Zoe's eyes flutter open as if starting suddenly from a nightmare. The sunlight shines sparkling through the quaintly pannelled window. The frest air floats into the room, bringing the smell of ocean and life. Zoe's lungs expand, her heart beats heavily against her chest. She turns quickly to face the other side of the bed. She lets an unidentified fear inside her dissapate as Wash comes into view, his sleeping figure peaceful in the early light. As if to reassure Zoe, Wash snores ever so slightly. It was silly of Zoe to have felt scared. He was always there - beside her - every day.

Zoe sits up and lets the thin sheet fall off her chest. Wash shifts in bed under her thoughtful stare. His eyes open, foggy with the early hour. "Hey you," he says. She smiles. It feels good to smile, although Zoe doesn't know why. She lands of soft kiss on his forehead and he pulls her towards him. In no time they are in each other's arms, mischievous and loving fancies swirl in the air around them. Wash's eyes are bright now and no longer clouded with sleep. The life in them draws Zoe in. She is content to just look into them forever. "God, I love you."

A small little knock interrupts them. Zoe stands and pulls a tossed aside nightgown on. She pulls open the door, eyes sparkling at the dainty little figure. Their little girl's gotten so big. Ten years. Where has the time gone? Zoe kisses her daughter's messy curls and then it's the three of them, under a tent of sheets. The girl is sandwiched between mom and dad. She is making a face at him. He tells her some far fetched tale. It's a morning thing, when no job is getting in the way and the sun brings a comforting light into their little house. Soon their day will begin, but now it is just the three of them in their little world. The Washburne Clan at it's finest.

But then there is a whine for breakfast, either from father or daughter, Zoe can't quite tell. She get's up, exagerated exasperation in her jagged movements. The girl giggles and Wash winks. The wooden floor is warm under bare feet. Zoe stands at the doorway a moment. She watches Wash's face as their child begins telling him all about her dream. The expressions on that man's face changes with each intricate plot twist, but the pure affection in his eyes stays constant. Zoe falls in love with him again.

The wooden walls of their house look old and weathered although the place is new to Zoe. It is a home, though. She feels it deep inside. Change is good. The narrow, crickety hallway opens into a cramped living room with a humble little kitchen attatched. Pots and pans lie unwashed in the sink, forgotten with warm touches and goosebumps last night. She remembers that in a dreamlike way as she reaches the cupboards. There isn't much to chose from, enough to keep her family going. She decides on cereal, plain and simple and fast. She will add fruits to make it more colorful.

Zoe lays the mismathced bowls on the small, splintered table. Each falls into place in a perfect little semblence of routine. The strawberries and kiwi's sparkle in the sun drenched room. The house is not fancy, but the light makes it magical. It's almost perfect except it's stuck, restrained to one place, one planet. Zoe stands a moment, illusioned by the peace. It is enticing, but then there's the pair of footsteps echoing through the rooms. Zoe looks up and her eyes gravitate towards Wash's. She is happy. She feels it deep inside her. This happeness.

They eat as a unit. Little games of tug of war over the sugar, an orcestra of clattering silverware, and a too many little laughs here and there to count. Domesticity at it's finest. Zoe can't decide where to look. Her husband, in his zone, ablaze with laughing eyes and tussled hair. Or her daughter. The beautiful girl whose every eye roll has a story of love behind it – so much like her mother. "Ma," the girl pouted at Zoe, teasing smile still visible in the shining blue eyes. "Tell daddy to stop it." The banter. Every morning it was something or another, but how could Zoe be annoyed. How could anyone? She was so damn lucky. "Wash, you causin' trouble again?"

Wash opens his mouth, smartass reply already visible in the curve of his lip, but then – "SIMULATION TERMINATER. DREAM COMPLETE" and darkness.

Zoe kept her eyes closed as reality drowned her mind. It suffocated all the euphoria and left her breathless and hollow. Like always. A voice registered, the mild tone of the old man. She refused to leave her limbo a moment, grasping at a dream she wished was reality. It never was though. Zoe opened her eyes, flinching at the harsh and rigged shapes of life. The man with the kind yellow teeth stood beside the lab chair. He reached out a hand of good-natured wrinkles, but Zoe didn't take it. She didn't say a word.

"It was a pleasure as always, miss." His words vibrated through empty ears. "See you next week." Zoe gave a short nod. He will see her next week. And the week after that. The fantasy was too alluring, a garden of what-ifs, a facade of happiness. Zoe stood, feeling the same shame she had felt every time before. She should be stronger, she knew that. She longed for the dettachment of fifteen years ago. All those walls had been so safe. The years and weakness had turned them to sand. She didn't dare to think too hard as she left the building: Wish House Central; Live Your Dream. Ironic, Zoe never felt more dead than in that place.

It hadn't started after Wash died. Even in the months following, if someone had suggested it to Zoe, she would have been insulted. This Wash wouldn't be real. Besides, he wasn't all gone – the little life growing inside of Zoe had been a reminder to that. But then there's been the complications, the blood, the nothing. Zoe was left empty and childless. Washless. Something inside of her had broken, the last shreds of strength and dignity. An aimless two years began, Zoe teetering between life and death, feeling no attachment or fear for either. And then Wish House Central, like a drug, consumed Zoe. All the money she'd stored away for a child that wasn't meant to be became fuel for an addiction. She wasn't proud. She'd lost any right to be. Zoe wasn't much of anything anymore. She faded into a life she could never have, in a house by the sea.