CHAPTER 14

Harold couldn't breathe...he couldn't move. All he could hear was the roaring in his ears. All he could see was Grace. His beautiful Grace. It was all up to her. He could do nothing to change the outcome.

Grace's eyes saw a ghost. A ghost she had been dreaming of for years...six long, lonely years.

She found it difficult to breath. There was no air...she was outside….. but there was no air, no oxygen. There was no sound, there were no people.

Just a beloved ghost.

She dropped her paintbrush and her artist pallet, splashing paint on herself and her belongings on the ground around her. But she didn't care. Her ghost was standing in front of her...in broad daylight. She'd been seeing him for years in her dreams. But now he was right there in front of her...all she needed to do was take a few steps and she could touch him...if he was real. If he didn't disappear like all the other times she'd seen him.

Both of her hands went to her mouth. She tried to speak but with no air, there was no sound. Suddenly she gasped for air. One hand stretched out toward the...ghost. It didn't move. It didn't dissolve into thin air like it did in her dreams.

"H...Harold?" she whispered. "Harold?"

The ghost nodded. "Yes Grace, it's me."

An audible moan escaped Grace as she clasped her hands in front of herself, as if in prayer. Tears came to her eyes, but none rolled down her cheeks. She slowly shook her head.

Harold stood there, holding the two slowly melting ice cream cones in his hands. Grace looked at his hands as a slight smile played across her face.

Looking back up to that beloved face, she slowly stood up.

Her eyes took in every detail He was older than she remembered. There was gray in his hair. His sideburns were longer. But his eyes were the same. Blue eyes that she would never forget. They still looked at her with all the love she could imagine, all the love she could hope for.

Harold started to speak but Grace held her finger to his lips.

"Shhhh. Let me just have this moment. A moment that has played over and over in my mind all these years."

Her artist's fingers gently followed the contours of his face, tracing his eyebrows, his cheekbones, his jaw. She ran her fingers through his hair. It felt different than what she remembered. She was trying to memorize every part of him in case he disappeared like he did in her dreams.

Harold dropped the ice cream cones on the pavement, uncaring and he stood there as his eyes took in every detail of the face that had haunted his dreams all these years. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was a little longer her green eyes filled with so many conflicting emotions. In the past, he'd been able to read her moods just by looking into her eyes. But it had been too long, now there was a riot of emotions that flowed across her face. Her eyes held so many questions he wasn't sure how he was going to answer them.

"Grace..." he said softly. Once again Grace held her fingers against his lips and shook her head.

"Please….please give me this moment to know you are real. That you are not in my dreams. That you are not going to disappear again…" her voice broke as she whispered the last word.

All the pain that she had experienced over the years, all the love that she had held inside of herself were overshadowed by fact that she had been right to hold out hope.

"Oh Harold…...it really is you.' With that, she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips.

She tasted the salt of his tears. She leaned back and saw the tears slowly rolling down his face. She carefully wiped his cheeks and the kissed him again. Kissed him with all the love she had been saving for 6 long, lonely years. Her arms went around his neck and held him tight.

Harold's arms wrapped around her and held her close. They were the only two people in the world at that moment.

Breaking the kiss, Harold looked at Grace and knew he had made the right decision to come here. But he also knew he owed Grace an explanation for his disappearance and what he had put her through, letting her think he was dead.

Grace feasted her eyes on Harold. She didn't want to let him go, even for a moment. Suddenly she noticed he was favoring one of his legs. He had shifted his weight to his left leg. She frowned for a moment, wondering what was wrong.

"Can we go somewhere and sit down?" Harold asked.

"Oh! Of course we can! I can leave my things here. They'll be alright."

Grace led him over to a bench nearby, under a huge tree. As they walked Grace noticed that he had a very pronounced limp. Holding his elbow she looked at him with a question in her eyes.

"I'll explain everything, I promise." he answered. "I promise".

They both sat down, close together, their fingers intertwined. They looked at each other and smiled. This time it was Harold that leaned toward Grace for a kiss. The sweetness of the kiss was almost too much for either of them. There were too many questions between them to be able to fully enjoy the kiss.

"Grace..? How? Why? " Normally articulate to the nth degree, Harold Finch was truly at a loss for words. Of all the scenarios he had entertained in his mind, the complete and total acceptance of him being alive and welcomed, was not one of them. He wasn't able to articulate a complete question.

