She haunted him. She haunted all of them.

When another detective took her desk, Ira couldn't bear to look up. He moved into her home with her mother, and on more than one occasion, he caught her sitting in her daughters empty room.

Daisy still heard from Annalise, once in a blue moon. But she didn't know where her daughter was or what she was doing with her life these days. Only that the young woman has not stuck around LA and that she was alright.

"I have a job. And friends. I'm happy."

She had a theory of course. That Annalise had fled to her father, with whom Daisy had no way to contact. It'd been at least fifteen years since they'd last spoken, and even when they'd sent her back and fourth throughout her childhood, they exchanged no more words than absolute necessary.

Pippi watched over her brother. He hadn't been the same. The life hadn't been knocked out of him, exactly, but he'd lost his extraordinary appreciation for it that made him the man she'd always known.

Rosie dreamed of her. That night and all of the ways it could have gone differently. If he'd just said anything after her name. Stopped her when she gave up on him after an extended silence and left him behind. His only serious girlfriend since she'd left broke up with him when he mumbled her name in his sleep on several occasions, and he refused to commit since.

Maybe the story would be different if he hadn't been pulled aside into a conference room on his trip to collect a check from the East Miami PD.

"Rosie," Ira began hesitantly, glancing down at the pages in his hand. "I found Annalise."

"I didn't know you were looking for her," Rosie responded, shifting his weight, a lump growing in his throat as his heart sped up.

"I didn't mean to at first. Didn't think she wanted to be found. But Daisy mentioned her father in Seattle and well, it didn't take a lot to find her."

He held out the page to the nearly frozen doctor, who could only move enough to take the page from him.

Seattle firefighter awarded Medal of Valor for courageous work during the windstorm.

Just below the headline on the right side of the right side of the page was a familiar face, though the woman it belonged to was dressed in unfamiliar clothing for him to see her in. She wore a uniform. A suit with a badge on it and a medal around her neck. Her hair was pulled back tightly and she smiled lightly but seriously.

He skimmed the article, reading of the heroic acts of a familiar looking woman with an unfamiliar name.

"She's a firefighter?"

"Apparently a damn good one. Didn't think she'd pick up a whole 'nother profession-"

"Or name."

"That too. Anyway, I thought you'd wanna know."

"It's- I'm glad to know she's okay. But I agree. It doesn't seem like she wants to be found," he mumbled, walking out of the room, a glance at her old desk as he slipped by. He wanted to move on, forget what Ira told him, but he already knew he wouldn't. A part of him already knew he would see her again.

As for Annalise, she pretended she was fine. It was easier to act like she'd never lived that life. She told the stories of her time growing up in Seattle, failing to mention the other half of her childhood in Miami and never speaking of her mother. A name change even did the trick when she took her fathers last name and replaced her first with Andrea. But she too dreamed of him.

Jack grew closer to her than anyone else, but he should have known she'd never commit to him. She had secrets. Big secrets. And her heart was shattered. She could put on a mask as often as she liked but Andy was heartbroken and he knew it. He shouldn't have been surprised when she shut him down.

Years passed. Four years of training and fighting fires, rising to lieutenant, losing her best friend, and finding out her father would soon follow. The past became easier to ignore. Easy enough to slowly fall once again in love. Forbidden love. Lines she didn't dare cross she was eviscerating. But screw the line. She wouldn't make the same mistake she made before.

Sullivan knew she lied to him. He could read people. Not the way Rosie did but still, he could tell when she never fully let go around him.

Initially, he didn't ask. He thought she'd let go that night when they'd danced around the house, smiles spreading across both their faces. But he woke to her restless sleep. She was breathing heavily and loudly, small whimpers occasionally escaping her. The moonlight lit up the room enough that he could tell she was sweating profusely and he quickly shook her awake, hoping to pull her out of an apparent nightmare.

"Rosie?" Was the word that escaped her lips when she finally started back towards consciousness. It was a name he'd never heard before.

"It's Robert," he said as she caught her breath, realizing the bald head she was making out in the dark belonged to the present she'd forgotten about and quickly made out some distinguishing features. She felt sick. She was glad to see him, yes, but being pulled out of the world in her dream and thrust into the future was an intense feeling she struggled to handle.

Images still flew through her brain. The hovering near her lips. Her mothers old home and the book she read when they made up. The tea in the lab, the quiet shooting space Ira took her to as a rookie. The bustle of the city and Eddie dying beside her. A run in the Miami beach with Rosie by her side. The blue light of the interrogation room and the badge on her hip.

"Andy?" Robert captured her attention again. "Andy, you're hyperventilating. Match my breathing, okay," he said, taking her hand and placing it on his chest. It took a moment for her to slow down to match his but her stomach still churned. "Talk to me," he asked, or nearly begged. "I'm here. Just talk to me."

"It was just a nightmare," she spoke quietly, her voice about to crack. Sleeping had taken more energy out of her than a shift chock full of calls.

"You've been getting a lot of those."

"Yeah. I guess." Before he could inquire further, she slipped her arm from him and crawled out of bed, telling him," I need to shower, I feel gross."

"Andy," he said, though his tone held much more than her name.

"You should go back to sleep. You've still got an hour." But he didn't fall back asleep. Instead, he laid in the half empty bed, listening to the shower, still able to make out her sobs over the water falling. The silence remained between them until they finally sat across from each other at the breakfast table.

"Tell me something," he spoke, watching her push her cereal around, leaning on her hand.

"I want to. I don't like lying to you Robert. But I can't talk about it. I can run into fire. But I can't talk about it."

"About Rosie?" He asked, remembering the name that'd escaped her lips when she woke.

"It's not just Rosie." The shake in her voice when she spoke his name didn't go unnoticed. She was speaking the truth. She missed being a detective. She missed New York and Miami. And she was tired of restarting her life. And she knew if she spoke about it, she couldn't shove it away.

"Maybe you should keep talking to Janice," he suggested. "I want you to talk to me. But if you're not there yet." She sighed as she nodded to her cereal.

"I'll get there. But yeah. Maybe for now, some therapy would be good." She stopped stirring the cereal, remembering her therapist from when she'd first moved back to Miami. "I'm not hungry," she mumbled, swiping up her bowl and walking to the sink, leaving Robert alone at the table