"

"Of course it's worth the risk!" She looked, briefly, as though she actually pitied him. "What you're doing – that's not living. You are breathing and you're walking around like you're alive, but you aren't, and as long as you are under his thumb, you never will be. And I feel sorry for you, that you can't find it in you to fight. I'm sorry that you're so weak that you can't even muster up the strength to walk away from this." She touched her hands to his shoulders. "I lost the love of my life tonight, but I still won't give up. I can't."

He watched with interest as she wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach. His eyes widened with understanding. "You're... you're pregnant, aren't you?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"You need to get out of here then. He's half-blooded. Your baby, they won't spare it. You have to know that!"

"Of course I know it," she said with a conspiratorial whisper. "But as long as no one knows about it, nothing will happen, right?" She placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firmer and stronger than he would have thought she was capable of. "Will you keep my secret? Please, promise me that you will."

He looked at her for a long moment, as though weighing in his mind what she was asking him. What she had told him was dangerous. Having a baby at a time like this was bad enough, but a baby who was of impure blood was even more so. If the wrong person found out, she would be imprisoned for sure, and who knows what would happen to her after that. He certainly did not want her to find out. He may not have ever been the nicest person, but he'd never want anything to happen to a baby or its mother.

"I'll keep your secret, but you need to leave. Now."

She opened her mouth to speak again, but he cut her off with a tight grasp of her upper arms. She was startled, but she remained quiet and still.

"This is not a suggestion or a recommendation. I am telling you to get out of here. I know that your family is here, but you don't have a choice. You're going to have a baby. You need to protect it." He relented his grip. "You can't keep a secret like this for very long. Get out of here now. Now!"

And she did. She turned and she ran as fast as she could without falling, somehow looking behind her and in front of her and down at her feet all at the same time. He watched as she ran into the forest, and only then did he look away.

When he opened his eyes, he found his wife looking back at him. It was still dark outside, and a quick glance over her shoulder at the digital clock told him that it was just past three in the morning. He sighed heavily and allowed his arm that was not wrapped around Gwen to rest on his forehead.

She looked at him quizzically. "Did I wake you?" she asked.

He shook his head but said nothing, wanting to take a moment to think back on his dream – what he had seen and what it had all meant – because if he were being honest with himself, he was terribly confused.

What had gone on in his life before he had come to America? What had been going on in the world that had caused so much death and destruction? Why had so many people died, and what did it mean to have pure or half-blood? None of it made sense, and nothing like this had ever happened in the history books. He knew because he had looked when he and Gwen had first met, trying to find out on his own what had happened in England, to find some sort of clue as to why neither of them could remember anything.

And if what had happened in his dream had been real, it meant that Gwen had another child – a child that was not his. Briefly, he considered that Jeremy may not have been his son, but he dismissed that quickly. There was too strong of a resemblance, and he could distinctly remember when she had found out that she was pregnant. But if this were the case, where was that other child? In his dream, she had looked so young and frightened, and when he had told her to go, she had obeyed. Where could that baby have gone?

"What're you thinking about?" Gwen asked him, her eyebrows furrowed with concern. "You were tossing and turning like mad."

"It was nothing," he said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I dreamt that the kids had got in trouble. That's all."

Tenderly, she brushed his hair out of his eyes and planted a quick kiss on his forehead before snuggling deeper into the covers beside him. "Well, I have double and triple checked, and I can promise you that they're both sleeping, safe and sound."

His eyes turned to hers immediately. "But we aren't safe, Gwen. None of us are."

"I know that. It's why we left. I just meant that they're asleep and they're right where we can see them. I didn't mean that..."

He kissed the inside of her wrist. "I know. It's all right." He kissed her lips. "Let's sleep then?"

"Sure."

Drew could feel and hear as her breathing slowed and became more and more rhythmic, and he watched as her eyes shut softly. He remained rigid, knowing well enough that he could not have fallen asleep even if he had wanted to. Not only was he haunted by what he knew of his past, he was also concerned about Gwen's, and once again, he couldn't tell her about his memory. If she was crazy over the thought of finding some random, long lost family member, he could only imagine how she'd react to the knowledge that she had another child.

No. He couldn't tell her. Not until he got some answers.