WAVE

Time suspends.

Just for a moment.

It's impossible to comprehend it, how he could be here. How he could be standing just a few feet away from me, still wearing his bloody clothing, bandaged completely across his chest. The woman beside him retreats slowly, pressing her tablet to her chest, gazing between us.

His eyes are still bloodshot, but they are coherent...not like before.

He's standing.

Standing.

"Genevieve," he whispers, sounding like he can't believe he's found me either. He braves a step, trying to mask the pain that I see clearly in all of his features. I will my feet to move, but they won't budge.

He opens his mouth, gasping for air he doesn't seem to have. "Genevieve, I-I never would have left. I woke on the plane—"

Tears drop from my widened eyes, rolling fast down my face, seeping into my clothing. Am I imagining this? Is it a cruel trick?

"I'm so sorry."

Is he... Did he... Did he really come back for me?

Swarmed with relief, I drop my head into my hands, unable to restrain my emotions. I lose it in front of everyone. The volunteers, the survivors waiting in line, the stranger I've been dreaming about since my life took a violent turn for the worse. I cry as I've never cried.

His arms wind around me, a source of protection I have ached for in this hell. My hands leave my face, reaching around to claw at the back of his shirt, needing the grounding of another soul that's lived through the same trauma I have.

I imagine I'm hurting him, but at this moment in time, I can't let go.

"Oh, god. Tristan," I sob.

"I'm here." He strokes my hair, gently. "You're not alone."

He's saying what I said to him when I found him. He remembers. He exhales, laying his cheek on my head. He's swaying, unable to hold us still.

In my desperation, I hear him wince. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." He smiles, so softly, wiping the tears from my face. I stare. It's all I feel I can do. I stare at him. Only the woman approaching us makes me realize our surroundings, seeing all the people watching us.

All the reunions I saw and didn't see.

How I longed to be one of them...and now...

I feel myself smile, having imagined it would be impossible to after everything that's happened.

"Tristan?" He looks at the dark-haired woman. "Her clearance has been approved. We're good to go."

He releases his hold on me, but grabs my hand, guiding me back to the tent where a new volunteer has taken over Malai's spot. "Are there any survivors at this camp or one nearby that have been approved to fly?"

The tired woman looks puzzled. "Why?"

"I have a jet." He turns to the brunette. "How many fit in the plane, Tanya?"

My heart stops.

"Capacity would be about 20 passengers."

Tristan turns back to the desk. A few other volunteers have stopped to eavesdrop on the situation. "There are only three of us, five including the pilots. We'll be refueling in London, so we can take anyone needing to reach Europe or America."

Someone behind the worker steps up to the desk, gaping, trying to recover from their shock. "It would take some time to get them here, get them cleared."