Authors' note: Hello everyone, Seth here and this is a short story I'm co-writing with the lovely .3 Please enjoy and review. (Apologies The Grand Old Clock readers, I've got writers block:( )

From the air nothing looked big, it looked small. As I sat on the plane, a very public one, I had time to wonder at the significance mankind made for themselves when they were merely parasites in comparison to the universe. The vast blue sky was easy to lose yourself in- just as easy as it was in the sea or darkness.

My mind was still cluttered with these thoughts when I bumped into the infamous young Rider. I was shell shocked. Not. To say that I had been would be one thing, an incredulously wrong thing at that.

Ever since 'They' had informed me 'He' was dead. I knew in my gut, that he was alive. At the terminal I was convinced when I saw the blond hair and a tallish frame; he'd grown and was now a tall 5ft9. I hadn't been sure at first, but seeing his face I now knew it was true. Hiding my grin, I waited for him to make the first move; intent on studying every reaction.

Quickly the teen's body tensed and relaxed just as fast as he turned to apologize. Watching the recognition dawn in his eyes it wasn't hard to miss the anger.

"Yassen?!"

"Alex," We whispered in synchronization with each other.

He glared while I grinned. Dismissing any other emotion I watched him search my own face for the truth. "They told me you died."

"I did."