Chapter 5:

It's Him.

Sam couldn't sleep after Elliot's phone call. She listened to his voicemail message a good seven times before forcing herself to quit. She brought out her old shoebox full of memorabilia again. She looked through all her old photos and letters until about six am. The sun started to peek through her window and the birds were chirping before she was able to let her eyes slip closed and fall asleep.

But it was only a few hours later that she heard her doorbell chiming. Her first instinct was to ignore it, but her mind had a funny way of thinking fast even when half asleep.

"Mom!" She rushed out of bed to answer the door as quickly as possible.

Margaret looked surprised to see her daughter in pajamas still, "Since when have you ever slept past eight?" She asked with a teasing tone, though she could see the bags under Sam's eyes and knew instantly she hadn't slept well. "Do you need to reschedule?"

Sam shook her head, pulling her mom in for a hug she so desperately needed for the last five days, "No, no absolutely not. Let me just…shower and get ready. Make yourself at home, Mom."

She started back to her bedroom, vaguely hearing her mom find Cee-Cee and talk to her as if the cat was her granddaughter she hadn't seen in ages.

Sam had completely forgotten that she was supposed to go wedding dress shopping with her mother that day. She had been engaged to Liam for over a year now, the wedding was in two months, she needed to get a move on this.

"I don't even have colors picked out…green and blue. Perfect. Works for me."

She had been distant with the wedding plans ever since she was forced to make them. Which was the moment Liam proposed. Sam thought they had reached the point where they should get married—after all, she'd be thirty in a few short years, her clock was ticking. It was now or never. This was not to say that she didn't love Liam! He treated her well enough, welcomed her into his comfortable three bedroom home, showed her off to all his friends…

Sam hoped seeing herself in the right wedding dress would get her more excited. She was probably still in denial that something so great was happening to her. That's all.

And she handled it well when the first dress her mother picked out for her didn't seem quite right. Nor the second. Or third. About time she was in her fourth dress (which was about two hours later because damn, those dresses were hard to get in and out of), she was looking at herself in the mirror and seeing Josh's eyes staring back.

It could have been from her obsessive and constant research from the past two and a half days, but her eyes filled with tears and ran down her face before she could stop them.

At first, Margaret assumed this dress was the dress and her beautiful daughter was crying tears of joy. It only took her a short moment, however, to realize that Sam's retched sobs into her hands was not at all joyful.

Margaret went to her and embraced her as tight as she could, "Talk to me, Sammy."

And Sam didn't even hesitate. She'd wanted to talk to her mom since the day she thought she saw Josh in the crowd, and though that was only a few days ago, it felt like so much time had passed and all she wanted to do was tell Elliot that he looked and sounded exactly like the one true love of her life, and hell, he might even BE HIM!

"He has the same eyes as Josh, Mom…the same exact eyes!"

"Oh…honey…honey, we went to his funeral. You—," but Margaret stopped herself. There was no need to tell Sam anything she already knew. She knew her daughter had battled—and continued to battle—a deep depression that no one could ever begin to try to understand. She hid it so well that even she—her own mother—forgot that Sam would never be the pure ray of sunshine that she was when she was younger.

Margaret thought—she hoped—that Sam was finally finding happiness in Liam, and that she would one day enjoy the pleasure of motherhood and discover that deep love that only mothers have for their children. But looking at her daughter now—seeing the confusion and uncertainty in her, she was scared Sam was keeping happiness from herself and may have believed she didn't deserve it.

And what scared her the most was that she didn't think Sam would go through with the wedding. Oh, sure, she might go through the motions, the rituals, say the words, the vows. But would her mind be there? Would she only be wishing she was marrying someone else? Her daughter was always an all or nothing kind of girl, and she knew, Sam's love for Josh…it was always an all.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Margaret told her gently but with conviction.

Sam sniffled, accepting the tissue that was handed to her and wiping her eyes and nose, "I know. Can we—can we maybe try this again another day?"

