What do you mean I can't go home?" Emily asked angrily. She was sitting propped up in her hospital bed, her long hair freshly washed and hanging in wet strands over her shoulder. The mint green hospital gown was long gone, replaced by a pair of her favorite sweats and an old Shinedown t-shirt that her mother had picked up from Emily's apartment the day before.

"Emily, I will not have this conversation with you right now," her father replied in a stern voice. Dillon Lansing was the county's most prominent attorney, and he was in fine form today. His white blonde hair was perfectly combed, not a single strand out of place. He had taken on the demanding tone he usually reserved for the courtroom, his dark green eyes flashing as he made his case. "You're not in any shape to be arguing about it. The truth of the matter is it's pointless anyhow. I shouldn't have to explain this to you of all people! There is still an active police investigation underway, and if that isn't enough, you have a broken leg. Someone is going to have to be responsible for chauffeuring you around until that cast comes off." Everything about the posture of his slender frame spoke of confidence and self-assurance. He was an absolute shark, and there was no doubt that he could smell the blood in the water.

Emily was furious now and on the verge of seeing red. " Of all the things I'm in here for, a head injury is not on the list. You don't have to explain anything to me. I'm a grown woman and perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I'm not moving in with you and mom." As she spoke, she could feel the traitorous tears threatening to take over. It only made her angrier. She didn't want to get emotional about this, but ever since the night that she had woken here, she had felt as if she were living in some sort of alternate dimension. All she wanted was to go home, close the door, and shut out all the insanity that the last few days had dumped in her lap. She wanted to cuddle with her cat, Willow, and sleep in her own bed. But more than anything, she just wanted to be somewhere that felt safe and untouched by this mess her life had become.

Instead, here stood her dad in his finest suit fresh from the office doing his best dictator impression demanding that she bend to his will. The infuriating part of this was that she didn't have another option. This was a battle she was going to lose, but she had no intention of going down without a fight.

The argument had begun earlier that morning after a visit from Dr. Malcolm. With the swelling in her leg down, they had removed the splint in favor of a full cast that she would be wearing for the next six weeks. Dr. Malcolm explained that she had reviewed the MRI, x-rays, and various blood work that had been performed since Emily had arrived. The good news was that they would only be holding her a little longer for observation. The bad news was they had found some tendon and muscle damage in her broken leg, which basically guaranteed that she would need to see a physical therapist once the cast was off. This in addition to the news that Sheriff Barrow had when he stopped by earlier in the day. It had left her parents on edge and visibly anxious.

According to Royce, they had found the body of an unnamed victim at the house where they believed Emily to be held. Royce's admission that no one had been ruled out as a suspect had left Emily feeling a little sick. It was a nice way of saying trust no one without saying trust no one.

 Her father had broken the news after Dr. Malcolm's departure that they would be moving her back across town to live with them. In hindsight, she should have seen this coming, but she hadn't imagined they would try to commandeer her life. Especially with the new therapist telling them how normalcy could help her to regain the pieces of her broken memory.

"Emily, I'm not going to discuss this with you any further. You will be moving back in with your mother and me for the duration and there will be no arguments," he turned on the heel of his expensive loafers, stalking out of the room leaving Emily staring after him, her face a mask of rage. Her mother sat in the chair by the bed wringing her thin hands. She had sat transfixed following the argument between father and daughter, saying nothing becoming increasingly uneasy as things had escalated. Now that Dillon was gone, she turned to her daughter, her blue eyes pleading.

"Emily sweetheart, he's just trying to look out for you, and he has a point you really can't take care of yourself at the moment. I can't even begin to explain to you how hard it was for us when you went missing. We were beside ourselves, not knowing where you were."

"How hard it was for you!" Emily almost shrieked. "Please tell me you guys are not serious with this crap right now! Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up in the twilight zone? I can't remember the last year of my life, and none of you will help me fill in the blanks. I woke up broken and bandaged and have no idea what was done to me or who did it. Do you have any idea what that's like, Momma? Do you?"

Her mother flinched at her outburst, a grimace of pain darkening her features. Seeing the hurt she had caused left her with a small twinge of guilt, but Emily's frustration and anger at the situation were starting to spill over becoming more than she could bear.

"Emily honey," her mother replied softly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to sound like I was in any way minimizing what you've been through. I can't even begin to imagine what you're feeling. I was just trying to tell you that I do understand why your father's being difficult. We love you so much and the thought of losing you again -" she broke off abruptly choked up by her emotions. One pale hand fluttered to cover her face like a small wounded bird.

"Mom, please don't cry."

Rebecca's hands dropped to her lap as she took a shaky breath. There were small tracks in her makeup where the tears had cut a path down her cheeks, Emily noticed that they had lost some of their roundness in the weeks since she had disappeared.

"It's ok," she assured Emily, even managing a small tight smile. "These are not things they prepare you for when you have children. Obviously, we'll have to work on our communication skills, but we'll get through this together as a family. Right now I'm going to give you some space. I'm sorry we upset you. We want the best for you truly," she leaned down, planting a small kiss on top of her daughter's head before drifting out the door behind her husband. A defeated slump in her shoulders as she left made Emily feel even worse about her outburst.

She sat quietly for a moment, staring at the door that her parents had exited through. Then without warning, she grabbed a small bottle of lotion from her bedside table hurling it at the partially open door with a force that would have impressed any Major League pitcher a cry of rage escaping her as she did so. The bottle veered left just as Jake Merrill stepped into the open doorway. The bottle ricocheted off the door frame just beside his head as he dodged right and then bounced off the wall, hitting the floor and sliding under the bedside chair.

