Referring to a situation in which the aircraft is not in static balance in pitch, so that if the pilot releases the yoke or control stick, the aircraft will start to climb or descent.

* * *

If Clara didn't greet him, I'll certainly not be able to figure out that César is there. Still on the same uniform as he had worn when he left this morning, topping it all with a matching hat, as he leans against the hood of a black car, looking almost like a model straight out of a promotion magazine. Very much with the same vibes as Elian radiates with just his mere presence, making every shoot ethereal as my colleagues from the PR team considers him photogenic. That's another characteristic that Elian and César shares, and it is weird of me to be captivated by his mere presence right there... even if I've only known him for just a day.

To add, if this is really a dream, I doubt that it had been that long at all.

But, for some reasons, I'll admit that my heart skips and I feel happy seeing him there. Like a giddy child, clearly in the soft clouds of joy, upon seeing him. All when the mental and rational part of myself is reminding me how weird everything had been as it is quite too rushed for me to be attached with this non-existent relationship. Well, it is too much to consider it 'non-existent', when in this plane, it is very 'existent'.

I find myself having a skip on my steps when I head to where he is waiting. No doubt that he is here for me, waiting for who knows how long. But it is a big question mark to me how come he is here, causing me to ask at once, "Paano mo nalaman na nandito ako?"

César scoffs and his smirk widens with a tip of his head to the side. "First things first, good evening, (Y/N)."

I flush and chew the inside of my mouth. In the end, I greet back, "G-Good evening, César."

He then opens his arms wide, and out of instinct, I step in to his embrace with a relieved smile. And by the time his arms surround me, he repeats my earlier question, "Paano ko nalaman na nandito ka? Naramdaman ko na nandito ka at hindi sa PGH."

Uso na ba sa panahon na ito ang mga trackers? "Hmm... 'di ako naniniwala," I answer as my voice somehow turns muffled against his uniform. "Alam mo na dapat sa PGH 'yong training namin, at nalaman ko nga lang na rito noong una kong pinuntahan ang PGH. Imposible na mas madali mong nalaman kumpara sa akin."

"Sa tingin mo, paano?"

"Pinasundan mo ako, o hindi ka talaga pumunta ng kampo at sinundan ako."

César laughs. "Sa tingin mo na pagdududahan kita para ipasunod ka? Hindi ka ba naniniwala na talagang pinatawag kami kanina sa kampo ni Tenyente Villamor?"

I pout and raise my head to look at him. "Eh kaayos-ayos kasi ng tanong ko kanina tapos pinapahula mo pa sa akin kung paano mo nalaman. Hindi ka ba naawa sa akin na pagod na ako kakaisip at kakaintindi magdamag, tapos dadagdagan mo pa."

"I'm sorry," he replies and then presses a soft kiss on my forehead. "At wala ka ng kailangan gawin pagkadating natin sa bahay. Akong bahala sa hapunan, kaya 'wag ka na magmukmok ng ganyan." He lightly pokes the tip of my nose, moves away from the car's hood and ushers me to the front passenger seat, opening the door for me. "Alam kong nakakapagod ang araw na ito, kaya wala ka na dapat pang isiping iba."

"Hmph." I settle on the leather seat and watch him circle the car after closing my side's door. Doing so, I realize that this had been the same car that I've seen parked at the apartment when I've left this morning.

Tangina. Sa kanya ba talaga ito? I mean, alam ko na milyon ang isang sasakyan sa panahon ko; pero sa panahon na ito? Paniguradong mas mahal, 'di ba?!

César then settles on the driver's seat with ease and familiarity that ignites the probability that he really owns this car. It is vintage, of course, for me; but there is no doubt that in this era, if having one in the future is a luxury, this is definitely luxury-luxury!

Keys in the ignition, the car burst ms to life at the turn of the engine cranking, and after a switch of the headlights, we head on our way as per the accordance of the speed limit within the vicinity. He removes his hat, tossing it to the space between us and tousles his hair from being flattened by the hat, and the small action alone is hot.

Bwiset talaga, (Y/N)... Tama na.

He stops by the gatehouse and converses with the American soldier as our passes are taken in exchange of our surrendered identification cards. Checking our received identification cards, he smiles and thanks the soldier before handing both to me and drives on.

