By the time I arrive in Virginia, a night has come and gone. After the artificial airport climate, the crisp morning air is a refreshing change of pace, but I'm much too nervous to enjoy it. All it means to me is that I'm closer to having to face Cas.

No one is at the airport to pick me up, probably because no one knows I'm here. Not for the first time, I ponder the intelligence of showing up unexpected. Regardless of how "joyous" this should be, I've definitely given my parents enough surprises to last the next few lifetimes.

I walk out to the pickup zone, looking for a cab. It takes about 30 seconds of scanning the line to find an unoccupied one. It isn't bad. I've heard horror stories about taxis, with drivers who drive erratically, overcharge, or turn out to be dangerous in a whole other way. But this woman leaves me to my thoughts. She does keep eyeing me in the rear view mirror, my fidgeting undoubtedly making her wary, but that's not unprecedented. Being 6'5" earns you a fair share of looks.

"What'd you do? Drop out of college?" she finally asks.

"What?" The question goes right over my head.

"You seem anxious is all," she explains, misunderstanding my confusion.

"Oh."

There's a silence.

The woman turns on the radio. "--underground modification lab may have been discovered," a man's voice comes on. It's a news story, unsurprisingly leaded with distress. "This possible lead was discovered in Iran," the anchorman continues, "when a soldier in pursuit of escaped prisoners stumbled upon what is believed to be a recently abandoned facility..."

I'm reminded of Cas and my hands are shaking again, my palms suddenly slick from the nerves. I try to focus on the excitement aspect of it, and it seems to work. I'm jittery for a whole other reason, now.

"Are you alright?" the woman asks, her wary look giving way to a suspicious one.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just a little nervous is all," I answer this time, drawing from my excitement and managing a grin.

"Oh."

A pause.

"Visiting family?" she asks, trying to figure me out and ease her not unwarranted discomfort.

"More of a return," I answer.

"Oh." For a second, she seems hesitant to enter the subject of family matters, but soon rams onward and asks, "Not happy to see them?"

"Other way around," I correct.

"Parents?"

I hesitate. I'd been looking at her through the rearview mirror, but now I suddenly seem unable to keep my gaze. "My brother." I pause. "He didn't really approve of my choice to go."

There's a pause. Then, apparently finding my answer both believable and un-alarming, she focuses back on the road. I try to focus on the radio.

"...what do you think about this newly uncovered lead?" asks the anchorman.

"I don't think it'll be anything big," a woman's voice responds. "This is just another point in the recent rash of FALSE leads. Just like before, someone hyped up on the illegal experimentation buzz sees something and jumps to a conclusion."

"So you don't believe this will be the bust the case has needed?"

"No, I don't. Honestly this is all starting to seem like a plot from the head of a conspiracy nut."

You can say that again.

The radio woman continues, "All the cases these past few months have all ended in an empty lot somewhere. If this one ends the same way, which it most likely will, then we'll have to assume the initial lead was falsified."

What?

"So you don't think this illegal experimentation scare is legitimate?"

"At this point I'm doubting it, yes."

I scoot up in my seat. "Excuse me."

"Mhm?" the cab driver glances sideways at me.

"What 'cases' were they talking about?" I ask as the anchorman moves on to economic news.

"Didn't you hear? There's been this whole mania going around about a chain of illegal experimentation. Apparently they found DNA that had been tampered with."

"In Iran?"

"They say the group has set it up in a few places around the world but it's suppose to be centered somewhere in Europe." She shrugs as we turn a corner. "They've got no proof though." I can tell she's not a believer. Or a conspiracy nut, I guess might be more accurate with something supposedly so big.

I sink back into my seat, my mind refocused on my return now that the story has passed. I try and fail to listen to the radio as we cruise down an indistinguishable road.

The economy isn't that interesting.

My hands are shaking. I can't for the life of me figure out what to do with them. I try crossing my arms, then putting them on my lap. Then clasping them. Then back to my lap.

"Hey, relax Knight," the man next to me says, slapping me on the shoulder. "This is the easy part, remember?"

I crack a smile for manners' sake, even though my insides feel like they're about to flip. "Yeah, I know," I respond just to say something. The man's name is Kyle Baldwin. He's short, with dark orange hair and a pale complexion.

"Drinks?" a steward asks. He smile down at us politely. I can make out a faint pair of circles under his eyes.

"Oh, yes, my good man" Baldwin answers. "I'll have some water."

"And for you, sir?" the steward inquires.

I see some Fanta in his cart as he hands Baldwin the water, but my nerves are still making me queasy. "No, thank you," I tell him. Upon hearing my accent, his eyes suddenly jump back to Baldwin. He looks from one of us to the other before offering a disheveled "good day" and moving on.

Although it isn't a very surprising reaction, it doesn't help my nerves. I move my clammy hands to the armrests, trying to catch the comfort that has been eluding me.

"Oh, come on Knight. What's the matter?" Baldwin exclaims. "You're going home, not into battle. I would think you could manage a smile."

I do smile a bit, my excitement flaring up for a second and worsening my nerves. But I tell him, "Well maybe this isn't as happy a moment as you'd think."

I can feel him studying me. "Or you'd hope?" he adds.

I squeeze the arm rests. "Yeah," I breathe. "Maybe not as happy as I hope."

"Well, if I can ask, why exactly wouldn't this be a happy moment?" He looks over at me suspiciously over his cup of water. "You haven't become one of those trigger happy, war criminal types have you?"

"Oh no, I would've killed you long ago if I did," I answer automatically.

Baldwin stares at me for a moment before sipping his water. "Smartass," he mumbles.

I crack a smile, for once not out of politeness. I lean my head back, glancing over at him.

"What?" he demands, furrowing his brow.

"Nothing," I assure, shaking my head. "It's just that... 'smartass' is usually not directed at me." Baldwin gives me a strange look, but I grin. My stomach feels like it's going to fly up into my throat.

"Alright, then," Baldwin says slowly, going back to his water. "But you never did tell me why you look like you're about to go in front of the firing squad," he mumbles with mock offense.

The smile drops from my face. I look out the window at the orange and white sky, awaiting our arrival with a wary excitement. "Let's just say not everyone was supportive of my choice and leave it at that," I answer sullenly. And we do.

__________________________

"This is good bye, then, I guess," says Baldwin, offering me an outstretched hand. I turn from the airport crowd to him, realizing he's right. I knew he wouldn't come all the way back to Virginia with me, but for some reason his sudden departure takes me by surprise.

"Right," I get out, shaking his hand. "I guess it is."

"Well," starts Baldwin, "if you're ever in London."

"Right, right, of course," I assure. "Because after all I've heard about your husband, that's where I wanna be."

Baldwin cracks a laugh. "Oh, come on, you can take him."

"It's not who wins the fight I'm worried about, Baldwin." I chuckle.

He shrugs. "Yeah, well."

There's a pause.

With a pat on the arm, Baldwin finally says, "It has been a pleasure, Elijah."

I nod. "Ditto." Then I stretch out my hand, not for a handshake but for what's become the gesture of solidarity. He claps his hand in mine.

"Good luck," he nods.