Turning toward her on the bench, he held both of her hands and looked at her. Grace sat there looking at him with eyes filled with wonder and with love. Complete acceptance of his existence after all these years.

"I'm so sorry Grace. I am so sorry for leaving you alone all these years. I don't understand how you can be so accepting of me...of me just showing up here, alive." his voice trailing off in bewilderment.

Grace had been sitting there with a slight smile on her face...looking at him, taking in every detail of his beloved face. In response to his question, she put one hand to his cheek and leaned toward him. "Because Harold, I never accepted you were dead."

Pulling back from her touch, Harold looked at her in shock. "But they told you I was dead. The news said I was dead. You even had a memorial service for me..."

Giving a slight shake of her head, Grace smiled even bigger. "Yes, they told me you were dead. There was official notification that you were dead." Looking down, the smile went away. "I was devastated. We had been together for four years, four wonderful years and suddenly you were gone. Taken from me in a violent manner."

"I did have a memorial service for you. I needed the closure." Looking away for a moment, she tried to gather her thoughts.

Biting her bottom lip, she took a deep breath and continued, "I needed the closure that a funeral would bring. To help me deal with the reality that you were gone. That you were lost to me." For the first, time tears formed in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "To understand that you were truly gone from my life."

She shook her head slowly side to side. Looking into his eyes, she whispered "But it didn't work. It didn't work, Harold." A slight smile appeared on her face. " I couldn't accept that you were gone. I talked about your passing to others but I never could accept it. Because of one thing..."

Harold waited anxiously for her to continue. He knew this was their 'moment of truth'...their future would be determined by this 'one thing'...whatever it may be.

Begging her to continue with his eyes, at the same time terrified at what she might say...he waited, barely able to breathe.

Squeezing his hands tightly she said, "The one thing that kept hope alive for me that YOU were alive...there was no body. They never found your body. There was no hard, irrefutable proof that you were dead. I only had their word that you died on that ferry. They had a ticket with your name on it but they never had YOU."

Once again she held up a hand to the side of his face, "To me, you were missing. I believed that one day you would find me..." and she leaned in and kissed him once more.

Sitting back, Grace continued to hold his hand. Patting his arm with her other hand she simply said "Now, tell me"...

With Harold safely in Italy with Grace, the ones left behind continued their individual healing processes. Harold had been the focus of everyone. His peace of mind and well being was important to them all. Knowing he was where he was supposed to be, with Grace, and that he was happy just as John had wanted him to be, they all settled back into their own 'normal' lives, dealing with day to day events in their lives. Their closeness, brought about by their shared grief, remained strong. Each one still had their moments remembering John, but things were getting easier….

Zoe often spent her evenings alone out on her terrace. Sipping the whiskey favored by John, she reflected on the many changes he had brought into her life. Being an independent woman most of her adult life she called her own shots, answered to no one and she liked it that way. She controlled when she worked, what she charged for that work and who she worked for. She was well known in NYC by the high and mighty movers and shakers as THE 'go to person'. Her reputation balanced on the fact that she could be trusted to keep secrets when necessary and to know how to apply pressure when and where it was needed to get the job done.

She had been fine being on her own. She enjoyed a night out with associates in the world she moved in. Dinner dates at fine restaurants, Broadway plays and an occasional trip out of town. But once John Reese came into her life...things changed.

There had been a spark between the two of them, but neither acted upon it. She hadn't seen him again for close to 3 months when Harold had called. She'd known there had been someone else in the picture when John had 'pretended' to be her driver. Someone had been feeding him information. Recognizing the relationships between people was her bread and butter. That same someone had been the one to use the information that she and John had gathered to take down the pharmaceutical company that had double crossed her and almost killed them both.

Meeting Harold had been very interesting. He treated her like an equal and asked for her opinion and input on another case that he and John had been working. The idea of seeing John again had appealed to her. The spark was definitely still there. It remained a spark until John had asked her to 'marry him'. Playing house in the suburbs had been fun but it had also shown both of them that they had a lot to learn about living outside the city. They had become quite 'close' during that time and the spark became a flame.

She smiled to herself remembering their free and easy relationship. There were times it was nothing more than drinks at a bar late at night. Or watching an old black and white movie on tv and eating pizza. There was no pretense, no 'agenda'. They were friends who were very comfortable with each other. Sometimes she'd talk to him about a job she was doing and in turn he'd tell her about his current 'job'. She missed those moments the most. The companionship.

