Five hours late into Dulles, the aftermath of the murders still making my head throb and my stomach churn. Coming through the arrivals gate, all I can think of is bed and quiet and home.

Until I see a tall figure in a long dark coat. He looks heartstopping and I can't believe he's come to meet me here. Somewhere so public.

He doesn't smile, but gives me a look that speaks volumes and takes two of my bags from me. We walk to his car, striding together, no need for polite enquiries, for small talk. In the car, he reaches for my hand and lifts it to his lips. Just that - and my heart feels as if it might crack with the implications of that tender gesture.

His lips are dry and soft against my fingers, He is so solid and real and unshakeable. His eyes are closed as he holds my hand against his mouth. Unbelievably, I see a tremor in his monumental calm.

He turns to me, his eyes opening wide, making my world begin and end in that dark gaze.

"You're safe now, Fox. You're home."

I suddenly know I'm home. Home is wherever he is.

END

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