Let's say that I've been curious, or my action is definitely just to have a double check that we received the correct ones. I first find mine and all the needed details are really that of mine; at least, except for the birthday that made me some years plus in my world but about the same in this era. And then to that of César's, which is his Transport Pilot's License. To which I squint my eyes and draw it closer to me, unable to fully comprehend or recognize him through the photo. I even look at him, with his identification raised to at least get a matching feature through his side-profile to that of his identification photo.

"Alam ko na sasabihin mo," he starts. "Sasabihin mo hindi ko kamukha. Lagi mo namang sinasabi 'yan kapag nakikita mo ang mga ID ko."

"Oh!" And here I think that my action will give him enough reason to doubt if I am really his fiancée or if I indeed possessed this body or not. Apparently, such reaction of mine isn't strange for him at all. But he is right to say that it didn't look like him; the photograph didn't even give him enough justice.

César then chuckles as if he remembers something. "Pero maswerte ka. Dahil hindi mo na kailangan titigan pa 'yong mga lumang picture ko ngayong nandito na ulit ako sa Maynila."

"Hmph. Nagawa ko namang hindi ka makita ng ilang buwan," I remark as I lower the identification cards and place that of his close to his hat and mine in my bag. "Kaya anong pinagsasabi mo diyan?"

"I've apologized already, right? At sinabi ko na ako na bahala sa hapunan at sa mga ligpitin. Gusto mo ba subuan pa kita para talagang makapagpahinga ka?"

"H-Hindi kailangan! Kaya 'kong kumain mag-isa, at kaya ko rin sana umuwi mag-isa."

"Hindi na nga kita nahatid kanina, at gusto kong sunduin ka. Okay... Pumunta ako sa PGH kanina para nga sunduin ka, tapos nasabihan ako na sa Sternberg ang training niyo simula ngayong araw at hanggang matapos kayo. Kaya nalaman ko na sa Sternberg ka sunduin."

"Sigurado ka na hindi mo ako pinasunod o sinundan?"

"Bakit ko talaga gagawin 'yon? Ikaw na nga rin ang nagsabi na kaya mo rin sana umuwi mag-isa. Pero, sabi ko nga, gusto kong sunduin ka. Minsan na nga lang ako nasa Maynila tapos hindi ko pa lulubusin na ang bawat bakanteng oras ko ay nakatuon sa iyo?"

At that, I am speechless. It seems like a cat catches my tongue and runs away. It is true that I'll not get used with these flowery words out of César; that even if it is too obvious that there is a lot of difference between him and Elian, I can't stop imagining how awkward it is to have Elian speak those words to me in the first place.

"At, isa pa, hindi ko rin magawang maitanong sa iyo araw-araw noong magkahiwalay tayo," he begins again, stopping the car at a stoplight. He then turns to me and with a smile that I wonder if it had always been painted on his face every time he looks at me, asks, "How's your day, my love?"

If I am unable to answer earlier with his previous question, this time, I can swear that my brain once more hit 404 error not found. I wonder how much error my mind can take in less than a day. But this one, undoubtedly like finding myself on the bed with César and be engaged to him, is another that is in need of reformatting. Because, I've just mentioned it a few moments ago.

Hindi ko ineexpect na magsasalita si Elian ng mga cheesy or romantic words at all that is directed to me. Well, lalong-lalo na hindi niya rin ako tatawagin na 'my love'...

And yet, this man right now is not Elian; but César.

Perhaps it had been too long already that he grows worried of my unresponsiveness, that by the time the light turns green, cautiously looking back at me from time to time, his voice also softened much more when he asks, "(Y/N), love, okay ka lang ba? Anong problema?"

"A-Ayos lang ako," I manage to answer at last with a slight shake of my head. Breathing in heavily, I add with a shaky chuckle, "Siguro talaga... Napatunayan ko ngayon na nangulila rin ako sa iyo. Na hindi sapat ang mga sulat para maisulat lahat ng nangyari sa isang araw."

César somehow relaxes with my answer that he sighs in relief and his smile is once more adoring his face as he inquires me again, "So, my love, how was your day again?"

* * *

He keeps his promise that he'll be the one cooking dinner and all I need to do is to keep him company by telling him every detail of how my day went. Of course, I know that he is asking about the training that I focused on it, though I didn't mention about my initial shock in finding that those nurses in training are like those whom I also know from the waking world or in somewhere I belong. I may be acting just rightfully on how he knows this version of me in this place; but I will not be giving him any further indication that I am someone else.

