Washington, D.C.

The view out Sully's window was dismally sunny. The daylight, the fluffy white clouds, and the shimmering waters of the Chesapeake taunted him as the plane began its final approach into Dulles. Crossing nine time zones, the International Date Line, and the equator was generally enough to screw with a person's mental psyche, but Sully's had been screwed up long before he ever set foot on the plane.

Nathan. Dead.

He had called Elena back at Los Angeles International Airport, halfway through his trip from Sidney. Told her he was coming to Washington. For the Funeral. For Nathan. For her. And for Sully himself.

He felt immeasurably guilty about his jealousy now. And for the distance he had put between himself and his friend these past months. Not that he blamed himself for Nate's death. Not really, anyway.

The phone call to Elena had raised more questions than answers, and his mind was already full of unanswerable enigmas. But what Elena had told him was particularly suspicious. He prayed it was just emotion on Elena's part, but he was far from confident that would be the case.

The whole thing just kept getting stranger and stranger. If what she said was the truth… well, Sully didn't want to think about what that would mean. He had boarded the plane and found a window seat to hide himself in. Shortly after boarding, his seatmate – a middle-aged German businessman bristling with Teutonic efficiency – had asked Sully if he was okay.

"My best friend just died," came Sully's terse reply. The man muttered an uncomfortable apology and didn't bother Sully for the remainder of the flight. And now, so many hours and time zones later, the plane was at last descending toward Washington D.C. Sully had come in search of answers, of closure, yet he had the unmistakable feeling that things would get far worse before they got better.

If they ever got better.

He swallowed as the cityscape below grew in detail. He couldn't be selfish with his feelings here. Somehow, he had to pull himself together, for Elena.

And for Drake.

Fifteen minutes later, the jet touched down on the tarmac at Dulles International. Sully continued to stare out the window, watching the baggage handlers and ground traffic controllers going about their business. Just another day in life. Buisness as usual.

The plane taxied to its gate, and the other passengers began to unload their belongings from the overhead bins. Sully took a deep breath. Journey of a thousand miles. One step at a time. After most of his fellow passengers had filtered out, Sully grabbed his carry-on from the overhead compartment and filed down the aisle to the exit, nodding a forced half-smile to the pilots and flight attendants who met the exhausted passengers at the door.

He drifted through the terminal, the barrage of advertising posters and duty-free signs passing by unnoticed. He walked as though in a trance, bumping into people and being jostled in return as he trudged blindly through the terminal. His body was in one place, his mind somewhere else entirely. Through passport control, through the baggage claim, through customs, and on toward the exit.

Joel, Ellie, Troy Baker, Ashley Johnson; the placards with waiting drivers or hosts went on and on. None bore the name "Victor Sullivan." Sully wasn't surprised, as he hadn't arranged for anyone to pick him up from the airport, but he was somewhat disappointed nonetheless. His sense of aloneness increased in seeing all these people waiting to greet, wine, dine. and just be with people whom they've never met before. They had company; he was alone.

Then a familiar face, not bearing a placard but simply a somber, grateful countenance pointed in Sully's direction, appeared near the exit. At the sight, Sully smiled.

It was Elena. Her hair, slightly less perfectly styled than usual, framed a face both familiar and not. Her eyes were rimmed in red, her normally porcelain complexion tear-stained and ruddy, her lips free from lipstick and faintly tremulous. Still beautiful, but broken, like a war-torn cathedral. He hadn't told her when he was arriving, just that he'd call her once he was in town. How she had discovered his flight information, he had no idea. But he was glad she had.

"Elena," Sully said in a soft voice as he reached for her, dropping his bags and wrapping his arms around her. She responded with an equally strong embrace. She began sobbing into his shirt, and he held her even tighter. The touch of mutual sorrow and mourning, reminded Sully that, no matter how hard everything could get, life went on.

Elena nestled into his chest – small, alone, and scared. Her best friend and lover was gone, and everything she'd known and believed in was suddenly in danger of being devoured by fear and anguish. Sully vowed right then, in this embrace, that he would do what he could to help her through this crisis, playing the protective brother role that he'd never officially have with her.

"Sully," Elena said, loosening her grip on Sully and looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "How are you doing?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. I think I'm just on automatic right now. The shock stage of grief or whatever."

"You mean 'denial'?"

"Yeah, that one." Sully took a deep breath. "What about you?"

Her face tensed up like she was fighting back a flood of tears. Sully tried – unsuccessfully – to hug the tears away.

She sighed as she buried her face into his chest. "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you're here, too. I'm still reeling. God knows I would have probably forgotten to hail a cab."

Elena let out a little grunt of a laugh. They stood in silence, immune to the hustle and bustle of commuters around them.

"So what now?" She asked.

"I'm famished. What time is it anyway?"

"A little past nine. Breakfast at my place?"

"Sounds like a plan." Sully nodded thoughtfully, though a real plan for where to go from here was nowhere in sight. But, he reflected, even though his life may be in turmoil, he at least had some solid company along for the ride.