Dan waited by the airport gate as Abby's plane taxi'd down the runway. The two towers still stood in Dimension A, and airport security had never been adjusted. Not that it needed to be. Between sophisticated x-rays and various upgrades, it was close to impossible to sneak something past airport security.

Dan nervously fiddled with the bouquet of roses clutched tight in his hand. It felt moderately surreal, standing right outside the gate. Forbidden, like Dan was committing some great crime and people were simply waiting to pass judgement. Then he looked around, at the hustle and bustle of the crowd, at the families assembled at each gate, waiting for loved ones to return, and remembered where he was.

The airport was much the same as any he'd been to before. Dan saw none of the technological marvels here that seemed so widespread in Dimension A. He imagined that most of the innovations in aircraft had been reserved for the military. Abby's plane was a little sleeker, a little slimmer, a little sharper, but it was nothing like the literal jet fighter that she'd taken to her family reunion. It was commercial, civilian, common as common could be. She had even flown coach, for reasons he really didn't understand.

Above the gate, letters scrolled on SmartPaint: Arrivals departing.

Somebody had an odd sense of humor.

Dan waited patiently as people filed out of the gate. It was a smaller flight that Dan would have expected, leaving from Atlanta to Austin. The former city had recovered quite a bit since the villain attack the previous summer. Nearly two square miles of downtown, burnt almost out of existence. Yet now, only a year later, and things were just about back to normal. Signs still lingered, of course, and nobody had truly recovered, but life went on. That's just what it did.

People here were strong in that way. Too used to dealing with tragedy.

Abby stepped out of the gate, and all of Dan's miserable thoughts were drowned by her presence. She wore her hair pulled back in its usual high ponytail, showing off her perfect neckline and clavicle. Her top was a thin, airy blouse, with a plunging neckline that Dan immediately fixated on. She wore blue jeans and boots with a short heel. It put her just under his eye level. Rolling along behind her was the tiny, sky blue suitcase she'd brought with her.

Her gaze wandered the crowd until it fell on him. Dan felt a dopey smile crossing his face, matched by the one emerging on hers. She blitzed across the distance in a heartbeat, slamming into him with a joyous cry of "Danny!"

The force of her hug rocked him backwards, but he was well practiced by now at staying upright. He held her tight, and breathed in her jasmine and vanilla perfume. People snickered nearby at the open display of affection, but he didn't care at all. All was right again with the world.

They took a taxi home. Dan didn't own a car—Why bother?—and Abby had sold hers in Georgia. That was something he needed to fix at some point. He couldn't always teleport places, as much as he enjoyed it. Nor would he allow himself to be ferried everywhere. Dan was one of those paranoid people who couldn't stand it when others drove him around. It made him nervous, though Abby was doing a terrific job of distracting him.

Eventually, they arrived at Dan's castle house. Abby bounced through the doorway immediately scooping up a waiting Merrill and depositing the mouse on her head. Dan followed her in, locking the door. His girlfriend beelined towards the kitchen, and dug through one of their cabinets. She emerged with a vase in her hand, and she deposited Dan's roses into it. She took a lungful of air, then beamed at him.

"I missed you," she said simply.

Dan smiled like an idiot.

Abby's face fell slightly. "About this afternoon... are you okay?"

"I'm better, now," Dan said, wrapping her in a hug.

They transferred to the couch, snuggling together while they talked.

"Connor was pretty shook up," Dan said. "He knew one of the victims. Recommended one of the stores that got hit, in fact."

"Poor kid," Abby replied sadly.

"I really don't know what to do about it," Dan continued. "What's a friend supposed to say to make that better?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder, gazing up at him. Her hair tickled his chin. Her breath was soft and warm, and smelled like mint.

"There's nothing you can say," she told him. "Just be a friend. Time will do the rest."

"Yeah," Dan murmured. He stared at her, those bright amber pools filled with love.

He leaned in. Their lips met.

____________________________________________

Evening arrived. Dan and Abby were in the kitchen, finishing up dinner. Dan's original plan of a grand, loud party had taken a turn for the somber. After the events of the day, he felt like something a little less exuberant was called for. He'd found an old martial arts film for them to watch; a Dimension A twist on Jackie Chan's film style. Dan had meant to look up the man himself and see what had become of him—Bruce Lee as well—but he'd never gotten around to it. He didn't recognize the actor on the cover of the film, but it was apparently a classic. Connor would certainly appreciate it, and Abby was a massive nerd for the genre.

