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.