She feels like she's twelve years old again, sitting on the foot of the bed in the dark with her arms wrapped around her knees, waiting to hear her parents coming up the stairs. Willing them to come home with every fibre of her being, knowing that it wasn't going to happen just because she wanted it to. She thought if she could only wish hard enough, if she could undo whatever mistake she'd done, that she could have them back. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough to bring them back.

She's holding onto the blue scarf like it's the only solid thing in her world, and when he approaches, she unconsciously takes a step towards him, catching herself when he stops.

'Right now, it doesn't feel like it.'

Because he's there, and she's here. And it feels like the chasm between them is measureless.

'I don't want it to be like it was, Gene. I don't want to fall asleep every night on the couch because I've been waiting for the bloody television to give me some bit of news. I don't want to wake up alone, wondering where you are and what you're doing.'

She remembers the snippet of that Billy Joel song, and laughs through tears, looking down at the scarf again, unable to hold his gaze.

'I want so much more than that.'