And with that companionship, John had brought a whole 'family' into her life. First there was Harold, Lionel, Sameen and Joss. Thinking of Joss made her heart hurt. She'd admired her greatly. Her loss was something that was still painful almost four years later.

Zoe felt she had become part of an exclusive club with only five members: John, Harold, Lionel, Sameen and herself. She was available to help with the work they did. Sometimes she was actively involved and sometimes it was to provide her insider knowledge. She saw John more often than the others but they were always just a phone call away. They were family for all intents and purposes.

Since they had lost John, they'd become closer, providing solace and strength to deal with John's loss. It affected all of them in the most painful way. He was a man who was larger than life itself and yet could easily hide in the shadows. His strength was in his compassion and his ability to see good in everybody. He cared deeply about all of them. They had talked long into the night many times about the relationships he had with them. There were still secrets that he could not or would not share, but she knew he thought of them as his family ... to love and protect.

Remembering the type of man he was, how many times he had escaped death...made it difficult for her to accept that he was gone. She knew what Harold had seen. She knew about the cruise missile in downtown Manhattan, she knew the building where John had been had been demolished but she had a very hard time accepting that he'd died there. He couldn't have ...just died. She needed closure. The more she thought about it, the more she convinced herself to do something. Something to confirm that he was gone. They'd never found a body in all that rubble. Nothing...not even...body parts. She shivered when that thought crossed her mind.

Now that John knew there was a huge gap in his memory he was working even harder trying to retrieve those memories. He questioned Joan and Meg about each and every one of his visits to them.. What did he say? What did they say? What did he have on? What did they talk about? And yet, all he learned was that he was always dressed in very nice clothes. A black suit, a white dress shirt, no tie. And in the winter he wore a greatcoat. Apparently he'd been very careful to reveal nothing about his actual life.

Each of these 'conversations' that John had with Meg and Joan left him with a severe headache and he was getting more and more frustrated that nothing they could tell him was helping him regain his memory.

He began spending more time alone, watching TV in Meg's office or reading the newspaper. Looking for anything to jar his memory. But nothing was working.

As his body healed, he became more and more anxious to recover his memory, to recover his life. The existence he had now couldn't be it, he HAD to believe that he'd done some good in his life, that he'd meant something to SOMEONE out there. Sometimes there would be a glimmer of a memory but nothing he could latch on to. Sometimes his dreams seemed to give hints about his past but the clues would fade as he woke up. As his frustration grew, his relationship with Joan and Meg was sorely tested.

Something had been nibbling at Zoe's mind since she'd been told about John. It had grown into enough of a concern that she had to act on it and do her own investigation. She was very good at research, it was what had put her in front of the line of 'go to people' when something was needed on the QT.

When she had told Iris about John, she realized there were no details…...just the stark fact that John was gone. Harold had told them how he had died. But she realized that Harold had not actually SEEN John die. He only knew where he had last seen John before the missile hit and there had been no body recovered from the rubble. Shaking her head, she refused to even consider that there were not any 'parts' big enough to identify. Even in the horrific aftermath of the twin towers, there had been human remains recovered.

Putting out the word with her contacts on the streets that she was looking for any news about the explosion. Specifically if anyone had survived. No one had been admitted to any of the hospitals in NYC except Harold and Lionel and a few people with cuts and bruises. She felt like she was looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack but this was a very specific, very important needle. She just had a gut feeling the answer was out there. That HE HAD to be out there. Alive or dead, she had to know the truth for herself.

It was a couple of days before one of her contacts found something to report. There had been talk on the street of somebody being pulled out of the rubble alive. Not much more info was available. But that was enough to give Zoe hope. She upped the payout for more concrete info. She kept her 'research' to herself. She didn't want to get anyone's hopes up…...especially Iris's hopes. She was very concerned about her now that Harold seemed 'healed' and had gone to Grace in Rome.

Zoe had never been an overly patient person but waiting for THAT phone call, the one that could change everything, had been the worst. But a week later, her instincts had proven to be correct. She got the phone call she had been hoping for. Someone had been found and taken to a downtown clinic. The area the clinic was located in was close to the missile strike. It had to be him.

With shaking hands she dialed the number she had gotten from directory assistance. Her heartbeat was pounding so loud in her ears it was difficult to hear the person who answered the phone.

"Mid-town Clinic. How may I help you?"

"Yes, I was wondering if you could help me. I am inquiring about someone who has been missing since that explosion on Beale St."

