"8:24," he mutters under his breath as he checks his watch. "Late, yet again."

Sighing deeply under his breath, Matthew Thomas looked out the window of the subway that he had to take so that he could get to work. Although he knew that there was nothing outside for him to look at, he still liked to look out; mainly to distract himself from the running around. To distract himself from the stress that seemed to grow anew each morning when he woke up. It was an endless race that only seemed to start all over with each new day. And each new day he didn't know where it was that he managed to find the strength to even get out of bed, but he managed to find it and he managed to get through it.

Looking down at his left hand as he held his briefcase, the glimpse of his wedding ring brought a small smile on his face. 'It's not fair,' he thought as his smile turned into one of sadness. 'It's not fair that I'm here and you're not...'

It didn't seem like it was long ago, it didn't seem like it was already three years since he had lost her. A part of him felt like it had been long, long ago; that it had been too long since he had last seen her face and since he had last heard her voice. Another part of him felt like it had been barely yesterday; as if she had left just that morning and he didn't know how to deal with her absence. Each day, though, as he first opened his eyes, he still expected her to be next to him in bed; still asleep and dreaming. He expected to hear her soft breathing next to him. He expected her to suddenly open her eyes and smile at him, and kiss him, and tell him that she was never going to leave. That she had never left; that she had always been there with him.

Even as he sat there, in the seat of the crowded subway, he expected her to be the one sitting next to him as she talked to the sitter to make sure that their daughter was behaving. But, as he opened his eyes, he faced reality. There was a woman sitting next to him, but it wasn't her.

It would never be her.

Still looking down, his index finger of his right hand started to trace the outline of his wedding ring, as if somehow that would manage to bring him closer to her. As if, by doing that, it erased the accident that had taken her away from him.

From them.

Hannah had barely been a year old, and because both he and Emily needed to be at work early, Emily's mother had been at their house before they had left so they wouldn't need to worry about Hannah being dropped off early at day care. He didn't remember many of the details, but he remembered that the road had been surprisingly calm. Maybe it had been because it was too early in the morning for traffic to be too bad, but he hadn't given it much thought. There was no time to think anyway; they were both busy trying to get to the meeting that they needed to be at on time to give it much thought. As he had been driving, though, he didn't realize just how slippery the roads were because of the rain that had fallen the night before.

And before he knew it he lost control of the car.

Spinning around in circles they went, and he didn't remember much after that. He remembered trying to get control of the car again. He remembered Emily's attempts at trying to stay calm by clenching her hand tightly on his arm, almost as if she was trying to help him stop the car from spinning.

Next thing he knew was that he woke up in a hospital. His father had tried to reassure his son that he was going to be ok, but there had been a sadness in him that he wasn't sure what it had been until a few days later; when he had been conscious enough to ask about Emily.

"She... She didn't make it, Matt. I'm so sorry, son, she... She died before they were able to get her to the hospital."

The days seemed to blend in together after that, and it wasn't until three weeks after the accident, when he had been allowed to return home, that he managed to allow himself to cry for his loss.

It had been while he had held his daughter in his arms again.

Matthew's body seemed limp as he leaned back against the wheelchair he was sitting in. His gaze seemed lost; making him look almost like a zombie. He hadn't uttered a word for weeks now, only communicating with nods and looking away for a 'no.'

As Michael pushed his son inside the house, he let out a small sigh under his breath before looking around. Emily's parents had insisted on Matt going to their house while he got better and, since they hadn't thought that it would do him any good to go to a house full of memories, Michael had agreed to take him there after his release.

Jenny, Emily's mother, walked out from the kitchen to greet them; looking older than she really was for the grief that she was going through. As Matt looked up at her, she attempted to smile at him to welcome him, but the pain that was obvious in his eyes stopped her. It was worthless, she knew. There was nothing that could be said, nothing that could be done, that could take away the sadness and emptiness that seemed to linger around them like a shadow.

"Where is she," Matt suddenly asked in a low voice, "where is my daughter?"

"Finishing her nap. Matt, why don't you-"

"I want to see her."

"Matt..."

"I want to see her," he insisted; his voice breaking as he continued talking. "I need to see her, Jenny..."

Understanding, Jenny simply nodded and led Michael to the small family room by the end of the hall so he could keep pushing Matt's wheelchair there. The room had been silent, with only the soft breathing of Hannah being heard. Not waiting for his father to push him anymore, Matt took a hold of the armrest of the wheelchair and stood up on his own; unstable at first but managing to do so. And managing to keep anybody from helping him. Slowly, and not letting any amount of pain stop him, he walked over to the couch where she was laying down and sat down at the edge next to her.

Watching her sleep, for the first time he fully realized just how much like her mother she was. The same soft brown hair, the same way she looked while she slept... He had noticed before, but never had he noticed as he did now. As he watched her sleep, he saw the way that she slowly opened her eyes and the way that her face seemed to glow as she started to grin.

"Dada!"

At that, Matt choked out a small chuckle and picked her up. "I'm right here," he whispered as he hugged her. "Daddy's here. Daddy's here..."

One by one tears fell. One by one he felt himself break inside; fully break this time. The numbness that he had felt the past couple of days was gone. And now, the emptiness that he had tried to ignore felt as if it was overwhelming...

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Matt shook his head and blinked back the sudden tears before looking out the window. Not to be distracted this time; it was so that no one would see him.

As his stop finally came up, he sighed in relief and picked up his coat that he had left on the seat next to him and quickly got up before heading towards the door. He needed to get home, where he knew that his four-year-old daughter was waiting for him to tuck her into bed and to read her a bedtime story. About her mother and about things that she didn't know and most likely wouldn't remember.

About memories that he had to keep alive for both their sakes.