A gnawing ache in her lower back woke Jaime when light was just beginning to warm the sky. Birdsong filled the air. Her head was still throbbing, though not as badly as it had been earlier. She felt the chill of the dew on the blanket that covered her, and underneath the two of them, the deeper cold of the earth.

As carefully and discreetly as she could, she rolled from Oscar's lap to the ground, realizing along the way that her left leg was indeed not cooperating as it should. He didn't waken. Even in the dim light she could see what a mess he was - covered with nicks, cuts, bruises and a black eye that had nearly swollen shut. She gasped when she saw his hands, thinking them at first to be smashed beyond recognition, but then she saw that they were roughly bandaged and soaked in blood. She covered him carefully with the blanket.

Looking down at her own body, she saw dark rusty tracks all up and down her limbs – sometimes a discernible hand print, sometimes a smear. Her foot looked squished - and bent into an odd position.

She lay flat, and her back began to respond positively. Gazing up at the deep blue sky, she was reminded of a camping trip she and Steve took after they were engaged. They had slept out under the stars and at four in the morning the downpour had started. She could have sworn it took them two days to dry out again.

Steve?

Completely unbidden, she found herself remembering a moment with Steve by Lake Casitas –they kissed. Instantly, her body twitched in astonishment. She remembered.

Then there was a flood of memories – seeing him for the first time in years, the playful, flirty banter, their engagement, Helen's delight, Steve's funny little reticent smile. And she could remember the feeling – remember how sure she had been, how happy she had been.

The memories were coming on as though someone had popped a video tape into her brain and hit play. She had no control of them and they kept coming. It was overwhelming. The memories were sweet, sad, and so vivid –they were practically happening in Technicolor.

She sat quietly for almost an hour, reviewing sorting, marveling – experiencing emotions she had seemingly never felt before. The odd part was that she owned these feelings – they were hers. It was a little disturbing - one part of her mind was confused and questioning, examining the experience from a few paces away, while the other part of her mind jumped in, rejoicing in the completion of her life's picture book, tears of joy and sadness trickling down her face as she rediscovered the lost pieces of her own life. Did this mean she was now whole again? Did this mean she was just that little bit more like everyone else? The ground became cold against her sore back, so she sat up, and got onto all fours. Everything hurt.

Just then Oscar groaned and shifted and opened his eyes. The sight of Jaime seemed to alarm him. He went from sleepy to wide eyed in an instant. She was an alarming sight – her head wrapped in a cockeyed bandage, her face filthy and bruised (neither knew it but they had matching black eyes), her clothes covered in a mixture of soot and his blood. On all fours, she looked like a wild child raised to adulthood by very irresponsible wolves.

"Hey." she said, her face breaking into a tentative grin. "Good morning." Her smile broke the spell, and her voice reassured him. "We're alive. Isn't that great news?"

"It is."

She crawled over and sat close to him. She wanted to hold his hand, but as that wasn't an option, she rested her palm on his knee.

"Can you move?" she asked.

"I have no idea." He laughed, and his grin in turn made her feel better. Like his voice in the dark in the middle of the night, it was warm and reassuring.

He looked her over, smiling sheepishly. "I uh…just want you to know that…I wasn't feeling you up or anything, though the evidence would suggest otherwise."

She couldn't help but laugh.

"I wanted to make sure your power packs were in one piece."

"I suppose I'll buy that." she said, with a theatrically suspicious squint.

"Thanks." Oscar folded his legs under him and rose up slowly and awkwardly, trying hard to avoid using his hands. "Jesus…" he gasped, "I don't know what's worse…the crash or sitting outside all night." He pressed his wrist into his lower back, straightened up as best he could, and made a slow circuit around the campsite.

"Oscar?" Jaime said, watching him limp past her. "You're not going to believe this, but…I remember."

"Remember what?" Oscar asked, preoccupied with his multiple infirmities.

"My life. I remember."

He took another couple of steps before her words truly registered, and when they did, he stopped dead.

"You…your memory? It's back?"

"Uh huh."

"All of it?"

"Far as I can tell." Jaime hadn't paused to wonder how this news would affect him - she had assumed he would be happy for her – he always cheered her on. But he looked shocked. His eyes flicked from hers off into the woods. Just for a moment he looked lost - peering out into the wilderness, as though seeking a landmark.

"That's wonderful." he said, a big, hard smile overtaking his face as he walked to her. He dropped awkwardly beside her and slung an arm around her, pulling her into a loose hug. "Jaime…finally. That is nothing short of a miracle. I'm so happy for you."

"Are you?" she asked, pulling back to look him in the eye.

Whatever expression she had seen moments earlier was gone, replaced by a resolute warmth.

"Of course."

He listened as she described those lost moments of her life to him – from childhood on to her parachuting accident four years earlier. It helped to tell him, to confirm she had not made it all up. When they compared shared memories he was amazed by the sharpness and detail of her recollections. She was so transported she forgot the helicopter crash and the splitting headache – until finally a sound crept into her conscious mind, repeating in the distance.

Someone was calling them.

Without hesitation, she called out in return.

"Jaime…no!" Oscar hissed. "We don't know who it is!" He staggered to his feet, his face wrenched with pain. Bending to pick up his gun, he found he couldn't grasp it – not with one hand, nor with two. Realizing the hopelessness of his quest, he stood up and leaned against a tree, frustrated. He wiped his face with his sleeve.

"I'll look after that thing." Jaime offered, crawling toward it.

"Don't throw it away!" Oscar warned, all too familiar with her distaste for firearms.

"I won't." she said quietly, picking it up in her right hand. She was suddenly feeling terribly sorry for him. "I'll even shoot it if I have to."

Though she sat dutifully pointing the gun into the woods, her vigilance proved unnecessary. She soon recognized a friendly voice, and before too long, with much yelling from both her and Oscar, Mark Russell and two medics emerged from the thick greenery.

Jaime was moved by stretcher, while Oscar managed to walk the half mile to the helicopter. Though neither of them was keen to fly, they gritted their teeth and got on board without protest or comment.

Once they were settled, each lying stiff and nervous on stretchers, medics buzzing around them, Jaime called softly to Oscar, "Can we keep this between this little…change…between you and me? Just for now? I need time."

Oscar smiled reassuringly and nodded. Then he closed his eyes.