The midmorning sun cast its warm rays through the partly covered window panes and over the figure covered in disheveled sheets. Ian rolled onto his side, further cocooning himself in the tangle of bedcovers. The light shone on his face, and though his eyes were already shut, he squinted and turned over onto his back. Inhaling softly, his body began to rouse and his mind instantly flashed with images of the day prior, jolting his systems. Though he was now awake, Ian's eyes remained closed. Yesterday had been overwhelming, and he needed to keep some sort of buffer between him and whatever "life" he was about to embark into that day.

The air was different, not stiff or manufactured. He wasn't certain about how to exactly to describe it other than it was warm and somehow inviting. That detail alone made it clear what "life" he was living that day, but he still was not ready to visually acknowledge it. He took his hand and raked over the left side of the bed, only seeking absolute confirmation and nothing else, of course. All his fingers touched were cold, empty sheets. Finding out that he was alone, caused his eyes to immediately fly open, scramble out of bed, and search his surroundings. He was alone, but definitely back in the "illusion." Confusion set in as he saw no sign of Rose. It was obvious she had been there earlier, there were clothes strewn about on her side. His eyes roamed over them, halting abruptly and widening as they caught sight of…"other" garments. Taking a hard swallow, Ian shook his head and exited the bedroom, deciding it was time to get a better idea of what was happening and face the day ahead.

As Ian made his way through the upstairs hall, checking all the rooms only to find them empty, he began to hear faint noises coming from downstairs. They were too low for him to make out clearly, but Ian was definite that Rose was not the source of any of them—he knew her voice well. Ian descended the stairs and made his way to the living room, the noises now clearly animated and increasing in volume the closer he got to the room. Finally in the living room, Ian saw Livy in her playpen, thoroughly engrossed in the animated show on telly. There was no sign of Rose anywhere. Livy began to squeal at the images on the screen, capturing Ian's attention. He couldn't help but smile at her obvious enjoyment. Focusing on the source of her happiness, Ian furrowed his brow at the ridiculousness portrayed onscreen.

What in the…

"What are you doin' here?"

Startled, Ian shrieked and whirled around to see who was behind him. Rose's mum was standing there, a dark eyebrow quirked, and a steaming mug in her hand.

"Only ever heard birds scream like that," she said, taking a small sip of her drink.

Ian stiffened and straightened his stance. He quickly began searching through his mind for her name, finding it rather easily. After all, it wasn't everyday some blonde fury nearly slapped his teeth clean out of his skull.

"What are you doing here, Jackie?"

She furrowed her brows together. "What do ya mean what am I doin' here? What are you doin' here?"

"I live here."

Well, sort of…

"I know that, you plum," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "You're s'posed to be at work. If ya were takin' the day off, ya shoulda told me. Save me a needless trip."

Ian rubbed the back of his neck as he thought on the fly. Words and reason were his bread and butter, and yet this "life" continuously left him gobsmacked.

"I'm not taking the day off. I'm just…I decided to go in a little later. So, I take it you're here to watch Olivia?"

"Of course I am. What's with you?" Jackie asked, marching up to him. Still holding her mug, she used her free hand to open his eyelids further. "Seriously…You're not high, are ya? Are you ill? Get hit in the head?"

Ian took a few steps back, swatting her hand away from his face. "No, Jackie. I'm not high or any of that. I've just had a couple of off days. People are allowed to have off days, aren't they?"

Rolling her eyes and muttering, Jackie walked over to one of the sofas.

"Your daddy is a complete loon, yes he is," she cooed to Livy with a smile before sitting down.

"Oi! Don't teach her that!" Ian yelped, crossing his arms.

"I'm just statin' the obvious."

The images from earlier continued to play on the telly, again catching Ian's attention.

"Why is she watching an idiotic yellow sponge dance about?"

"She likes it. Makes her laugh."

"It's completely asinine. I can actually feel my IQ dropping."

Jackie rolled her eyes yet again. "Oh stop it. You're being dramatic. It's just a silly kids' show."

"Yeah, no," he grabbed the remote from beside Jackie, "There's no way I'm letting my daughter watch this nonsense."