Sam was up before the sun again on Monday morning. It was the day for her next appointment with Josh ("Elliot!"). She hadn't seen him since Thursday morning and it felt like she had been separated from him for years. Their very short phone conversation he made to her a few nights ago was the last she'd heard his voice (save for all the videos of Josh she binged on Facebook and yes, their voices were exactly the same).

She did all she could on her own. She was determined to get to the bottom of this.

Their appointment wasn't until 8:00, but Sam arrived at the office at 7:42. Bryana was already there—and so was Elliot.

"Good morning, Dr. Jensen," Bryana greeted as cheerfully as always.

Elliot looked up upon hearing her name, and Sam caught herself staring at him. "He's the man of the boy I watched from all those videos…"

She smiled at him and cocked her head toward her personal office, "Come on in, Elliot. We'll get started early again."

He stood instantly and followed her down the short hallway to her office. The anxiety and excitement she felt when he stepped inside and she closed the door behind them was almost unbearable, but she promised herself she would keep her cool.

"You're here early again, Elliot."

He never took his eyes off her from the moment she walked in, "I—couldn't wait. To see you."

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she casually placed her bags down on her desk, "Oh? And why's that?"

Elliot rolled his shoulders, a small shrug, but his answer proved that he was far from not knowing, "To talk? I feel like—like you actually understand me."

Sam's body tingled and she suddenly didn't feel like she had any strength in his body. Her muscles and bones turned to mush and it was all she could do to fall into her seat instead of on the floor.

"I'm so—," she whispered, reaching into her bag for the recorder. She raised her voice a bit higher, "so happy to hear that…I would like to understand you more, if you don't mind."

She pressed record, forgetting to say her routine facts. But she knew what session this was and with whom…even if she didn't record it, she'd never be able to forget it. He instantly began speaking of his time at the mental asylum. All the shock therapy they would give him. The meds. The shots. Often being strapped down even while simply going to sleep. How no one ever came to visit him. How he never connected with the other mental patients because—even though he was told they were just like him—he felt completely different from everyone.

Sam listened the whole time. She didn't ask questions. She didn't interrupt. She was too afraid that she would say the wrong thing and he would stop talking. His voice was like an angel but the stories he told were of demons, and she swore she only took one breath every few minutes.

Tears constantly brimmed her eyes, and she knew he saw her glassy orbs more than once. She was supposed to be strong—tell him what he went through was all for a reason. But she thought—no, she knew—that her showing her sorrow, connecting with him on the level, was what he truly needed.

Whether Elliot was Josh or not, this man didn't deserve the harsh treatment he was given. He remembered too much to be labeled as mentally insane. She wished she'd known he was in that asylum…she would have freed him in a heartbeat.

"But there was always one thing that…that was always crystal clear, and still is," he said, two hours into his story and thirty minutes after his session was due to end, "This dream—I've always had this…reoccurring dream…"

Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes telling him to tell her.

"I'm—I'm in this cave. Or…or a mine, or something. It's almost completely dark but there are just enough lights to help me see. There's voices…girls. Two of them…always asking me why I wanted them to die and why I didn't save them. I tell them—I tell them 'I don't know' 'c-cause I don't even know them, ya know?" Elliot obviously got caught up in the moment, but caught himself, trying to remain calm as he continued to describe it, "Still, I feel remorse so fucking bad that I just want to die.

"And then…then I'm flying. I mean, something's got me by my shirt and it's carrying me and I think I'm flying. And then I get that feeling when you fall when you're half asleep. You know? When it jerks you awake? Except I don't wake up at this point. It feels like I do, but it's always still my dream. I look into a dark corner and there's this—creature staring at me. Its eyes are blank but I know it hates me and wants to kill me. It has no—I mean, it's nothing but bones. Its limbs are long and I can see the ribs of this thing. It's so pale, then it runs at me at this godforsaken speed and—," he stops, placing his hands on his head to block out the images he gave himself.

