By the time we arrived in England, light was out. It was early morning, and my head was pounding. My stomach was empty, my limbs weak from exhaustion. The night's prior activities were taxing on my body, to say the least. I lifted my head from Darren's shoulder and looked around bleary eyed. I was wearing his coat. It was warm. Smelled nice, too. Like his hair gel.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, trying to wake him up because the train staff were checking in on their customers. They were going to tell us to get off. "Hi, hello, good morning–please wake up," I hissed. Through the train car's tinted glass door, a dark, splotchy shadowy figure emerged and it was coming towards us. My attempt didn't work.

He snored in his sleep. Then, the telephone rang. I was brought back the memories of our conversation before things escalated. I was going to call Randall today. I was going to take my power back–if it hadn't already been tainted by the time I did. With a clear head and full conscious, I was able to rationalize Darren's advice. He made a good point. And I didn't want to trash my opportunity of redemption by brash, desperate rushing anymore. If there had been one thing I learned about my time in Hollywood, it was that the best artists take time.

The buzzed, unprompted ping of the telephone jolted Darren straight awake. His eyes were wide. "What the bloody hell was that?" he panicked.

I tossed him a compassionate smile. Loud noises scared the shit out of me, too. "Don't panic," I told him. "I'm just answering the phone. You gotta freshen up and clean the area." I inhaled, straightening my back with my arm. "We made, uh, quite the mess. I think the workers are coming over to check on us."

His dark, misty gaze burned my skin as I turned around and answered the phone. "Hello?" it was the intercom. The lady on the phone told me that we had reached England. I beamed, glee on my face. I said thank you and goodbye, then placed the phone back on its wall stand. I turned around, Darren was crouched on the floor picking up papers and things that fell post-sex. It was my first time having such an experience on a train, and I had an inclination that it wouldn't be the last of it. He was sweet, and caring.

I crouched beside him, smoothing out my dress and helped picked things off the ground. "Who was that?" he asked, not in the slightest happy. Perhaps my news would change that. Our hands touched my journal at the same time. He handed it to me. "I think you're gonna need this when you call him." he grinned at me despite sleep still in his eyes. I cupped his cheek and kissed it.

"Yeah," I agreed, taking it and putting it away in my suitcase.   We cleaned up in silence for ten minutes. He sat at the table while I rummaged through our suitcases to freshen up. "Oh, it was the intercom lady. We're in England."

The sigh of relief that Darren drawled was deep within him. I could feel it. He was happy and then some. "Oh, my God. how do I look?"

I pursed my lips, touching the fabric of his shirts and trousers with my shaky hands. This was really happening. This was my life. I was so in love, and content. Everything was perfect. "Like you just crawled out of a ditch," I replied, tossing him his beloved hair gel. He looked offended. Well, he was.

"Careful!" he said, irritated. "It's one of a kind, and expensive! Plus, it's a new jar."

"Haha, very funny," I said. I turned around and saw him. He examined that jar with soft eyes. He loved that stuff. It was his connection to Wallace. And then to me. I folded my arms. "Okay, I didn't ask to see you give goo-goo eyes to a jar of hair gel. And second, I need you to close your eyes. I need to change, and you do too."

He laughed at me. Ugh.

Once we had our things in order and got ready to depart the train, my eyes traveled to the pot of gel and scooped some in my hands. "What are you doing?"

"There aren't any mirrors," I told him, a faint smile on my lips. He pulled me into his lap. "So, I thought I could help you get ready. It's your big break."

I smoothed his hair with the gel as best I could. He looked rather lovely.

He grabbed my hands and cupped them together. He kissed my knuckles. "It's yours, too."

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We drove in silence (we never did) the whole way there. The scenery was immaculate, trees and nature lines every corner we drove past. The summer air was cool, indicating the end of the season and into the new.

I was in charge of directions, because God forbid Darren allowed me to drive, my car or not. The map splayed across my lap. "How long has it been since you last saw her?" I asked, breaking the silence. We had been in the car for an hour, maybe two.

"Four years." he took a sharp turn to the right. The road was decidedly vacant this time in the evening. He reached for the knob on the turntable system, and moved it to the right. Music played in the car.

I looked out the window. "I can't imagine... have you seen her house?"

"No."

I didn't bother pestering him with any more questions. That could wait until tomorrow. Even the simple thought of it made my head spin. By tomorrow, we'd be staying in his sister's house. I didn't know her. This was what it must have felt like for Darren. Our differences aside, we were more alike than I thought. So many questions, not enough answers. How much time was there until we reached her home?

The answer: eight minutes. He marked the map of her exact location: Settle, Yorkshire Dales, England.

I had never traveled to England in my life, but I had no doubt that it was beautiful. I'd seen postcards and pictures from Emaad, but that was it. I'd get to see it in eight minutes. My heart jumped in my chest. And I'd get to see the infamous Janet Alexander, who I'd grown increasingly fond of.

The car slowed down. He peered at the map across my lap, and said, "we're entering the driveway." he paled.

I whipped my head and stared at him. "Does she..." I forgot to ask the most important question of all. Did she even know?