He started flipping through the channels when he suddenly realized what he had just said. His what? Ian had just called Olivia his daughter. That realization stopped Ian mid channel surf, and he tossed the remote back to Jackie.

"Uh…right," he said as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm going to shower and go do…whatever it is I do. So, I'll leave you to it." He left the living room, but quickly popped his head back through the doorway. "Remember—no more sponges!"

As she opened up the large convection oven door, Rose was instantly hit with an immense wave of heat. She quickly put in the six cake pans and closed the door. Taking several steps back from the oven, Rose puffed her cheeks out and took a long exhale, placing a hand on her lower back as she did so. It wasn't even noon and she was already exhausted, even with Sally helping her now. Rose shifted her weight back and forth, hoping to alleviate the persistent aching of her swollen feet. The room started to become hazy; Rose grabbed one of the small round baking sheets and started vigorously fanning herself. Her surroundings were just beginning to come back into focus when Sally came into the kitchen.

Sally opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her lips as she observed Rose.

"You alright?" she asked concernedly.

Rose took a steadying breath before she smiled brightly, though tiredly, at her. "Yeah…just a lil hot s'all."

"Y'sure?" Sally persisted worriedly; for some reason, she didn't find Rose's explanation very convincing.

Rose couldn't help but give a faint roll of her eyes. "You try bein' five months pregnant and waddling around all day next to these things," she motioned to the ovens. "S'like I'm in a bleedin' sauna. You'd be fanning y'self, too; believe me," she insisted.

"Alright," Sally smilingly relented. Raising her hand, Sally gave Rose the bakery's phone. "Martha's on the line. Says she has a bone to pick with you."

Snorting, Rose took the phone and Sally walked back to the front to man the counter. Rose put the phone up to her ear and braced herself, unsure if she was going to receive the third degree from "Martha her friend" or "Martha her OB/GYN."

"Hello?"

"Anything you want to tell me about?" Martha questioned accusingly.

Rose turned her eyes upward as if in thought. "Hmm… lemme think…"

She knew that guessing would be useless because at any moment, Martha would cut in with her reason for ringing. And just like clockwork…

"We've known each other a long, long time; and I know when you're stalling, Rose. I know 'bout what happened on Saturday."

"Mar, it was nothin'," Rose sighed into the receiver. "Ian was gone for 'bout two hours and I got worried. That's all."

"That's not what I heard."

"What do ya mean that's not what you heard? What'd ya hear?" Rose asked, bunching her brows together. It irritated her to no end when people blew things out of proportion. She had everything under control and didn't need everyone fussing over her.

"Oh, please…I know for a fact that you were running around terrified that something had happened to Ian. You called in the cavalry, and I might add, neglected to include me an' Mickey in that call. And which, by the way, I'm doing a remarkable job of not being insulted by..."

"Yeah, I can see that," Rose interjected sarcastically.

Martha continued her rant undeterred. "But tabling all that for now, you know the reason I'm upset. Rose, we've talked about this before. You can't-"

Not wanting to hear a lecture from either friend or doctor persona, Rose cut her off. "Martha, I think…yep, Sally needs me. I'll talk to ya later, yeah? Love ya."

Without waiting for a reply, Rose ended the call and walked to the front to put the phone back on the charger.

"Sally, if Martha calls again, tell her…," Rose trailed off as she entered the front of the bakery, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when she saw who was there waiting. Standing there was Martha—her arms crossed, mobile in hand, eyebrow arched unnaturally high, and looking highly annoyed.

Rose's mouth opened and closed several times, but no words would come out. All that she could muster was some sort of hybrid screech/gasp.

"Like I said, I've known you a long time. Did ya really think I didn't know you'd try 'n blow this whole thing off?" Martha asked, taking several steps towards Rose.

The only comeback Rose could manage was a shrug of the shoulders. Martha snorted at that and closed the distance between them.

"Now, Sally's gonna call in Meg, and the two of 'em can manage for the rest of the day. And you're gonna come with me like a good lil' patient so I can give you a once over."

Chortling, Rose asked, "And if I don't, what are ya gonna do? Tell my mum?"

"No," Martha smirked, "I'll just tell Donna."

Rose glared at her and huffed, "I'll get my coat."

