Chapter 3

There is no other sound in the world more soul destroying than that of your alarm going off at stupid o'clock in the morning when your body, groggy from sleep, begs you for just another hour, minute or second of sleep. Going against his natural instinct to hit the snooze button or ignore the alarm altogether, Elliott sat up in bed, disturbing his wife in the process.

"What time is it?" She asked her voice thick with sleep as she rolled over to face her shattered husband. She wore a tightfitting cream lace nighty and had long brown hair that came down to her waist. There were the first signs of grey in her long plait but she refused to dye it. Claimed that it gave her character. Even in bed, messed up with sleep she was still sexy to Elliott.

"Early love," He leant down and whispered in her ear replying to her question, his breath intentionally tickling her neck.

Moving her head a fraction to the left, Karen Hayes kissed her husband passionately till he drew back, breathless and aroused. "I missed you last night," she told him sadly, her beautiful full mouth pouting downwards as she moved to rest her head on her left arm, Elliott watched transfixed as she moved. "Lucas missed you too," she added, not cruelly though the words still hurt all the same.

His son, Lucas, was fast approaching that age of self-awareness. If his dad wasn't there, he noticed and blamed himself. Elliott hated to let the little guy down and worse make him think it was because of something he'd done. Fortunately Lucas was also still at a bribe-able age, Elliott still had time to fix this, he knew he did. After all there were plenty of detectives that were also successful fathers…right? Elliott had to hope so. He loved his wife and kid more than anything in the world. The last thing he wanted was to hurt either of them intentionally.

"I was at a crime scene," Elliott told her, though he knew that he should have called last night to tell her he'd be home late. It wasn't like she would have stayed up waiting for him, those days were long gone, but she would have gone to bed mad and Elliott hated leaving his wife in bed alone. What could he do though? Late nights, cancelled dinner reservations and missed anniversaries were just the nature of the beast. He tried to make it up to her where and when he could.

"Was it the LA Child Snatcher again? Did you find the little girl?" She asked, her voice quivering at the thought of another dead child. Naturally he had a policy of not discussing cases with his wife, not just because he couldn't divulge the details of an on-going investigation, but also to shield her from some of the evil out there. Most crime scenes he was called to were stranger than fiction, grisly acts of inane violence. Nevertheless, everyone knew about the case of the LA child Snatcher because it was huge in the press right now, television and newspaper alike.

"Yes Hun," He lay back down, leaning his head on his right arm to face her. She had tears on her cheeks and in her beautiful brown eyes. Reaching across the small divide in the bed, Elliott cupped his wife's face in his hand, using his thumb to wipe away her tears. "I'm going to catch him though," He told her, sounding more confident than he felt. "The FBI is on the case now, which means more resources for me and Brian. The LA Child Snatcher, whoever he may be, doesn't stand a chance."

"I believe in you," She replied, nodding her head with complete faith in his abilities. More faith than he had or deserved. After all had he been a good detective he would have solved it before the FBI had become involved. He didn't want to, he was a humble man by nature, but a small sliver of him couldn't help feeling rankled that he wasn't in charge anymore. He liked and respected Special Agent Granger. He even looked forward to seeing what he and his team could bring to the table, it didn't mean he had to be too happy about it though…right?

"What's wrong love?" Karen asked, reading him like a book. It constantly amazed him how she knew his mind so well. He'd asked her once and she had simply replied that he had an honest face, whatever that meant.

"I don't know…I just think about you and Lucas and how this man is destroying families just like ours. Sure they were all dysfunctional and there is always some degree of neglect…but Michael Burnett…how he moves on from here, I don't envy him is all."

"You're a good man Elliott Hayes and Lucas and I aren't going anywhere. So you do whatever it takes to find and stop this man. Then come back to us," She reached across the space and curled her fingers in his ample chest hair.

Smiling, comforted by her touch, Elliott moved on top of his wife and whispered "How did I ever deserve you?" on her lips before kissing her thoroughly.

