Tony seemed surprisingly eager to get Harry out of the house for a while, and so Harry packed a bag for a couple of days and left in the taxi Matt took to the Los Angeles airport.

Other than the private military jet from Afghanistan, Harry had never been on a plane before. The airport was the busiest place he had ever been. Harry had been in captivity for over a year, and the screaming children and overtired businessmen all rushing in every direction were almost more than he could handle.

The first time he saw one of the heavily armed security workers, Harry had nearly had a full-on panic attack. He had thought that he was mostly recovered from the Ten Rings and their treatment, but apparently seeing a bearded man holding an immense machine gun and other, smaller weapons tucked into his pockets was too much on top of the multitude of smells and sounds in the huge airport terminal. Matt had led him off into a quieter corridor and talked him through it, and continued a soothing commentary at a murmur only Harry could hear as they were led through the crowds by a short woman.

Although Harry himself had never been in an airport, he remembered Uncle Vernon complaining loudly about the long queues and incompetent staff when they got back from a summer holiday in France, but he and Matt were subject to none of that. They were lead from their taxi through to security and into a private lounge where they were offered sandwiches and coffee and left alone for a while before they were shown to their seats on the plane, with assurances that somebody would be waiting for them when they landed.

Matt endured it all with a pleasant smile on his face, tapping his cane as he walked but declining any offers of a hand on his elbow. Harry just stuck as close as he could to the older man, beginning to get overwhelmed by the smells and tastes and sounds around them.

The first twenty minutes of the flight were rather exciting, as the engines started up and the huge aircraft began to move, lifting into the air before flight attendants began moving up and down the aisle, selling food and drinks. Harry spent a short amount of time peering through the thick glass of the window at the clouds they were flying far above, occasionally catching a glint of green of the ground below. Eventually, the droning roar of the engines and the screaming children and the strong smell of cheese and onion crisps somebody was eating four rows behind him began to get to Harry. There were foam earplugs that passengers could use that were surprisingly effective, but a complete lack of sounds left Harry confused and disorientated and he decided to just try and put up with the heated argument one couple were having about the proper way to load a dishwasher. They were both wrong.

Matt tried to lead him through some meditation, but he was struggling with the sensory overload almost as much as Harry was.

At one point, the flight attendants made their way down the aisle again, giving out a choice of macaroni cheese or lasagne as the in-flight meal for people's lunch. The smell of both left Harry feeling sick and he simply took a bottle of water, drawing his knees up to his chest on the seat and wishing for the journey to end.

By the time they landed, over 6 hours after they had left Tony's house, he was relieved to escape the cramped confines of the plane.

"I hate flying." Matt muttered as they waited outside the terminal as an airport employee hailed them a taxi.

Harry laughed. He had to agree that planes sucked.

It was only a short drive to Hell's Kitchen and Matt's apartment, and the lawyer began setting up the couch to sleep on. "You can have my bed for the weekend." He said, tossing a thick blanket over the arm.

Harry shook his head. "I don't mind the sofa." Harry said.

"Really, it's no trouble."

Harry flashed a small grin. "I slept in a cave for over a year, Matt. I don't mind. Keep your bed." He didn't let Matt protest, grabbing him a beer from the fridge and a glass of water for himself.

They ordered Chinese takeaway from a restaurant down the street, and the girl that delivered it made no secret of what she thought of people asking for food ten minutes before they were meant to close for the night. Harry could smell the chow mien as soon as she entered the building, the aroma floating up as she stomped up the stairs.

Matt paid for it with a cheerful smile, then carried the large plastic bag into the living room. The bright light from the billboard across the street cast everything in a strange blue glow.

The two of them finished the takeaway in a surprisingly short amount of time, and Harry settled on the leather couch for the night, ignoring Matt when he once more offered his bed.

The next day, Harry woke up before Matt and got dressed, then started searching the kitchen for something for breakfast. Matt appeared a short while later, pulling a sweatshirt over his head.

"You won't find anything to eat." He said. "I've been away for nearly three weeks."

"Right."

"I thought we could go out for some breakfast."

Harry shrugged. "Sounds good."

"First test of your skills." Matt said.

Harry grinned. "And here I thought you just wanted to treat me to breakfast."