Reese slept most of the ride, drifting in and out of a sort of restless unconsciousness. Images of her father, lying motionless in his bed, while she sat, praying for his chest to rise just once, or her stepping into the house, her father having no clue who she was, muddied her dreams. When she woke for the fourth time, she rolled out of the chair she had been curled up in, uncomfortably aware of her skin, slick with a nervous sweat. It stuck to the leather surface, and Reese winced as she pulled away.

Her father wasn't dying, she told herself. If he were, he'd be in the hospital now. He's just... missing his daughter.

After all, this wasn't the first time she'd gotten a call about her father, though Elliot usually took care of them, as he didn't live nearly as far away as she did, only one state away in Seattle. He'd take the three-hour drive over and check on him. Maybe stay a few days. It was never that serious, but Reese still felt her heart skip a beat every time her brother called from the house to tell her. This time shouldn't be any different.

As if in need for something else to do, she glanced over at Tom, who'd fallen asleep in the chair next to hers, his head bobbing with the movement of the plane. His arms hung limply at his sides, strewn across his lap, his mile-long legs crossed lazily out in front of him.

She wondered how often he did this, by himself. Fly to other states, or countries even, in this little plane. Often enough to be able to sleep in a stiff, squeaky chair.

Reese sat down again, tenderly, so Tom wouldn't wake up. The last thing she wanted to do, after he'd been so nice to her, was disturb him. She pulled her legs up to her chest and leaned back, resting her chin on her knees.

Five minutes later, the intercom buzzed, and Reese nearly jumped out of her skin. "We'll be landing shortly," a man announced, his voice deep and scratchy, "Please buckle up and remain in your seats until we've come to a complete stop."

In the corner of her eye, Reese saw Tom stir, pushing himself up and uncrossing his legs. He shot her a quick smile, checked his phone, and stuffed in back in his pocket. Still, for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to speak, so she kept her gaze glued to the window, as they descended lower and lower, bursting through a low blanket of clouds. Now Reese saw tiny buildings, cars, puddles of water, people the size of ants.

"Can't see your house can you?"

Reese turned to see Tom grinning expectantly at her, his arms crossed at his chest.

"No, it's not close to the airport. My dad lives right outside the city," she told him, imagining her old house. She and her brother had grown up on the edge of the country, in a big old farmhouse with far too much land. Of course, after they'd moved out, her father sold most of it, but he kept the house and all the horrible memories that went with it. The only way he was able to keep it, was because Reese had somehow convinced her mother to send him a monthly check, just enough to get by -- though she'd made it clear, that was all the involvement she could handle.

"Ah, country girl, huh?" Tom asked, turning his chair to face her.

Reese shrugged, mustering a small smile. "More like 'aspiring country girl.'" she snorted. "We could get to the city within twenty minutes, and we never had any animals."

"Why?"

"Mom was allergic. Now, my dad has, like, four cats. His caretaker gives him hell for it."

Tom laughed aloud.

"He never remembers to feed them, so she has to" she continued. "The whole house smells like fur and wet cat food."

Tom wrinkled his nose and cracked another grin. "Delightful."

"Geez, I don't even know how long I'm going to stay," she said, more to herself than him. "They'll fire me if I'm gone too long..."

"If it's a family emergency, I'm sure it's no trouble," Tom said reassuringly.

"If you'd met my boss, you'd know she doesn't give two shits about my family emergencies, just that I'm at the bar to cover the late night shifts."

Tom was silent for a moment, as if pondering what she'd said. Chewing on it. "Why don't you quit?" he asked. "I thought you wanted to be a writer anyway? You write screenplays, right?"

"Er, well, not professionally. And anyway, if I quit, how would I pay my rent? I'd be kicked out by the end of the month, and not kindly either."

Tom shrugged. "She just doesn't sound like the kind of person I'd want to work for."

"He's a guy."

"Still, wouldn't you rather be working towards what you love?"

"Well, 'Mr. Celebrity,' I'll let you know how that works out for me."

Tom's laugh was low and musical, and Reese couldn't help but smile stupidly and stare at her hands as he shook with it.

"It might work," he said after a moment. "You never know."

"Yeah, I guess."

Now that the plane was flying lower and lower, Reese felt gravity shift, and she grappled for the armrests on either side of her chair. She'd never been on two planes in such a short amount of time, and she cursed herself for stiffening -- for the second time -- as they soared over the runway, the landing gear shaking the cabin a little as they touched down.

"Not so bad, huh?"

"Worse than the big plane," Reese grumbled, shifting in her seat as they slowed. At least now they were now safely on the ground.

Despite her protests, Tom insisted getting a cab with Reese, "This way, I can meet your father, and make sure you get there okay." They rode in silence, either unsure of what to say, or under the mutual understanding that nothing needed to be said. As they pulled up to the house nearly an hour later, Reese found herself almost completely incapable of speaking anyway.

It looked older, much more tired that she remembered, the white paint beginning to peel away from the water-damaged wood, and all the windows shut tightly -- a few looked as if things had been hammered over the glass to block out the light. The front lawn had been neglected for far too long, beginning to spill over onto the stones that paved the way to the front door. When she tried the knob, dragging her suitcase behind her, Reese found it was unlocked.

"Emily?" she called out feebly, letting the door swing open. She came out into the living room, painfully aware of Tom, hovering just over her left shoulder, tense and unsure.

"Reese?" a woman's voice echoed from the next room over. "I'm in the kitchen!"

