About the story:

This will take place about halfway through the third book. I may slightly alter some of the times in which events occur-this is not intentional, I am simply not writing with the original book in my hand and it may also be convenient for the events to occur as I want them to if these things change. These changes would be very minor, and as I am not attempting to have this claimed as real or official in anyway, I feel as though these minor details can be ignored. (For example, I think about 14 years had passed before Jamie left prison but I will be changing that to 8, 9, or 10). I am also changing (or deciding) who can go through the stones, which again may be inaccurate (But whatever, right ;)).

I really hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading! :)

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Chapter 1

The Incident

The light was bright when I opened my eyes. There was a smell I found completely familiar, yet somehow entirely strange. The odor filled me with comfort, while simultaneously making me feel a bit of panic. Why was I here? Should I be here? What had happened to bring me here? Why weren't shapes or colours forming yet?

The smell was sterile; dull but also sharp and insulting. It was wrapped in the slight odor of polyester and dust. The voices I heard were undeniably American. All of them, though they spoke at a distance. Wasn't I just with Frank in Scotland a moment ago? Yes. I'd left him at the hotel and gone towards the stones-Craigh Na Dun-to find a follow I'd wanted to examine only yesterday. Or was it...?

All my memories seemed foggy.

"Mom!" A voice cried. "Mom! Mom!"

The voice, like many of the others, was American. A young girl I had never heard before but her voice called to me so immediately and so intently that I felt I could almost create her shape of her body, and paint the colours of her complexion, with only it. There was a panic and a fear in her voice that I instantly wanted to soothe. I rolled my body to the side preparing to reach for the girl, understanding instantly as pain spiked up my body that parts of my torso and arms were intensely bruised. I suppose I would be here for a reason.

I was on a hospital bed. There was a small, uncomfortable pillow behind me and an awkward robe around my body. I still struggled to see the colours or shapes of my surrounding, but I'd seen enough hospitals in my time at the war that I was sure I understood exactly where I was, and the procedure for having me there.

"Bree, wait." Frank. That was his voice. And as if it were magic, it caused the bright lights to fade so I could finally make out a blurry image of my surroundings. I had been correct. I was in a small hospital room. It appeared to be a private one. The girl who'd come running was small, maybe eight-years-old with fiery red hair and deep blue eyes filled with a wild uncertainty. My husband's hand on her shoulder to keep her from racing over to me, although he looked a little concerned, Frank appeared almost unaffected by the fact I was in a hospital bed... and awake. Perhaps, I have not been here long enough for him to worry. Or the doctors have assured him I am fine. None-the-less, something had changed in the way he looked at me now compared to how he looked at me earlier this morning.

The girl was strikingly beautiful, even at eight years old. I could not explain exactly what it was, but her face fascinated me beyond reason. I wanted very much to know her, and understand the reason for her presence here.

"Frank." I spoke with a note of relief I had not been expecting, as if this was the first time I was seeing him in years. This note in my tone appeared to be noticeable by him also, and clearly surprised him a bit.

"Claire." There was a tiny lift in his tone as if the word had almost been a question. He did not step any closer.

A short man with grey-white hair and a long white jacket entered behind Frank and the girl. A doctor, I easily assumed. He looked up at me from his clip board and appeared almost startled when he met my eyes. Then he collected himself, cleared his throat, and said, "I am glad to see you are finally awake, Mrs. Randall. How are you feeling?"

"Well." I answered with a small nod and smile. This was not a lie. I felt rested for what must have been the first time since... clearly something had happened since we were no longer in Scotland, as I remembered. I was now nearly certain of this because all the nurses and doctors shuffling quickly in the hallway-and even the little girl-seemed to have American accents.

"Well." The doctor repeated while slowly nodding his head and reviewing his sheet as if "well" might be a symptom he needed to note. "And how is your head feeling."

"My head is fine, doctor." I answered, offering a slightly more relaxed Frank a small smile. This, again, appeared to surprise him but he smiled back immediately. "Can you tell me what I am doing here?"

"You were in a car accident, Claire." Frank explained, stepping in front of the small girl.

"You have been in a coma for three days, Mrs. Randall." The doctor added. "I am glad to see you are finally conscious. We've had a few close calls regarding your waking up. For the past hour and a half you have appeared to wake only to remain asleep. The nurses were starting to joke that it was my presence putting you to sleep." He appeared to find this humorous, and likely wanted me to laugh with him. I could not bring myself to laugh but I did offer him a small smile.

"Are we in America?" I wondered, reaching forwards to grab Franks hand. Although I felt fine, I knew I would feel better being comforted by my husband. Frank noticed my outreached hand and seemed to examine it as if it were a foreign object. Then, understanding my intention, he jumped into action and quickly took my hand. It almost seemed to please him.

"Of course we are." Frank answered. "Where else would we be?"

"Well..." I almost felt a sting of insecurity. "Scotland."

"Why on Earth would we be in Scotland?" I think he might have been a bit insulted by the inquiry.

"We were just in Scotland." Though saying those words felt strange. We should be in Scotland now.

"Darling, we have not been to Scotland in years." He argued.

"We were just in Scotland." I replied. "We should be in Scotland now."

"I don't understand." He was about to say more but was interrupted by the small red haired girl poking out from behind him in an apparent effort to see me as the doctor continued to examine my charts.

Although she seemed very comfortable with Frank, I had never seen the girl before and assumed she must be lost, or perhaps a relative of someone working at the hospital, or maybe the daughter of one of Franks colleagues. "Hello, sweetheart, my name is Claire, what is your name?" I wondered. Her eyes widened and both Frank and the doctor snapped their heads towards me as if I had started speaking another language.

