Author's Note: So my chapter planning has picked up quite a bit, and a few things were cut and/or moved around within this chapter. I realized late into the chapter that the rest would feel awkwardly tacked on, so I will be leaving it to next chapter where it will hopefully fit better. I hope you guys are enjoying. I appreciate every view, kudos, bookmark, and comment. (:

Chapter 2

Ben didn't think that Michaela could be subtle if she wanted to. Never did she need to flash a badge in order for people to see her as a person of authority–of someone who could royally screw you over if she decided you deserved it. She could–but she wouldn't. Michaela was too close to the law to consider breaking it, and even when she had, that was the tipping point of when she left it all behind. Now, whether her morals remained the same, she was behind a desk again, seeking to solve crimes.

He didn't ask her whether she was happy to be back. Ben was often told by his sister that he lacked a filter–and sometimes even a brain–when he was curious or didn't understand something. But this was a topic he wasn't going to touch. Michaela stood out just by being herself. Yet, despite her presence on 828 and the stares he had been used to getting in most public places, it was here where they were completely ignored like normal people in a crowd.

A normally busy coffee shop sat mostly empty besides them and perhaps three other customers blissfully unaware of the people around them. It was refreshing, in a way, to have all of those heavy gazes go away. If only the paranoia would leave him too. In this timeline, neither had existed to begin with.

"Earth to Ben," he heard Michaela said, as she dramatically waved a hand in front of his face. His lip curled and he lightly swatted it away. It could have been a silly annoyance if it wasn't for the serious expression that Michaela wore.

"Sorry," he said, throwing whatever other thoughts he had away. Not the time. "Go on. You were heading back and…?"

"That's just it–I wasn't even heading back yet. I just left the store and Vance was just… there. In the parking lot. God knows he probably has the addresses to every passenger of 828, but how would he know where I was unless he followed me?"

"You know Vance," Ben said with a shrug, although it was only slightly reassuring. "Information finds him–not the other way around."

"That's not the weirdest part, though," Michaela went on, and Ben knew it was pointless to interject. At this point, he was just a board for his sister to throw theories and suspicions at. "He came to the station, too. Even talked some people. Have you known Vance to casually chat up cops? They're on the same side, sure, but Vance probably doesn't see it that way."

"We don't know him like we did," he reminded her. Lowering his voice, he asked, "Do you have any idea what kind of leads he's following?" No matter who Vance was–how well he knew him–there wasn't a universe where the man would just spend a month sipping tea and reading reports on 828 without going out into the field to investigate. Hell, Ben probably couldn't have looked less subtle if he tried, leaning over the table and lowering his tone.

"If I did, I'd tell you," Michaela said, leaning back into her chair and crossing her arms, a stark contrast to himself. Her stare was hard. "I didn't get back into this just to start covering my own ass again."

"Why not say it louder so everyone can hear you?" he asked with a humorless smile, although he hoped she caught on to the message he was sending. "We got this second chance for a reason, and you're out there trying to nose your way into trouble."

"Ben Stone," Michaela started, her brow cocked and her tone teasing yet sharp, "lecturing me about nosing my way into trouble. Does that not sound ironic to you? Maybe a bit of projecting?"

"Everything I did was to protect my family," he said firmly. Mick never meant to hurt him, he was sure, but the jab was a little too close to home. "You know this. Now I have them back, and I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize that. Things are back as they should be."

"Are they?" she asked, drumming her fingers on the table. "Is that why you haven't spoken to Saanvi in the last week? Or why she hasn't returned my calls or texts?"

It was not a topic he was expecting her to bring up, and the surprise must have shown in his eyes, as Mick followed up with, "Come on, Ben. I know your life isn't going perfectly. So what is it? Because I know you can't look me in the eye and say you haven't been having nightmares either. Or that you're not avoiding Saanvi–hell, anyone that was attached to 828. I even have Eagan spamming my phone asking about you."

"Now that's irony," Ben scoffed, taking a sip of his long-cold coffee. "We came back to do things right–to live out our second chance. You're still focused on the past, Mick. I'm not avoiding anyone. I'm just here trying to remember how this all works."

