"For crying out-," Ethan Carson ground out as he stared at the numerous graphs and pie charts on the paper in his hands. "You've got to be shitting me."

He'd been pouring over numbers and charts for hours, and had begun to feel a sizable migraine coming on. Day after day it never failed to surprise him how so many well paid individuals couldn't properly add numbers together. It's not like they were launching space shuttles here.

"They probably do this shit on purpose," He grumbled, just as the phone that occupied a corner of his desk began to ring.

"Mr. Carson," Eloise, the front desk assistant began in a hesitant voice. Over the years, she'd become accustomed with Ethan enough to sense when he was in a mood. "Mr. Gross called. He wants you to go over the numbers for the Haksuna account with him at 3."

"Of course he does," Ethan rolled his honey brown eyes. "Thank you Eloise."

Ethan chanced a look at his silver Bulova watch. Considering it was 10 minutes before three, he was safe in assuming this was another scheme to lure him away from the office.

Slipping his cell phone from his desk drawer, Ethan tapped the screen a few times and waited for it to dial an all too familiar number.

"Benjamin Gross," Ethan heard him answer curtly.

"I have work to do Ben," He reminded dryly.

"Like always," Ben dismissed his friend's well worn excuse. "You also have a life to live."

"I tried that, and we both know how that turned out."

Even though Ethan couldn't see him, Ben physically flinched at the bitterness that oozed from his words.

"I'll see you in the lobby at three." Ben declared before ending the call.

Ethan scowled at his phone, fighting the urge to throw into his bottom drawer and pretend the call never happened. But Ethan knew it was either lunch or deal with another obscene party that Ben insisted he attend. The thought alone was enough to make Ethan slip on his navy blue suit jacket, and exit his office.

"It's about damn time," Ben exclaimed when Ethan emerged from the elevator.

"Oh fuck you." Ethan snorted. "If it was up to me, I'd still be in the office."

Ben shook his head as they made their way down the busy downtown side walk. "See, it's a good thing you have friends like me, because at 27, you'd be the most boring bastard that ever lived."

"Keep thinking that," Ethan shrugged and Ben narrowed his eyes at him.

"Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?"

"It's nothing," Ethan tried to down play and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You still haven't heard from her?"

Ethan simply shook his head. Ben couldn't help but feel sorry for him. If he were in Ethan's shoes, he wasn't sure he'd be any better off.

"You'll probably get one from her any day now," He smiled and gave Ethan's shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. All Ethan could manage was a nod in response. He was too embarrassed to admit that he'd spent the previous night rereading every past post card she'd sent.

++++++++

"Welcome to Chicago O'Hare Airport," The pilot announced over the PA system as the plain taxied down the runway. The words alone were enough to spark the anxiety that Danica Everwood spent the last year and a half trying to overcome.

But at 24 years old, Danica wasn't afraid to say that she was scared. She was scared of the city. She was scared the man she'd abandoned. She was scared of what had driven her from the city to begin with. She was scared of the mess she'd made and the aftermath of it.

"It's now or never," She whispered quietly to herself and gathered her carry on bag and prepared to exit the plane.

Walking through the terminal with her fellow passengers, Danica fought to calm her pounding heart. She silently chanted the calming mantra that she'd learned from her therapist as the sounds of the busy airport grew louder.

Before she knew it, her legs stopped on their own, just short of her exiting the terminal. Her fear was growing rapidly, and she felt herself becoming rooted to the spot. He hands clutched the strap of her bag, squeezing it to her chest, as she stared out into the air port wide eyed.

Just as she felt her breaths becoming short, she heard a voice; a voice that sounded like home.

"Danny!" It was her mother, "Oh my baby."

"Mom," Danica whispered in relief as her legs began to function again, propelling her to where her parents stood waiting.

"Hi sweetheart," Her mother cooed with a tearful grin before hesitantly reaching for a hug.

"Hi mom," Danica gave a small smile in return, and slowly loosened her hold on the strap before stepping into her mother's waiting arms.

"Welcome home sweet pea," Her father smiled warmly, gently touching the top of her head.