I watch my son Jonny play by the rug. He is quiet. He has been quiet since his mother's death.

Rachel...

The memory still hurts. It's been six months since she died. Jonny, still five, cries himself to sleep almost every night. Race is now asleep. A while ago, he asked me, not for the first time in six months, if I'm all right. And, not for the first time either, I answer that I am fine.

I wonder if I should've lied to him. As I've been every time he asked that question.

Jonny is quiet while playing. I wonder how much we'll cope. I wonder is things will ever be the same between us.

We have withdrawn from each other. Ever since Rachel died. He has been crying himself to sleep, Race said. So what? I've been having trouble sleeping, also.

I sigh. This is not the way I should act. He IS my son, after all.

He turns to me, his golden hair glinting against the fire. I feel my breath catch in my throat. His hair! He reminds me so much of her...

"Dad, are you okay?" he asks me. His small voice sounds very subdued.

I nod furiously. "Yes. Don't worry about me, son."

He smiles a small smile. His mother's smile. Then, turns back to his game board, looking serious. I continue to watch him.

I see Rachel in him. And, sometimes, I hate myself for thinking about her. She's dead! She's dead, and there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing...except for what I've discovered in Questworld...the only way to bring her back and save her. That time machine...

But, I've made the decision to seal it away forever.

That was a week ago.

And now, still driven to the urge to give in, I wonder if I made a mistake. Seeing Jonny so sad, it tears me apart to see him. And remember her...

I shake my head and pound on the armchair. Jonny gives me another questioning look. "Dad?" he asks quietly.

I stare at him. He is my son, after all. I suddenly realize how much I've neglected him these past months.

"Come here, Jonny," I say, just as quietly.

He walks over, abandoning his game. "What is it, Dad?" He sits on my lap and looks up at me.

I hug him. "You having fun with Hadji and Jessie?"

He nods. "Yeah."

There is silence.

What to say, what to say, I think.

Suddenly, he speaks up again. "Where's Mom?"

I freeze. There's that dreaded question again. I am scared, feeling myself go cold, then hot. I press him closer to myself. "She's--gone," I reply in a whisper.

"Is she coming back?" he asks me.

I realize no one has really told him. He didn't understand the funeral...the time that she died...the accident...everything has just muddled his thoughts into a confused swirl. I swallow hard. "No."

He nods, looking sad. "Race told me that, too. But...I didn't believe him then." He wraps his arms around me and presses his face against my chest. "Dad?" he asks, his voice muffled.

"Yes, son?"

"Are you going away? Just like Mom?" He looks up, his eyes filled with tears.

I look down at him, then shake my head. "No," I reply fiercely. "I'll never leave you alone, Jonny."

"I don't want you to leave, Dad," he says, crying now. "I don't want you to leave. It scares me. Sometimes, I hear Mom telling me to take care of you...at night..."

There is a lump in my throat. "Yes. I hear her, too," I whisper, holding him tightly.

We sit there for a while. I rock him, hushing him as he cries, his tears falling on my lap, my shirt. Finally, exhausted, we just sit there, motionless.

When I draw back, I realize that he is asleep.

I smile, a sad smile. I carry him the way I used to carry him when he was still a baby. To his room. For a five year old, tonight, he is surprisingly light.

I carry him to his room, then lay him on the bed.

I watch him for a while, smiling softly. Then, turn to the picture by his bedside.

It is a picture of me, Jonny, and Rachel. Taken three weeks before she died.

So happy then.

I press the picture to my chest and cry. For the lost weeks, for the times I spent away from my child. And I realize it scares me also to be close to Jonny now. Because if I lose him, too...I'll lose everything important in my life. Life will have no meaning.

We're just as vulnerable, Jonny and I.

And we need each other.

I fall asleep by his side.

And that night, we both dreamt of Rachel and the happy times.