"Ben," Michaela stopped him. "I'm worried. I'm worried for you–I'm worried for Saanvi, too. Clearly something happened, and she's not willing to talk. You're the next stubborn person I know, so please… for me, just bring yourself out of your fantasies for a second and help me out. Captains of the lifeboat, remember?"

He looked at her, long and hard, before he relented. She wasn't wrong, of course. He had always been willing to throw himself into danger before–but that was also with a death date hanging over their heads and an organization bent on dissecting every truth from them. Now, he was tired. He was tired of worrying, tired of feeling. He just wanted everything to quiet down, to go away. To finally be normal. But try as he might, he knew it wasn't going to happen today.

"Fine," he said, rubbing his face. "I'll figure something out."

Michaela wanted more–she always would, but right now, Ben couldn't give her everything she wanted. She would have to settle for what he could.

Ben returned home much sooner than he intended, realizing that his talk with Michaela was shorter than most conversations they had been having throughout the last month. Too late into the discussion did he realize he forgot to bring up the storm to her, but it didn't take much to convince himself that it was for the best. Either Mick had seen the storm and Grace just hadn't noticed, or she hadn't seen it and he was just going crazy. The former seemed a lesser of two evils, but he didn't like the implications it had–if he chose to dig deep enough. Which he did not.

He was momentarily surprised to walk through the door close to 10 only to find an empty house, but then remembered that Grace mentioned bringing the kids on an ice cream run. He thought he'd be home close to when they arrived back, but that obviously didn't pan out, and he was stuck standing on the living room with his hands in his pockets and his mind on everything but home.

The photos of his kids on the shelf stared back at him, and weirdly enough, it felt like he was looking at strangers. He loved them with a fierceness that couldn't be rivaled, and yet, his mind drifted back–Olive, growing so tall that she could have rivaled her mother. Eden, insisting on joining in the "girl hug" that she didn't quite understand.

The sudden ringing in his ears was striking, and he bent over when the pitch changed to something higher. It was enough for him to clutch the sides of his head, willing the pressure to go away. The thumping that followed was not much of an improvement, and he felt sweat travel down his brow only moments later.

His ears still rang, and he almost didn't realize that his phone was ringing in the same way, high-pitched and unwilling to relent. Through it, he reached down to pick it up, not noticing he had dropped in when he had first been hit with the pain.

Saanvi's name appeared on the screen, and it wasn't through text–she was calling him.

The pain momentarily forgotten, he pressed answer, holding the phone to his ear with one hand and his forehead with the other.

"Saanvi! Saanvi, are you okay?" he hissed through the migraine, trying to sound competent. But what answered him wasn't a voice, but rather thumps that sounded much like objects being dropped onto the floor. He heard a voice, familiar but pained, and nothing more other than shuffling and another thump that he could for certain identify as a phone hitting the ground.

"Saanvi, it's Ben. Answer me." The clarity began to return as the symptoms subsided, yet he knew that the silence wasn't due to his inability to focus. The other line hadn't gone dead, but rather was left with a quiet stillness only broken by a quiet tick, tick, tick.

Clock, his brain supplied, but that did little to calm his nerves. He could have reasoned that Saanvi accidentally called him, but Saanvi didn't accidentally do anything. Everything she did had a purpose and a plan.

The memory of Michaela revealing the cause of the Major's death flashed in his mind, and he became doubtful all over again. Maybe he didn't know Saanvi as well as he should, and who knew how much had happened in the last month of being back? His life appeared almost entirely ordinary, but that didn't mean everyone else's mirrored his.

He listened for a few moments longer before hanging up and attempting to call back, but even if he prepared himself for it, the lack of an answer only left him more panicked than when he had started. Two more times, and he got the same result. Nothing.

God help him, he was about to try and track her down entirely before he heard a knock on the door, breaking him of his focus on the call and narrowing it on the door. Before, the culprit was always a toss up–passenger, police, or any number of people roped into the crazy schemes of those involved. He had to take a breath and reassure himself that now, it could only really be a family member, friend, or neighbor.

