“Mom?” Emmett said in a gasp.

But it wasn’t his mom, not even slightly. Atlas wasn’t even female. He was just a calm man with his hands in his pockets. Emmett blinked quickly and finally registered the man that stood shorter than him with salty brown hair and innocent brown eyes. He was just a few years younger than Emmett. He suddenly noticed his face was downcast apologetically. He was in a t-shirt with an X-files quote and old jeans. Emmett realized he’d been working.

“Sorry, for whatever reason I thought you were her,” said Emmett, obviously discouraged.

“I figured you were seeing ghosts again,” said the man, unbothered by Emmett's mistake. "I know the feeling."

Emmett shrugged his shoulders. He leaned back against the counter and took in a deep breath. “You look like you don’t have good news?” A lump began to form in his throat and a weight already pulled at his stomach. This wouldn't be the first time, but each time didn't numb the fear anymore than the last.

Atlas bit the corner of his lip, staring at the floor as he thought long and hard about what to say. What he’d seen, what he knew, it was clearly weighing heavily on him. “Yes and no.”

And in that moment, Emmett’s ash grey eyes sparked. Good news. He had good news. That meant he had something. “Did...Did you find her?” Emmett asked, swallowing that hard lump in his throat.

Atlas let out a long sigh. He straightened up, as if bracing himself for the news he was about to deliver. “Emmett, I found her.”

There was a long pause between them. The color drained from Emmett’s face and he stared with all intensity at Atlas. “You...you did it?” He had to confirm what Atlas had said. He knew this man, this couldn't be a cruel prank, not from him. Their history was better than that.

“Yeah, I found her,” Atlas said, but his tone was still low and disappointing. “I’m not a PI for nothing,” he added with a shrug. He didn’t say it with confidence, though. He rarely spoke that way. To be honest, he liked his job because he didn’t have to talk to people. He just had to deliver information. Yet, this was Emmett. This was important.

Emmett’s heart was pounding in his ears, and Atlas could see the color come back to his face and turn his cheeks bright red. He was getting excited, and it was because of Atlas. And soon that excitement would burst like a cruel bubble and it would still be because of Atlas. The weight of that responsibility was pushing Atlas’s shoulders down despite standing up straight. He looked Emmett in the eye, watching as Emmett searched his for answers. “She’s...She’s different,” Atlas began. Emmett stayed quiet, waiting patiently, yet his heart was ready to burst out of his chest. “Actually, I take that back. I think the best way to describe her is she’s not different.”

“Did she remember me?” Emmett’s words exploded out of him.

Atlas paused, his mouth hanging open. He didn’t know how to answer and he paused to formulate the words.

“Atlas!” Emmett exclaimed. “Just speak!” His patience was up and his adrenaline was taking over. He could feel his body wanting to vibrate with both excitement and terror.

“Ugh..she...Emmett she hasn’t aged,” he said, and then waited for Emmett’s response.

The pause had set back in between them. The cogs were turning in Emmett’s head and he began pacing. He ran his hand through his grey hair and shook his head slowly. He walked around the register counter, opened the drawer, and begin counting the cash from the day. It wasn’t much, but the act alone was enough of a comfort. “She - it’s been forty years,” he said absently, still thinking over what Atlas had said.

Atlas walked up to the counter and placed his hands on the glass. To anyone passing by he looked like a normal customer, and he so desperately wished he was that person. Instead, he was the guy standing in front of the most important person in his life, telling him the worst news. “And no...she doesn’t remember you,” he added.

The words hung there. Emmett’s eyes began to glass over. He kept his focus on the money. Money wouldn’t make him cry, would it? Why should he cry? His mom’s alive, she’s here, she exists – all those thoughts were racing through his head. He thought back to his dad, what he had said about the notebooks and a spark clicked. “Wait! My dad, my dad had a plan for this! I have the notebooks he wrote her, what if I show them to her? Maybe she’ll remember? Then she’ll know who I am.” Emmett’s racing thoughts were now spilling out of his mouth. “It has to work, it has to. It’s why he did it, in case this happened.”

Atlas reached over the counter and placed his hand on Emmett’s calmly. “Em, she doesn’t remember you because...Because she’s younger than what you remember.”

Emmett stopped to think again. So many memories were flashing before him, but one he was trying to place was her age. She’d left when he was six. He started doing the math, trying to remember how old she was, hold old his dad was. “How...how old is she?”

“She’s twenty-three,” he said quietly. “It’s still two years before she even gets pregnant with you,” he added.

Emmett began replaying the conversation over in his head. The one person he wanted in that moment, the person he needed, wasn’t there. They couldn't be there. He hung his head in defeat, chewing on the inside of his lips nervously before looking back at Atlas with pleading eyes. “Can I see her?”

Atlas quickly shook his head. “No, she’s in a halfway house. She was found on the street wandering around. She hardly knew who she was. You seeing her won’t help right now, it’ll only confuse her and she’ll probably get hostile with you. It’s best to wait.”

Emmett’s pulled his hand back from Atlas and started pacing again. “Then who’s taking care of her?” He asked quickly.

“She has a therapist, he works there,” said Atlas.

“Who?” Emmett demanded. “Who is taking care of my mom? Why?” He stopped pacing and his face was now filling with something Atlas had never seen – jealousy.

“His name is Charlie Nguyen. He just started working at the halfway house. That’s the most I know. You know that’s the extent of my scope.”

“Did he start when she arrived?” Emmett asked quickly.

Atlas paused, thinking over his dates. “I - I don’t know. I just know he hasn’t been there long,” he said hesitantly.

Emmett shut the cash register and locked it. He bagged up the cash and went to the back to check that the door was locked before coming back to the front and ushering them both out. He was quick with his step. His hand was shaking as he fumbled with the lock. “I have to go,” he said abruptly.

Atlas squeezed Emmett’s shoulder to calm him. “Please don’t go find him,” he urged. “You’re not ready to -”

“I’ve waited forty years to see my mom, to give her a goddam hug! Do you know what that’s like?!” Emmett shouted, but then quickly stopped. He pocketed his keys and let out a quiet breath to bring himself back down. He desperately wished he could suck his words back in. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that...” he said with a shake of his head.

Atlas just stood there, half in shock and half insulted. “No, it’s fine. I have absolutely no idea what it’s like to grow up without a mom. It has nothing to do with how we met, why we met,” his words were heavy and terse, and they stung when they hit Emmett's ears.

“I’m sorry, Atlas. Thank you for what you’ve done.” Emmett took the cash from the bag and handed it over to Atlas. If there was anything left to do, it was pay Atlas for the job he did.

Atlas held up a hand and refused the money. “No, just consider it a favor at this point,” he said and turned on his heel to walk away. He stopped after a few feet and turned back. “Glad you have your mom back, Emmett. Wish I got to know what that was like,” he added before completely walking away.

Emmett stood there with hung shoulders and feeling absolutely deflated. This was what drove their relationship - the missing of a parent - of a mom lost too soon. This was their biggest, deepest common ground, and Emmett knew he’d just stomped all over it. He stood there for a moment thinking it all over. The silence was about to consume him when his phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out, holding it to his ear with a shaking hand and answered softly.

“Mr. Dane, it’s time,” said a woman with a an eerily calm tone. “He’s ready,” she added. Emmett didn’t think it was possible, but his heart sank even further.