Emily sat stunned, almost completely forgetting the anger that had coursed through her just seconds before. She looked up at Jake, whose dark eyes had gone large with surprise, and despite herself, she began to giggle. Covering her face with her hands, she pulled her good knee up to her chest and tried to stop, but her useless attempts only made her laugh harder. Her ribs already sore throbbed with the exertion. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to catch her breath. She understood that she was being terribly rude, but every time she thought it was under control, an image of Jake's surprised face would pop into her head, causing her to erupt into fresh gales of laughter.

"Is it something I did?" he asked, smiling gently. "If it is, I could go out and come back in. I'm sure your aim would be better the second time around." She snorted, and that just got her going again as she shook her head, indicating that it wasn't him.

Bit by bit, she began to slowly regain her composure, taking deep breaths and holding a hand to her aching ribs. He stood filling the doorway watching her, seeming more than a little amused at her current predicament.

"I am so sorry. Please come sit. I wasn't laughing at you, I promise. It's been a strange day, and I think I'm a little hysterical."

He flashed her that same easy smile as he moved further into the room, pulling the chair up beside the bed and taking a seat. "Have you ever played softball?" he asked. "If you didn't, you should have. That is one heck of an arm you have." she started to laugh again and then moaned a little as it pulled at her side.

"Are you ok?" he asked, concerned.

She nodded. "I'm fine. Just a little sore."

She glanced over at him, realizing that this was the first time she'd seen him. The pictures in her head of him were hazy at best. She stole another glance, searching his face for any resemblance to the teenager he'd been.

He was taller than she remembered every bit of six foot four. He wore a sky-blue v-neck tee that emphasized his muscular physique and highlighted his tanned skin and dark hazel eyes. His hair, which had hung loose almost to his shoulders when she had first seen him, was now pulled back with a strip of leather, giving her a better look at his face. Even in his jeans and well-worn work boots, he more closely resembled a GQ model with his high cheekbones and square jawline than he did a ranch hand. She could still see the ghost of the teenage boy concealed in his features, but the years had molded the softness of the boy into the hard, strong lines of the man in front of her.

"I hope it's ok I stopped by. I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing," he said.

"Yeah, it's fine, and I'm doing better. I'll be weighted down with this thing for a few weeks, but everything else should heal pretty well on its own." She said, gesturing to her cast.

He glanced down at her leg now wrapped in plaster, and she could have sworn she saw his features cloud over for just a split second. When he turned back to her, though, his face was open and friendly. In her mind, she heard the deep throaty growl of his voice the day he had found her. "If they come back, I'll deal with them." The memory sent a noticeable shiver through her.

"Are you cold?" he asked, "I can grab you something if you need it."

"No thanks. I'm fine, but I'm glad you dropped by. I wanted to thank you for everything you did the other day, bringing me here and then staying till my mom showed up. I appreciate you going out of your way like that."

"No problem." He answered. "I just thought that after everything you'd been through, you should have a familiar face with you even if that face happened to belong to a stranger."

"Thanks. It meant a lot to know someone would do that."

"I was just glad I could be there to help. Although if I had known you had an arm like that, I might have put a safer distance between us." He said, giving her a mischievous smile. She laughed aloud, her ribs forgotten as she felt the blood begin to warm her face and for just a moment as she watched him laughing with her she began to think that maybe feeling normal again might not be impossible.

Rebecca strolled back down the hallway toward her daughter's room. After a tense phone call with her husband, who had already gone back to the office, she was feeling more than a little wrung out. She hated being caught between the two of them. Emily had always been just like her father, hard-headed, determined, and fiercely independent. The fact that she wanted to return to life as normal immediately, even in the face of so many obstacles, didn't surprise Rebecca in the least. If she was being honest with herself, she had to admit that she was more proud of Emily than she had ever been. Her girl was a fighter.

Then there was her husband. Dillon, feeling as if he needed to step in and control the outcome of this situation, wasn't exactly a shock either. The man she married was strong in his faith and his convictions. She had fallen in love with him, and he had proven to be an incredible husband and doting father. The loss of their only child had broken something in him, though. In all the years she had known him, she had never seen him so completely lost. Rebecca feared that Dillon was trying so hard to control Emily and her safety that their daughter pushing them away was inevitable. There had to be a way to find some middle ground.

Just a few doors down from Emily's room, she heard an unusual sound. She was sure she wasn't hearing it correctly, but as she got closer, there was no doubt. The sound of her daughter's laughter floated out to where she stood in the empty corridor. Rebecca stood frozen for a moment before inching quietly toward the door to peek inside, wanting to see for herself.

Emily was sitting up in bed, the leg not in a cast bent in front of her. Her head was back, her long blonde hair spilling out over the pillow. She had one hand at her eyes, wiping the tears of laughter streaming down her face. The other hand was clasped protectively to her ribs.

Jake sat in the chair beside her and leaned forward over the bed rail. His back and broad shoulders shook with laughter, his face turned up toward Emily's. He was saying something about Emily playing baseball, she thought, but that couldn't be right. I must have misheard him, she thought to herself. She couldn't make out the rest, but what they were saying didn't matter. For the first time since her daughter had miraculously returned home, Emily sounded like herself.

Rebecca turned around and started back the way she had come. She thought she might go down to the cafeteria and grab a quick bite. She had no intention of interrupting whatever was going on in there. As she stepped onto the nearby elevator and watched the doors sweep shut, she allowed herself to hope for just a moment that maybe just maybe their little family would survive this.