It felt so good to have her in his arms after the hours he had spent castigating himself while sculling poisonously strong coffee and making numerous phone calls before eventually tracking down the taxi driver. The agonizing wait while the driver dredged his memory for that one all important fare.
Looking at her now he wondered how he could have believed her to be a fake. Sure she didn't know who she was but he realised now that there is a core to every being, a code of ingrained ethics that is not lost even if specific memories are. Numerous times she had shown herself to have a conscience, a strong sense of right and wrong. No one was so good an actress that they could hide their true self for so long. What you saw with Lauren was what she was - nothing more and definitely nothing less. How could he have accepted the so-called evidence that she was on the make without placing it under scrutiny? How could he not have questioned as he did now the contradiction between the Lauren he knew and the Zoe of the report, between the Lauren so trusted by his wary Chloe and shrewd Darlene and the Zoe who may have callously driven a student to suicide. He was normally a patient man, meticulous in checking details. He had planned to confront Kate, hope however slim that there was some explanation that didn't destroy him. But the phone call had subjugated his reasoning ability, had made him lash out in pain, inflicting pain.
No more. Lauren had a chance for a new life and if he were patient that new life would revolve around him and Chloe. Even if her memory came back by then he would have welded her to his side, melded her into his being so she wouldn't want to go back. Now that he knew she was not married or in a long term relationship he was free to stake his claim and give a chance for their relationship to flourish. He knew she was attracted to him and for now that was enough to go on with. Love would surely follow.
He hugged her tight still concerned about her deathly pallor and icy skin. He reached into his pocket for his mobile and unconcerned at the lateness of the hour called in another favour from a long time friend.
'Roger? Yes… I know what time it is. I need you at home. A special friend of mind is suffering, I think, from hyperthermia….No….she's not shivering…yes she's conscious…..but I still need you to look at her…I can't right now…. I owe you one.' Ethan replaced the phone and tried to rub some warmth into her frozen hands, holding her as close as the seatbelts allowed. Ethan tried not to think about the doctors preferred course of treatment, his body's reaction totally inappropriate in the circumstances.