A half hour later, Rose found herself lying on an exam table, gown on, and her legs in stirrups; all the while silently repeating the mantra, "I'm gonna kill Donna." Rose was absolutely certain that Donna was the true instigator behind this obstetrical kidnapping. There was no doubt whatsoever that she had called Martha, even though Rose had explicitly instructed her to leave it alone. Martha was one of her closest friends and her doctor, so of course she trusted and valued her opinion; but Rose knew she was perfectly fine and this impromptu visit was completely unnecessary. And Rose hated people making a needless fuss over her.

It wasn't more than a few minutes later before Martha walked in, looking very official in her lab coat, and thoroughly irritating Rose in the process, though there was no real cause for it. As Martha walked over to begin her examination, Rose made it visually clear that she was unhappy with her present circumstances.

"Oi! Don't give me that look," Martha said as she put the cold bell of her stethoscope to Rose's chest.

Rose gave a low growl but allowed Martha to examine her. Wrapping the cuff around Rose's arm, Martha took her blood pressure, pursing her lips as she took the reading.

"150/94."

"Well, I'm angry… so, what'd ya expect?" Rose justified, shrugging her shoulders.

"Rose, I've seen you angry," Martha said matter-of-factly. "Like the time Jake ate week old shrimp for ten quid and ended up puking on your new pair of heels—that was angry. Or that time when what's-her-name made a play for Ian—now that was angry. But this…this is just you annoyed."

Though she was tempted to argue the point, Rose bit her tongue and held her retort. The truth was that Martha was right—Rose wasn't angry. Irritated, yes. Put out, of course. But not angry.

Martha completed her physical examination, finally allowing Rose out of the stirrups so she could change and give a urine sample before she finished with an ultrasound. When Rose finished in the loo, she place the sample on the counter and lied back down on the table. As Martha ran the wand over Rose's exposed abdomen, the sound of a strong, steady heartbeat filled the room, eliciting a radiant smile from Rose.

Martha gave a broad smile of her own before saying, "Everything looks good. Ya still want me to keep quiet on whether it's a boy or girl?"

Rose nodded in affirmation. "Yeah…we've been goin' back and forth 'bout it. But if and when we do find out, I want 'im with me. "

Martha cleaned up the gel off of Rose's abdomen and helped her sit up. There was silence as Martha cleaned the ultrasound probe. The longer the silence became, the guiltier Rose started to feel.

Clearing her throat, Rose broke the silence. "'M sorry that I didn't tell you 'bout what happened."

"It's no big deal, Rose," Martha said with a small smile.

"Even so, I'm still sorry. It wasn't like I was keepin' it a secret. I only phoned Jack to see if he'd talked to Ian, but he hadn't. So I rang Dad; but then Mum overheard, and y'know she can't keep quiet to save her skin, so she told Donna. Then they all I just showed up. I honestly thought they'd already told you, but when Donna started to ring you up, I stopped her. I knew you'd get all 'doctor-y' and…I just didn't want to make a stupid fuss over nothin'."

Martha half sat on the exam table next to Rose. "That's the thing, Rose…it's not nothin'. I'm not upset that you didn't phone…well, not really. I'm concerned because you refuse to take this seriously. I mean, have you even told Ian?"

Rose took a deep breath, absentmindedly running a hand through her hair. She shook her head mutely.

"Why not?" Martha inquired kindly yet firmly.

"Because he's got enough to deal with right now, and I don't want 'im to worry 'bout me if he doesn't have to," Rose sighed. "And because I am fine," she said decidedly.

Martha wearily shook her head. "Rose, y'know I love ya…but you can be infuriatingly bullheaded."

Rose couldn't help but laugh. She preferred to think of it as 'determined.'

"Fine. If you're gonna be like this, then I want your bum in here every week. If you miss even one appointment, I will personally strap ya to a chair and make sure that you tell Ian everything. Are we clear?" Martha questioned in no uncertain terms.

Rose nodded. "Crystal."

It was nearly eleven before Ian left the house. After quickly showering, Ian changed into one of the many pinstriped suits hanging in the walk-in closet. It had taken him less than twenty minutes to get ready, but he spent a fair amount of time beforehand searching the office for clues as to where he was supposed to work. Based on the fact that his entire collection of law and case volumes were in this "life's" office, Ian came to the reasonable conclusion that he was still practicing law. After looking closely over the papers on his desk and through various files on his laptop, Ian was able to establish the "where"—Jones, Matheson, Harkness & Smith.