Darren didn't say anything. That was all I needed to know. He's so stupid.

He put the headlights on, and then promptly honked. We waited, agony of the situation rolling over me. Janet didn't know. She didn't know anything. Fuck.

The house was large and lavish. It was made out of red brick and stone, the house spanned across an acre of land, with ample room in the front yard. The driveway was beautiful, too. By the quality of the house, it appeared that his sister was doing perfectly well on her own accord. Good for her, honestly.

Five minutes later, out came rushing a little blond girl with big, brown, doll-like eyes. Her hands stretched out, her little blue dress swaying as she ran to the car. Darren swung out of the car and circled to the passenger side to open my door.

"Uncle Major, you're home!" cheered the little girl who looked around four or five years old. Major? Was that what they called him? I smiled, Darren returned it in a demure fashion, his expression modest and humble. He scooped her up in his arms and perched her on his forearm.

"Hi, kiddo. Where's your mummy?" he cooed, his aura bright and relaxed. He was so happy.

Out came Janet, her smile big, too, and she held another child in her arms. "I didn't know you'd be coming so soon!" she greeted, her heels clicking on the pavement as she trotted towards us. She and Darren hugged. Then, she turned to me. She gasped, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh! Forgive me," she said to me. She hugged me too, her height towering over me. She was quite tall in those red heels.

I returned the embrace. "It's a pleasure. Darren was generous enough to bring me along," I said.

Janet was the epitome of beauty, grace, and humility I had ever gotten the pleasure of seeing it in a person. She could be a model with her striking appearance: tall, blond, blue-eyed. There was this youthful nature about her that drew you in. She was down to earth. "Come on in, the both of you. We have much to discuss."

Dinner time rolled around and Janet fixed us plates. She was generous, too. I was surprised to see a working woman live such a comfortable, quite life. It was admirable. The dish she served was biryani. I hated surprises, but when it came to Janet Alexander and her shenanigans, she was the exception. The only one. I took a bite out of it. It was divine. Tasted like... I was right at home. "Janet, this is amazing," I said, covering my mouth with my hand. Under the table, Darren toyed with the hem of my skirt, his hand traveling to rest atop my thigh. He traced little circles.

She blushed. "Oh, thank you. I wanted to try something new, and thought, maybe today would be that day. And I was right because you and my brother are here." she took a bite.

Darren took a sip of his water. "Stop being so modest," he said to her. "I like what you did to the place. How'd you fair?"

I stayed silent, simply enjoying my meal and content to be in the position I was in. I waved at the little girl as she ate her food next to her mother.

Janet waved a gloved, dismissive hand. "When I was getting ready to move, I collected the funds I'd saved and spent it on a down payment for this house. It was better than living in South London." she rolled her dark eyes, a smile on her face. "Why'd you... both... decide to come early?"

Darren passed me a sideways glance. He nudged me to speak. "The Little Women premiere ended so I thought why not make the most of this trip before we head back to the States?" I told her, humble in the delivery of the news. "Your house is very lovely, by the way, I'd love to have a tour."

"I like her," she whispered to Darren. "Why, certainly. It's not everyday a celebrity figure comes walking into my home." she laughed. I did too. She stood from her seat and collected our plates. "Dessert, anyone?"

"Me, me!" peeped her daughter.

Janet looked down at her. "Oh, honey, I know you do but you've got school in the morning. I'll be sure to save you some for tomorrow. Up you go and get ready for bed."

The girl scurried out of her seat and dashed out of the kitchen. "What's her name? How old is she?" I asked while she cleaned up.

She was washing the dishes. "Mia, she's five. The littlest one is Ava, she's four months." she blissfully sighed. Once she was done with cleaning the kitchen she escorted Darren and i out into the entrance of the house. She smoothed out her shirtwaist dress and pressed her lips into a thin, firm line.

I smiled. "She's real friendly."

Janet nodded. "Darren, please grab the bags and lets get you both  upstairs. You both must be so tired after all this traveling," she said as she walked up the steps, holding onto the banister. Darren carried both bags in his arms and trailed behind her. I followed suit.

As we walked up the stairs, the hallway was painted a beautiful dark blue with picture frames hung around. Most of them featured children with their parents or vacations. She was at the end of the hall. "Here are your rooms." she pointed to two doors opposite of each other. There were five or so rooms in the house. Everything I learned about the house, the more curious I became. It felt familiar; the special touch only family could bring to an environment like this. Family was important to both Janet and Darren. Same with me.

I turned on my heel and grabbed my bag from Darren. "Thank you," I said, meaning it. "For everything thus far. It's very generous of you for allowing us to stay at your home."

Janet opened the door to one of the rooms. I walked right in. inside laid a simple bed and desk combination and a window and wardrobe. There was no closet. "Of course, darling. I'm very happy to host. And if you must know, I was excited to see you. And Darren again, too."

I set my bag down and the both of us walked out to meet him in the hall. He was looking at the plethora of photographs on the walls.

"Major, I'm going to make some tea, would you a cup?" his sister asked.

"No, thanks," he answered.

