Jesse had just finished eating his dinner and was lounging on the couch when the knock came at the door. He didn't answer it right away because it didn't sound like an actual knock, but more like random noise. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the door and a few seconds later, it came again, ever so softly. So he got up to check, knowing it wouldn't be any of his friends. When they knocked, there was no denying it!

He opened the door and Reegan fell into his arms. She had apparently been leaning hard against the door, so when he opened it, she lost her already unstable footing and never even tried to recover from it. She looked up at him and he knew in an instant that she was high. He was absolutely overjoyed to see her, but at the same time, his heart broke that she was in this shape. Again. Not that he could wholeheartedly blame her. She had her reasons and under the same circumstances, he couldn't say for sure the tables wouldn't be turned.

"Jesse, you're home!" She was obviously excited, but her voice was so weak and quiet that if it hadn't been as quiet as it was, he'd have never have heard her.

He smoothed the hair out of her eyes and smiled at her. "Hey, hon, where have you been?" While he spoke, he was helping her gain her footing again and getting her inside the door. She stumbled but regained her composure enough for him to let her go while he closed the door. He helped her get to the couch where he sat down beside her. All he could do was stare at her, knowing her tendency to disappear, as if it would be the last time he would see her for a long time.

She smiled and stared at absolutely nothing. "You know, I've been all over Jesse," she said softly, smiling to herself. "I just love traveling. I get to go to so many cool places and see so many cool things and...I just wish I could remember where all I've been, cause you'd think it was cool too." She turned to stare at him, pulling one knee up into the couch with her and leaning over it towards him. "And you know what else?" she asked, still whispering. Her eyes were damp and glistening in the dim lights, darting about and never focusing. Her pupils were pinpricks within the coloring of her eyes and her hair had fallen back into her face, hiding a good portion of it.

He leaned in towards her as well, still smiling. He wanted to make her feel completely at home. He'd always told her, high or sober, that she always had a place to call home as long as there was breath in his body. And she'd apparently never forgotten it, because every time she went out and got lost, as everyone called her adventures, she always found her way back to his house eventually. And he was so thankful. "What else, darlin? What else do you wanna tell me?"

She smiled and fell against the back of the couch with her shoulder. "I mean..." she stammered, and then sighed, slowly closing her eyes and then reopening them after a moment, "I mean, you know? I'm just glad to be home." She stared into his eyes now, smiling, trying hard to focus and he saw a tear slip down her cheek from beneath a tuft of burgundy hair. Another and another followed it, but she never once stopped smiling.

He gathered her up into his arms and squeezed her, knowing that if his will were enough to drive away her tears, they'd be gone in an instant. With anyone else, he would have asked what was wrong, but he never asked Reegan that question when she cried. Because he knew. For the things she had lost in the past year, he sometimes wondered where she found the strength to have the amount of composure she had in front of the real world. She could hold back the Northwind by sheer resolve, he was nearly certain of that. He'd seen her do it, on more than one occasion. But, when it came time to break down, she disappeared into a sea of strangers and never told a soul. It was as if she was trying to keep her own real world separate from the one in which she allowed herself to break down and grieve and do all the things normal people did under the same circumstances.

He was thankful that she even felt comfortable enough to cry on him. But in his heart, he knew it wasn't really her and it wasn't that it was him. It was only the fact that she was high. He knew because she'd shown up high many times before, and that was always when she wanted to be held and comforted. When the drugs or the alcohol wore off, she reclaimed her distance, along with her independence, and she was usually off again. There was no telling how many prayers he'd prayed for her to stay and get cleaned up and find a new starting place. But, Andy had only been gone for about six months now, and at her young age, she probably still had a lot more grieving to get out of the way. So, until that was all done, he would take what time he could get, and pray that she lived to tell him all about it just one more time.

After a long time, she sniffled and pushed away from his embrace. Smiling up at him again, she wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and leaned back into the couch. "Oh God," she said with a giggle, "I'm so sorry."

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Jesse shook his head and smoothed her hair back. "Don't be sorry, Ree, you know I'm always here for you. That's something you never ever have to doubt."