Tucking his phone securely into his pocket, he pulled up his shirt to wipe the sweat that caked his forehead. He hoped that he didn't look as bad as he felt, because at this rate, he could compare this to one of the worst hangovers he had ever had.

He opened the door quickly, and with everything else today, it seemed like his mind was a bit slow to react, as he merely gaped at Vance as he stood on the other side of the doorframe. The man looked him up and down briefly, as though curious, but Ben knew well enough what he was doing. Vance did not get into the position he was in by being obvious about his intentions, but one couldn't also get close to him without recognizing his patterns.

"Vance," Ben said without thinking, wanting to kick himself after for how relieved he sounded.

He only got a slightly surprised and possibly annoyed look in response, one brought on by the fact that Ben had stupidly greeted him like a long-lost friend than the near-stranger that he was. He really wished that Saanvi had answered–it would have been better than the position he just put himself in.

"...Mr. Stone," Vance began slowly. "I am here to speak to you about the missing passengers from flight 828. I am sure you are aware." Ben didn't have to know Vance well in order to detect the threatening tone his words gave off.

This was the last thing he was expecting to have to deal with today, and he wasn't sure he was anywhere near equipped to. So focused with his family, he hadn't figured out just what they would do when–not if, Mick insisted–Vance and the authorities came knocking on their doors for answers. The only difference now was that they had the answers–it was just nearly impossible they would be believed.

"Uh, yeah," Ben said, wiping his forehead again. "Come in, then."

Only a couple steps back from the door and Vance was raising his hand up. "Actually, we would prefer that you come with us."

After saying it, Vance stood back, and Ben could see the black van sitting on the curb with no way to view inside. He was sure the driver was staring straight at him, though, and even the thought of Vance with him did not reassure him as much as he would have liked.

Vance put a hand on his back to lead him. "We have quite a few questions for you."

The ride felt much longer than it probably was, as Vance said little more than a few words after they had pulled away from Ben's home. He expected the driver to be someone he knew, but even from a brief view, Ben was sure he had never seen the man before. Even now, Vance had him guessing at what else he held up his sleeve.

Striking up a conversation was pointless, he knew, but the urge was still there. When he had first returned home, several times–out of curiosity or just to be sure–he had spoken to Cal casually about things that had happened before–things that would happen in the future. Call it stupidity, but he truly wanted to know if any of their shared experiences remained in Cal's memory.

But there was nothing. Cal was just a child who had no idea of the trials and horrors they had witnessed for those five and half years, and while grateful, it also made Ben feel incredibly isolated in his home.

Clearly Vance was in the same boat, as the man was obviously not aware of the deep connection he shared to not only Ben, but the other passengers as well. It angered him in a way, the strangeness he felt when just a few months ago he could trust the man with his life. Saanvi had trusted Vance enough to reveal her murder of the Major, for Christ's sake.

He looked down at his phone then, hoping that he may have received a call back from Saanvi, but there was nothing. It was the only thing he could do now, focusing on her instead of everything else that he was facing now. What happened to the eleven missing passengers? He knew exactly what, but nobody was going to believe him, and neither the truth nor a lie could make sense of what had happened.

Ben would have loved for Saanvi to think of a cover story for all of them to stick to, but she was honestly a worse liar than he was. Maybe it was better for her to stay in the dark.

The car came to a sudden stop then, saving him from having to replay every scenario in his head once again. A few seconds passed as Vance and the driver stepped out, and Ben was almost about to open his own door when it was done for him. Vance looked at him for only a moment before guiding him with a hand on his back again, heading in the direction of a large building that was all too familiar to him.

The detention center that kept them contained for months stood tall, still as imposing and gray as ever. The outside was slightly more lively, with several white tents dotted around the outside as well as cars parked a short distance away, but other than that it looked eerily identical to the last time he saw it. He wondered if the inside remained just as dead.

"Here," said a man at his side. Ben swung his head around, having not expected another person to join, and he followed the man's hand signal as he signaled towards the closest tent. Vance was quick to follow the instruction, following closely behind Ben as he entered through the flap.