I wanted to know what he was thinking looking at those photographs. All those stolen nights he could have been with his family instead of joining the army. He carried sacrifice after sacrifice, I saw it in his eyes and his body. The way he carried himself with so much reserve and quietness. Janet made a turn and went down the stairs.

My hand touched his shoulder blade as I passed by him. I looked over my shoulder. He didn't look back.

I took it as my sign to leave.

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Janet handed me my cup of tea. She slid in a seat across from me in the drawing room. She took a sip. "How are things?" she asked politely, acting like she knew me for years.

I shrugged. "Not... terrible. But not good either. It's been a long day," I told her as I took a sip.

She turned her head to the side, her pin curls shining against the light of the ceiling light fixture. "I can imagine, honey. How was the premiere? He mentioned it a while ago."

I chuckled, taking a deep breath. "It was... something. You'll probably hear about it in the coming weeks. Darren was the only thing keeping me sane," I joked. The warmth of the cup calmed my shaky hands.

She took some time to recuperate and say something back. She took a sip of her tea and turned to face me. Tiredness brimmed her eyes. She had work in the morning and childcare to fulfill. She was such a strong woman. "Take care of each other."

"We will. We do," I responded. My lips touched the brim of the cup, my lipstick mark making an imprint on the white paint. "Say, what do you do for work? This house, it's magnificent."

She squeezed her eyes trying to keep herself awake. I was fascinated by the gloves she wore. "You're a chatter box," she said, lighthearted. Embarrassment washed over me. Say sorry. I opened my mouth to speak again, but she cut me off and continued on, "no, I'm only kidding. Truth of the matter is, I saved up a lot of my paychecks when I was working in Manchester. I'm a librarian, I own a bookshop. I was fortunate enough to run the best library in the city. Once I saved enough for a house of my own, I took the chance. I didn't wait."

I was gob-smacked. She was a working woman doing something she loved every day. That could be me. That would be me. I remembered all those attempts I wanted to rush and do it myself, too. But I didn't have that kind of lone resilience she had. I valued my independence so much, I had forgotten the importance of community. It was okay to ask for help.

I wouldn't admit it then, but Darren help me see that.

It was no doubt he helped Janet, too. I heard their phone calls. How he'd comfort her, encourage her. He was the one who supporter her to leave her husband. He saved her life. And he saved mine without even knowing it.

But who was there to save him?

"It must have been scary," I said.

"Oh, it was. But I'm glad to be here. Why do you ask about this? I hope I'm not intruding–I just want to know your story, too." she paused, a feeble smile on her lips. "If that's okay."

I nodded. "I wanted to be a journalist. I am one, actually, just not published yet. It's something I'd always been passionate about, giving a voice to the voiceless." I breathed out. "When you're... surrounded by people that don't understand it, why it's important to you, that dream gets muddied and you begin to believe them. I didn't want that. So I kept writing, kept talking... I just hope it will work out for me like it did for you."

She set her cup down on the coffee table. She reached to touch my hand. "It will. You've got something special inside of you. We all do. My best advice? Do it anyways, but it's okay to go at your own pace. Fuck the people that don't believe you. Because the people that always had and always will, will be there to support you tenfold."

"Thank you," I said, smiling like a madwoman. "This conversation was really nice."

She bit back a laugh. She threw her head back against the padded seat. "I just want you to feel at home. It's nice to have company of a woman that isn't an elderly woman. Or screaming children under the age of ten."

I covered my mouth as I laughed. Damn, Darren had been right about her. Here I thought he was bluffing. Janet was a starlit. A flower in the making. "It's late, we better get to bed. When does your eldest wake up for school?"

The both of stood from our seats and headed straight to the kitchen. The clock read 1AM. I handed her my empty teacup. "Nine," she answered. "When she's asleep at this time, sometimes I drink. But tonight is a school night, so I cannot afford little feet crawling into the kitchen unannounced, chirping, 'mummy, what juice are you drinking? May I have some?' and I respond with, 'no, honey, you're five.' I don't want to get a call from her teacher asking why she smells like booze."

"Oh, my God!"  I snorted. "Do not do that. I'm going to bed, you coming?"

As we said our goodbyes for the night, I slipped into my nightgown and knocked on Darren's door after Janet closed out.

"Darren?"

He mumbled and groaned and tossed and turned behind the door. I knocked. "It's bloody open," he responded groggily.

So I opened it. He woke up in cold sweat. "I was hoping..."

He crashed the back of his head on the pillow and groaned out. "Sex is off the table."

I didn't have the energy to entertain the idea. I didn't want that, either. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight? I don't wanna be alone."

He returned to his side and moved to the right of the bed. "Of course you can."

I slipped under the covers. He wrapped his arms around me again. I didn't want him to let go. "Why didn't you join us for tea?" I asked as I nuzzled into him.

"I didn't want tea," he said.

My eyes felt heavy-lidded. "Did you not want to talk to your sister?"

"I do, and I don't. It's been four years, there's so much I want to ask and nothing at all. I don't like entertaining the idea of the past."

"It's okay," I told him. "These things take time to accept. You're the one who taught me that. We've got two weeks. I'm sure she'll understand once you're ready, soldier."