Everything about Lundy's world was always changing. He moved from place to place, from case to case. He stayed in hotels and rented apartments. He spent a lot of time in airports. Sometimes he wanted to leave, sometimes he didn't. There were times when the weather was balmy and still, and times like today when the beginnings of a tropical storm was starting to build up off the coast.

"Passengers of Flight M843 to Oregon are advised that there will be a slight delay in boarding."

At the same time, everything about Lundy's world also stayed the same. He worked hard to keep amiable relations with local law enforcement. There was always someone who valued their ego over the teamwork required to catch a killer. He would find new ingredients to experiment with in his cooking and he would find the ideal music for each case. He always got on the plane and left.

So, to find himself sitting in the boarding lounge of Miami International, thinking about deliberately missing his flight to Oregon was a new experience. He didn't want to go. It wasn't the first time that the thought had crossed his mind but it was rare that he was actually tempted to act on it. Debra had said she was coming with him. She had told him, in her special pig-headed way, to buy her a ticket on the flight.

He was sitting there with his briefcase and a newspaper, staring at the spare ticket in his hand. He was mildly surprised with himself for buying it. He wasn't even sure whether he wanted her to show up or not. Debra was amazing. She was a spitfire, a firecracker and she was under his skin. She was determined to go with him, even if it meant sacrificing her police career. He was nervous at the possibility that she might not turn up. He was also nervous at the possibility that she would. If she came, there would be no going back; he would always owe her for that sacrifice, always feel responsible for the end of her police career. Their lives would be fused.

"Flight 843 to Oregon has been canceled. Passengers of Flight M843 are requested to head to the information desk."

Lundy looked up, the frustrated expressions around him clearly signalling who his fellow travellers were to have been. He looked down at the ticket in his hand and then reached into his pocket. He could feel the hard outline of his cell phone. He could feel the buttons with the pads of his fingers. He could ring Debra. What would he say? If she wasn't coming, he'd accomplish nothing but an awkward conversation. He left the cell in his pocket.

Debra watched the ambulance pull away. There was a cacophony of sound surrounding her as the fire-fighters brought the blazing building fire under control. The source of the blaze had been a warehouse retrofitted into a cheap but quaint block of studio apartments. Debra's fellow officers kept the crowd of gawkers back behind the crime scene tape. Rita's car pulled out to follow the ambulance, the tired young faces of Rita's children silhouetted in the tinted windows.

Her brother Dexter had nearly died tonight. It scared her but it also made her feel strong for the first time in a long time. Dexter, the charming and easy-going older brother that everybody loved, needed her. She had warned him about getting involved with the manipulative creature of the night that called herself Lila Tourney. Lila had tried to burn Dexter alive, along with his girlfriend's children. Dexter was everything that Debra wasn't. He was the golden child, with the college degree, the friends and a little nuclear family all of his own. As much as it could grate on Deb's nerves and remind her of her failures, at some level Deb took Dex as an example that happy endings could still come true. The thought that some twisted bitch had almost destroyed that had Deb seeing red. Debra Morgan did not take this shit lying down.

Deb marched around the crime-scene, giving directions to the uniforms and arranging the man-hunt. They might never catch Lila but it wouldn't matter - not even Lila was stupid enough to hang around Miami now. Everything was taken care of and there was a warm glow in Deb's chest. Wouldn't Lundy be proud of her now?

That thought made her gut lurch. It stopped her, literally, in her tracks. She found herself looking up at the night sky, part of it obscured by the smoke from the blazing building fire that the fire-fighters were only just bringing under control. She was standing halfway between the building and the car, the uniforms keeping a small crowd of onlookers at bay. A news camera swung her way and she started moving abruptly again. Miami detectives could not be seen standing around, mooning over their departed lovers.

She sat in the drivers' seat of her car and fingered the cell phone in her coat pocket. There was probably no point in ringing Lundy. He was probably already in the air, his cell phone responsibly turned off while in flight. Knowing him, he'd have crosswords and books to keep him occupied. She could still call, leave him a voice message. She traced the buttons on her cell. She had him on speed-dial. Not many officers of Miami PD could say they had an FBI agent on their speed-dial.

She wondered if he'd laugh and smile proudly, impressed by how far she'd come. Was he disappointed that she hadn't turned up at the airport when she'd insisted she would? Maybe she should tell him that only an emergency had prevented her from getting in that taxi. Maybe he deserved to know that nothing short of a life and death situation had kept her from his side. Maybe he was relieved to be free of her and her calling would only be awkward and embarrassing. Maybe she had a fuckload of paperwork waiting. She sighed and left the phone in her pocket as she put the keys in the ignition.

"We're very sorry for the delay, sir," said the attendant. "We'll have alternative travel arrangements arranged shortly."
"I'm sure you will," said Lundy, smiling thinly.
He turned around, swinging his briefcase off the information counter, to see that all of the flimsy and uncomfortable plastic seats in the public area were taken.

"Wonderful," said Lundy wryly.
He shuffled sideways through the throng of waiting and irritable passengers, heading for the door to the business class lounge. A television screen was mounted on the wall next to the lounge entrance, showing the late night news - presumably to remind everyone that the world would, in fact, go on without them. Lundy was headed for the relative comfort of the business class lounge when he happened to glance at the screen.

Debra was on the screen, standing motionless in the middle of the street. She was moving again in less than a second but the presenter had already started to talk about how shocked the onlookers were. He could only hear every second word the presenter was rattling off but the images of fire-engines made it clear what the cause of all the chaos was.

Lundy's hand slid to the cell phone in his pocket. Debra hadn't come to the airport like she'd insisted she would. Had she finally thought through the consequences and realized she couldn't leave Miami? Had she chosen her police career over him? Had she simply been dragged into an emergency and never had the opportunity to choose? He ran his fingers over the flimsy plastic buttons on his cell. How could he know unless he asked?

He pressed the button.

The End