Dahil alam ko na mag-frefreak out siya kapag nalaman niya... And paano ko rin ba ieexplain ang lahat-lahat kung maging ako ay nangangapa kung ano ba talaga ang nangyari?

Before cooking, however, César removes the coat of his uniform and folds the sleeves of his white inner dress-shirt until his elbows. I didn't comment about him in need of cooking dinner in such an attire when he can change to something comfortable instead; and as he didn't allow me to lift a finger to help him out, I watch him as he work. That once I've finished with me telling him about my day, I turn the question back to him and ask him about his.

"It is as we've predicted," he tells me as he added the chopped vegetables in the boiling pot. "Dahil nga doon sa naging anunsyo ni President Quezon tungkol sa USAFFE. 'Yon din naman ang naging dahilan kung bakit kami pinatawag mula Lahug. Mukhang bakasyon lang noong una, pero ito talaga ang bagong utos sa amin, ang madestino muna sa Zablan."

There it goes again. The mention of Zablan as a place. Despite my curious mind wondering how come such a place be known in this time but not in my own is strange, and what relation does that have with Capt. Porfirio Zablan in the first place? I know that it is not weird to have someone share the same name as a place or even a word; but it is strange that I didn't know of such a place to be a camp or base at all.

"Ano namang sabi sa inyo ni Tenyente Villamor? 'Yon lang ba kaya niya kayo pinatawag?" I inquire for more information. Aside from the fact that I am a nurse in training who've met people from the company in this place, I've also managed to find information about the rising conflict that will happen with what the United States recently just decreed upon about the thing concerning fuel.

"Hmm... Well, they've also reactivated the Sixth Pursuit Squadron under PAAC. And he was chosen to lead it."

"Don't tell me that you've become part of it?"

He cheekily smirks at me. "I guess it is about time. Pagkatapos ng ilang buwan na nasa Lahug kami for advanced flight training... I consider this as some sort of a promotion?"

My eyes widen. "Seryoso ba?"

César nods and laughs. "Yes." He winks and throws a jaunty salute at my direction before adding, "Lieutenant César Basa of the Philippine Army Air Corps' Sixth Pursuit Squadron."

I chuckle before I even realize that I am ecstatic for him. "That's a mouthful."

"Yes, I know." He turns once more to what he is cooking that a few more minutes later, he finally blows off the fire. "And after all of that... panigurado na mas malaki rin ang nakaakibat na responsibilidad. Ganoon naman madalas, 'di ba?"

I lightly touch his arm and assure him, "Panigurado naman na may dahilan din kung bakit ka napili. Out of all others na pwedeng mapabilang din sa squadron na iyon... But, believe me, I am proud of you. At alam kong kaya mo kung ano man ang magiging responsibilidad na iyon."

He smiles at me another time and then ushers me back to the dining room for us to eat our supper. For some reasons, I know that what he just told me isn't the entire story; there is definitely something hanging to be added but I am allowing him to slowly open up about it. After all, my non-historian brain didn't have any recollection of such group as the 'Philippine Army Air Corps' nor the existence of a 'Sixth Pursuit Squadron'. In short, even if they exist in the past of my reality, such subject isn't included as basic history worthy of knowing.

But it seems like I didn't need to wait for far too long to figure out what is the next thing to happen. After all, in every change of command, there is definitely an inserted first order of affairs to be accomplished. That when we finish eating and he manages to clean everything up, the presence of a luggage bag becomes the answer.

I didn't take notice of it earlier since it could be his things that are yet to be fixed after his recent arrival from their previous deployment. Apparently, it will be used as a necessity once more despite their current deployment here in Manila. After all, where could Zablan be from here? How far it is from here that he'll need to carry it back to camp then?

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he starts by the time that I finally take notice of his lack of action in changing out of his uniform; that instead of doing so, he does the opposite of picking up his folded coat from where he earlier left it. "Tangina... nakakailang hingi na ako ng dispensa sa iyo ngayong araw pa lamang. Kakabalik ko pa lamang galing Lahug tapos kahit nakadestino ngayon sa may Zablan lang, kailangan namin manatili lahat sa kampo para—"

"Shh..." I interrupt him as I press a hand against his chest. My fingers slightly make contact with the gold wing badge pinned against his uniform, and as I've deduced earlier about him, still a pilot in this era even though he is a member of the military, seems to finally reach its conclusion.

