Every holiday and every birthday. Melissa had only seen her own daughter every holiday and every birthday. A handful of times. The rest of the time it had just been ... it had just been a reflection. Melissa was crying hard now too, and she hugged Stephanie tightly like the girl was about to be stolen right out of her arms, and this time Melissa would never see her again.

They were trembling, but Melissa wasn't sure if it was her or Stephanie, or both of them.

"It's Stephanie," Stephanie had said. Like she wasn't Stephanie anymore. She didn't even realise what she'd said, and the thought made Melissa cry harder.

She didn't let go. She didn't let go, but words were crowding her mouth and she had to let them out. "But it isn't you. It's just a--a reflection. A fake." She held Stephanie tighter, painfully tight. "I don't know where you've been or what you've been doing the past three years. How can I say I know you?"

And she wanted to. That was the part that hurt, the fact that Stephanie didn't seem to want them to know her. Even that part didn't matter as much as the lurching horror at the thought of what might have happened to her, and they wouldn't have even known. It was that thought that made Melissa pull back almost abruptly to stroke Stephanie's hair back and brush the tears off her cheeks and ask with trembling worry, "Are you okay? You're not hurt? You're not sick? You're really okay?"