Sam's mouth was hanging open. Tears streamed down at her face though she hardly felt them on her skin. She was numb and all the oxygen in the room was taken. But she registered that he was in distress from voicing this—possibly for the first time ever—and she was on the couch beside him before she could tell herself that it was unprofessional.

But Elliot was having an anxiety attack and she needed to remain calm. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed his head to her shoulder, her body rocking to the rhythm of his breaths.

She stared at her ceiling, trying to collect her thoughts. It was undeniable now. Elliot—this man she was currently holding in her arms—was Josh. She didn't know how. But she was determined to get to the bottom of this. She squeezed him tighter.

"I promise we'll get through this together," she told him, her head turning so she could rest her cheek atop his head. The feel of his hair, the smell of him—she wanted to remember all of it and she wished they were in an environment where she could hold him like this forever and never have to let go again.

His breathing began to slow as she calmed him. His hands dropped from his head; one landing lifelessly on the couch but the other finding her arm and grasping it—his way of telling her that he trusted her completely.

And they stayed like this until Bryana knocked on her door to remind her that her next appointment had been waiting for twenty minutes.

"Reschedule him! Refer him to someone else!" This was all Sam wanted to tell Bryana, but before she could even get a single word out, Josh was pulling away from her, pulling his hood over his head as he stood.

"No, wait! You don't have to go—," she cut herself short so she wouldn't say his name. She reached out for him but he was already at the door.

"See you Thursday, Doctor," he mumbled before letting himself out and disappearing.

Sam rushed out of her office as well, her eyes following the back of him as he walked down the hall to the exit of the building. He pushed the door open, paused, turned back to catch eyes with her, then was gone.

Bryana spoke behind, "Dr. Jenson, would you—."

"I have a project for you," She turned to Bryana and she was sure that she scared the poor girl with the wild look in her eyes, "I need you to gather every single bit of information on Elliot Roth and Joshua Washington. Got it?"

Bryana went pale but started typing away at her computer, nodding as her boss spoke.

"I'm going to see my next patient now," Sam continued, "Please have all your findings printed for me before this appointment is over. Yes?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bryana responded shortly, her eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"You're wonderful." Sam turned to the man sitting in her waiting room, "I'm ready to see you now, Jason," she said before turning on her heels and heading back to her office.

The day drew to an end quicker than Sam had anticipated, and while she was beginning to gather up her belongings to head home, Bryana opened the door and poked her head in.

"Oh good, I thought maybe I missed you," she chirped, inviting herself the rest of the way in, her arms cradling a manilla envelope. "I got those files you were asking for. All of the medical reports for Joshua Washington ceased around 2015…"

"Right," Sam snapped a bit with an impatient nod, reaching her hand out to snatch the envelope from Bryana. That would make sense. Josh died in 2015. Sam opened the envelope, spreading the contents across her desk like a big jigsaw puzzle. Some of the papers on Elliot were just duplicates of what was in his patient file that Bryana had given her when Elliot had his first session, but some of it was new.

"It was just kinda odd because there was nothing on Elliot Roth prior to 2015. I searched every medical database… I even called the long-term care facility he'd been admitted to in Zurich but they didn't have any information prior to his check-in."

Sam felt like there was a rock in her stomach, sitting low and heavy. She'd wondered… even hoped. But… she'd never imagined it could possibly be true. It was starting to become clear to her that she hadn't been imagining things. She wasn't crazy. She recounted the things she knew for sure in her mind.

Elliot Roth looked and sounded identical to Joshua Washington.

Josh died in 2015, and Elliot seemed to have only begun to exist in 2015.

Elliot had vivid dreams about the night on Mount Washington - things that only one of them could know.

Sam exhaled the breath she was holding as she let her mind process the fact that there might be a very real, very good chance that Elliot Roth was Josh Washington.

Sam excused Bryana before collapsing into her office chair, her forehead landing into her palm as she sifted through the paperwork, her mind loudly buzzing. She would read information on what she thought was for Elliot and look at the top of the paper to realize she was reading something about Josh. They were one in the same.

