II

Africa

A blast of dusty hot air hit her when Jackie left the cool confines of the airport. She was overwhelmed by the sea of people and never-ending chatter of an unfamiliar yet musical sounding language. She struggled to control the rickety trolley the airport provided to help her with her bags, cursing herself for overpacking again for what was to be a week long trip. She scanned the people around her, but did not see anyone she recognized.

God, where was he? Jackie huffed and attempted again to navigate the stupid trolley with the broken front wheel when she heard someone call her name.

She turned around to look, searching for his familiar lanky form and was stunned when she finally recognized the man not six feet away from her.

"Eric," she said simply. A rush of emotion flooded through her as she stood and took him in.

Gone was his shaggy mop, replaced instead by a short, no-fuss hair cut. His eyes blazed green from a bronzed face, several shades darker from the pale Wisconsin winter complexion that she remembered last. Broader, stronger, taller somehow, he was just more than her memories of him. He looked the same, yet different at the same time. She didn't know what to make of it. She didn't know what to say to him now in person after the months and months of letters and phone calls that led to her flight out here. But before she could open her mouth to say anything more, he gave a short wave and crossed over to her.

He noticed her staring.

"It's the heat," he said, mistaking the purpose of her stare and gestured to his hair.

"And besides, when you need to draw water from a well to bathe, well, less hair means less water needed to get it clean. And trust me, drawing bucketfuls of water from a twenty foot deep well is no easy task."

Her mouth fell open. "No plumbing? No hot water? I have to bathe with well water?!"

Eric glanced at her and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah," he said with a short shrug, as they walked the distance to where he had parked. "This is Africa, Jackie. They're lucky if they actually have water to bathe with." He looked up to the cloudless sky. "It's been a good year so far, enough rain and the soils have been good to the village people. So they... We… have enough to eat."

Jackie was quiet for a while, absorbing his words.

He slanted a wary glance at her, half expecting her to turn and run back into the airport, the other half wasn't sure what he would do if she did indeed do so.

And then she surprised him by laughing.

"I suppose it doesn't really matter." A shrug. "If I can live through Steven choosing his whore over me, I suppose I can bathe with cold water from a well."

She flashed him an impish smile. "Anything Eric Forman can do, Jackie Burkhart can do better."

Eric was amused. "Perhaps. She's a feisty one, Jackie Burkhart."

He looked at her again. "You've changed," he murmured quietly.

She paused before replying, taking him in. Feeling the air of quiet about him.

Steady. Strong. Unwavering... Solid.

"So have you," she replied.