"You just got lucky I guess," She laughed, her laugh was like the tinkling of silver bells and if his alarm clock was the most soul destroying sound in the world her laughter was easily the most soul restoring sound he knew of.

No longer tired he growled, "Damn straight I did," as he claimed her mouth once more with his, his hand roaming the familiar contours of her body. His touch aroused and excited her till she arched to meet his erection.

Raking her fingers down his strong shoulders, Karen gasped as he reached down and pulled the nighty up round her waist. It was hardly the sleekest or sexiest of moves but fortunately after fifteen years of marriage she still wanted it.

Helping him get the tight lingerie over her head she reminded him, "Don't forget to check in on Lucas before you leave." Before succumbing to his mouth and the pleasure it incited.

*7:00 a.m.,

The FBI Offices*

Stepping out of the comfort of the small lift on the nineteenth floor, Elliott watched amazed as at least a dozen agents made an early start to the day. At the LAPD an early start meant nine, ten o'clock. Don't these people have homes to go to? Elliott shook his head sadly. It was just another thing to be intimidated by. These men and women meant business, not that they didn't at the LAPD…this was just a higher class of determination than Elliott was used to.

The large office itself was a giant open planned room fitted with several square partitions that could fit four or more desks per cubicle. Elliott supposed that they were cordoned off according to the different teams and sure enough he quickly identified the two agents, hunched over an overburdened desk to the centre of the room, as Agents Chase and Granger. It was only upon reaching the chest height frosted glass walls of the cubicle that Elliott noticed the two women at the two desks facing him.

"Morning," Colby gave the detective a lazy and somewhat tired smile, which was nothing compared to Will's that turned into a large lion's roar of a yawn. He looked half asleep on the desk that Colby was perching on. He was still wearing the same blue striped shirt as the day before and his golden locks looked like they had been finger combed several times in the last few hours. He could only assume that Agent Chase had come back to the office after their meeting and worked through the night on the killer's profile. Elliott was impressed, it showed a level of commitment that he hadn't expected from the rookie after their first meeting and he was intrigued to see what he would have added to their own LAPD profile.

"Elliott this is Agents Nikki Bentancourt and Liz Warner. Nikki, Liz, this is Detective Elliott Hayes of the LAPD." Colby introduced Elliott to the two women in the crowded booth.

"We've met before," Nikki told Colby, getting up to shake Elliott's clammy hand. "We worked a murder in china town together a couple of years back. It's good to see you detective," Nikki smiled easily at Elliott. He'd known she'd looked familiar but his memory wasn't what it once was and he was embarrassed to say he hardly remembered her, although she was defiantly a woman that demanded attention. He could only assume this was a magic trait that they gave out upon joining the FBI because she, like the other three, defiantly made Elliott sweat. He'd hate to think how a perp must feel stuck in an interrogation room with them.

"Hi," Elliott replied to Nikki as he perched on what he presumed was Colby's desk. She had an untameable afro of shoulder length curls, light brown skin, small round eyes and full pink glossy lips. She was also wearing large hooped earrings, a silk sea green shirt, black trousers and leopard print pumps. Her partner, Liz Warner, who mumbled a quick hello before delving back into the report in her hand, was more classically good looking than Nikki. Nikki looked streetwise and carried herself like a woman who had lived in and managed to survive the ghetto. Liz on the other hand, sat like a model with nothing to prove and oblivious to her beauty. She certainly made an odd FBI agent, with long wavy brown/black hair that looked silky to the touch; brown almond shaped eyes and tanned skin. Her mouth was painted a deep red to match her eye shadow, sundress and pumps. There was, however, a grim determination to the way Liz's jaw clenched and her hands clamped the report she was holding. Elliott could only assume she was acquainting herself with the case.

"What time does the briefing start?" Elliott asked Colby, who sat on Chase's desk, swinging his legs idly.