The quick answer of 'hold please' to her question gave her hope.

A woman's voice came over the phone. "This is Dr. Tilman. You are calling about someone hurt in last month's explosion?"

Zoe's eyes burned with unshed tears as she answered, "Yes, my friend John is missing."

Hearing that name, Meg knew they had finally found the connection to John's "other life".

Zoe gripped the phone so hard she was afraid she'd break it, waiting for the response to her statement. Closing her eyes tightly, her other hand clenched so tight that her perfectly manicured fingernails cut into her palm. "Yes, we have someone here named John."

Once again the world started turning on its axis, air was entering and leaving her lungs, her ears could hear again. She felt like she was alive again. The world and everything in it seemed to have been in stasis since that phone call from Sameen.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much." she whispered into the phone. "Thank you, God."

On the other end of the phone Meg frowned, "Excuse me, are you ok?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine…." breathed Zoe.

With a few questions from each side, both women knew they were talking about the same man.

Meg explained that his injuries were severe but that he seemed to be healing well, but Zoe heard the hesitation in her voice.

"But...what?' she asked. "What are you afraid to tell me?"

"He received a very bad blow to the head. X-rays didn't show a fracture but I believe he did have a concussion…"

"And…." prodded Zoe

"He seems to have amnesia. From talking to him, he seems to have no memory after sometime in 2011."

Zoe took that information in and rolled it around in her head. "How were you able to discern such a specific point in time that his amnesia manifested itself?"

Biting her lip and looking up toward the cracked ceiling of her clinic, Meg finally admitted "Because he remembers a woman named Joan but not me." she answered softly.

That answer rocked Zoe, rocked her hard. She had met John in 2011, what if he didn't remember her? Fast on the heels of that thought came, would he remember Harold, Sameen, Lionel….or Carter or Root ….or Iris?

Gathering her thoughts as best she could, Zoe asked "Who is Joan?"

Slowly things began falling into place. Zoe realized there was another whole world of John Reese that she didn't know. She wondered if Iris did.

Meg and Zoe exchanged information and both realized there were two completely separate worlds that John lived in and neither knew about the other. His very secretiveness had almost done him in.

During the exchange of information that flowed both ways, Meg learned about Iris and that she was a psychiatrist. She latched onto that fact. Meg knew that John needed professional help with his amnesia that she was not capable of providing. Zoe agreed, but first she had to share her discovery with Iris. As well as Harold, Sameen and Lionel!

Apologizing to Dr. Tilman, Zoe ended the conversation with a promise to come by the clinic that afternoon. She was frantically trying to figure out who she should tell first about John: Harold who seemed to be the most severely affected. Harold had been with Reese when he 'died', had known him the longest and carried the guilt, right or wrong, for John sacrificing himself. Harold would blame himself for John's amnesia. She wasn't ready to disturb the happiness he'd found with Grace. So that left Lionel, his partner, they had been through alot together and had each others' back at all times. Or Sameen, who was already dealing with the loss of Root and the loss of Reese had almost pushed her over the edge, or Iris, who had come late into their world but seemed to have the biggest impact.

Realizing that she was going to need Iris to help with John before they could expose him to Harold and Sameen and Lionel, Zoe made her decision. Iris was fast becoming the lynchpin that everything else depended on.

After fixing herself lunch Iris sat on her couch to try and relax and maybe watch some TV. But her mind always flowed back to the mystery that was John. Trying to put things into perspective was giving her a headache. She was reeling over learning about John's…..death….. before she'd been able to get over him breaking things off with her. And now she had found out he had a whole other life she knew nothing about.

Checking on Lionel and having to skirt around his concerns while focusing on him, had not been easy. Seeing Harold and trying help ease the deep guilt he felt, while getting little or no help from him himself had been exhausting. She was emotionally tired. Putting her feet up on the table in front of the couch, she leaned back and rested her head. With her eyes closed, she relaxed the iron control she'd used all day, every day, to stay focused, to be able to help. She gave into the deep sadness that seemed to permeate every part of her body and mind. One lone tear flowed slowly down her cheek.

Suddenly her phone rang and she quickly answered it, recognizing Zoe's number. "Come outside, I'm in the drive by the front door." was all Zoe said before she hung up. Sitting back up, Iris rubbed her eyes and sighed deeply. Standing up, she felt like she was sleepwalking.

