Chapter Text
The sirens had barely faded when Athena Grant stepped out of the precinct, her badge heavy against her chest. Tonight, she was Sergeant Grant, commanding and unshaken, leading her team through the takedown of a violent gang.
The sting had been tense, every second balanced on the edge of disaster, but Athena’s calm command carried her officers through. The arrests were clean, the evidence solid. She should have felt triumphant. Instead, exhaustion pressed down on her shoulders, heavier than the Kevlar she’d shed hours ago.
“Good work, Sarge,” Officer Ramirez said as he passed her in the hallway. Athena managed a smile. “We did it together. Don’t forget that.”
Her steps echoed against the stairwell as she made her way down, the precinct unusually quiet in the aftermath of chaos. She gripped the railing, her thoughts drifting, her body weary. The adrenaline that had carried her through the night was gone, leaving only fatigue.
Halfway down, her foot slipped.
It happened fast—too fast for her to catch herself. The world tilted, the railing tore from her grasp, and she felt the sharp crack of her head against concrete before darkness swallowed her whole.
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When Athena opened her eyes, the sterile glow of hospital lights blurred above her. A dull throb pulsed at her temple, and voices murmured somewhere nearby.
“Mom?” May’s voice trembled as she leaned over, tears in her eyes. Beside her stood Harry, taller than she remembered, his shoulders broader, his face sharper.
“May… Harry?” Athena’s voice cracked. She reached out, her hand trembling. “What happened?”
May squeezed her mother’s hand. “You had an accident, Mom. You fell at the precinct. You hit your head pretty badly.” She glanced toward the door. “I’ll call Dr. Patel.”
As Athena’s fingers tightened around May’s hand, her eyes caught the glint of a diamond ring on her own finger. She froze.
Her breath hitched. “Wait… why am I wearing a ring? I divorced your father. This isn’t the same band I had with Michael.”
Harry exchanged a worried glance with May, but neither spoke.
Dr. Patel entered moments later, clipboard in hand, his tone calm but serious. “Athena, I need to ask you a few questions. What’s the last thing you remember before waking up here?”
Athena frowned, her mind foggy. Images flickered, the sound of a pen scratching across divorce papers, laughter with Hen and Karen over drinks. She clutched at those fragments. “The divorce… it was finalized. Hen and Karen took me out to celebrate. That’s the last thing I remember.”
May's expression tightened. “Mom, that was seven years ago.”
Her breath caught. “Seven… years?” She looked at her children again, truly seeing them now—their maturity, the way time had reshaped them. Panic rose in her chest. “No. That can’t be right. I don’t remember anything after that. And this ring—why do I have it?”
Dr. Patel pulled up a chair, his voice steady. “You’ve suffered a traumatic head injury. We’ll need to run a CT scan to check for swelling or bleeding. Right now, it looks like you’ve developed retrograde amnesia—your brain has lost access to memories from the last several years.”
Athena’s eyes widened. “So they’re gone? Forever?”
“Not necessarily,” Dr. Patel said gently. “In many cases, memory loss like this is temporary. Sometimes memories return gradually, sometimes with therapy or familiar triggers. We won’t know until we do further testing.”
Harry leaned forward, his voice breaking. “So she might remember again?”
Dr. Patel nodded. “There’s a good chance. But for now, Athena, I need you to rest. We’ll schedule the CT scan tonight and monitor your progress closely.”
Athena swallowed hard, her grip tightening on May’s hand. The ring on her finger gleamed under the hospital light, a silent reminder of years she couldn’t recall. Seven years erased. And somewhere in that missing time, a life she didn’t recognize waited to be uncovered.