"In ten minutes," Nikki replied, collecting a few reports from her desk before gesturing at him to follow her. "We're waiting for the AD and SAIC before we begin," She whispered to him confidingly as they walked down two long corridors with glass walled rooms on either side. The scale of the building alone was impressive, but their interrogation rooms and side offices were equally so. He was mesmerized by the low lighting and the mass of different Agents, which were all moving swiftly down the long corridors or collaborating across office spaces at such an early hour. Clearly the FBI liked to get an early jump on the day, which Elliott could respect. More amazing still was that Nikki seemed to know most of them. How she kept all the names straight in her head Elliott didn't know. What he did observe was that the soft click of her printed pumps got heads turning and the men smiling, as she strutted to the FBI bullpen.

Entering the large oval shaped room, Elliott and Nikki found seats together at the back of the room. Most of the people looked as tired as Elliott but there was a crackle of excitement in the spacious office. It was infectious and Elliott found himself flexing his fingers in anticipation.

"Forgive me Detective," Nikki squeezed his arm in apology. "I have to see Matt about my computer." Getting up, Nikki walked towards a foreign looking man who had just entered the bullpen and started working on a large cinematic sized interactive board at the front of the briefing room. Elliott was surprised to see the reports, his reports of the case on the large screen. Someone had clearly been up late last night scanning them all.

"Wow," He whispered to no one in particular. "At the LAPD we just use whiteboards." He didn't mean to sound like a jealous, sulking teenager but he couldn't help it a small part of him still wasn't completely happy about the merger.

"We have those too," Agent Ian Edgerton replied from behind. Elliott hadn't even noticed him there and was embarrassed that he'd been caught out.

"Good morning Agent Edgerton," Elliott smiled at the man. He was sat, leaning back in a swivel chair, feet on the table, completely at ease and yet…there was a readiness about him, his body was tense and poised, ready for action.

"Morning and call me Ian," He winked, his eyes filled with mischief as he watched over the room. He was dressed today in a pressed white shirt, black suit pants and expensive black loafers. Where he had gotten the fresh clothes from, Elliott didn't know. Edgerton just looked too polished for having spent a night in the woods and the mystery of it intrigued him.

"Morning guys," Brian greeted the unlikely pair as he plonked himself down in Nikki's empty seat.

"Hey," Elliott smiled warmly at his partner.

"God, Not you too! Was I the only one not to get laid last night?" Brian replied a little too loudly, generating odd glances and drawing attention to them.

"What?" Elliott hissed as Ian laughed loudly, he clearly found it amusing, unlike Elliott.

"What?" Brian shrugged his shoulders unashamed. "People here are far too happy for…" he checked his watch. "…For seven in the morning. Shit, I didn't even know seven had a morning." Sighing sadly, clearly put out, Brian took a long sip from his steaming cup of coffee. "This is seriously great coffee man," He added, saluting Ian with his mug.

"You know I don't actually work here right?" Ian raised a single brow, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards.

"You don't?" Brian asked amazed.

"Technically I consult," Ian replied thoughtfully as Elliott turned to watch the room. Two new people had just walked in followed closely by Colby, Liz and Will. One was tall with thick black unruly hair, brown eyes and a pressed black suit. The other was a fraction smaller, with ash blond hair that was cropped close to his head. He was wearing a white open collared shirt and tan suit. Both stood together at the head of the room whilst Colby and the others filled various empty seats around them.

"Hi everybody," The taller man greeted the room brightly; Brian was right, it was just too much for seven o'clock in the morning. "I'm SAIC Don Eppes and this is AD Nick Callaghan. I'd like to start by welcoming Detectives Hayes and Hamilton to the team," Don gestured to Elliott and Brian at the back of the room, both of which sunk a little deeper in their seats, discomforted by the number of heads that turned to regard them curiously. "I'd like to start by saying that the LA Child Snatcher has been up graded to a priority one case. The body of his third victim was found last night and whilst we wait for Dr Claudia Gomez to finish conducting the autopsy, I'd like to make sure that everyone is up to speed on the case. Right now, he could be stalking his next victim. We have no time to waste, so with that sentiment in mind…who wants to kick off this briefing properly?" Don Eppes looked around at all the uncomfortable faces in front of him, no one willing to meet his eye.

