Emma woke to voices arguing.

Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, her body heavy and disconnected. She was lying on something soft, a couch maybe, no it was a bed, and there were people nearby. Too many people. Their voices overlapped, some angry, some confused, all of them too loud.

"—need to give her space—"

"—supposed to be dead, you were declared KIA—"

"—calm down, let him explain—"

"—three months, you bastard, three fucking months—"

That last voice was ...