Ian could feel his mind stutter as he processed that information. He was quite familiar with that firm, obviously. Jones more than likely still referred to Harriet Jones. Ian had always admired her, admittedly rather begrudgingly in later years. Although if he remembered correctly, she was at times painfully prim and proper. Now Matheson he didn't know much about; it seemed like he preferred to personify the term "silent partner." Ian could only remember ever seeing Matheson represent someone twice; so he never made it a priority to learn more about the man.

Then, of course, there was Jack. Seeing that he had apparently partnered himself with Jack and company left Ian completely floored. What could possibly have possessed him to do such a thing…again? He had given up that practice over five years ago—well, almost twelve if he was counting the years in this life. After what had happened, Ian couldn't bring himself to go on the ledge again for someone. No… after that, he had made it his mission to pursue the law to the furthest extent possible; never again would he be chancing leniency or betting on emotion.

Ian was not in love with the idea of having to go into that building and wade his way through murky and painful waters. But what other options were there? He had no idea when this insanity would end; and as long as he had to live this "life," his hands were painfully tied. With this resigned acknowledgment, Ian departed from the house, leaving the only semblance of security he had in this life.

The lift doors parted on the twelfth floor and Ian took leaden steps into the lobby. It looked so similar to the other one. God…why did it have to be so similar? His chest became tight and his respirations started to quicken.

"Why haven't they STOPPED?!"

Ian could hear the words as clearly as if they were being uttered directly into his ear. Rebuking himself vehemently, Ian steeled himself. In the years since the shooting, he had learned to compartmentalize and he was not about to let this fantasy get the better of him. Clenching and unclenching his fists, Ian focused on slowing his breathing. As his breaths returned to normal, Ian could feel his mind revert to its trained clarity and ferocity.

Crossing the lobby floor, Ian was greeted by an occasional passerby, but went unnoticed for the most part; something for which he was very grateful. All he wanted at that moment was to find his office and build some sort of bearings underneath him. Surprisingly, he only made one wrong turn before finding his desired location.

Entering the room with no small amount of trepidation, Ian did his best to absorb his surroundings without becoming too overwhelmed. It was much like his "current" office… Ian rubbed his forehead after that thought. Trying to keep things straight was going to give him a perpetual migraine. With a faint shake of his head, Ian went back to determining the similarities and differences. This office had two small darkly upholstered chairs directly in front of the desk. The usual volumes lined the shelves to his right where a medium sized couch was positioned. There were the customary objects—degrees, a lamp, waste bin, etc.

Walking over and sitting behind the desk, Ian saw another photo residing next to his computer. He somewhat reverently, picked up the frame and examined the photo. Unlike the one sitting on his home office desk, this photo was of Rose and Olivia. Rose was sitting on the grass with Livy sitting on her lap, both of them beaming. As he held the frame in his hands, Ian couldn't deny that the sight was entirely perfect. Rose looked… well, she looked quite… beautiful. And then little Olivia was practically radiating pure joy, those dark chocolate eyes sparkling with life.

An unexpected rapt on the door pulled Ian from his fanciful musings. He turned his eyes upward and swallowed hard when he saw Jack smiling in the doorway. As always, Ian's first instinct was to put distance between him and his estranged brother. However on remembering Jack's manner when he showed up at dinner, Ian realized that their relationship in this life was completely restored. In fact, it seemed to mirror what it was once.

"And here I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," Jack teased. He entered the room and casually sat down in one of the chairs facing Ian.

"Overslept," Ian replied with more civility than was usual for him.

Jack's expression altered just a hair at Ian's tone, but he quickly reverted back to his charming, unaffected self. "Oh, so is that your new word for snog fests with Rose?" he asked with a playful grin.

Ian felt his eyes widen as Jack's words caused images of said "snog fests" to enter his mind, and a warm flush creep up his neck.

Clearing his throat nervously, he asked curtly, "Did you need something?"

