Hi, Joyce. One of your children was slumbering like a dead person in the bed next to yours, tangled up and burrowed in the blankets, until you shouted at the top of your lungs. Wrenched from sleep less by the sound of his mother's voice and more by the fear in it, Jonathan groaned and flailed his arms, fighting with the blanket before planting his hands, sitting up quick and blinking the crust out of his eyes as he tried to get his bearings.

"Mom?" Jonathan's voice was soft and bleary but his eyes were sharp, a little wide and darting as they landed on Joyce. it took him a couple of moments to realize ... that this was not their house, but a foreign hotel room, a place that he definitely didn't remember falling asleep in.

How did they get here?

"Mom, are you okay? Where are Will and El?"