That morning was gray and drizzly. Lawrence and Jackie were to send him off later on, but right now Lawrence and Leonard were going out for morning coffee as their last visit. There was no way of knowing when Leonard would make it to Earth again, so they were treating it as the last time they would see one another, at least for a good long while.

They made their way to the cafe where they planned to eat and sat down in a booth. The waitress came by and Leonard ordered a coffee with 2 sugars and a cinnamon roll.

"A chocolate croissant and black coffee for me, please," Lawrence ordered, and once the waitress had walked away, put his datapad down. "So. Two months in travel for this position," he said. "That must have been quite an opportunity they gave you."

"It was." Leonard had continued to lie to Jackie and Lawrence about the idea that the UNSC was seeking him for a position, rather than what had actually occurred. "I'm excited about it. It's a shame you two didn't decide to come with me."

"I know it will make things difficult on you, son," he said. "I'm sorry for that."

"I know."

"Nevertheless," Lawrence said. "We'll do everything we can do to support you from here, Leonard. We want to see you succeed in this."

"That's nice of you, Dad," Leonard said. "I'll let you know if I need anything."

"Good."

The waitress returned with their orders then. Leonard took a bite of his cinnamon roll and a drink of his coffee.

"I think I've found a buyer for the house," Lawrence said. "It's a young family. They have two little kids."

Leonard paused, thinking about it. Two little kids, tearing through the bedroom that had once been his and Allison's. Two little kids, jumping on the bed in Valerie's room. He hated the idea, but…it was no longer his to feel possessive over.

"They'll like it there," Leonard finally said. "I'm glad to know it's going to people who will appreciate it."

Lawrence shook his head slightly but didn't comment on Leonard's obvious reluctance. "They will. They're looking forward to moving in—they're very excited about it."

"They should be," Leonard said, starting to square up to the news. He'd known it was coming, of course, and it wasn't like he was going to be around to miss the place.

"You know you're right," Lawrence said. "And Jackie and I are thinking of finding a little bungalow to live in after Jake moves out of her house."

"Mmh," Leonard grunted. "Well, make sure I have your new address as soon as you move."

"Definitely," Lawrence replied.

Soon enough they'd finished their breakfast and Lawrence called Jackie to meet them at the spaceport. Leonard watched the view out the window as Lawrence drove him there. This would be the last time he'd see Austin in a good long while.

"Excited?" Lawrence asked after an extended silence.

"I am," Leonard said. "It's just crazy, the fact that I'm leaving."

"I understand," Lawrence said. "I felt something like that when I decided to move you from Atlanta to Austin. I'm sure it's a bigger feeling for you, though."

"I'm certain it is."

They found Jackie waiting for them already at the entrance to the spaceport. Leonard checked in his luggage, and then the three began to slowly walk toward the security checkpoint.

"I'm happy for you, Leonard," Jackie said. "You will keep us updated?"

"Of course," he said.

"Leonard," Lawrence said. "I have to tell you, I know this is what you've been working toward for a couple of decades, and I'm proud of you for accomplishing it."

Leonard looked at his father and stopped walking, as they had made it close to the security checkpoint. He put down his carry-on bag. "Thank you, Dad."

"I know I don't do this often," Lawrence said. "In fact, I don't think I've done it since you were a kid. But I'd like to give you a hug."

Leonard looked at him. "You're serious," he said.

"Yes," Lawrence said.

"This is important to him," Jackie said. "Leonard…Larry has told me about some of your history. And I'm sorry for what you've been through. But you've been disconnected for far too long."

Leonard frowned at her. "I know all that," he said. Lawrence came and stood before him, and then the two hesitated.

"Come on," Jackie encouraged, coming closer to them and putting an arm around each of them.

Lawrence took that encouragement and bent his arms around Leonard, who followed suit, and the two men hugged, with Jackie embracing them each at the same time.

When they pulled back Leonard saw that Lawrence's eyes were misted up with tears. "I apologize, son," he said. "I withheld that kind of thing for far too long."

"It's okay, Dad," Leonard said, then looked at Jackie. "I don't know what you've done to him."

Jackie chuckled. "Something he needed done to him a long time ago, I like to think."

Leonard shook his head. "Don't change him any more," Leonard instructed. "Are you wanting a hug, too?"

"Only if you do," Jackie said.

Leonard scoffed, with a small shake of his head, but also a small smile. "All right." He leaned in and gave Jackie a brief hug. "Good?"

"We'll miss you," Lawrence said.

"Of course I'll miss you, as well," Leonard said. He hoisted his carry-on bag over his shoulder again and began to move toward the checkpoint.