Wandering outside and shading her eyes against the bright sunlight, Iris was at a loss of what car Zoe was in. Suddenly she heard her name. Turning toward it, she was surprised to see Zoe standing beside a very nice 'call car'. With a welcoming smile, Iris headed her way.

Zoe got into the car and moved over for Iris. Sliding in, Iris was doubly impressed that the car was a step or two above the normal 'call car'. Lots of legroom and a smooth, rich leather interior….leave it to Zoe to never do anything halfway!

Once they pulled away from the curb, Iris settled in and lean back. With a deep sigh, Iris rested her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes.

"Where are we headed?" she asked quietly, trying to keep the exhaustion out of her voice.

Zoe looked at the woman sitting next to her. She could tell that the last couple of weeks had taken their toll. Sadness showed in her face and her posture. Stress had left its mark on her.

"We're headed downtown to a clinic. There's some people there I think we need to see." said Zoe, carefully watching Iris for her reaction. But Iris kept her eyes closed, mulling over Zoe's words.

"A clinic? What kind of clinic? I take it someone needs help?" Iris's eyes opened as she sat up, looking at Zoe with a puzzled expression. "Is it Sameen? Is she hurt? Or Lionel? Does the clinic not have anyone on call?"

Zoe hadn't been able to come up with an easy way to tell her what she may have found out. Who she may have found. Zoe was usually quite glib and quick on her feet. She had to be when dealing with the types of customers she dealt with in her 'business'. But nothing sounded right in her head. There was no easy way to explain where they were going and why.

Iris frowned, watching different emotions flow across Zoe's face. She felt like she was having an argument with herself but there seemed to be no clear winner.

Stretching out her hand, she touched Zoe's hand and said, "Just tell me whatever it is that is causing you this much distress. You know you can trust me."

Zoe grabbed Iris's hand and squeezed it tight. "I think John is alive. And I think I know where he is." Zoe's demeanor lost all of her sophistication in her urgency to tell Iris everything.

Iris snatched her hand back and stared at Zoe in shock. Slowly shaking her head she looked away. Looking out the window she tried to regain the control that had kept her sane since …..that day. She wanted to look anywhere but at Zoe. The pain she was feeling was private. She had not shared it with anyone. Except that first night when Zoe came to her and told her about John dying. She had come to terms with the fact he was gone, dead, lost to her.

How dare Zoe say something like that? How dare she say the words she dreamed of hearing every night. How dare she give her...hope.

It felt like Zoe had reached into her chest, grabbed her heart and squeezed.

Zoe reached out towards Iris but was shocked when she shrank away from her. She watched as Iris seemed to shrink within herself; she watched in astonishment as the woman broke from the inside out. Zoe saw and then felt the echo of her own pain in Iris's eyes.

'Oh my God what have I done?' Zoe berated herself. She knew she should have checked out this clinic and this person who may or may not be John, before she told Iris! But she was so sure that this man was John. Their John. The alternative was not acceptable. She just had to get Iris to listen to her.

Iris stared out the window, not seeing the passing streets of NYC. Tears welled up in her eyes and slowly ran down her face. Giving into her grief completely she rested her forehead on the glass. John was gone. No amount of wishing and praying was going to bring him back. Why had Zoe done this? Why re-open a wound that was barely beginning to heal?

Taking a deep breath, Zoe started from the beginning. She started by telling Iris that she herself had not been able to accept John's death completely. She reminded Iris of how little actual, concrete information they had about his death. All they knew was what Harold had told them. What Harold himself believed. John had been on the rooftop of the building that the missile had struck. But he had not actually seen John killed.

Iris visibly winced every time Zoe said 'John's death'. Zoe was watching her closely and hoped that Iris was really listening to her.

"I put out the word through some of my 'contacts' that I wanted to know if there had been any survivors of the missile blast. I know those streets, and the people there know I pay well for my information. There are a lot of things that go on in the streets that that police and the news don't always know about." Zoe paused to watch Iris to see if she was hearing her. Still no reaction.

"It took awhile but one of my contacts got back to me that there had been a survivor from that missile strike." again Zoe watched Iris. Iris continued to stare out the window. Zoe could see the tears on her cheeks. She just HAD to get Iris to believe her. Because if someone else believed too, then maybe, just maybe, it was alright to hope...

Taking a deep breath, Zoe continued. "This one person was taken to a clinic near the area of the blast. It was a man." Still no response from Iris. Zoe was getting frustrated. Iris HAD to believe her. She needed Iris to believe her.

