Disclaimer: The usual- I don't own them, boo-hoo for me, yeah for somebody else. The lyrics of course are the property of the handsome, talented Michael Buble

Summary: see chapter #1- only from Tom's Point of view

Author's notes:

"" Dialogue, '' thoughts

Bold text indicates email/cable

Home: Chapter #2- Tom's thoughts on his exile

Tom Quinn walked into his neighbourhood pub and groaned as he heard the familiar opening chords of Home by Michael Buble. He heaved a huge sigh as he climbed onto his bar stool. He couldn't get away from that song, it woke him up this morning, played on the radio on his way to work, while he was at work, and now here.

Another summer day has come and gone away in Paris or Rome

But I want to go home.

Tom looked at the pub he was in with an ironic smile: this was likely the furthest place from Paris and Rome- the famous George St. district of St. John's in Newfoundland. He had decided on this city because it was enough like home not be homesick, and far enough way he wouldn't get sucked back into his former life. Tonight however, and hearing that song so many times in one day it amplified his desire to be home at his flat in London. The bartender made his way to his end of the bar, and he ordered a pint and sat sipping at it. The song droned on.

I may be surrounded by a million people

I still feel all alone,

I just want to go home.

He'd made friends on St. John's; some of them had become good friends. But he still hadn't told anyone much about himself, or about his past. His excuse for leaving was always the vague: 'I want to see the world before I settle down.' He always made that phrase sound convincing, so that people always smiled understandingly, and then left him alone. Nobody knew or realized that he was running, or what he was running from, and he liked it that way.

Oh I miss you, you know.

And I've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you,

Each one a line or two: I'm fine baby, how are you?

He wanted to write to Ellie, still fancied he felt something for her, and imagined that someday they might still make a life together. But he never was able to summon the courage to get beyond those first two lines. He took a swallow of his beer.

I would send them, but I know that it's just not enough

My words are cold and flat and

You deserve more than that

He never sent the letters to her, he was actually afraid of what she might say in return. Any explanations he would offer would be empty words that she would see as selfish. He could see her saying that if he actually meant them, he would be back begging her to take him back, forcing her to look deep into his blue eyes and tell him that she never loved him. And he couldn't go back there and live just a normal life. He would get sucked back into his former life, and it wouldn't be fair to her. She might eventually see that he would always be a spook no matter what else he did… But he couldn't do that yet, couldn't go back there.

Another Airplane, another sunny place

I'm lucky I know

But I want to go home

I've got to go home

He looked around him with another ironic smile. It was rarely sunny in St. John's, rainy for a lot of the time or cloudy. And the fog- at times it was as if it couldn't decide whether to blanket the city or go back out into the North Atlantic. It was just another thing that made him feel comfortable. The fact was Tom liked his life as Matthew Archer, loved St. John's. But there were nights, like tonight the homesickness became unbearable. The burden of all the things he had done in the past threatened to overtake him, settle on his shoulders like a ton of bricks. It was nights like tonight he came extremely close to saying: I'm not who everyone thinks I am, I'm not this wonderful guy Matthew Archer, I'm Tom Quinn, an ex-spy with MI-5. I've seen things that people should never have to see, done things that nobody should have to do." Then he'd realize that he's lucky to be alive, to have gotten out of the service alive. And it would all be okay. He closed his eyes and pinched his nose in a gesture of fatigue.

Let me go home

I'm just too far

From where you are

I want to come home

He remembered vividly the morning he got the telegram, untraceable of course. He was on his way to work, when there came a knock at the door. He opened it, and was met with a stone-faced deliveryman holding an envelope. He signed his name and took the plain brown envelope and closed the door. He took out the single neatly folded piece of paper and read, something that he never thought he would read:

Danny's dead. He died in the line of duty, defending another agent. He will be missed.

-H.

The telegram was classic Harry. A one-line message, telling exactly what was needed, nothing more or nothing less. Tom recalled that he'd read it several times, before it had actually gotten through to him. He went through his day saying nothing, feeling numb. When he got home, he found the telegram- where he'd left it, and read it again. It was then his façade completely cracked and he began shedding tears of anger, and sadness. Danny was his friend, his best friend, and now he was dead. He was angry that he couldn't go home and say goodbye to him, properly.

And I feel like I'm living someone else's life

Like I've just stepped outside

When everything was going right

This was yet another irony in the life of Tom Quinn- He was living someone else's life, and this life was actually better. He was beginning to realize that it had been a long time since the last time something went right in his life. So in a way, he should be grateful that he had this chance for a fresh start in a new place.

And I know just why you could not come along with me

This was not your dream

But you've always believed in me

He thought back to the very last time he was on the grid. The very moment he glanced back over his shoulder at Zoe, waving with tears in her eyes. The fact was, Tom realized that it eventually became impossible to separate yourself from the job, and that Zoe was crying not because she was losing him: her friend and mentor, but because he got what she only dreamed of: A second chance.

As for believing in him, Tom knew that all three (Danny, Zoe, and Harry) believed in him. They believed that he would always do his duty, always do what was needed and required of him. Tom also knew that with one decision he had destroyed all that. But he still couldn't regret it; he still couldn't regret what he said, and what he did on that last case. He acted his conscience and someday, they would forgive and come to see that.

Another winter day

Has come and gone away

In either Paris or Rome

But I want to come home

Let me go home

And I'm surrounded by

A million people I

Still feel alone

Let me go home

I miss you, you know

Tom laughed again, surveying his surroundings, thinking again how far this pub was from Paris and Rome. There were times when the only place he wanted to be was in his flat in London, and the only people he wanted to be with were: Ellie, Zoe, Harry, and Danny. He heaved a heavy sigh as he again thought of how he had made many friends here in St. John's, but still felt extremely isolated, which, in a twisted way made sense, after all those friends could never know the real Tom Quinn.

Let me go home

I've had my run

Baby I'm done

Let me come home

It was a second telegram with Ellie's familiar handwriting that made him long for London. The message said that she was getting married. She explained that she couldn't wait for him, couldn't wait for the time when he would come back. And she couldn't come to him, uproot Maisie, get used to a new country, a new culture. At first he wondered at how she knew where he was. He was happy that she still thought of him, still wanted him, then the anger came; he was tired of being somebody else, living a double life all the time. He just wanted to be Tom Quinn, live that one single life in London with her. He longed for the exile to be lifted, to be allowed back into the country and the service. But realistically he knew it was not to be…

It'll all be alright

I'll be home tonight

I'm coming back home

Tom took the last gulp of his beer. The only way it would be 'alright,' is when he returned to England. He briefly imagined a future however unrealistic with Ellie and Maisie. They would live in a cottage in some small town, where Ellie would run a restaurant and he could help out there, or teach at a local school. He saw himself sitting at the kitchen table helping Maisie with her homework. He saw it all in his mind's eye, then he blinked and his pleasant daydream was gone and he was back I n the pub. He thought then of a grim truth: the only way he would go home would be in his dreams. He paid his tab, and climbed off his stool. As he made his way to the door he pulled the zipper up on his coat and wound his scarf around his neck and left the bar. He would dream of Maisie and Ellie tonight.

Vraiment (really) Fin- I mean it!

-Happy reading

-A.B.