"Goodbye," Lawrence said, and Jackie echoed him.

Leonard turned and looked at them. "Absolutely not," he said, snapping a bit too sharply. "See you later."

"See you later, son," Lawrence said, his tone going quieter.

"See you later, Leonard," Jackie said.

Leonard nodded to them, each in turn, then turned around, and walked through the checkpoint.

Soon enough he was embarking onto the transport cruiser that would take him to Reach. Unlike military transports, this civilian transport would not be putting the passengers of the ship into cryosleep. Leonard was actually grateful for this, despite how long this two months was likely to feel—he'd heard terrible stories about what waking up from cryosleep was like. It didn't sound pleasant at all. He put his luggage in his cabin, and then went to the upper deck to sit in his assigned acceleration couch for launch.

Leonard mostly kept to himself after the launch. He made himself stick to a routine, rather than allowing his body to keep whatever hours it wished—he went to bed when the ship's clock showed 2200, and he got up when it showed 0700. He ate at regular mealtimes, and he worked on his datapad in between.

Two weeks after launch, Leonard received a communique alerting him to the fact that witnesses had been scheduled to testify during the required negotiations for his contract. The message had been sent by Ryan McCafferty to all parties involved, he noted, including several people he knew nothing about. Others, though, he knew far too well. The document included links to the public profiles of each witness. He recognized all the names, of course, but two were of particular note: Steve Hutchinson, and Caitlin Suh.

Steve had approached him at various conferences over the years, so Leonard was not surprised to see his appearance in the picture on the linked profile. But Caitlin he had not seen in nine years. He hesitated before tapping on the link. Did he want to know what she'd been up to in this time? But of course he did, if he wanted to be certain he was prepared for her testimony.

Caitlin's headshot dominated the profile, as it did for every person who was documented in this system. Leonard paused to linger over it for a moment, despite himself. She did look a little older. Not in a bad way, though, just in a way where the cares of the years had given her slight lines on her face.

He frowned to himself and scrolled down to read about where she had been and what she had done. She worked in the artificial intelligences department for Obsidian Labs on Reach, he learned. He knew it right away—this was a code name for the AI lab at ONI. It could be nothing else. She had gained a supervisory position in 2536, he next read. He lingered over this bit of text, reading and rereading it for several moments, before scrolling up to Caitlin's picture again.

She was still absolutely beautiful.

He turned off the screen and set it down on the table he was sitting at, a bit too hard. Someone nearby looked at him, and he frowned, picking it back up. He moved on to the rest of the message, looking over the profiles of the other people who were being called as witnesses, as well as the people who would apparently be hearing the testimony. He read about each of them, looked at their pictures, started taking a few notes about them.

Eventually, he finished his snack, and he realized bedtime was approaching. He arose from the table, took his datapad, and headed back to his cabin. He was glad he had paid extra for the single cabin layout—he was doing his best to keep to himself on this trip, and having roommates would have disturbed his schedule. He'd noticed the odd hours so many of the people on this trip were keeping.

He undressed, lay down in bed, and began to read some of the news. There were more glassings in the news, of course, more battles and colonies being lost, just as there were every few months. There were advertisements in between the columns, targeting his needs, as they somehow always did—places to stay in or live in once he got to Reach, places to relax, things to do in his leisure time, places to work. He wouldn't need the latter, he thought to himself. He continued to read until he dropped his datapad on his chest, having dozed off. He took off his glasses and set the datapad on the bedside table.

He closed his eyes. And the next time he fell asleep, he dreamt of her.

He had dreamed of her in the past, but it was never consistent over the years. Just now and then. Her image would conjure up in his mind and he'd see snippets of her, sort of in the background, just enough for him to awaken and wonder where she was and what she was doing.

But that night, he dreamt of her.

As dreams go, it was fairly ordinary—an environment that was both familiar and strange, a situation that was unknown to him even as he was experiencing it. The house was recognizable from the outside as his childhood home, the one he'd lived in in Atlanta before moving to Texas, but the rooms inside were too large, too well-appointed, too numerous, to belong in that place. There was a parlor in the center of the house, and the scrolled double doors opened to a gathering inside. He took a glass of punch from the sideboard and wandered inside.

She emerged from among the people who mingled nearby, talking to a group of people, who laughed. He blinked at her, surprised to see her face, and oh it was her face, it was those sweet brown eyes that used to gaze at him with such adoration before everything went wrong. He walked in her direction, and reached a hand to sense whether she was real, but by the time he had reached what should have been her side, she was gone.

