A/N: The server is down again this morning. Definitely hope this isn't how the whole year is going to go. But it means a little more for you while I wait, so enjoy, and remember, reviews are payment, even if that currency isn't accepted at Wal-Mart. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

(H/C)

Thornton had already had a very difficult day.

Holidays in general reminded him especially of Emily, although he had at least made it past the "first whatever without her" milestones and was now working his way through the "second one without her" series. But New Year's had another significance for him. It was on New Year's Day that Tim, his brother, had been killed in Korea all those years ago. With his driving need to know details, Thomas had looked up other Marines from his brother's unit once he joined himself and had asked for the full story, part of him hoping that his brother had died quickly and easily, the other part wishing there had been time for some final message to be passed back to his relatives that had somehow simply missed communication. The results were negative on both fronts: Tim had not died quickly nor easily, but with a head injury, he had not been coherent enough to be sending final thoughts to his siblings. He had died terrified, disoriented, and in pain.

Tim's had been the third funeral of Thomas' life. The first had been for his grandfather when he was five and was a nice, quiet service, a good celebration of his life. His grandfather had been living with them, and his parents had talked to him about the death. He had missed Grandpa, but he had dealt with it pretty well, all of them grieving and moving on together as a family. The second funeral, of course, had been the double for his parents when he was eleven and had been far different for Thomas, between shock at the deaths and anger at his uncle already taking over and starting to sell everything even that quickly.

Then Tim, that loss coming during the resentful teenaged years with his uncle. Thomas had been the one to get the flag (his sister, Ellie, hadn't wanted it), and he had kept it in his room, even though it was a poor substitute for a brother. He still had it in storage even now. His uncle and aunt had tried to be supportive, at least for a while, but there was too much history behind them by then, too many years of the extra children being defined in terms of a financial bottom line and poor preparation on their parents' part that his uncle had dutifully stepped in to straighten out. Their offer of acting like family at Tim's death was too little, too late for Thomas and Ellie, and besides, the two siblings suspected correctly that it was only temporary and that the old attitude would return soon enough.

But New Year's after that had always reminded him of his brother. Then Emily had entered his life, and from that point, even though the memory of Tim was still there, there was also a positive balancing it out. Emily had loved New Year's, the whole process of counting it down, kissing each other at the stroke of midnight. She would always state within a few minutes her own wish for the coming year: "I hope this year, more people are lucky enough to find for themselves what we have together."

The last New Year's of her life, two years ago, she had still said that but not just after midnight. She had been asleep at midnight, drugged against the ever-increasing pain from the cancer gnawing into her, and had missed their custom for the first time in their marriage except for the few military years when he happened to be away on that day. He had been awake alone that night, and he still kissed her at 12:00 and then had broken down crying, truly seeing the illness carved deeply into her face. That had been the day that Thomas finally accepted what he had already known for a few months and just hadn't let himself admit. She was not going to get well, the treatments were not going to be a cure, and she was dying. From that point, his obsession had switched from curing her to caring for her, and in that one at least, he was successful. He had been there all the way, clear to her death.

Last year, the first one without her, had been one of the hardest days in all of it. This year, he at least had Greg to look forward to, their slowly growing relationship, Lisa's prediction that maybe by Christmas, they could all be together as a family. He stayed awake until midnight and went to sleep firmly holding his thoughts on hope for the future - and then he dreamed that their flight today had crashed, as his parents' plane had crashed, and that Greg and Lisa had been killed, dying like Tim on New Year's Day, and that he had to plan their funeral. He woke up in a cold sweat, alone.

For the rest of the day, reason had warred with emotion as he tried to reassure himself that it had only been a nightmare. He wasn't going to lose Greg, not like everybody else in his life. Not yet, at least, not without really knowing him. That would be too cruel. Surely fate couldn't pull that on him. But finding distractions today while waiting was difficult. It being Sunday and a holiday besides, much of the world was closed. The senior center where Blythe's friends gathered was shut today, the trail ride where he had gone for the last two days was closed. He took a drive, looking at horse farms with their miles of flawless fences, telling himself that Greg would arrive safe and sound at the hotel later this afternoon. But eventually, he found himself at the airport.