All too similar was the table and folding chair set on one end, and the array of notebooks and materials set on the other side. This was definitely deja vu. Ben was about ready to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but if he wasn't already going to be interrogated, he was sure that alone would be enough to place him in a psych ward.

He sat down slowly, carefully, as Vance took his place on the other side of the table. Ben had to remind himself that he had stared down this man before, even when he had barely known him. He wasn't afraid of questioning, but that was easy to say when the last time he was in this position, he truly didn't know what to say.

"We'll start with the basics," Vance began, adjusting the clipboard in front of him. "Please state your name."

"Ben Stone." Simple. If he kept things straight-forward, there would be very little to say.

"Mr. Stone, it says you were a passenger on flight 828 alongside your two relatives Michaela Stone and Caleb Stone. Is that correct?"

"My sister and my son, yes." His tone was too casual. Ben straightened up.

"Now, when this flight took off, do you remember seeing or interacting with any of the passengers that are currently missing?"

It was a pressing question, but one Ben was relieved to know the truth to. Before they had all returned five and a half years later, he had little reason to interact or even notice the other passengers on the plane. They were all just faces in a crowd that he didn't think twice about. Now, the thought just made his stomach turn.

"No, I don't," he answered flatly. "I only really talked with my family when we boarded. I'm not even sure I know the names of the missing passengers."

Liar.

The voice in his head was sharp and piercing, causing him to wince visibly. It was only one word, and yet he knew it was his own voice, accusatory and unforgiving, that spoke to him. It wasn't contemplative thoughts that he had been used to having back for the last month. Now, it was judgmental and harsh, ready to snap at him for any dishonesty he provided.

"Mr. Stone," Vance started.

"Sorry, sorry," he said quickly, thinking on his feet. "Chronic migraines."

Vance only hmmed in response, and Ben felt his heart begin to pound when he saw Vance begin to scribble down on his clipboard.

"Now, when you boarded the plane, were you aware of the identities of your captain and co-captain?"

Again, an easy and simple answer: "No, I wasn't."

"The co-pilot claimed that he was the only one present on the plane, and yet several eye-witnesses claimed to have seen the captain himself when the plane took off."

Ben paused, knowing this was the moment he had been dreading. It was one thing for passengers to go missing–but to go missing after the plane had taken off with no sign that they had made any stops? That alone would be hard to explain, but then Captain Daly was what toppled the whole story. He made it impossible.

"Like I said…" Ben began again, waving his hand as though expressing his own confusion. "...I didn't interact with or see any of these passengers–or even the captain. I'm not sure I could even tell you their names."

Liar.

Autumn Cox. Paul Santino. William Daly.

Angelina Meyer.

Vance would have been a fool if he didn't see the change in Ben's expression.

"And you can assure me that you are telling the truth right now, Mr. Stone?"

Vance knew he was lying. Ben knew he was lying. The question wasn't who was lying or being truthful–it was whether either of them would admit it. Ben was positive that Vance would play dumb until he couldn't anymore, and with that in mind, he wasn't surprised when the silence dragged on without either of them saying a word.

Eventually, Vance cleared his throat and straightened up his papers. "Your captain was Mr. William Daly. You may or may not know the name."

Of course he did.

"We only need this on file so that we can continue our investigation. I have a strong suspicion you aren't being honest with us, Mr. Stone."

"This is all I know!" Ben snapped back. "How can–"

Vance held up a hand, and Ben immediately realized the line he was crossing. In fact, the line was already behind him, and Vance may as well have been able to read him like an open book.

"William Daly was not labeled as one of the missing passengers from 828, despite not being sighted leaving the plane. Do you know why this is?"

It was the first time that Ben truly had no idea what Vance was getting at. Daly had lost his life before their judgment even came–before he was forced to board the plane a second time after it erupted from the ground. Every person who didn't reach their Death Date came back–so how was it that the captain wasn't spotted leaving the plane?

Daly should have come back with the rest of them, no memory of the last five and a half years with the assumption that he had just piloted a successful trip from one location to the next with no issue.