"Detective Hayes, how about you bring us up to date on the case?" Nick Callaghan asked, though it was more of a request. He had a kind boyish face, but his eyes were all business and Elliott couldn't imagine refusing the man.

"Yes…well of course…" Elliott stammered as he stood too quickly, knocking his leg on the table in his rush and shuffled to the front of the room. Public speaking was not a problem, he had given thousands of briefings to his own team; but these agents…they were an intense bunch and they were all staring at him. It chilled him to think that he might make a fool of himself in front of these people that he didn't know and would most likely never meet again. It was only Ian's friendly smile and Brian's thumbs up that kept him from tripping over himself in a rush to get his part over with.

"Just forget everyone else," his wife Karen would say. "It's just you and me baby. Tell me what happened, exactly."

Finding his voice, Elliott informed the tough crowd: "The first victim, Ellie Wilson was taken from a downtown park two blocks from her family home and then buried on a popular jogging trail across town." He stopped to point at two red dots on the large map on the interactive board.

"Taken from a park and buried on a jogging trail across town…" Nick repeated confused. "What do the locations have in common? A park and a popular jogging trail. There's something in that…I just…I can't put my finger on it."

"It's not uncommon," Don cut in. "The moves of a serial perp are defined by his needs. He watches the potential victim, avoiding detection. He'll frequent public areas in this case parks that don't have a lot of traffic, waiting for moments of isolation. Serial offenders cover a wide region but rarely commit crimes near their homes. It's like a buffer zone to them and it varies in size in the early stages but does begin to stabilize. These guys follow patterns. Like taking from a park and burying on a jogging trail. What doesn't add up is why our serial killer is risking his invisibility to bury the victims on busy footpaths?"

"What about the families?" Nikki asked, opening her report to the first family.

"Ellie Wilson's mother and father, Gaye and Adam Wilson are professors at the 'University of California'. Both reported her missing the same day as the kidnapping. She was murdered a week later but the body itself was not recovered until three weeks later across town." Elliott replied.

"So he actually only had her a week?" A young agent from the front asked.

"A week is a long time to a parent without their child," Elliott bit back at the man's incredulity. "We presumed that the child was dead when no ransom was called for…that was the hardest part for the parents…knowing that whoever has you're your child has other…designs for them. It's hard to keep hope after suffering that blow…" Elliott looked down morosely, remembering the mother's; Gaye's frantic screaming when the days passed and the hours ticked on and sill no call came.

"Not long after the discovery of Ellie Wilson, our second victim Faye Larson was taken from a park close to her home," Brian carried on for Elliott, getting up and tapping the other red dot on the map. "The mother is a waitress and the father is unemployed. There are no social connections between the girls or their families. They don't go to the same school, have the same hobbies or go to the same malls or parks. These two girls have never met, or spoken to one another. They live on the opposite sides of town and are in two different leagues socially. They might as well live countries apart for every detail that separates the two girls from each other. The same applies to Connie. The only things these girls share are their looks and the type of place that they are found. Both Connie Burnett and Faye Larson were also taken from a park near their home and buried later on a public footpath…"

"…The main difference between the victims is the killer's time frame," Elliott cut in. "Faye was kept a week, murdered and then discovered two weeks later."

"The latest victim though," Ian said from his corner of the room, making a couple agents in front jump from his loud commanding voice. "She was taken and then killed two weeks later…showing the step up in MO…but she was found how long after that?"

"She was discovered a week later," Elliott replied, meeting the intimidating man's thoughtful eyes.

"So each victim is found a week earlier than the last…" Ian laid it out loud for them all. "Do we have pictures?"