Her rolling case clunked noisily across the warped floor as she followed the old map, hidden away in the back of her mind, to the tiny kitchen. It had always been ironic, how small the kitchen was, in a four bedroom house, it was neatly tucked away in the far corner, happily forgotten. Though Reese's family had never been big on cooking, she still laughed at the thought.

Upon entering, Reese spotted Emily hovering over the stove, a pot of hot water boiling over while she reached into the cupboard above to grab a mug. She hurriedly turned the burner off, sliding the water to the side, and jumping back as it hissed and sizzled angrily.

"Er, Emily, hi," Reese stuttered quietly because she didn't know what else to say. Emily spun around, a tired smile spread across her flushed face.

"Ah, Reese, thank you so much for coming!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. Reese had only met her a few times, years ago, when she was juggling a new job, on top of her father's increasing normal breakdowns, she'd struggled to find someone willing to care for him, and eventually she found Emily. She looked different now, older. Her bright red hair was much shorter than Reese remembered, and disheveled, like she'd just got done wrestling a bull or something; her light eyes were glazed over, but happy enough.

"How is he?" Reese asked, dumping her suitcase by the door and rushing over to her.

Emily smiled and shrugged. "Pretty much the same. I'm glad you're here, though, he's been really quiet for a few hours now. Would you like to go see him?"

Reese felt a little jolt at the question but forced herself to nod. As Emily led the way back outside, and through one of the bigger guest bedrooms to the balcony, she tried not to panic. To leave all what if he doesn't remember me's and maybe he hates me for not visiting enough's at the door. She felt Tom grab her shoulder, and felt a jolt of surprise. Geeze, she was even more jumpy than usual.

"Hey, would you like me to wait outside?" Tom asked under his breath, eyeing Emily's back cautiously.

"What?"

"If you want to be alone with your father-"

"No!" Reese said, far too quickly. "I, er, I'm sure he'd love to meet you. He hasn't been introduced to one of my friends since I was in high school." Tom just nodded and continued walking, and she was silently thankful he didn't try to console her further.

Once Reese found herself standing at the big glass door that led outside, she felt her heart speed up at least thirty paces, and she wiped her clammy, shaking palms on her jeans. It was better, she told herself, to not let it build up -- just go in and get it over with. This was why you flew down here!

"Uh, hi... dad," she whispered, stepping out, then instantly scolding herself for speaking so quietly.

She spotted him almost immediately, sitting in an old wooden rocking chair a few paces away. Though a low blanket of fog had settled over the house, and the air smelled of rain, he looked completely at peace, like he was resting in the middle of a warm, summer day, and not a cold, windy winter afternoon. "Dad?" she tried again, a little louder. He turned this time, his wrinkly eyes squinted as he stared her down, probably trying to grasp onto the fact that he actually had a visitor.

"Hello?" he croaked, and Reese felt another little tug in the pit of her stomach. He sounded so old... so weary. Though he was only in his late fifties, his Alzheimer's (which was mostly something only older people got) aged him quite a bit, it was almost scary. Hell, it was scary.

"Hey, dad, it's me. It's Reese."

She crossed the small space between them in a few strides, (Tom in about two, though he was obviously trying to be as discreet as possible about it) and settled right at his elbow.

"Reese? My daughter?" he sounded so surprised, Reese almost wanted to laugh. Or possibly cry, it was too early to tell.

"Not unless you know of any other Reese's," she chuckled quietly, "it's not a very common name."

He was silent for a moment. "That's why your mother loved it so much," he breathed, his voice cracking slightly.

Reese backed up and cleared her throat, feeling a little more confident now that she knew he hadn't forgotten her yet. Maybe he was actually getting better... "Uh, dad, this is my... Er, friend, Tom. This is Tom," she said, the words spilling out in a sort of disheveled mess.

"Tom," he repeated, tasting the word. "Friend? Has my daughter finally found someone to settle down with? Does this mean I finally get grandchildren?"

Reese shook her head vigorously, but Tom just laughed and extended his hand. "Just a friend," he assured him, "it's nice to meet you, though." Her father didn't accept the handshake, and after a few moments, Tom just let his arm fall back against his side, but he didn't look confused, or angry, just kind of passive and accepting.

"So dad, Emily said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, should I not be able to request a visit from my own children every once-in-awhile? I haven't seen you in ages." He pulled her into a kind of awkward side-hug, which she returned clumsily before pulling away.

"Well, here I am. I'm glad to see you're doing okay," she said as kindly as possible.

"How long are you staying?"

"Um, I don't know. I was just worried about checking in with you-"

"There are plenty of rooms to choose from," her father continued as if he hadn't heard her. "You and your man friend here can pick one and stay awhile. I would enjoy the company."

Instead of arguing, or correcting him, Reese just sighed and nodded, stepping back toward the door. "Okay, I'll go get my stuff," she said, gesturing for Tom to follow. "I'll see you in a bit, dad."

He nodded vacantly and turned his attention back to the sea of grass and trees ahead, which were quickly being swallowed up by the muggy weather. Reese didn't know if it should've bothered her how happy he looked in the freezing cold, but she ducked into the bedroom, found a blanket to tuck over his lap, and then disappeared back inside, wrapping her arms around herself.

"You okay?" Tom asked her quietly once they were heading downstairs again. Reese gave a slight nod, biting the side of her cheek.

"Yeah," she said shakily. "It's just hard. He looks -- vacant."

Tom surprised her by rubbing her arm, probably trying his best to comfort her. "Reese, he remembers you, that's good, right? I'm sure, now that you're here, he'll be just fine."

"Right, probably." She hoped her voice sounded more confident that she felt.