Several knocks rang out from the front door. Dan blinked over to it, and glanced through the peep hole. Freya stood on his doorstep, with a slightly downcast Connor at her side. Their hands were clasped tight. Both were still in uniform. Their squad car was parked on his curb which... okay. Just another thing for his neighbors to gossip about. He supposed the two officers would return the car after they left?

He really had no idea how that sort of thing worked.

Pushing that aside, Dan opened the door and graced them with his best smile.

"Freya. Connor," he nodded. "Glad you could make it. Come on in."

"Daniel," the blonde woman greeted. She gently pulled her fiancé forward by the hand, and Connor grunted something unintelligible.

Abby bustled in, smiling affectionately at the pair. Her voice was comforting. "Hey there, you two."

"Abigail!" Freya greeted, perking up. She glanced at Connor who waved, half-heartedly. "Connor isn't feeling quite himself. I'm sure you understand."

Abby nodded, her face set in stern lines. "Let's get some coffee into him."

As far as Abby was concerned, coffee was bullshit black magic that helped solve whatever problem you were going through. She brought the morose Connor into the kitchen and proceeded to fuss over him with Freya. The poor fellow was stuffed full of flavored caffeine before Freya deposited him on the couch. Dan dutifully brought out dinner, slices of rib roast with mashed potatoes, on some little plastic trays and everyone made themselves comfy on the couch. Connor seemed to perk up at the food, and brightened even further once the movie began to play.

It was a fairly standard action comedy beat-em-up. Normal, every day dude gets involved in some shit that's above his head. Dude knows kung-fu. Dude beats the absolute crap out of hundreds of mooks, then has a dramatic showdown with the final boss. Good stuff.

It was odd, though. The film was of American origin, as had been every other he'd looked at. He could find none of the Hong Kong cinema that had dominated the genre in his home dimension, at least not online. He pondered that thought, as the main character slapped around half a dozen goons on screen. What had become of Hong Kong in Dimension A? He really didn't know. Or China, even. There were so many things about the world that he was ignorant of, that he hadn't even considered looking into.

Well, he'd just have to ask Abby later.

When the film ended, Connor looked to be back to his old self. It was an act, obviously. Nobody recovers from that kind of personal blow so quickly, but at least he was able to hide it now. Just as Abby had said, time will do the rest.

Abby baked brownies, and the four friends spent a few minutes munching on sweets in a comfortable silence, interspaced with idle chit-chat. Nothing serious, here. Nothing deep. Nothing meaningful. Just friends, hanging out.

Beer was offered, then declined. Connor was tired, and they were calling it a night. Freya gave Dan a thankful nod, before leading her tired boyfriend towards the front door. Dan followed, with Abby shouting her goodbye from the kitchen as she soaked the dishes. He walked the pair down his front steps, and they turned to face him, just outside the door.

"This was more fun that I'd expected," Connor admitted.

Half a dozen bantering responses flashed through Dan's mind, but he settled for, "Glad you liked it."

"Yeah." Connor nodded, and extended his hand. "Good to see you Newman. Thanks for the food and company, but we'd best get going. I have to return the cruiser before the graveyard shift notices that it's missing."

They shook, as Dan laughed.

"I'd wondered," he admitted. "You've been here for so long, who knows what my neighbors think of me. Between you and Gregoir, I've had more cops show up at my door than they've probably ever spoken to." He paused. "Not that I have many neighbors to begin with."

Freya glanced around at that comment, taking note of the large 'For Sale' signs on the lawns flanking his home, and going almost completely down the block. The number had only increased in the time that he'd lived here. Her eyebrow raised slightly, and she pointed towards slightly down the street.

"You might have some, soon. People are looking, at least."

Two houses down, a dark SUV was parked. Dimly, Dan noted it was facing the wrong side of the street, towards them. Exhaust puttered out from its rear, and the windows were tinted.

"New neighbors?" Dan asked. He waved at the car. "Suppose I should go say hello?"

Connor frowned in the car's direction. "Hold on, Dan. Something seems..."

The car's headlights came on, and it shifted into gear. The window came down as it began to roll forward. Dan caught a flash of metal and—

"GUN!" Connor bellowed. The rookie officer moved before Dan had even processed his warning. One hand clamped tight around Dan's arm, and the other grabbed Freya's. The younger man heaved, dragging them all backwards into the house. Dan dropped into t-space out of sheer instinct; the last sound he heard before reality twisted away was the booming drumbeat of automatic weapons.