"Yes," The IT tech jumped up, swiftly flicking the map to one side as he tapped the board and brought up the three images. The first was of a small white flower next to a hole that had been dug by a runner's dog that had smelt the corpse. The second was of a small white flower next a couple of tiny fingers reaching out of the ground. The third was the same except that it was an entire hand.

"Either he's getting sloppier…" Don stated.

"…Or he's been making the corpses easier to find." Nick finished, his fists clenched tightly on the desk that he was perched.

"Did you ever discover the significance of the flower?" Liz asked her voice soft and quiet, hardly above a whisper.

"No," Brian shook his head embarrassed as he dug his hands into his suit pockets. It wasn't like they had the resources or a flower database that they could magically consult. They had tried to find the flower but in the end the captain had told them to come back to it.

"We visited several boutique flower shops that deal with rare plants but none of them could identify the flower," Elliott added, defending themselves from the murmuring crowd.

"That's because it isn't rare," Ian leaned forward, resting his head in his hands as his statement sent the crowd murmuring once more.

"Ian," Don asked loudly, motioning with his hands and silencing the crowd. "Do you know what the flower is?"

"It's the 'Mohavea Confertiflora' more commonly known as the 'Ghost Flower'. It grows in the Mojave and Sonoran deserts of south-eastern California to southern Nevada and western Arizona. Like the Snapdragon and Penstemon, the Ghost Flower is a member of the Figwort Family. It is an erect annual which grows four to sixteen inches high and derives its name from the ghostly translucency of its flowers," Ian replied impressing everyone in the room. "You forget," He told his stunned audience, "I know practically every inch of the country including its flora and fauna. It's just what I do."

"Huh," Will replied thoughtfully when no one else moved. "That would really make sense…"

"How's that?" Elliott asked curiously as Will scrambled through his scattered notes.

"Remember what I said last night?" Will asked ignoring the room full of people. It was just the two of them, fighting to understand. "Organised serial killers plan their crimes methodically, abducting their victims and killing them in one place and then disposing of the body in another. He has to have a reasonable knowledge of forensics and his environment to enable him to control the crime scene and cover his tracks. This flower is significant to him and he has to have knowledge of flowers, the irony of the 'ghost flower' it's too huge for him to have picked it just because it's a pretty local flower."

"So he is laying the bodies to rest with a ghost flower to what? Mark the passing?" Nikki asked, struggling to follow.

"Almost," Will smiled feverishly, caught up in the excitement of it all. "Serial killer profiling 101: Most have daddy issues or mummy issues, either way nine times out of ten the killer will have been abused as a child…" He looked pointedly around the room. When no one replied he added, "…just like our victims."

"You think that's what links them?" Colby asked, speaking for the first time.

"Maybe," Will replied.

"If it is…it's not the only link," Ian added. "He knew them, chose them. Their paths crossed at some point, we just have to figure out where."

"But the flower?" Nikki asked again, drawing Will's attention back to her.

"Yes…the flower. Right, well I think he identifies with his victims. He's like a vigilante for child abuse."

"Except that he's murdering the children…" Liz reminded them all.

"What you have to remember is that our 'killer' is broken. He is separate from you and I. We know that killing the child isn't helping but to him, he has an entirely different logic system. It's like at the Salem witch trials. They burnt the witches to purify their souls. To save them. For him perhaps…this is how he purifies them from the abuse. After all he was probably in the foster system at some stage of his life," When Ian opened his mouth to object, Will cut him off. "I'm not blaming the foster system. I'm just saying that there are a lot of children that falls through the cracks. If he just highlighted the abuse that's where the child would go."

"So in his mind he's protecting them…" Brian scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Will smiled relieved that someone had got it. "The flower," he turned to address Nikki. "I believe that the flower is his symbol of his remorse. He thinks what he has done is right but he still feels grief for their passing."

