Tristan: "I suppose. The stupid thing is I'm sure I didn't leave the oven on. I haven't used it in months, so if I did… well it's a bit late to start worrying about it now."
Deanna: "We'll just stay in tonight, it's honestly not that big of a deal. We'll have our own private showing of Donnie Darko. Hey, think of it this way--we won't have to deal with anyone kicking the back of our seat!"
Tristan: "Very true."

Deanna: "Did you want me to nuke some popcorn?"
Tristan: "If you'd like, that'd be fine."

As Deanna headed off into the kitchen, Tristan began to walk into the living room intending to get the DVD set up. Ever since they'd left earlier that night to go to the movies, he'd been feeling more and more unsettled. Even now, back home, the feeling continued to grow. He took two steps before he saw the flashing red light of his cell phone indicating he had voicemail. He hesitated, holding his breath momentarily before reaching for the phone. Before listening to the message, he found himself walking upstairs without realizing it.

Emily: "Tristan, it's Emily… I'm… I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you, and… I don't want you to be angry with me anymore. Please come home soon. I miss you."

Tristan's feelings of unease mixed with confusion. Emily sounded disoriented and troubled, her voice tinged with tears. He quickly dialed her cell number, hoping she hadn't gone to sleep already. After four rings, he felt that hope slipping away. Finally, he was left only with her voicemail.

Tristan: "Emily, hi. I got your message--I hope everything's ok; you sounded really upset. I'm a bit baffled, to be honest. I'm not angry with you, I never was, and I haven't gone anywhere... I'm right here. Call me whenever you need to--night or day. Take care, and I'll talk to you soon."

His voice was unconsciously low, each word kept carefully quiet of its own accord. He slowly hung up, looking at the phone for a few seconds before pocketing it. He heard the sound of the microwave from the kitchen, the scent of popcorn already strong. Just as he was ready to go back downstairs, his cell phone started to ring, startling him.

Tristan: "Emily?"

There was a hesitation on the other end of the line, though there wasn't complete silence. He could just make out what sounded like someone talking over an intercom as well as muffled yet clearly distressed voices.

James: "Tristan, it's James. You need to come to Whidbey General right now."
Tristan: "Whidbey General Hospital? What's wrong? What's happened?"
James: "It's Emily. She's… you need to get here now."

The world narrowed to a single pinpoint before exploding in a burst of white light. James may or may not have kept talking, he wasn't even aware he'd left his study until he was halfway out the front door. He was only somewhat aware of Deanna grabbing him by the arm and pulling him back around.

Deanna: "Where are you going?!"
Tristan: "It's… I have… Emily."
Deanna: "What happened? Is everything ok?"
Tristan: "No, I have to leave."

Once again he turned and headed out the door, and once again Deanna stopped him in his tracks, this time by stepping in front of him.

Deanna: "You're not driving, not when you're like this."
Tristan: "Like fuck I'm not."

Deanna was blindsided as Tristan pushed past her, frantically grabbing for his keys through a haze of panic. He was in the driver's seat within seconds, revving the engine to life. Just before he'd gotten the car into gear, he was mildly aware of the passenger side door slamming shut.

Deanna: "You won't be immortal if you roll the car and get decapitated."

Tristan silently worked the car into reverse and began backing down the driveway.

Deanna: "Also, it won't do Emily any good if you get pulled over for driving recklessly and have to spend the night in jail."

In what felt like a replay of events earlier in the night, he slammed the brakes on before reaching the street. Without a word, he put the car in neutral before pulling the handbrake and getting out, walking around and opening Deanna's door.

Tristan: "Drive."