"Well, you're in a mood," Jack started. But on seeing Ian's demeanor become steely, he let off any further perusal of that subject. "Actually, I mainly came to chat, but I guess now's not the time," he said, standing and making his way to the door. He stopped suddenly, and turned back around. "Oh, I almost forgot. Mrs. Webber called earlier and said she would be late for your meeting tomorrow. Said something about not being able to find a sitter for Chloe. I wrote it down and left it on Suki's desk for her to take care of; but I thought I should mention it."

Ian merely nodded his head in acknowledgement. Jack furrowed his brow, his expression becoming somewhat troubled at his brother's uncharacteristic but painfully familiar behavior. Deciding that it wasn't the time to discuss it, Jack exited without another word. Ian let out a small sigh once Jack was gone. He was more than a little proud of himself for keeping his manner in check. Though he was short, he could have been much, much worse.

He began looking through his computer files for information of this Mrs. Webber that Jack had mentioned. It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for. It was a custody case involving one child, a Chloe Webber. He gave a precursory look over it, not paying attention to much of what he read. Though he had a plan, Ian still wasn't sure how to navigate in this "life." He found himself idly sitting there, reviewing old cases and the various files on his computer; anything to keep him occupied. Occasionally, Suki, his secretary he determined, would come in and check on him. Each time Ian would offer a small smile and deny he needed anything. When he decided he'd spent plenty of time at the office, Ian picked up the information he had on the Webber case, and left.

Twenty minutes later, Ian arrived home. When he opened the door, the smell of what was clearly Italian cuisine wafted towards him. Following the scent, he was greeted by the sight of Rose finishing up dinner. She heard his approach and turned, her face breaking into a brilliant tongue in teeth smile as she saw him. On seeing that smile, Ian felt the air flee from his lungs. Before he could register what was happening, Rose's arms wrapped around his neck and she captured his lips in an eager kiss. Ian felt himself freeze in astonishment. Though he made no attempt to reciprocate, he felt his mind go hazy as her lips remained in contact with his. At his lack of participation, Rose pulled back and eyed him questioningly.

"You all right?"

Ian knew his smile was strained, but it was the best he could manage. "I'm always all right."

That response seemed to strike a chord within Rose, and her expression became unreadable. "Don't do that," she said firmly as she crossed her arms.

Ian furrowed his brow. "Do what?"

"Y'know what," Rose insisted. "Don't use that line on me. I know what that means."

"I don't know what you mean. 'I'm all right' simply means I'm all right," he said, doing his best to make light of things.

Rose continued to eye him silently, causing Ian to fidget. The look she was giving him was unsettling; it was as if she was seeing straight into him.

"Something smells wonderful," he said, eager to divert her attention elsewhere.

Rose quietly turned back to the oven and began putting the finishing touches on dinner. Ian could tell that she was upset, and he knew it was with him. He didn't like it, not one bit. But despite that, he didn't pursue the matter. The more time that passed, the more that fact seemed to anger her. Finally, Rose had had enough.

She turned to him, her expression tight. "Dinner's ready. I don't feel well, so I'm gonna call it a night. Olivia's already asleep, so you don't have to worry about putting her to bed."

Ian merely nodded. Rose stood there for a moment, seemingly waiting for him to say something. When Ian continued to remain silent, she tightened her jaw and walked away. As she reached the doorway, she paused and turned to face him.

"Feel free to wake me if you decide to stop being a complete git and talk to me about what's goin' on," she said, not bothering to hide the anger in her voice. With that, she left.

After fixing himself a plate, Ian leaned against the counter and mechanically ate his food. He warred with himself about what to do. Part of him, a large part if he was being honest, wanted to go after her and make things right. Knowing that Rose was angry with him plagued him. But the smaller part of him won out, and he chose to remain silent. Placing his dish in the sink, Ian trekked quietly through the darkened house and up the stairs. He noiselessly changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed. Rose was turned on her side, away from him. Ian felt himself wanting to pull her to him, but he again pushed such thoughts and feelings aside. Turning on his side, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.

Rose lay there silently, wide awake and hoping for him to make a move to talk to her. However, the silence persisted. Minutes passed by, and she heard Ian begin to snore softly. Rose finally closed her eyes, a few stray tears staining her cheeks as she drifted off to sleep.