September 9
LANE
Time is a funny thing. For something that isn't even truly tangible, something that you cant truly see, it holds so much weight. Our days are dictated by it, our lives revolving around it.
What time is it?
Am I late?
Am I too early?
How much longer?
These questions are such simple ones, ones that everyone asks on a daily basis. Our lives circulate around time like planets around the sun, and yet, at the end of each day, it all just begins again.
I honest had never been one to put much thought into the concept of time. At least not to any real degree. But over the last five days, that all changed. I was completely aware of time, of every minute moving by. Every change it my day got me that much closer to going home to my family, to my friends, and to Harry.
I had never been so relieved to hear his voice as I had been on the phone that night. I had all but grabbed the phone from Erin, first calling my frantic parents, then Harry, assuring them that I was okay. I knew everyone would be worry, especially Harry since he had gotten a direct glimpse into the start of the chaos. That would be enough to scare anyone, and add on my imposed silence since, I had no doubt he was losing his mind.
Finally talking to him felt like a weight lifted from my chest. Suddenly, I could breath, I would think again. My chest didn't hurt, and I felt relaxed.
That was when the countdown started.
Since then, I was increasingly aware of every minute. We left Egypt the day following my calls home, flying into London. Here, we had gone over countless hours of debriefing, reviewing the nights events, those in the days previous, those following. It was a constant recall of every moment surrounding our escape, told over and over to military, government, and others wanting to understand.
By the end of our second day in London, I was exhausted. I had done nothing but speak, but review that night endlessly, and I had reached my breaking point, I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I didn't want to think about it anymore. All I wanted to do was go home, and sleep for days.
Each evening I would lay in my hotel, staring out the window onto the city beyond. It was a stunning skyline, and one I had wanted to see my whole life. But now that I was here, I couldn't seem to enjoy it. All I could think about was the state in which we left, and the work we left undone. I knew it was a stupid thing to focus on, knowing that other teams would return once the region was deemed safe, and continue in our wake. But I couldn't help the feeling of regret, and that we weren't quite finished there.
Now, I was finally on my way home. My legs were pulled into my chest, the position not particularly comfortable, but the only one that seemed to ease even a little bit of the anxiety I felt. I was perched upon my seat on Flight 347 from London to New York, watching as the clouds parted during our descent, the familiar city coming in to view.
I was almost home.
I could feel it, now that it was in view. The proximity and the relief was almost overwhelming. Within the hour, my feet would be on the ground, back in New York. I would be in the arms of my parents, safe.
I had spoke to them the day before, listening as my mother praised me, my father calmly confirming my flight details to arrange to meet me. It was still humorous to me, their complete contrasts under pressure. As always, my father was calm and collected, while my mother was hyper and tangential.
Calling Harry, I gave him the same flight information, smiling when he assured me he would be there as well to greet me.
"I've been fantasizing about this for months, babe," he teased. "You bet your ass I will be there the second you get off the plane."
His promise had been the source of my calm for the last twenty four hours.
I watched as we approached, the vast, sprawling structure of JFK slowly growing larger. The moment the wheels connected with the tarmac, I exhaled a breath I felt like I had been holding for 4 months.
The process through customs was agonizing, in part because of our purpose and mainly because of the region in which we were returning from. There were questions, concerns, even assessments with regard to our health; did we have a temperature? did we have any respiratory symptoms? had we been in contact with any livestock?
NO! Just let me get to my damn family.
Collecting my bags, I took my time saying my goodbyes to the rest of the team. Rob, Erin and Clayton had all come back to New York with me, the rest of the medical team staying on in London, waiting for further instructions on what their course of action would be. It was difficult parting, feeling a deep and sustainable connection with the people you lived with, worked with, and challenged with for so long. They had been my support, my teachers and my friends, and it was going to be a strange feeling not having them beside me in the days to come.
Finally, I made my way towards the exit; the closer I got, I could see families, friends and loved ones gathered, all waiting to collect their companions. The glass doors parted, spilling me out into the main terminal, and I could immediately hear my mothers cry of relief.
