"Say that again" Nick demanded, his face going white when he finally let the answer sink in. "Oh my god. Oh. My. God." He leant against the wall, trying to take it all in. The tinny voice of his wife had just let him into the secret; just let him know the truth.

Maggie Doyle was alive. Margaret Doyle, the one and only Doyley, was alive and kicking after all of this time.

"How's Zoe?" PJ said, passing through in search of another beer. Nick almost dropped the phone in surprise, trying determinedly not to let PJ see his face. PJ just grinned, imagining all sorts of things. He knew how much Nick loved his wife, and how much he was missing her – and judging by Nick's flushed face, exactly how very much he was missing the lovely - but clearly insane - Zoe.

"That baby still not born? Geez mate, what is she, crossing her legs or something? Ok, ok," PJ's grin widened when he got no reaction from his best friend, save for Nick burying his face even further into his shoulder. "Ok, I'll leave you alone. Just keep the smut to a tolerable level. I know you're missing Zoe, but there's a limit that my poor ears can take." PJ teased.

Nick managed a nod, watching as PJ settled back onto the couch, beer in one hand, and the last slice of pizza in the other. Once his attention was firmly routed back on the TV, and the dubious choices that the footy referee was making, Nick knew he was free to talk to Zoe.

Really talk to her.

"Sorry. That was PJ. We're watching the footy, or rather he is. Zo, what is this? What's going on? Are you sure it's her? Really sure?"

From the other end of the line, Zoe sighed. This had been the call she had been dreading. She'd lain awake the previous night, picturing this conversation over and over again in her mind. "Nick, it's her. There's no doubt. She's had severe amnesia, and someone has built up a series of memories for her. She seems to remember us, or – well, she says it's like she can remember someone called Maggie Doyle, and some of the life that this 'Maggie' led, but it doesn't seem - " Zoe tailed off with a long sigh. There was a silence, and then Nick had to strain to hear his wife's voice. "It's her."

"So what does she remember?" Nick asked, his eyes never leaving the form of his best friend, innocently watching Collingwood win the footy.

"It's not that she remembers, more that she knew there was something wrong. Something not quite right with her life, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. D'you know what I mean?" Zoe said softly.

Nick nodded, before he remembered that Zoe couldn't see him. "Sorry sweetheart. Yes, yes I do know what you mean. Well, I don't, but I can imagine it. She must have had the fright of her life when you two turned up."

"She didn't recognize us at first. Well, not really. She says it's like dreams or something. Anyway, whatever it is, it's her. She's Maggie Doyle, and she knows that now. She remembers fragments of both of us, and of the others at the station, even Chris. But – " again Zoe stopped, knowing that what she was about to say would crush PJ.

Nick heard the sadness in her voice, the hesitation. "Zoe, what is it?"

"Nick, she doesn't remember him. Not a single thing. She thought she was married to someone called Rick, but at least she now knows that's not true. She knows about PJ, but she doesn't remember him. Not a single thing. The rest of us, she has flashes, but her memories of Peej have drawn a blank. Complete blank."

"She doesn't remember him?"

Zoe sighed, lying back on her bed one arm tucked behind her head. "Not a thing. Nothing. And those boys of hers, Nick – "

"Boys?" came Nick's voice in her ear. "Zoe, what do you mean boys?"

"Sweetheart, I – "Zoe stopped. It was all such a mess, she thought. Such a complete and utter mess.

"Zo?" Nick whispered. "Zoe, what's wrong? Are you all right? Do you need me up there? You know I'd be there in a heartbeat if you need me, you know that, don't you?"

And in the midst of it all, Zoe smiled. "You're a good man Nick Shultz, and I love you to pieces – and no, I won't tell any of them that" she smiled again, picturing his face.

"Love you too, Mrs Schultz. Love you too. Now. These boys?" Nick gently steered the conversation back on course.

"Maggie's a mum, Nick. She must have been pregnant before she died – left…whatever it was, she's a mum. She had twins, Tom and Joe. She doesn't know where she got the names from, but to me it's pretty obvious. Tom after our Tom, or maybe after Mount Thomas, and Joe – "

"Patrick Joseph" Nick said, seeing it all. "They're his?" he asked, and it was more than a statement that a question.

"What're mine?" PJ asked, curiosity written all over his face. "Don't look at me like that mate, I don't even KNOW this woman and her baby. You tell Zoe that, this baby isn't mine" he grinned. "I know the ladies would be queuing up if my heart was free, but it's not, and won't ever be, so this baby and it's mum are nothing to do with me." He grinned, trying to hold back his laughter at the stunned expression on Nick's face – and failing miserably.

When Nick showed no signs of laughing along with him, PJ's laughter subsided. "Come on mate, I was joking." Nick's face was growing paler by the second, and his throat was dry. "Joking mate. Funny? Ha-ha? Nick? Nick, what is it? What's wrong?"

PJ leant forward and took the phone from Nick. "Zoe? What's wrong? Nick's gone as white as a sheet, and he's doing his 'roo trapped in the headlights thing. Talk to me – " Nick suddenly wrestled the phone back from PJ, his burst of laughter as false as it was long.

"Yeah, ah right. Funny. Good one that." He tried, but now PJ was worried.

"Nick, what's going on?"

Zoe sat up, running a tired hand across her face. "Put him on Nick. I think we have to tell him."