Every anniversary, they rode his favorite road.
And he had been alive.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Claire's expression hardened.
"Tell you?"
"The Ravens."
"You disappeared."
Ray recoiled.
"What?"
"After David was declared dead, nobody called."
Ray opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
She was right.
"We thought you wanted space."
"I had a three-year-old son asking where his father was."
Ray looked at Ethan.
Shame replaced shock.
Claire continued walking.
"David was captured after the convoy attack. He spent almost two years being moved between locations. Eventually he escaped during a transfer."
"Jesus."
"He reached a refugee center."
"Why didn't he call?"
"He didn't know who he was."
Ray stared.
"What?"
"Head injury. Trauma. Doctors think his memory became fragmented."
They reached an elevator.
Claire pressed the button.
"He remembered pieces. A motorcycle. A little boy. The word Claire. Sometimes the name Ray."
Ray looked down.
"He remembered me?"
"Sometimes."
The elevator opened.
They entered.
Claire pressed four.
"He had no identification when he was found. Eventually someone matched his fingerprints."
Ray couldn't speak.
The doors opened.
Room 417.
Claire stopped outside.
"Before you go in..."
Ray waited.
"He's different."
"I'd expect that."
"No."
She shook her head.
"You don't understand."
Her voice broke.
"He knows me some days."
Ray's throat tightened.
"Other days?"
"He thinks I'm a nurse."
Ethan stared at the floor.
Claire continued.
"He doesn't always remember Ethan."
That sentence destroyed something inside Ray.
He looked at the boy.
Ethan was holding back tears with the practiced determination of a child who had already learned adults became more upset when he cried.
Ray crouched.
"Hey."
Ethan looked at him.
"Your dad loved you more than anything in the world."
"Then why doesn't he know me?"
Ray had no answer.
So he told the truth.
"Because his brain got hurt."
"Will it get better?"
"I don't know."
Ethan nodded.
Ray stood.
Claire opened the door.
David Mercer sat beside the window.
Ray almost didn't recognize him.
He had lost weight.
His hair was longer.
A scar crossed his forehead.
His hands rested motionless on his knees.
Ray entered.
David turned.
His eyes moved over Ray's face.
Nothing.
Ray's heart sank.
"Hey, Ghost."
David stared.
Ray tried smiling.
"You look terrible."
Still nothing.
Claire whispered:
"David, this is Raymond Cole."
David's eyes changed slightly.
"Ray?"
Ray stopped breathing.
"Yeah."
David stared at his leather vest.
Then at the winged-skull patch.
His lips moved.
"Iron..."
Ray stepped closer.
"Ravens."
David closed his eyes.
Something moved through his expression.
A memory trying to break through.
Then he whispered:
"Black Harley."
Ray laughed through tears.
"Still got her."
David opened his eyes.
"Outside?"
"Yeah."
Suddenly David stood.
Claire moved forward.
"David?"
He ignored her.
"Need to see."
Ray understood.
"The bike?"
David nodded.
"Need to see the bike."
Doctors didn't want David leaving the floor.
Ray negotiated.
Claire argued.
A nurse eventually found a wheelchair.
Twenty minutes later, David sat outside beneath the hospital entrance.
Ray's Harley waited in the parking lot.
David stared at it.
His expression was unreadable.
Ray stood beside him.
"Recognize her?"
David slowly nodded.
"Your bike."
"Yeah."
Ethan approached.
He touched the handlebar.
"Looks like Daddy's."
David looked at him.
The boy froze.