"That's twisted," Nikki replied outraged for the victims.

"That's the mind of a serial killer," Ian smiled sadly.

"Ok. So we know the semi-why on the flowers, though I still agree with Ian that it must have significance personally for our killer but why the outfits?" Don asked as he tapped on the interactive board to bring up the images of each child's body.

"It's his way of conversing with us," Ian sighed as he leant back in his chair, feet on the desk once more. "All of it is. The flower is his sort of apology which is why he plants them at the head of the grave and in the hands of the victim. The outfit will be specific to an event or person in his life, whilst the hand out of the grave was his way of speeding up the whole process. He can't bear to dump the body so he buries them, but he wants us to find them hence the hand and the popular jogging trail. Like you were saying, he risks his invisibility so that the victim, but more importantly the abuse, is found. The second victim, Faye Larson, was abused by him. Your preliminary thoughts were that he was stepping up his violence. Claudia's further inspection of the abused areas at autopsy revealed previous signs of abuse, fractured bones, hidden bruises that sort of thing. He was telling us that this little girl was getting knocked around and he helped her, but that it falls on us to catch her abuser."

"Which we did, it was her father," Brian told Ian who nodded in return.

"So if that's the case then Connie Burnett was probably abused as well," Elliott replied horrified. Besides the suffocating she hadn't looked like she had been abused but then it was dark out…

"You're spot on detective," Claudia told them all from the doorway causing the small group of agents to turn around. "Connie Burnett was sexually abused and closer examination showed previous signs of abuse."

"Shit," Don whispered angrily. "Robin is going to hate me."

"Why?" Nick asked confused.

"Because now I have to go and ask Assistant District Attorney Michael Burnett if he was sexually abusing his daughter." Don told him as he buried his face in his hands.

"That's rough buddy, but I will leave solving that element of the case to you as you have some standing with the family. We can't assume it's Michael just yet but nor can we rule him out because he's the ADA," Nick replied before returning his attention to the other Agents and the two Detectives. "Ok, lets recap folks as there's been a lot of information thrown at us in the space of…shit an hour. The LA Child Snatcher takes similar looking girls, abuses them to show signs of abuse and then dresses them up in a way that is significant to a person of event in his life. Liz, I want you to look at past crimes see if the MO matches any. Also check for a link with the white flower I want to know exactly why it's significant to our perp."

"Yes sir," She replied as she made a note on one of the files in front of her.

"What else do we know?" Nick asked of the others.

"We know how he's killing the victims. Hand over the mouth and he'd improving his style too. The tox screen did reveal narcotics," Claudia replied taking a seat next to Liz.

"There's also the nanny angle," Colby replied hesitantly.

"What angle?" Don asked confused.

"All victims were with their nanny at the time of kidnap," Elliott replied for Colby. "Now I think about it. It's certainly an odd choice for your 'lying in wait for a moment of isolation' theory. Except we know that in each case the nanny was neglectful in some way. We know this because of the interviews with the other nannies. If they were neglectful enough to let the killer snatch the child then they might have been neglectful at other moments too. In these moments our victims could have come into contact with the killer at the park and another nanny might have seen it."

"We need to re-interview the nannies. Maybe one saw something or someone in the days leading up to the attack," Colby agreed.

"Ok, Elliott and Colby you follow up with the nannies. Take Ian he'll be able to draw a picture of the perp if anyone saw anything," Nick turned his attention on Ian. "Ian, you had a lead for us?"

"Yes sir. I found some old tracks at least a week old at the crime scene," Ian sat a little straighter when addressing the AD. "They were a work man's boot size eleven. I followed them back to the car park to a set of tracks for a small van or pickup. A coffee shop across the road, where coincidentally witness Tessa Mawby works, had CCTV footage which revealed a white van arrive stay awhile and then leave a week prior to the burial. I have a print out of the truck but sadly there are no defining characteristics. So nothing we can put an APB out on."

