Robert had tossed and turned for what felt like forever, but every time he checked his watch it seemed like no time had passed at all. He'd tried closing his eyes, tried keeping them open, it didn't seem to matter; he was exhausted but his mind simply wouldn't - couldn't - shut down, spinning in endless circles as every memory that surfaced seemed to bring a hundred more with it. He hadn't spent a lot of time in this house, before, but he'd spent time around Summer, and even the smell of the sheets in here reminded him of her so strongly that it felt like his entire childhood had replayed in his head in the past few minutes, during which Summer was a bright spark that seemed to grow brighter as the years had passed. It was staggering, how much a part of his life she was, even if they hadn't had more than casual childhood interactions until they'd gotten older. But he realized that he'd spent a lot of time thinking about her, and now he could remember just how gut-wrenching it had been to sail across the world into what he'd thought was certain death and leave her behind with a promise to come back that he hadn't been sure he could fulfill.

But he had come back, even if it hadn't really felt true until tonight, until everything had come back to him. And things were still coming back, a near-constant stream until the soft knock on his door shook him out of it, startling him into a sitting position as he saw the door open just enough to allow someone small to slip inside. He almost looked at his watch again - it couldn't be morning, it was still dark, but he had no idea how long he'd really been lying here - and suddenly it didn't much matter. He didn't need to squint into the darkness to see who it was, because there was really only one person it could be. "Summer?" he whispered. Suddenly his skin was prickling, feeling too hot and yet all too aware that he was only wearing his boxers under the sheets; he'd kicked off the coverlet long ago, it was lying bunched at the bottom of the bed.