"No," Ben finally answered, finding that he couldn't find much else to say given the circumstances. This was the one and only time he had little idea of anything.

"I will tell you: William Daly was not seen by anyone. He was not noted as a missing passenger because he is not missing–he is dead."

Three hours felt like days, and Ben was already willing to call it by the time he was dismissed from the tent and allowed to leave the center. His head was still spinning, not only from the sharp headache he still had, but also from the revelation that William Daly had not come back.

Vance had refused to give any more details past that point, and Ben found himself frustrated beyond belief. How did they know Daly was dead? He had died before, by fault of Angelina and her manipulations of the sapphire, but based on every other passenger, this wouldn't have carried over to this timeline. He should still be alive, without any of the memories of what they went through. Was he the only exception, or were there more things Ben couldn't even hope to find answers to?

He had planned to call Grace when he left, let her know that he was okay and heading home, and pulled out his phone to do so. He was tempted to do the same with Saanvi in the hopes that she would answer this time, but with a jolt, he realized that it wasn't necessary–Saanvi was staring at him from across the parking lot, no doubt surprised to see he was here as well.

Ben wished he could find it in himself to be surprised. They wouldn't just speak to one passenger and leave it be. They had more work to do.

Saanvi approached him slowly with her hand holding her bag over her shoulder. The sight made Ben speed up, feeling the fear that he had felt the moment she tried to call him. It had gone away during his "interrogation," but now it flared up just as quickly with just one other feeling to go along with it: relief.

"Saanvi," he breathed when he reached her, immediately enveloping her in a hug that she returned after only a few moments.

Pulling back quickly, he held her face in his hands and looked at her, peering at her face for any signs of physical distress or pain. She looked concerned, maybe even a bit tired, but not injured. His confusion only grew.

"Are you okay? You called me and then… nothing. I thought I heard something from my side. Did something happen?"

His words were coming out too quickly for him to register, and Saanvi placed a reassuring hand on his as she removed it from her cheek. She brought his hand down and shook it twice, as though to show that she was infact all right.

"Ben, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I was… moving stuff around and accidentally called. Nothing happened, I promise."

It seemed to make perfect sense, based on what he had heard, but the coincidental timing of the headache and the high-pitched noises causing him to fall to his knees didn't convince him that it was the full reason for her call. It didn't take more than a quick look at her to know she was lying–or, at least, not telling him the full truth. Saanvi was beautiful and intelligent, but a good liar she was not.

"Mick says you haven't been answering her," he said suddenly, wanting to kick himself for it. But he couldn't really stop now. "She's worried about you. So am I."

He didn't realize how strong that worry was until now. When he was at home, watching Grace make pancakes and the kids finish the last bit of their homework, it all felt so normal. He could fall into a pattern that included no one else besides his perfect family and the second chance he had been given.

But now he saw the dark clouds in Saanvi's eyes, and realized something was very wrong. When she didn't respond right away, he squeezed her hand, and it seemed that she forgot it was even still in his grip.

"I'm sorry–I'm sorry. Things have just been… crazy." That was one word to use, but not one he thought would come out of her mouth. "It's an adjustment. I just got a new apartment and I'm trying to figure out just where I am with everything."

"You don't have to do everything at once," Ben said quickly. "Take one thing at a time. Things will work out if you give them the chance."

"It's not just that," Saanvi said, shaking her head and pulling her hand from his. "It feels like I'm just playing a part. I've done this for years and have to pretend that everything… that all of the information I learned doesn't exist yet. It's exhausting."

He would have willingly listened to her vent. He didn't like seeing her in such a state, and he was often there as a comforting gesture when Saanvi got too deep into her anxious thoughts. That didn't necessarily have to change now, but Saanvi seemed withdrawn, and when he expected her to continue, she only closed up.

"I'm sorry, Ben. I really do have to get home. I'll–I'll call you back later, okay?" She didn't leave him with much else before she was turning away and walking towards her car. The anxiety didn't leave with her, and he felt it increase within him as he watched her.

That same headache made its presence known again, but Ben didn't look away from Saanvi's car to even acknowledge it.