She shook her head, the smile slowly starting to fade. "No, I know that," she said quietly, with another sniff. "I know, I mean, I'm glad you don't care when I show up or how or why. I'm just sorry that..." Her voice trailed off as she sat, once again staring into oblivion. Just another something he'd learned to let her find her own way through. And after a short few moments, she did. "I'm just sorry I'm a dope head." This time she didn't look at him.

He shook his head, feeling defeated inside. "Ree, that's not how it is," he started. How many times had he tried to have that conversation with her, the one about how much she mattered to him and how she wasn't a lost cause? A million or more? Probably. "What you're going through... it's not... it's not who you really are inside."

She turned to face him again, too suddenly, and with too much of a smile. "Hey, I saw the Grand Canyon!" she said breathlessly, clasping her hands together.

Go ahead, he thought to himself, Go ahead and get as far away from actually talking about it as you can, Reegan. I know how much it hurts...

"You did?" He had meant to ask with more excitement in his voice, but he couldn't even be sure if she had actually been there or had maybe dreamed it or made it up completely. He hated wondering things like that about her.

She nodded and opened her mouth as if to speak again, but he saw something fall across her eyes and face that said her emotions had just taken over. She slowly stood up. He stood with her, not knowing where this sudden change of emotion would take her. He could see that she was breathing deeper and she almost looked scared. She looked around the room and her eyes finally settled on Jesse's face, and the tears were suddenly back in abundance. When sadness took hold of her in full force, the look on her face was enough to break the strongest heart in the world.

She began to cry now, and he reached for her but she stepped back to avoid his arms. He tried not to let it hurt his feelings. It wasn't the first time it had happened. She shook her head and looked around the room again, her sobs growing deeper as her composure fell away. "I can't get away from it," she whispered, wringing her hands in front of her, still shaking her head.

Jesse reached out and took her by the elbow this time, and pulled her closer. She feebly tried to pull back, but he could tell she didn't actually want to get away. She took another step back and stumbled and he wondered if she'd seen his own tears fall. She hadn't, he knew. As she started to pass out, he dipped his knee and caught her around the waist. Swinging her feather-light body up into his arms, he carried her down the hall to her room. The same room that was always there for her when she needed to crash and crash hard.

He pushed open the door with his shoulder and elbow and the hallway light shone through onto the twin bed on the far side of the room. He gently laid her down and pulled her shoes off, placing them at the foot of the bed. Then he took a folded blanket from the dresser drawer and gently laid it across her and pushed her hair back one more time before leaving her, hopefully, to get some much-needed rest. Now that she was asleep and tucked safely into her bed, he let his own tears fall while he stared down at her. He wished, for the millionth time, that there was something he could do to help her. Surely, something would make her snap out of it, but he had no idea what it was.

After a long time of watching over her, he finally turned and walked away. He didn't shut the door all the way. He always left it open enough for the light to get in so that if she woke during the night, she wouldn't be scared wondering where she was.

He went back into the living room and decided he was ready for bed himself. He made sure everything was put away and he went back to make sure the door was locked. As a kind of afterthought, he opened it one more time, and sure enough, sitting there beside his door, was Reegan's backpack. He knew he'd missed seeing something when she came in and that was it. She always carried that pack with her, no matter where she went. It was Andy's and had been what he used when he traveled. It was nearly as big as she was, but she wouldn't part with it for anything.

He threw it up into the chair that sat by the door and thought that he would go ahead and pull her clothes out and throw them in the wash for her. If nothing else, it would keep her there a little longer, until they dried, and would delay any shenanigans she might be off to next. He pulled out the pieces, one at a time, and his heart lurched with each one. All of the shirts were Andy's: t-shirts, button-down shirts, and one old muscle shirt he used to work out in. The jeans were hers; there was no one else small enough to claim them. Then there, almost at the bottom of the pack, there was one more item. He pulled it out and his breath caught in his throat. Almost as if in slow motion, he held up the shirt, one shirt-shoulder in each hand. No wonder she cried. No wonder she couldn't "get away from it". No wonder she was still crazy with grief.

It was the shirt that Andy was wearing when he was killed. The blood that had soaked the entire front of his shirt was still there. She'd never washed it. She carried the ever-constant reminder of that brutal day with her, everywhere she went.

And then, as if it had only happened yesterday, Jesse was replaying that day in his mind again...