It hadn't been planned. He sat there in the parking lot sorting through things in his mind for several minutes before he finally went in. But what was wrong with it, after all? Lisa had called briefly last night, sounding very tense in final trip preparations, but she had told him that Greg now knew they would be at the same hotel and hadn't insisted on changing to another. That was encouraging, confirmation of her statement that deep down, he actually wanted to see Thomas. She had also mentioned that Wilson was coming with them, which made sense to Thomas, as Wilson was obviously a close friend and had been at John's funeral, too. Wilson knew who he was, had been the first to outright identify him that day in the courtroom back in the summer.

Thomas had no intentions of playing family member and putting on a public scene, but friends met flights, too. Everyone coming knew who he was and knew they would be seeing him extensively on this trip. He just would meet the plane as a friend and see his son coming off, and the nightmare then would be able to fade in the light of the reality that the plane had landed safely and that Greg and Lisa were fine.

Lisa hadn't specified the flight, but it wasn't as large an airport as the big international one at Louisville, and there weren't dozens of options. Inquiries quickly revealed the most likely candidate, a plane in mid afternoon from Newark, and he went to that gate to wait, breathing a sigh of relief as it was announced that they had landed. Thomas stood up. As good an actor as he was, he was having trouble staying nonchalant right now, but again, they all knew who he was anyway. The worst that could happen was that Greg would snap at him, which probably would have happened at the hotel later, too. He was just moving the experience up about an hour.

They were very late deplaning, and he had almost decided as the minutes stretched out that he was wrong about the flight. But the crew hadn't exited yet. He inched forward, watching the tunnel.

Finally, here they came. Thomas spotted his son first, having been so focused on the prospect of seeing him, and his heart jumped, but in the next second, the world seemed to pause as the whole scene registered.

They had the girls with them. His granddaughters. His granddaughters.

They were asleep. Rachel, sturdy with dark hair. Abby, smaller with the exact shade of chestnut brown hair that Greg had had before it started to gray. Their faces were buried in the shoulders of the adults as they napped. He drank in the sight, absorbing every detail. There was a Hispanic woman, too, who was a total stranger - the nanny to help with the girls, maybe? She was carrying Abby. Also Jensen, the psychiatrist, whom he had met last summer. He hadn't been expecting him, either, but Jensen, too, knew who he was. Wilson, Greg's best friend. Lisa, looking startled, worried, stressed, and guilty all at once.

And Greg. His son looked mad first of all, but beneath that, the pain was visible. Not just the physical pain, though that was obviously significant at the moment, but the stress of the whole last week. Thomas' heart broke looking at him.

Greg had jolted to a startled stop in that first moment, with everybody except the nanny doing likewise just a second later. She alone had no reaction, simply walking on forward with Abby and only pausing when Thomas didn't move out of the way. His granddaughter, just a few feet away. He could have reached out and touched her. He didn't, though he longed to. He knew that he didn't yet have the right.

Greg was the first to speak. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I didn't expect. . ." Thomas started, then trailed off, looking at the nanny again.

Lisa jumped into the middle of things. "Marina, this is Thomas Thornton. He's an old family friend of Blythe's." Marina looked from Thomas to Greg, curious at the thickness of the atmosphere. Lisa looked at her firmly, and the nanny finally tossed her head with an "all right, I'm minding my own business - at least for now" air. "Thomas, this is Marina, our nanny. She came along to help us with the girls on the trip."

"Nice to meet you," Marina said.

"And you," Thornton replied.

"I think you already know who everybody else is," Lisa went on. "It will be nice to have somebody else to help with the luggage. We have enough for a whole town, I think." She was nervous, and it showed.

Greg flinched, looking at Thomas' long legs, and then his eyes dropped to his cane. Lisa cringed, not having meant that remark like he obviously took it, and Jensen reached out to touch Greg briefly on the arm as they started off. Thomas envied him for being able to and even more as Greg didn't withdraw from it, though Jensen quickly moved on himself. The group slowly lurched into motion. They already were carrying so much - all except for Greg, of course - that Thomas wondered how they had ever managed to get it all checked in up in Newark. Once the several suitcases had joined it all at the baggage claim, there really was more luggage than hands, even if Greg had been able to help. "I'll get a cart," Thomas offered. He found one not too far away, and they piled it all on.

"I've got a car already rented," Lisa said. "I asked for a van to fit everybody." She was eying the luggage dubiously. A van might indeed seat seven for driving around town, but all of this baggage on top of it would make it tight quarters on the drive to the hotel.

"I have a car," Thomas offered. "I'd be glad to take a few. Or the luggage, if you'd rather."

"Thanks. I'll ride with you." Wilson accepted immediately.