"Claire, darling, this is Brianna." Frank spoke with a small tone of aggravation which I chose to ignore.

"Hello, Brianna." I smiled and offered her my hand. She offered me hers and we shook for a moment. I could not have explained the small shock that went through my body when she touched my hand. It was something I had not felt since... I felt like I should have had something to compare the feeling to; someone I loved more than anything who sent shock waves through my body with every touch. It must have been Frank, I decided. "Are your parents around?"

This seemed to affect her more than I expected, and I felt the sudden paralyzing fear that maybe something had happened to her parents. Maybe that was why she clung to Frank- -she had no one else. Frank had said I'd been in a car accident. Perhaps so had her parents. Perhaps I had collided with them, and they had died in the accident, as mine had when I was younger than her, and I had just reminded her of this.

"Claire." Franks voice was sharper. "This is Brianna. She is our daughter."

"What are you talking about?" Had he adopted her so soon? Surely the process took longer than three days. No, surely he was speaking metaphorically.

"Mrs. Randall, what is the last thing you remember?" The doctor asked suddenly. "Before the accident, I mean."

"I was driving to Craigh Na Dun." I answered. "To get a sample of that flower I'd seen, don't you remember?"

"What is the year, Mrs. Randall?"

"1945." What could possibly be the reasoning behind such a question?

Franks face widened in shock and he turned to the doctor who simply nodded and said, "Could I speak with you a moment, Mr. Randall."

"Absolutely." Frank answered, releasing my hand and leading the young, upset girl named Brianna as they followed the doctor out of the room.

Alone, I had a moment to evaluate the events that had occurred. Clearly, I was confused. Because we were in America. And I had no memory of ever traveling to the America's. Although I could easily assume I was in North America, I had no idea which country exactly I was in. I had been driving-I think.

And apparently now I had a daughter. Frank, although still as attractive as ever, appeared more tired. Tiny lines had begun forming around his eyes and he wore a different pair of glasses. Perhaps the accident had triggered a temporary amnesia. I could not remember us leaving Scotland, but why had we come here? Frank had been offered a position at Oxford, had he not? And I cannot imagine there was much about American history Frank felt overly fond of studying.

A nurse entered the room, bringing a tray of food. I was not sure I was hungry, but once the tray was in front of me, I could not seem to stop eating, even after Frank and the doctor reentered the room.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Randall?" The doctor wondered.

"I'm feeling fine, thank you." I smiled a little but continued to chew.

"Does your head hurt at all?" The doctor continued.

"No." I answered.

"Do you remember, Mrs. Randall, where you live?" The doctor wondered.

I glanced at Frank who appeared to be nervously teething on the tips of his own fingers.

"Well... we don't really have an address yet, but we will be moving to... Oxford for Franks-why are you looking at me like that?" I inquired.

"Like what?" Frank asked, appearing genuinely confused.

"Like I am a feral cat." I explained.

"That was not my intention, dear." He replied, dropping his fingers away from his mouth.

"Mrs. Randall, I am afraid..." The doctor shook his head for a moment and took a deep breath. "I have read of these moments in articles and journals, but I never imagined I'd have a patient of my own whom I needed to diagnosis but... it appears you have amnesia. My hope is that it is minor, temporary. Though we do not know enough about it to properly provide treatment, I can tell you it was likely the impact of the accident that caused the memory loss. As you do not appear to have already forgotten where you are, nor have you forgotten your husband or yourself, I can confidently say I think your brains ability to store memories is fine. Retrieving them seems to be the issue."

"What year is it doctor?" I demanded because it was the first words that came to my lips. The words in my mind involved more profanity at a higher frequency.

"I-uh..." This question seemed to clearly surprise him.

"1955." Frank answered.

"Are you trying to tell me I have forgotten nine years of my life?" I inquired a little hotly.

"Do you remember our daughter, Claire?" Frank asked suddenly.

"We don't have a daughter, Frank." I replied.

"We do. Brianna."

"That girl." Though I was not opposed to the idea, I was surprised. "Did we adopt?"

"No." He laughed once. "No, she is ours. You gave birth to her in this very hospital."

"She looks like neither of us." I mused. "Her hair-where did she get that colour of hair?"

Both myself and Frank had dark hair. I was fairly certain red hair was rare enough for people with light hair.

He laughed once more, appearing completely relieved. Likely, because I was so calm in accepting this information. But no, I had not accepted it. Although I wanted to trust Frank, I know he would never lie to me, it was nearly impossible for me to accept that nine years of my life had been lived and forgotten. And that I'd had a daughter, a beautiful daughter, and I had forgotten her completely.

"I have been asking myself the same question for years." He sighed happily.

"How did I get into an accident?" I inquired. "And why are we in... where are we exactly?"

"Boston." Both the doctor and Frank answered simultaneously.

"Boston." I repeated. "As in Massachusetts? In the United States?"

"Yes." Frank answered.

"Why are we here?" I inquired.

"I received a job opportunity from Harvard." Frank explained. "We moved here for a fresh start."

"Oxford was our fresh start, darling." I reminded with a coy smile.

His smile was guarded but hopeful. I could not explain the meaning-or the emotion-hidden behind his guarded eyes, but I could tell her was afraid. As if my memories were shattered broken glass which he needed to cross but his feet were bare.

"Are you alright, Frank?" I wondered, reaching for his hand.

"I am." He smiled taking my hand. "I... for the first time in... what feels like forever, I think I am."

"Good. Now would you mind explaining to me... I suppose, everything relevant you think I have missed."

Thank you for reading. I hope you've enjoyed so far! The next chapter will be called "The woman" and after that Claire, Frank, and Bree will be going to Scotland. :)