And then Sam found the most damning piece of evidence of all. If she hadn't been searching so hard, she might have missed it.

She'd found it on Elliot's first admission paperwork for the care facility in Zurich, Switzerland. Most of the paperwork had been signed by Elliot as a volunteer admission, but on one page there was a signature of a witness/co-signee and it read the initials RW.

The very first name that popped into Sam's head was none other than Robert "Bob" Washington.

Since she wasn't going to be able to get answers from Elliot or from this paperwork, Sam knew exactly who she needed to see to get the truth once and for all.

Sam checked the address again, then once more just in case. Nope, this was it. She parked her car alongside the curb, getting out and squinting into the distance. The house before her was poorly landscaped; hardly the kind of place a Washington would live. The grass was dry and yellowed, the bushes dead and overgrown; it was as though it were stuck in time. She walked up the uneven pathway, unsure how Melinda and Bob even ended up in a place like this. Sure, the house was sprawling and huge, but it was hardly what she'd grown up knowing.

The closer she got the more she worried that she might lose her nerve, but Elliot's (Josh's) pained face in her office the day before kept flashing prominently in her mind and she knew that she had to do this - she needed to know the truth.

She hiked the file that was resting under her arm up, as it was starting to fall as she reached the door. She pressed her perfectly manicured finger against the onyx black doorbell ringer, listening to the sound of a cathedral-like bell chime in the distance. She could hear someone approaching, footsteps slapping against tiled floor, before the door creaked open. A young woman, maybe around Sam's age, opened the door, her wide eyes were inquisitive.

"Yes?" she asked, pulling her cardigan closed against her chest, modestly. Sam glanced down at the smeared address on the paper in her hand once more; 22451. Her eyes glanced at the same numbers vertically lined down the side of the front door. There was no denying it.

"Yes, I'm looking for Robert and Melinda Washington," Sam said, pulling the strap her her purse back over her shoulder as it began to slide down. The woman glanced over her own shoulder before she sighed slightly, a shrug in her shoulder.

"Melinda is resting," she informed Sam, and she realized quickly that this may be an in-home nurse. "Can I ask what this is about? She doesn't like to be disturbed."

"I'm… a very old friend. I grew up with their children-"

"Melinda doesn't have any children-" she said, beginning to close the door on Sam but she stuck her foot boldly in the doorway, keeping it open. She was desperate.

"Please… tell her it's Samantha Jensen, she'll remember me," Sam assured, her eyes locking into the nurse's desperately. There was a brief moment where she seemed to weigh her options, but finally she nodded, closing the door to presumably go deliver the message. Sam stood on the front porch, waiting, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn't even considered that Melinda wasn't well, and she had no idea what had happened to Bob. It only took a few moments before the dark eyed nurse returned, opening the large door and wordlessly inviting Samantha into the house.

As she stepped down the long, mason-stoned hallway, Sam noticed lots of southwestern art and masks lining the walls, but no sign of their dearly departed offspring - not even a picture. It was as though they'd never even existed. Sam even wondered if she was at the correct Washington residence.

Soon, they entered a large sitting room with tall, vaulted ceilings, some unrecognizable soap opera paused on her television screen. She almost didn't recognize Melinda, who was settled into a spot on the couch, tired and aged. Given the fact that Sam's mom was around the same age as Melinda, Sam could hardly believe that she looked so old and sickly in comparison.

"Samantha," she greeted. She went to stand, reaching for her cane nearby, but Sam wouldn't allow it. She neared Melinda out of politeness and habit, leaning down to give her a brief hug before taking a seat in a chair nearby.

"Hello, Melinda."

"It's been a long time," she noted, stating the obvious.