Of course, what associated César and Elian will still be flying itself. Sino ang linoloko ko about that?

"Naiintindihan ko, César. Pero hindi naman ibig-sabihin na hindi na ulit tayo magkikita. I mean, ngayong nasa Maynila ka na rin, paniguradong mas magiging madali ang pagkikita natin kumpara noong nasa Lahug ka," I counter with a smile. "Tsaka... this is a part of you. I can't just take it away from you."

Before I know it, César closes the distance between us and envelops me in a tight embrace. He breathes in heavily, as if he had been waiting for me to scold him for just raising my hopes that we'll not be separated again.

But the truth is, I am prepared with that the most—because this isn't the place where I belong, no matter how much beautiful our relationship here might be. I'd rather face my truth with that of Elian, if ever I'll be given the chance to do make contact with him again out of here.

"How lucky I am," he whispers, "for my soul to belong to someone who understands me the most. For me to be yours. It feels like home."

I smile and jokingly say, "Ngayon, mas lalong dumadami ang utang mo sa akin."

"Ayaw kong mangako, lalo na kung hindi ko alam na matutupad ko. Ang mapapangako ko lamang ngayon ay pakakasalan pa kita."

"Para naman mangyari iyon, kailangan mo humingi ng leave."

He slowly releases me from his embrace and lightly skims my cheek with his thumb. "Soon. Kapag nagawa na nating mapag-usapan ang tungkol doon."

I sigh heavily. "Sige na. Baka mas lalo ka pang gabihin, at baka magkaroon ka kaagad sa record mo na dis-oras na ng gabi noong dumating ka ng kampo."

"Right... Pero bago ako umalis." César then leans down to kiss me. "My lucky charm."

Before finally leaving, he gives me a last rundown of things to keep watch out for; all for the sake of safety. From the locks of doors and windows, who to call in case of emergencies or if I'll be in need, and everything else that makes him much more of a paranoid father than anything. And by the time I am once again left alone in the apartment, me finally ensuring that the front door is close, I head on to prepare for bed.

Only when I am lying alone on the bed and stare on the ceiling that some sort of realization suddenly strikes me as I mutter to myself, "Lieutenant César Basa... Wait. Kumpara sa Zablan, parang mas may kampo pa nga na nakapangalan sa kanya..." I breathe in and out heavily as I close my eyes. "Tsk, (Y/N), ano ba itong pinasok mo talaga?"

Suddenly, a familiar tone that I didn't think I'll be hearing at all rings. At first in a soft volume before becoming much more evident that that respective sound had been the consistent thing in my life.

I bolt awake at the sound of my alarm.

* * *

A/N: Vote, comment and share! Whatever you do means a lot to me, and I am really wishing for some feedback!

A few list of notes to share!
1. The term "miss/missing" someone, which means the "sorrow of the absence of someone", starts to become a trendy phase ever since the 1860s!
2. And, yes. There's definitely a Cesar Basa Air Base; the one at Floridablanca, Pampanga; and the home of the 5th Fighter Wing and of the inactive national aerobatic team of PAF and one of the oldest formal flying aerobatic teams in the world, the PAF Blue Diamonds (1953-2005).

Chapter title: Out of Trim. Big planes have autopilots, yes; small planes, well, no, but we have those secondary controls known as 'Trim tabs' found as an addition at the elevator. In a Cessna C172, it is found on the left flap of the elevators that is manually controlled. How does it work? Trim 'up' if you want to pitch the plane up, and Trim 'down' if you want to pitch the plane down. What happens beyond that? Too much trimming makes the control column 'heavy' in a sense that if you've trimmed up, pushing the nose down is harder than a neutral. When I say 'hard', definitely hard that sometimes, you can't even fight it back as the plane wanted to follow what the trim tabs are set; in short, it is the small plane's autopilot that if properly done with a cruising RPM, even if one will not touch the control column, the plane will continue on its heading without losing or gaining even a foot of altitude! So, why the chapter title for this? Out of Trim definitely means an incorrect input or use of trim tabs. With how the chapter ends, it is like a reminder to the Reader that it might be the world a version of the Reader lives in, but the Reader remains to have no control of it at all than what the Reader thinks of and wants to. It is like the Reader's the pilot with a poorly inputted trim, fighting against what might be considered as destiny which is the plane then.

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