Never thought I'd be taking my fifteen year old on a college visit, but that's what the trip turned out to be. Eli loved it. I'd never say this out loud, but I'd be lying to you if I said I wasn't half hoping he wouldn't like it - being so far away for school - but what the hell do I know? I was in the service by the time I was eighteen. He's a good kid. Wish you could see him...

He looks up from the spiral-bound notebook in his lap at the sound of his son's third exasperated sigh over the course of the last ten minutes and he can't hide his amused grin. Neither of them are used to sitting still for this long...at Hartsfield-Jackson this morning, on the plane, and now as the glowing electronic panel in the terminal has informed them their flight is delayed by an hour.

The blessing of the delay is that terminal twelve is empty and the adjoining seating area for gates ten and eleven are nearly so. He follows his son's gaze across the open space toward where a kid dribbles a small soccer ball across the floor a dozen rows of seats away.

"You don't have to babysit me, you know?" He teases mildly, reaching across the seat to prod Eli's knee with his pen.

His son smirks as he stretches his arms above his head before he stands.

"I don't know 'bout that. Considering there are plenty of extra planes and you've got the skills to get us the heck outta here." He motions toward the large windows behind them where a fleet of small aircraft sit in a hangar.

He grins up at his child. "Don't think Pittsburgh International lets people just borrow planes."

Eli shrugs nonchalantly in a way that makes him look almost identical to his older brother.

"I mean, we'll return it at home."

He fleetingly wonders whether he should be worried about the casual way that his son is discussing grand theft aircraft before -

"Heads up! Sorry!"

He turns just in time to see the soccer ball ricochet off one of the seats and roll toward them. Eli jogs forward and stops the ball expertly with his toe. He dribbles it between his feet for a few passes before he bends and picks it up, tossing it its owner. "Here you go."

"Thanks! Sorry about that," the boy says shyly as he catches the ball. The kid wears a gray Hogwarts sweatshirt and an impish grin.

Leaning back in his chair, he watches the boys take each other in. For as fair as Eli is, this kid is the polar opposite. He has dark unruly locks and light eyes. He can tell that despite the kid's height, he is younger than Eli by a few years. In any other circumstance, the two probably wouldn't have been drawn to each other, but in this moment…

"You wanna kick it around?" The kid asks Eli, his voice lilting with hopefulness.

His son surprises him when he tosses a look his way over his shoulder, as if to ask for permission. He hates that he knows where his son's hesitation comes from. It has been a decade and his child is still wary of leaving him alone.

"Go," he urges. "Your old man's not gonna go lookin' for trouble."

Eli nods and he doesn't miss the knowing glance that his child gives the notebook that rests against his thigh. His son knows what he uses this for and the sight of it seems to give him the permission he is seeking.

"E, just watch out for people," he reminds him.

Eli gives a wave of his hand, which he isn't sure whether he is supposed to take as a yes sir or a whatever, Dad.

"I'm Noah," he hears the boy say cheerfully. He watches as Eli offers his hand to shake, but he misses his son's reply because his cell phone rings from inside his sweatshirt pocket.

His daughter is speaking before he has the phone pressed to his ear. "Dad!"

"Hi baby," he greets her. "You okay?"

"I feel like I should be asking you. Do you know how long you have to wait?" He ignores the anxious edge to Elizabeth's voice and takes a deep breath.

"Just 'bout an hour, hon. We're fine here," he assures her as he leans forward in his seat to stretch his back. "Your brother made a friend. He's up kicking a soccer ball 'round with some kid from Hogwarts and-"

"What?" The sound of her amusement in his ear is sweet.

He grins before he realizes that she can't see him. He glances over his left shoulder toward where the boys have spread out across an empty bank of seats to pass the ball back and forth to each other. The boys are talking and while he is far enough away that he can't hear their exchange, he is close enough that he doesn't miss the sound of his son's laughter.

"Yeah, this kid wearing a Harry Potter sweatshirt has a ball and he and E are playing."

He sets his notebook down onto an empty seat nearby as he pushes against the armrest and lifts himself out of the seat to stand. He smooths his palm over his rough jaw, where the day old stubble is forming.

He makes his way around the row of seats toward the windows where he can watch the planes. A small passenger plane is coming in for a landing just as a huge jet taxis toward a runway.

The movement here is ceaseless. Airports never really sleep and he finds a comfort in the constant ebb and flow.
The arrivals and the departures are inevitable, like the tide. The journey itself is what lies in question, what hangs in the balance.

His daughter is talking to him and he thinks that he better listen because he is sure that whatever she is saying is important, but his attention is caught by a movement from the boys. He watches as Noah turns and eagerly waves to someone who must be approaching just behind him.

"Hi Mom! Come meet my friend, Eli!"

He knows he should turn to greet the kid's mother, but something holds him to the spot: the expression on his own son's face. Eli's light brow is furrowed, his head tilted in a posture of cautious hesitancy.

When his son meets his gaze, his blue eyes are round and full of something that he can't quite define.

He hears it then. Her voice. The sound he could recognize over the din of a packed bus station, a driving midnight thunderstorm in the sedan, and across the chasm of their desks in another life...

"I'm coming, hon!"

He can't control the way his pulse picks up, the way his throat suddenly feels tight and achy, the way he isn't sure whether or not he is still breathing. He tears his gaze away from his son's and he watches as she moves past him on the opposite side of the terminal. Her back is to him now. Her brunette bob cascades to her chin and it obscures his view of her profile, but the line of her spine is graceful, the curve of her shoulder, elegant. The movement of her walk is familiar. He watches like a ghost as she makes her way toward the boys...her son and his.

"Daddy, are you all right?" His daughter's voice cuts through to his ear.

"Call you back, Liv - Liz," he rasps automatically. He listens to his daughter's intake of breath at the sound of his slip-up before he hangs up on his child. At the same moment, across the slowly filling terminal, she takes in his son and she must understand something because she is turning now. Her dark eyes are wide in the moment that they meet his own. When she speaks, she calls him by a name that hasn't belonged to him in twelve years.

"Elliot."

Author's note: Thank you so much for reading. More to come...