I turned in the direction of the sound, to find her all but running towards me. I met her half way, dropping my small bag that I had of clothes we had purchased in Cairo, things to get us through until our return home. She grabbed me, her thin arms wrapping around me with surprising strength as she buried herself in my hair, sobbing gently.
I leaned my forehead on her shoulder, melting into her embrace. Tears of relief fell from my eyes, and I was surprised. I had yet to cry during any of this; I had endured one of the most difficult weeks of my life, and one a tear had fallen. And now, here in my mothers arms, I felt like a child again.
Without lifting my head, I felt stronger, broader arms encircle us both, my father enveloping us. His cheek rested on the top of my head.
"So good to have you home, Laney," he sighed.
He was not a demonstrative man. He was always reserved, albeit playful, and rarely showed any deep emotion. But here, in the middle of JFK, I could have sworn his voice cracked.
I couldn't say how long we stood there. It could have been moments, or even hours. But when my mother finally released me, stepping back to hold me at arms length and look me over, I felt the blood rush through my veins. She looked me over intently, her face red and flushed, her cheeks tear stained, while my father simply stroked my head.
I felt like I was five years old.
It was only then that my gaze rose to over my mothers shoulder, and I saw him. He was standing several paces back, watching us with an odd expression on his face. His eyes met mine, and my heart stopped.
He was there. Finally. He was standing only a few feet from me. He was real.
Noting the direction of my stare, my mother stepped back, smiling. She folded against my father, tucking under his arm to give me space.
We watched each other for a silent moment, neither of us making a move towards each other. My eyes drank him in, every facet, every feature. His hair had grown a little longer, the ends curling under just above his collar. His eyes seemed impossibly green, so clear and focused that it caused my stomach to flutter. He smirked at me, the dimple in his cheek popping, and my breath caught in my throat.
The moment I took a step towards him, he beat me to it. Closing the distance between us in three long strides, he converged on me, his hands gripping my face gently, as he crashed his lips to mine. I sighed with contentment, his tongue invading my mouth at the first opportunity. Normally I would be embarrassed and reluctant to be making out with a guy in front of my parents, but at this point, I didn't give a single shit.
He was here, and real, and mine. All the months of questions and worry and uncertainty were over. I was home, he was here, and we loved each other.
His hands released my face, sliding down my arms and curving along my back, before linking behind me and pulling me sharply against him. His lips softened, although didn't release me. He kissed me with passionate, with longing, and with the pent up frustration of four long months.
The sound of my father clearing his throat teasingly behind us caused Harry to snicker against my mouth, and after a few more gentle kisses for good measure, he pulled back.
His eyes roamed my face as if committing it to memory. I curved against him, feeling safe and warm and complete. I had never felt this before, and didn't care what was to come, I never wanted him to let me go.
"Welcome home, baby," he whispered, before leaning down and kissing me once more.
I giggled against him, before sighing contentedly.
We stood quietly for a moment, savouring our embrace before he spoke.
"I cant wait to get you home," he purred in my ear.
I leaned back, staring at him.
"I thought I was going home with my parents?"
Immediately, he shook his head. "Nope," he said with certainty. "We've already discussed the arrangement. We are going to dinner, all of us, then you're coming home with me."
My eyes widened, before I glanced over my shoulder at my parents. They were grinning at us embarrassingly, and I felt a blush rise in my cheeks.
Harry lowered his lips to my ear again, his breath tickling me.
"Niall is out of the house for the next few days," he said. "Ive made him bunk with Louis, so we have the place to ourselves."
I smirked at him, trying to be coy.
"Awfully presumptuous of you, don't you think?"
His eyes widened, his mouth dropping open slightly.
"Am I to believe you don't want to be with me tonight?" he asked, reaching up a hand to run his finger tips from the base of my ear, over my neck, towards the hollow of my throat. His touch caused me to shiver, my eyes closing. When I opened them again, the grin he wore said it all. "That's that I thought." he smiled, before leaning down and kissing my nose.
Turning back to my parents, my father lifted my bag before leading us out towards the car. With my hand firmly wrapped around Harrys, I couldn't erase the smile from my face.
I was home. I was safe. And I was finally with the man I loved.
I could only hope that all our drama was behind us.
**continued with Afterlife: Redemption