He continued to wander around the party, spotting her now and then, and attempting time and again to come to her side. She was never there. She was never available. He turned around in a circle, looking around, not seeing her now. But the rest of the party-goers eventually filtered from the room, and he went outside. It was dark, the moon full in the sky, and it wasn't the moon as it shone in Austin or Atlanta but as it was in Cambridge, near the river. He walked until he reached the bridge. There was no traffic, and he walked down the center line, as though it were a tightrope. She was doing the same, heading in his direction. When they reached one another he reached out to her, but she was not in touching distance, no matter how much closer he tried to come.

"Caitlin!" he called out of desperation, trying to get her to come closer instead.

Somehow that worked; she was no longer out of reach. She was just in front of him, and she was holding something—it resembled a crystal ball, but it was clouded with colors, and shining in brightness.

He wanted it. Although he had been trying to bring her closer to talk to her, to try to get some kind of closure to what they had experienced together so many years ago, he now wanted nothing more than to hold that piece of crystal. What she was holding was not hers—it was his, and he wanted it so.

He reached for it. She did not hold it out to him, but the object was plucked from her hands, regardless.

"This is mine," he said, but it was no longer shining, no longer so brightly colored.

"It is yours," she agreed. "But it is not what you really need."

"I know," he replied. Lightning crashed, and thunder rolled, and the object shattered in his hands.

He looked at her. She was now holding another crystal, as bright and shining as the first had been.

"Caitlin, please give that to me," he said, feeling somewhat desperate. Was this the only chance he had left?

"I might," she replied. "But you have to leave it in my hands."

"I can't do that," he said. "Please give it to me."

"It's not up to you," she replied.

"I know, Caitlin," he said. "I know."

Thunder rolled as lightning crashed on the horizon. His attention was diverted momentarily to look at it, and when he looked back to her, she was gone.

And he was twisted in the sheets, sweating, with her name on his lips.

He clenched his teeth and didn't allow himself to say it. "Fuck," he spat, instead.

He'd always been a vivid dreamer. This dream was upsetting. Stupid subconscious. He knew what the symbol of the crystal meant—it was Allison, her AI, and it was true: his ability to recreate Allison was now going to be wholly in Caitlin's hands.

He arose, throwing the blanket off. It was too hot in here. He checked the thermostat in his cabin and then turned it down by a couple of degrees. It was 0430 ship's time, but this didn't mean much. Especially now. He pulled on some clothes and wandered out into the hallway.

No one was out there. Even keeping an artificial schedule, it seemed 0430 was just both too late and too early for people to be around. Leonard headed back to the ship's automat and bought himself a bottle of vitamin water and a granola bar. He took it to a table and slowly worked on consuming them.

Eventually he returned to his room and laid down with the datapad. He didn't really realize what he was doing at first, but he checked the time at home on Earth first—it was a reasonable 1148 now in Austin. That meant it was 0948 in California, he thought to himself, now becoming more aware of what his own intentions were.

Before he'd had time to talk himself out of it, he connected the datapad to the wavespace slipstream and dialed Aiden Price's number.

"Good morning, Dr. Church," Aiden responded when he answered. "I'm surprised to hear from you. Are you not on your way to Reach right now?"

"I am," Leonard said.

"Is your trip going well?"

"It is going well," he said. "I did wake up early this morning according to ship's time, unfortunately, however."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Aiden replied. "Did something disturb your sleep?"

Leonard stayed silent for a moment. "I saw a picture of someone I used to know," he said reluctantly. "I dreamed about this person and it woke me up."

"In what context did you see this picture?"

"It is someone who's scheduled to testify during my negotiations," he explained.

"I see," Aiden said. "It is unfortunate that the prospect of this testimony is disturbing your sleep. Is there anything you can do to help you not to worry so much? Prepare in advance to answer to the testimony, or something like that?"

"I was honestly kind of hoping you would have an idea," Leonard admitted.

"It would be wise to write down every aspect of your intended testimony now, while you're on the trip, rather than waiting to speak off the cuff," Aiden replied. "Speaking off the cuff might lead to more nervousness and, possibly, mistakes."

Leonard took this in with a moment of silence. "I've taken some notes, but perhaps I need to write down all my arguments," he said.

"I would recommend doing that," Aiden said. "I believe your dream is a manifestation of the fact that you are nervous about this testimony leading them to decide against you."

"Yes," Leonard said. "That's exactly what must be going on. Thank you for your advice."

"Anytime."

Leonard hung up the call and set his datapad down. He had much to do in the next six weeks.