"It has," Sam agreed, pulling off her jacket and folding it over the arm of the chair. Almost 9 years. Sam cleared her throat, setting her file beside her on the chair and gearing herself up for the small talk that would be expected before she could delve into why she was really there. "How's Bob?" she asked then, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Robert passed away three years ago," Melinda said, her face somber as she tried to sit up. She shouldn't have been this old; Melinda was always a lively, vivacious woman. Losing everyone in her life must have taken its toll on her health. "Cirrhosis."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sam said. And she was sorry to hear that. Josh would be very sad to learn his father had passed when he finally remembered who he really was, although Sam knew she was getting ahead of herself even thinking about that right now. "How are you?" Sam asked, although it was almost painful trying to make small talk with the real questions so loudly screaming in her mind. Melinda turned toward Sam in her seat, her eyes darkening. She looked so much like Josh in some ways, and like Hannah and Beth in all the others. It was eerie to be sitting next to her. Melinda shot Sam a knowing glance, narrowing her eyes and clasping her hands in her lap.

"Samantha, why are you here?" Melinda asked. Sam felt her cheeks grow hot; she'd thought herself a fine actress, but it turned out that Melinda was onto her. It did seem kinda odd, showing up here out of nowhere to just catch up. Sam watched as her eyes honed in on the file sitting beside Sam, and she rested her hand atop of it, protectively.

"Tell me again what happened to Josh," Sam said plainly, matching Melinda's candor. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees as she waited for a response. It was clear from the way she went white that that was the last thing Melinda had expected to come out of Sam's mouth. She shuffled in her seat before nervously reaching forward for her glass of water. The nurse hurried over, handing it to Melinda so she didn't strain herself too badly, and Melinda greedily drank it down until she could think of a good enough response.

"What do you want to know?" she finally said, setting her water glass down beside her in a closer spot, where she wouldn't need help to reach it again if she needed to buy more time. Sam, however, had all the time in the world. She wasn't leaving here until she learned the truth.

"I want to know how he died." Melinda glanced around, uncomfortably, before giving an indignant scoff.

"I can't believe you're asking me to recount the death of my-"

"Melinda," Sam breathed, her head bowing down in pure exhaustion. She didn't have the patience for these games. She just wanted a straight answer. She felt a lump growing in her throat. "I chased you all around that funeral to talk to you," Sam divulged, raising her head and her eyes slowly. "I need to know. Please." Melinda's mouth dropped open slightly, then she blinked away her blank stare with a nod.

"Um… okay," she croaked, her nod becoming more prevalent. "Okay. If you really feel like you need to know-"

"I do," Sam assured.

"Joshua died in the mines. The search and rescue team found him frozen and picked apart by some kind of animal. The coroner told us that… He hadn't made it past the first night." Sam felt her stomach churn at the thought, all these years wondering but never knowing… and yet, she knew that no matter how tear-filled and genuine Melinda seemed right now, she was lying right to her face.

"Wow," Sam breathed, her hand reaching for the file. She felt like she was on fire from the inside out, ready to explode. She knew it wasn't true, she had the proof right there in her hands and sitting right in front of her for hour-long therapy sessions three times a week. And yet, she wanted to believe that Melinda was telling the truth. Did she even know? Of course she knew, she had to know. "And you saw his body?" Sam pried, knowing the truth and waiting for her to lie again. Melinda didn't even hesitate.

"Yes, and it was the worst moment of my life," she said quickly. "I'm afraid I am in no condition to be discussing such macabre things with you, no matter how curious you may be," Melinda spat angrily, leaning forward and looking around for her nurse, who was off somewhere else in the house at this point. "I have nothing else to discuss with you." Sam stood, peering down her nose at Melinda, unable to hide the disgust in her voice as she said,

"Except I think you do. Like, who is Elliot Roth and why did Bob check him into an in-patient care facility in Switzerland, mid-February of 2015, Melinda?" Sam tossed her file down to Melinda where it landed on her lap with a plop. Melinda grabbed at the file and tried to conceal it with her hands, as though that would make Sam unread everything. "Don't bother, I have another copy." Three more, actually. Sam crossed the room, nearing the massive stone mantle, taking a small framed picture of Bob and Melinda into her hands and studying it.