"At least we now know two defining characteristics about our killer when previously we had none. Well done Ian," The AD praised him. "What about anything else?" Nick turned to Elliott. "Have we missed anything out of the briefing?"

"Just the brands, sir," Elliott told him shyly.

"Yes the brands!" Don shook his head vigorously. "What's that all about?" He looked from Elliott to Will.

"Well," Will answered. "Branding is usually about possession. By branding the child he asserts his possession like they belong to him. Death is just the ultimate form of possession but we know that's not what he's doing by killing them. No the branding must have a significance. It's just hard to determine what that significance is for a psychopath."

"We thought that it meant that Ellie Wilson was the eighth victim at first but when Faye Larson turned up with the same brand…well we assume it's the number of victims he intends to kill…now I'm just not sure what to think or believe," Elliott replied honestly.

"I wish Charlie was here," Don sighed sadly. "Numbers are his thing…maybe we should call on Larry?"

"I don't know," Colby replied. "After his mistake on the Tompkins's case…well he said he wanted space and then left for the monastery."

Elliott didn't know who they were talking about. He could only assume that 'Charlie' was a good agent known for running the numbers. Everyone looked so sad and wistful that Elliott felt a little regret that this 'Charlie' was…well where ever he was… Turning to look at Ian, Elliott noticed that his expression was different from the others. There was sadness there and a sense of loss or loneliness. As quickly as it was there, however, Elliott watched as the mask went back up and Ian was back to his usual cheerful, cocky and mischievous self.

"Ok guys, let's get on with the case," Nick told everyone, clapping his hands in anticipation. "Nikki, help Liz with determining the MO. Will, I want you and Brian to look into the clothes. They are identical except for sizes. He has to have bought them somewhere, track it down. Colby, Ian and Elliott I want you all to re-interview the nannies. Find us something…anything. Don, look into the sex abuse angle. The rest will receive your orders soon. For now stay on your current cases, but be prepared to drop everything for this one. It's priority one so I don't want any whining or you'll answer to the director!"

"Yes sir!" They all replied before dispersing to get on with their set assignments.

*Gatwick Airport,

England*

Standing by the tall window, Charlie watched as the plane that would take him back to America pulled into the small terminal. It had been a whirlwind of a few hours and tired, dishevelled and sporting a day's growth of beard, Charlie just longed to be home already. It was eleven o'clock in England so…about four in the afternoon in LA. After the eleven hour flight Charlie would come off the plane in LAX around ten a.m. He'd catch a cab. No point worrying or dealing with family until he was there, face to face…one on one. That way it might be somewhat bearable… Oh, who was he kidding? It was never going to be easy or smooth and bearable? Yeah right! There would be tears and tantrums from him and questions, so many questions from his family... God, Charlie was not ready for the endless questions!

Shaking his head angrily, Charlie raked his fingers through his messy curls. How had it come to this? When had this become his life? No, a better question was how he had become that guy? He hated that guy! God, what a mess. Or in British: 'what a pickle'!

Checking his watch, a gift from Ian after the whole prison thing, Charlie sighed audibly at the time and drummed his hands on his stiff legs from standing too long. This is what you get, he thought self-deprecatingly, when you spontaneously decide to up and leave with no fixed plans!

He had arrived at the airport and the next flight was delayed by eight hours. There was no way he was going back to Cambridge so he had gone through all the checks and sat patiently at his gate for the last seven hours thinking he could lose himself in a maths problem or a good book…neither of which had helped. At least there was only an hour left. It just grated that he could have practically been home in the time that he had sat there, stewing. There was nothing for it though. It wasn't like he could speed up time or use the force to get the plane ready any quicker…

Accepting fate, Charlie sat down once more. He had waited seven hours, he could wait another twelve. Anything to just be home again. In a familiar setting with the people he held dearest…that was all he really wanted. Sighing again, Charlie slunk lower in his seat, tipped his head back against the rest and tried to sleep the last hour away.