It'd been almost four years since she'd been caught, and taken away from him. Ripped from his grasp. They had headed south after leaving Roswell. There was an airport in Mexico City that they planned to fly out of to somewhere in Europe. They were alert, but apparently not enough so. Soon there were police everywhere
looking for them. He tried to save her after they had caught her, but she
yelled for him to run. She never knew where he ended up. After being
questioned for thirty-six hours straight, she was released. Upon returning
to her apartment she found it had been turned upside down and inside out.
They had searched hard, but they had found nothing that would help them find
him.
No one knew she was home. She began to clean the apartment, her face expressionless. There were no thoughts that she was thinking nor any feelings that she was feeling. She was numb. This time she had been taken away from him. It was almost like a game. First she was taken from him, then him from her, then he left her to seek the truth, which he found, and now she had been taken away from him once more. This time was different though. She didn't know why, but it was.
She has dedicated these four years to helping him. Although he wasn't there,
she had gotten him off. Of the last four years, the trial had lasted three and a half of them. With the help of old friends and co-workers they proved that the
body that was presented to them wasn't the body of whom they said it was.
They had also used the tape from when the man, who was supposedly dead, had
entered the facility the night of the escape. He was innocent and it was
proven. He would be free, but he didn't know it yet. She couldn't find him
anywhere in the world. He wasn't aware of it, but if he were to come back; he would be safe.
She was in the kitchen making herself lunch when there was a knock on her
door. Now that she no longer worked for the FBI she rarely got unexplected
visitors. It was her mother who presented her with a letter from India. It
had been opened because it was addressed to her mother, but it was meant for
her. As she read the words written on that paper that he had held, tears fell
down her face. After she finished reading the letter, she looked up knowing his exact location. Without a word she ran out of her apartment and headed to the airport. Less than two days later she was in India searching for him. He had gone to Antarctica to save her, so she could go to India to save him. The letter hadn't been set down since she had read it. She looked at it and read the directions to where he was.
With nervous feelings she entered the building of where he had written he
would be. Slowly walking up the stairs, the heat began to bother her, but not
enough to stop searching. She entered a room that was bright yet empty. In
the corner she saw something, but she wasn't sure what it was until it
moved. It was him. He was dirty and hadn't shaved in maybe a week. Standing
up he met her in the middle of the room. She was crying then, as was he.
"It's safe. You can come home." She informed him.
He embraced her, crying tears of joy. Finally he could go home and be with
her after four long years of running, hoping and praying that she was alive
and well. He kissed her tenderly, letting his hands linger in her hair. He took extra time touching her, smelling her, all of his emotions and memories of her returning at full speed. It wasn't that he'd forgotten her, or stopped loving her. It was the complete opposite actually. He'd longed for her. Ached for her. He brushed a tear from her cheek, then pressed his lips to hers once more, before whispering, "Wherever you are is home."