"Where did you hear that name?" Melinda asked, her voice the quietest thing in the room. Sam turned towards her, an involuntary 'ha!' falling from her lips before she drew closer to her once more.

"Really? That's what you have to say?"

"I don't know about...about any of this," Melinda said breathlessly, but her eyes were unable to hide the panic behind them as they roamed over the file's contents. It was as though she'd gotten so used to her own lies that she almost didn't believe the facts before her.

"I find it hard to believe that Bob was able to fake your son's death without your knowledge, Melinda," Sam pointed out, finally retreating back to her seat. She plopped down and settled in, crossing her legs and getting comfortable. "So, why don't you tell me a little story, hmm?" Melinda continued to mull over the paperwork, none of which recent, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she tried to find words.

"I don't… I…" she stammered before she looked at Sam, her eyebrows pulling together and her eyes welling up. "I didn't want to do it. But… Bob insisted that it was the best thing for him…"

"So you let us all mourn him for the last 9 years," Sam breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. She noticed, however, the huge, wonderful relief on her heart as the words kept repeating in her head over and over again. You were right. Josh is alive. He's alive. Elliot IS Josh. You're not crazy. Melinda clasped her hand over her mouth, her eyes spilling with tears.

"How did you find this?" Melinda asked, and then she sat forward quickly, reaching out to Sam. "Have you seen him? Do you know where he is?" she asked frantically. Sam almost told her the truth, but then wondered why Melinda was even asking her this.

"...You… don't know where he is?" Melinda just shook her head, sniffling as she reached for a tissue nearby, the tears ever-constant at this point.

"We lost track of him a few years ago. The doctors released him but we were never informed where he went…"

"Didn't you visit him?" Sam asked, but she knew the answer. Josh had said that he didn't have any family, no one to visit him all those years in and out of treatment. All he had was his millions to keep him afloat.

"He didn't remember us, Sam. There was no use-"

"Don't you think he needed his mom?" Sam snapped, getting choked up at her own words. "How could you just leave him in there? Alone? He didn't even know his real name!" Sam felt her own eyes filling with tears as she recalled the pain she'd seen Elliot/Josh in, never knowing who he was and where he came from. The thought made Sam's heart feel like it was literally splitting in half and no matter how many tears Melinda might shed before her, she couldn't bring herself to feel a shred of sympathy for the woman.

"Please, Sammy, if you know where he is… I need him to know how sorry I am-" Melinda began, but she was cut off by Sam's intense glare. The way Melinda said her name was like nails on chalkboard. Sam smoothed out her skirt before carefully picking up her jacket and her bag, trying to keep herself calm before she blew up again.

"Only two people in my life are allowed to call me that," she said evenly. "And you're not one of them. I'll see myself out." Sam turned, trying her best to be strong. Her heart was broken, not just for herself and for Josh, but for Melinda as well. Here was this woman who'd lost everything, and Sam was turning away from her. Maybe once Josh had learned who he was and regained his memories she could bring him here to Melinda but no, not yet. Not as he was now. How would he cope knowing that his mother had signed him off to a care facility and abandoned him… and was living less than 20 minutes away from him now?

Sam got into her car, slamming the door and tossing her things in the passenger seat. The farther she'd gotten from Melinda, the better she was beginning to feel. She caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror, her make up smudged and her cheeks puffy and tear-streaked. She began to wipe away the tears but more just came out. She leaned her head on her steering wheel before she broke out into full, loud sobs.

Josh was alive. He was alive.

Soon, however, those sobs began to cease, shifting and breaking until they resembled the sound of laughter, escaping her lips like they'd been trapped inside her. Although Sam had just proved to herself that she wasn't crazy, she felt like she was currently going insane as she laughed and laughed, the tears continuing to pour from her eyes.

Josh was alive. And he'd been sitting across from her in her office for the last week and a half. And he didn't even know it.

To Be Continued...