Gillian awoke to the song "When I Fall in Love" during the end credits of "Sleepless in Seattle" and to a profound sense of foreboding. She hadn't remembered falling asleep but now she was wide-awake, heart heavy.

Huh.

Agitated, she left the couch and wandered through the cottage, looking for anything out of place. Anything that may have awakened her with this feeling of dread. Locks were locked, nothing seemed out of place, and no one was lurking outside the windows from what she could see. But something just seemed off.

She squinted at the digital clock on the DVD player. It was early. 9:08 glowed back at her.

At that moment she wondered how late the last ferry headed to the mainland. She knew that she needed to go home now but couldn't imagine what might have elicited the sudden urgency. Her imagination was probably playing up her sense of isolation. Still.

Grabbing her purse, she pawed through it looking for the ferry schedule that she'd tossed in there the other day. Finding it lurking toward the bottom she yanked it out, skimming it quickly. If she hurried she'd be able to make the last one.

Without delay, she changed, packed and was waiting for her ride 20 minutes later. While she waited she decided to give Cal a quick call. It rang four times and went to voice mail. On a whim, she called Emily. Same thing.

Her stomach was starting to clench painfully. She had no idea why.

(BREAK)

Cal was able to propel them across the floor toward the door before reaching up and trying to grasp the knob. It was already hot and he resisted the urge to yank his hand away. The damned thing was locked. His arm inadvertently dropped down while his other wrapped around his daughter a bit more tightly.

The smoke was becoming dense, even as low as they were. He could hear and feel Emily coughing as he also inhaled tendrils of smoke, making his lungs burn. The heat along his right side was almost unbearable.

Stretching out once more, he managed to grasp the handle again and get his fingers to work the lock before pulling the door awkwardly toward them.

"GO! EM, GO!" He pushed her forward with his left arm and she was able to get up onto all fours and hurriedly crawl out toward the back garden. She was coughing harder, face red, eyes running.

She turned back toward him, "DAD! HURRY!" Her voice was scratchy and raw sounding.

Army crawling after her, he pulled himself out the door and onto the concrete patio. He began aware of Emily screaming in fear and panic off to his left somewhere.

"OH MY GOD DAD! YOU'RE ON FIRE!"

Instinctively he dropped down onto his belly and rolled and managed to suffocate the flames. He found himself face up looking at the overhang above him. He didn't know how badly he was burned but a sickly sweet smell reached his nostrils making his gorge rise.

Don't throw up.

Her voice was now by his ear. "We have to get further back!" She grabbed hold of him and tried to pull as he weakly performed a half assed crab walk further into the yard before once again collapsing on his back and looking up at the night sky.

The sound of sirens filled the air around them as Emily sat next to him, curled forward, coughing and trying not to cry.

"You okay darlin? You didn't get burned did you?" Cal tilted his head up toward her, searching her face and she stared back, eyes huge. Giving a tiny head shake, her gaze shifted toward his right side before she lost control and burst into tears.

"Shhh." He reached over with his other hand and gently touched her face. "Gonna be okay Em. Please don't cry. We're gonna be alright."

Rolling his head toward the house, he observed blankly as his home and memories burned. Cal watched as the fire department, police and EMTs flooded the scene and trampled their back garden. He gritted his teeth as he was loaded onto a stretcher and an oxygen mask was fitted over his nose and mouth. Cal felt the sting as a needle found the prominent vein in his hand for IV fluids. A moment later he lost track of Emily and panicked, roughly pulling off the mask. "Where's my daughter?" He started to sit up before one of the paramedics gently pushed him back down and tightened the straps over his chest and legs. Everything was running together for him, turning to haze.

A female face peered down at him. "She's waiting in the ambulance for you."

He hadn't remembered her being pulled away from his side. "She okay?"

"Yes sir. She's receiving oxygen, just like you. She'll be fine."

"Am I burned?" As he asked, he immediately felt stupid. Shocked nerves were starting to awaken as pain flooded down his right arm and side. Sweat began to pop out on his forehead. "Dumb question." Dark spots were dancing in his field of vision as he attempted to blink them away.

She didn't answer as her partner returned.

Cal could see firefighters attempt to control the blaze that was quickly destroying his house. He watched numbly while they loaded him into the back of the ambulance. Nothing seemed real.

Emily sat waiting for him, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, face pale. She reached out and took his hand as he was anchored in. "Hey dad."

"Hey Em." His fingers tightened around her smaller ones.

(BREAK)

"Mom?" Emily tried hard to keep her voice from shaking but without success.

"What's the matter?" Zoë sat up straighter on her end, files in her lap temporarily forgotten.

"Um…"A sob escaped as the girl felt the impact of the evening weighing down around her. "There was a fire…"

"What? What happened?"

"I'm not sure. Someone threw something through the front window-"

"Where are you? Are you alright?" Zoë was on her feet, grabbing her purse and heading for the door.

"I'm okay. We're at, um, Washington."

"Okay, I'm on my way."

"Mom?" Emily's voice went down to a whimper.

"Yeah honey?" The phone was cradled between her shoulder and her ear as she locked the front door behind her.

"Dad got burned." Sobs started to make speech difficult. "I don't know how bad."

Zoë stopped for a moment, breath catching, heart thundering loudly in her ears. "Okay. I'll be there soon." Her tone was gentle as she disconnected the call.

(BREAK)

Gillian closed her eyes when the plane touched back down at Dulles, tension pulsing through her in waves, head pounding fiercely.

She pulled the phone from her purse and turned it back on, hoping that there would be a message waiting for her.

One missed call. And she didn't recognize the number.

The plane slowly taxied to the gate and Gillian held her breath.

She hadn't realized she was doing it and let it out slowly. There was no reason to believe anything was wrong. The missed call could be a wrong number. How likely was that? Okay, stop it.

Fortunately, the plane was only partially full, so everyone was able to grab their carry on bags and head out to the gate in a reasonable amount of time. As soon as Gillian set foot in the terminal, she pulled her phone out once again to listen to the message.

As she listened, she immediately stopped short.

People moved out from around her but she was oblivious to the angry stares. They didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Gillian felt the blood slowly run from her face.