"So will I," Jensen added. Wilson's eagerness deflated a little, and Thomas would have been amused if he hadn't been so tense. He couldn't blame Greg's friend for being curious about him.

"The girls will go with us," Greg snapped. Marina looked at him oddly again, and he visibly tried to look like everything was routine. It was a dismal failure.

"Great, that's settled. We can split up the suitcases a little, too, and everybody will be more comfortable. Come on, let's get the van." Lisa started for the car rental desk, and they walked - or limped - along in silence other than the creaking wheels on the luggage cart.

Rachel woke up when Lisa had to shift her in order to fill out the paperwork, and she looked around, wide eyed. "No more plane!"

"No, no more plane," Marina told her. "The plane landed."

"Yay!" Rachel squirmed, wanting down, and Lisa tightened up her grip.

"Not right now, Rachel. At the hotel, okay? The airport is too big to run around in."

Rachel was about to argue when she suddenly noticed the addition to the group. She looked at Thomas curiously. "Hi!"

There was a lump in his throat as he replied. "Hi, Rachel."

"Who are you?"

Greg stiffened up and glared at him, but Thomas really had no intentions of rocking the boat. This was more than he had dreamed of today, even if limited. "I'm a friend. I know your parents, and I knew your grandmother."

"What's your name?"

"Thomas."

Lisa signed at the bottom of the page and accepted the keys. "All right, now who takes what luggage?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Lisa, we're only going a few miles, not separating for a week. What the . . . h-e-l-l difference does it make?"

Rachel shook her dark curls. "Don't spell!" Thomas grinned.

Jensen moved over to the cart and selected the three largest and heaviest suitcases, leaving the car seats and the rest of the luggage on the cart for the others. "Here. We'll take these with us, and we'll see you at the hotel. How's that?" Lisa gave him a grateful look. Wilson, Jensen, and Thomas each grabbed a suitcase and started for the door.

"Bye, Thomas!" Rachel called.

He couldn't resist turning around, even though Greg was scowling when he did. "Bye, Rachel."

The three men went on outside, the others lagging a good distance behind them. The fresh air hit them as they walked across to the short-term parking. Clean, crisp, and cool, but it suddenly seemed refreshing. Not bad weather, really, for New Year's.

"It's warmer here than in Jersey," Wilson noted.

They reached Thomas' rental car and put the suitcases in the trunk, then loaded up, Wilson claiming shotgun. The questions started before Thomas had even cleared the parking gate. "So you were a Marine, too."

"Yes. I was in for my 20. I was only stationed with John once after boot camp, though. I just visited every year or two, wasn't there all the time." He couldn't help slipping in his defense, inadequate as it was. If Wilson was in a questioning mood, though, it was a good opportunity for some quid pro quo. "I didn't realize the girls were coming along. In fact, Greg had told me specifically they weren't coming."

"That was the original plan, but they were pretty upset about Blythe's death," Jensen stated.

"Were they close to Blythe?" Thomas couldn't quite keep the hurt out of his tone there.

"Not really," Wilson said. "It wasn't her specifically, but they got scared about the idea of death. They were afraid their parents were going to die and just go away forever, too."

Thomas winced, sympathizing. "Are they doing better?"

"Yes. They're settling down pretty quickly as long as they know everybody's okay. So tell me about your family."

Jensen stepped in from the back seat. "James, he probably doesn't feel like a hundred questions right now."

Thomas smiled, even though the thought of his family automatically carried the memory of all the funerals, as it had for the last few days. "It's all right. Of course he'd be curious about me. He's a good friend of Greg's after all, even came with him to John's funeral to support him."

Wilson's curiosity popped like a balloon, and he settled back into the seat, weighed down by something. Thomas gave him a look, wondering at the abrupt change in atmosphere, but he did not ask about it, though he also didn't miss Wilson's look of relief as the subject changed. "I really didn't mean to catch Greg off guard there. I thought everybody coming would already know me, and I just wanted to see him again."

"He had a rough flight," Jensen said. "The pain is on top of everything right now. Give it time."

Give it time, the motto of the last six months and one he was getting tired of reciting to himself. Thomas really couldn't complain, though. Today had unexpectedly been a quantum leap forward. His granddaughters. He replayed every detail, savoring them, looking forward to adding more. Rachel's curls. The shade of Abby's hair. Rachel's voice and curiosity. Wilson was quiet for the moment, and the remaining short miles to the hotel passed in silence.