"I called the clinic, Iris. I called and talked to a doctor there. She said the man was still there recovering and his name is John." Zoe leaned closer to Iris, looking for something….anything…..that showed she was listening. But still nothing. Iris was completely withdrawn.

"Damn it, Iris! Did you hear what I said?" Zoe grabbed Iris's shoulder and forced her to look at her. "The man who survived and was at the clinic…..his name is JOHN" she was almost screaming at her.

Iris's pained filled eyes looked back at her. Raw, naked pain flowed from her. Zoe grabbed both of her hands and looked her straight in the eyes…."Iris….I think John survived and that he is the man at the clinic."

"Why are you doing this?…..Why are you telling me this? Don't you think if it were John he would have contacted us by now? He would have contacted Harold...or Sameen..or...or even Lionel….Or me." Her voice fading off into a whisper. "I know he would….."

A smile spread across Zoe's face…"Because he has amnesia!"

"What? Amnesia?" finally Iris sat up and sounded more like herself. "How do you know?"

Zoe told her about the phone call to the clinic and the information that she and Meg Tilman shared with each other. And most important of all…..she explained his lack of memory of everything from 2011 forward due to a concussion. "He doesn't remember Harold, or Sameen or Lionel or me…..or you."

"How do you know what he remembers? Why that specific date? Normally amnesia manifests itself from at the moment of the concussion. Forgetting the last 5 years is …..odd"

Watching Iris click into 'doctor mode' was helping Zoe feel justified, that she'd done the right thing in telling Iris about this 'John' Doe.

By the time their car drove up to the clinic Iris was completely in agreement with Zoe that this man was John Reese.

Pulling up to the clinic both Zoe and Iris took in the neighborhood and the semi-squalor. Some of the people along the nearby sidewalk obviously lived on the streets. There were some men on the corner sharing a bottle of who knows what. They stood watching the long black car pull up to the clinic.

Feeling a little bit exposed Iris exited the car and stayed close to Zoe. Zoe herself was a bit intimidated but she knew from experience it was just best to brazen it out. So she dismissed the driver who promptly took no time getting out of there.

Looking at each other, each saw their own hope and apprehension mirrored in the other's eyes. Clasping hands they walked into the clinic. The urge to run was strong…..whether to run away or to run to the clinic and face a reality they might not survive, neither could say.

The small waiting room was clean but well used. There were a few people waiting to be seen. They ignored Zoe and Iris as they walked up to the only window in the room. Tapping on the glass they watched as a nurse finished what she was doing and finally came to the window.

"Yes, we're here to see Dr. Tilman about a patient you have." Zoe infused her voice with authority.

"And that patient's name is?" said the nurse suspiciously, after taking in the style of clothes that Zoe and Iris had on. It was obvious that they certainly weren't from THIS neighborhood.

"His name is John." answered Iris, before Zoe could respond. "He...he was seriously injured in that blast a few weeks ago? We were told he was brought here?" Iris's voice cracked and still holding hands, she gripped Zoe's even tighter.

The nurse's attitude changed immediately. "Just one moment. I'll get Dr. Tilman for you." And she disappeared into the back.

Once again Zoe wondered if she should have checked if the man who was here was actually John before bringing Iris. She'd never forgive herself for causing her even more pain. But the die was cast and there was no going back. So they both waited, neither wanting to break the hardened silence until they were sure it was him.

The nurse found Meg in an exam room and told her there were two women here asking about their patient in the back room, John.

"Thank you, I'll be with them in a moment. Let me finish up here. Would you please get Joan for me?" The nurse nodded and went looking for Joan. After a couple of days here, Joan had made friends with just about everyone.

Finished with the patient, Meg washed her hands and stepped into the hall to find Joan waiting for her.

"How's John?" asked Meg.

"He's sleeping right now. He's trying so hard to remember but I'm not much help, he never told me much about what he was doing after he left me. He's given himself a headache again and his frustration is growing worse."

"Well, maybe we've got something we can do to really help him now. Remember the woman I told you about who called looking for someone named John? After talking to her, I think our John and her John are the same person. She may be able to help fill in that gap or tell us about what he's been doing these last couple of years."

"Oh I hope so! It breaks my heart to see him so lost. He wants to remember. He just can't!"

Walking together Meg and Joan went into the hall outside of John's room to wait while the nurse brought the two women in. Meg was curious about who the second woman was.

The two worlds of John Reese were about to come crashing together.