Diana stayed in the hospital for two more weeks before coming home. Mostly it had been monotonous. One of her family members would visit but they wouldn't speak. No new conversations had been shared between Diana and her visitors. 

Only the sounds of the Doctor drama she'd found played in the background.

None of them knew what to say first. Sometimes they'd play games, mostly they just watched television.

After they'd leave, Diana would pull the chair in front of the window and stare out into the city. Admiring the ants beneath her. Studying the way the street lights would glow and bask the city that she did not recognize anymore. 

Stuck in the middle of the Suburban world she'd grown up in, Diana felt like she'd gone back in time. There were children skating and playing basketball down the street.

They cheered soundlessly as their friend sunk another basket. None of them paid any attention to the vast world around them.

The house she had used to ground herself in, was mostly like she'd remembered it. The counters had been redone from granite to ceramic. Diana decided she disliked the change. 

The doorbell rang and reverberated a jolly tune through the picture filled hallways, "Diana get it." Her father yelled from the living room. The football game was on.

Opening the door Diana smiled at Phoebe and another man stepped into the room, bringing with them the cold air of the hallway. It ran goosebumps up her spine.

"Diana... This is Daniel." Phoebe bit at her top lip as she spoke.

Diana nodded but didn't stick out a hand, "Nice to meet you. I like the flowers."

"They're peonies," he responded accurately, "Ibu saya grows them in her garden." Diana nodded, she still had the remnants of learning Indonesian the summer between first and second year of college.

He was uneasy, shifting from foot to foot, Diana watched as he gulped hard. She understood, mainly because it wasn't everyday someone miraculously rose from the dead. Phoebe probably would've shown him photos of a Diana who didn't exist anymore.

Daniel placed the vase of bleeding rose peonies on the island. One of them was wilted.

"Hey bro." Daniel and Henry greeted each other quickly before moving towards the table.

"Eat!" Her mother yelled. Placing more dishes on the table and filling up cups with cold water.

Her mother yelled again, this time at her father to get to the dinner table, "别看电视吃饭了!"

Clicking the off button her father relented, "是的是的." He'd learned Mandarin after meeting her mother so his mandarin was much slower, much more stunted. Still marked with a toneless American accent.

Placing down the last bowl, Michael took his seat next to Vivian. "Since it's your first meal back home, we made you your favourite. Mashed potatoes and lamb."

Zack had just a small plate, Henry helped him cut up his lamb.

Henry chuckled, "You have the weirdest taste in food. It's like you're white."

Michael gestured to his white face as though he was invisible at the table. Henry guffawed, "You know what I mean."

Leaning over her food with a circular back Diana shoveled food into her mouth.

Looking up after she didn't hear any movement, Diana's eyes met her father's hesitant ones. "What's wrong?"

"We were thinking, honey, that you move in with us for the time being. Just till you feel a bit better."

"Thank you, I appreciate it but I'm excited to get back into my apartment." She chuckled, "Just imagine the dust in that place after all this..." time."

She didn't miss the look her family shared, wide eyes. Her father gulped, "I'm sorry honey but we had to give up your apartment after you were...."

"Dead." Phoebe broke her father's trailing off, "after you were pronounced dead."

Diana took another bite of the lamb, it was gamey. Not like she'd remembered it.

Henry kicked her from beneath the table, it shook the table and sent thin shockwaves through their water glasses. Daniel pushed around his food, mirroring his wife.

"All your stuff is in the guest room now. In boxes." Her father took another bite of his food, his foot tapped against the floor.

Part of her wanted to be mad, but she couldn't bring herself to even a simmering rage. Diana briefly wondered if dead people could feel anger or rage.

All she needed from her apartment wasn't something they would've found in a box. If they had found it, this conversation would never be happening.

"Okay." She took a sip of water, the cold glass burned her palm, "What do you do for work Daniel?"

"Me?" His eyebrows raised in surprise, "I'm in the military."

Diana tilted her head, "Do you kill people?"

"No?"

Her eyebrows raised. "Is that a question?"

"No. I'm a paper pusher, I basically work in management." Daniel gulped down some water. Phoebe put her hand on his.

In Mandarin her mother quietly shushed her. She then smiled to Daniel.

Diana, uncaring, slyly slipped her knife into her sleeve. She'd find a better place to put it later. But for now, she needed a weapon. She needed something to keep her safe.

Dinner finished just after that. Mainly in awkward silence. Every so often they'd get into a rhythm of conversation, but it would break again.

Diana was the one to throw off their rhythm, she knew that clearly. Perhaps, she thought, she should've stayed dead.

Diana and Henry were on dishes duty. Diana washed while Henry dried. The others finished watching television.

The water was scorching, like her skin was blistering as her fingers dipped beneath the waters surface. But she didn't make a sound and continued to wash her dishes.

Henry grabbed the plate, wiping it down, "Why did you say that to him?" 

"Who?"

He picked up another cup, "Don't be stupid. Daniel." His tone became more forceful, "Why did you say that to Daniel?"

Diana shrugged, she didn't know why she'd acted like that at the table. Especially considering she's killed men before. "I just want to know who is hanging around my sister."

"He's not hanging around Phoebe, he's married to her. Plus he's a good guy."

"How do you know he's a good guy? Maybe he's lying. Maybe he's a fantastic liar."

Henry scoffed, his voice turning bitter and ice cold, "Or maybe you're feeling guilty for missing out on Phoebe's life."

Her lungs drained. Diana felt like a wildfire, her flames growing and she was only going to burn everyone who stood close.

Mumbling, Diana scrubbed harder at the porcelain, gripping at it so hard she thought it might break underneath her fingers, "It wasn't exactly my choice, Henry." The water was murky. Grey and soapy.

Wincing, his face softened, "Sorry...sorry. That was uncalled for and mean."

"Whatever.” She snapped, “You're right anyways." There were no more dishes in the sink but Diana kept her hands beneath the water until it became numbingly cold.

Diana left the kitchen after letting the water out of the sink. "Honey! Where are you going? The game's just getting good." Cheering screamed cacophony into her ears.

"I'm going to the bathroom." Her father nodded and turned back to his game.

Her mother joined him on the couch. She pulled a knit blanket over her lap.

Daniel and Phoebe sat beside each other, hand in hand. Her back pressed into his shoulder lovingly. She looked comfortable. Bright eyes that mirrored Daniels' as they cheered at the continuing game.

Henry sat at their feet, typing at his phone. Probably responding to emails.

Maybe with her out of the room, they'd find their rhythm again.