A bit later in May, Sonny Carisi is on a plane to Atlanta, his children in tow. At first he is quiet and solemn, spending much of his time in deep thought. This has always been the hardest time of the year for him. Jesse has learned to respect this but unfortunately, Nicky has not. He eventually becomes restless and hyper and Jesse is trying out the role of "mother" in an attempt to get him to calm down. Eventually they break out into a screaming match.

Sonny's not embarrassed at all by the few people who dare to turn around and glare at him. Kids just do this. He calls out to each individual separately:

"What's your problem, huh?"

"And yours, eh?"

"What are you looking at? Never seen two kids fight before?"

"Hey, turn around and mind your own business."

He challenges them all and gives them dirty looks until they turn their heads back to the front of the plane. Then he pulls Nicky out of his seat and puts him in the aisle.

"I want you to do ten laps for me, okay buddy."

"Ten? How many is that?"

"Come on Nicky, you know your numbers. Count them out on your hand. One, two, three, four . . ."

Nicky stares down at his hand and picks up where his dad left off, pointing at each finger. "Five, six, seven . . . "

"You got it," Sonny says as he finishes. "Do a lap for each finger, you got me? Down to the bathroom at the back of the plane and back here. Yes?"

"Yes!" he exclaims excitedly, ready to take off. Sonny grabs his shoulder and restrains him before he can.

"Now be polite. If someone is in your way you say excuse me nicely and wait for them to move, okay? No shoving."

"Got it!" and with that Nicky takes off down the aisle.

"Well, you sure told him," Jesse says sarcastically. She's in a really bad mood because she knows where they are going. She remembers her mother.

"What's my punishment going to be?" She turns her face towards the window and in her reflection Sonny sees the sorrow in her frown.

"Jess," Sonny says softly, rubbing her back. "You aren't going to get any. You were just trying to be the mother he never had."

She tears up a little over this, but stays facing away, hoping her father doesn't see.

"It's okay," he says, "We all wish we still had her. Come here."

He puts his arm around her shoulder as she turns back to him, away from the window, and pulls her into his chest. It had seemed like she had been starting to cry before, but now there's nothing. She is still. He remembers that state of mind well - too well. Grief buried so deep that there is no feeling left. None at all.