The Dean stepped into the consultation room, followed closely by Davis and Jessica.

Her fist was clenched tight, the other clammy in Davis' steady hand, yet her face gave nothing away. It remained blank and unreadable.

She exhaled slowly, her gaze sweeping the room.

White blank walls, a ceiling fan circulating the air in gentle circles, a few chairs, a table at the far end corner, several files lay neatly stacked on the table, a shelf housing several files and documents.

But the centerpiece was a large blank LCD monitor hanging on the wall.

A faint smell of antiseptic filled the room; rather than calming her vein, it quickened her pulse, a consistent reminder of why she came.

A team of specialists waited: a neurologist, a psychologist, and a PTSD therapist. Some were familiar colleagues, and a few others unfamiliar.

Seeing them come in, the specialists rose welcoming them warmly in greeting, polite and formal, before motioning for them to sit.

Settling down, they discussed the situation, analyzed the challenges, and presented a treatment plan for Jessica.

With everyone's approval, they led Jessica to a seat before the large LCD monitor. Davis' chest tightened. He had spent the night debating whether to allow this.

But now, watching Jessica lower herself into the chair, her back straight and her chin lifted, he felt torn between pride in her strength and dread of what those files and videos might awaken, not excluding the harm it would do.

"Mrs. Allen," the neurologist began gently, adjusting his glasses, "Today, we'll approach this carefully. You'll be shown documents and recordings relating to your accident. At any point, if it feels overwhelming, you can stop. We're here to guide you, not force anything."

Jessica nodded, her voice calm though her pulse raced. "I understand."

The psychologist leaned forward, her tone soothing. "We'll observe your responses. If the emotions become too strong, I'll have to step in. So, this has to be one memory at a time."

Davis moved closer, he patted Jessica's shoulder. His voice was low, firm, but quivering with unspoken fear. "Babe, don't wrong yourself. Once you can't do it, let it go, okay? I believe we still have enough time."

Her gaze lifted to him, clear and unwavering. Her heart ached at his worries, but then this was for good. "I wouldn't be wronged."

"We start." The neurologist declared unwaveringly. Jessica closed her eyes briefly and opened them, exhaling deeply.

"Paah!" The screen flickered to life, the first document appeared, Jessica carefully studied it.

It was a medical report detailing her injuries, bold words like "trauma," "critical condition," "preterm labour," and "coma" glared back at her. Jessica's breath hitched, her fingers tightening on the armrest.

With her knowledge in medicine, interpretation of the report wasn't much of a problem.

But she didn't expect the situation to be this dire at the time. Now it made sense why she had been in a coma for as long as six weeks.

The therapist spoke softly. "Take a deep breath." Her chest rose and fell unevenly, but she nodded. "Next," she whispered.

Her dash cam muted video followed, playing out in slow motion. She glanced at the neurologist, her brow furrowed. "Why muted?"

He shook his head lightly. "It will be unmuted at the right time. Concentrate on analyzing the images first. Do you recall these scenes?"

Though he asked, his gaze never left her face as he studied her expression while she studied the image rolling out on the screen.

Jessica's heart skipped a beat at the first impact, her head throbbed lightly, her eyes widened, her pupils dilating.

A faint ringing filled her ears as if the sound were bleeding back into her mind, yet she couldn't actually piece it together. Her veins pulsed, her fist clenched harder than she had ever known since birth.

Davis felt her body tense, and instinctively he crouched by her chair, gripping her hand. "Jessica!" His voice was sharp, protective.

"I'm fine," she rasped, though her knuckles turned white against his. Her eyes reddened, but she didn't look away. "Go on."

One moment it felt as though she was dreaming, the next it felt as though she was watching a movie.

The footage rolled on from one episode to another. Her head ached, so she buried it in her palms. At some points, the team would give her a break, and other times, they guided her into looking up again.

Her breathing heavy and in quick gasps. A strangled sound escaped her lips, half sob, half gasp, and her body jolted as if the memory physically struck her.

"Enough!" Davis snapped, surging to his feet. His voice was steel, but his face betrayed his fear. "This is too much."

The neurologist raised a calming hand. "Mr. Allen, her reactions are expected. Stopping now may hinder progress."

Jessica's trembling voice cut through the room. "I can still cope with this pain."

Davis refused. "In this state? No. Since the treatment plan had been set out, I will see to it that it is done accordingly."

He glanced at the tired lady, his gaze softening. "I beg to stop here since it is the first time for the therapy sessions."

The team exchanged worried glances with one another and gave a slight nod. "Alright. Let me talk to her briefly," the psychologist said.

Davis gave a curt nod, she settled down before Jessica, her voice soft and calm:

"Jessica, I know these memories feel like a storm breaking through. You may feel frightened or even betrayed by your own mind. That's normal."

Jessica gave a curt nod while Davis was already dabbing away the sweat beads that formed on her face during the session.

"You might not recall all at this instant, but you recall gradually. Also, don't force yourself to remember all at once but gradually."

Jessica nodded weakly. "But do you really think I will remember?" she asked.

"You will, and definitely in no time. Follow the therapy suggestions and exercises. Besides, you only had retrograde amnesia, and it is generally selective." She encouraged, casting a brief glance at Davis.

"Besides, with a husband as supportive and protective as him, you will definitely make it through."

"I just hope…I just hope it doesn't take time, like you said," Jessica said, her voice almost coming out in a whisper.

"Just trust in yourself," the psychologist encouraged.

By the time they left the hospital, Jessica was exhausted. Her head still throbbed faintly, but she chose to endure it calmly.

Noting how worried Davis was already, she decided not to voice her pain. Who knows if he would pass out before her.

Jessica wasn't ready to take the risk, but no matter how she tried, Davis was still worried.

He pulled her into his embrace. "Catch some sleep, you just had your brain cells stressed."

Jessica couldn't deny this fact. "I know, but I'm okay, you know. I chose this path…so, I wouldn't regret it," she said, her voice a low murmur.

Davis' fist clenched by his side, his eyes blazed with fury. He made a mental note to have Desmond and Vera finally tried and sentenced for this pain she had to endure, he would collect the interest from them.

"And for George…." He let his thoughts trail off.