Chapter Text
Annie had to keep both hands on the wheel. River’s car wasn’t big, but she drove so rarely that even his hatchback felt large and twitchy under her fingers. She kept her eyes pinned to the road and the glowing blue of the sat-nav, breathing slow. If she focused on the traffic she didn’t have to think about the man in the passenger seat, the overnight bag at his feet, or the way his thumb rubbed at the edge of his phone without ever unlocking it.
He’d offered to get a cab — but she’d volunteered to drive, anxious to spend the last little stretch of time together. This was supposed to be their Friday night. Now she was ferrying him to the airport and trying not to ask questions he couldn’t answer.
“Straight over?” she said, glancing at the sat-nav.
“Yeah. You’re fine in this lane,” River said automatically. His voice was lower than usual, his knee bouncing against the dash. After a moment he added, softer, “I’m sorry about this. About leaving you. Sorry I’m going to miss seeing Sarah and Jay.”
“I know.” Annie’s hands tightened on the wheel as she took the exit off the roundabout. “It’s your job,” she said, keeping it practical. “I get it.” What she was going to say to Jay and Sarah tomorrow when she turned up for lunch alone she didn’t know. Christ, she didn’t even know where he was going. Perhaps she’d say he was ill.
“How long do you think you’ll be?”
He exhaled. “I honestly don’t know. I’ll call you if I can.” He reached over and covered her hand on the gearstick. “I’m going to miss you.”
Annie glanced down at their hands. “I’ll worry,” she said, her voice small.
“I know.” He squeezed her fingers. “I’ll be careful.” He ran his hand across the scruff of his beard, “It feels different now.”
She glanced sideways at him. “Why?”
He gave a faint, crooked smile. “Because now there’s someone I’m leaving behind.”
Her mouth twitched. “But now you’ve got someone waiting for you to come back.”
For a second he could only nod, jaw tight like perhaps he didn’t trust himself to speak.
She focused on the lane markings, grateful for the distraction. She’d never driven to Heathrow before and wasn’t sure which lane to take. River murmured directions, his voice soft, like they were both pretending this was just another errand — a run to the shops, not the start of something dangerous.
At the terminal she found the short-stay car park and slotted the car into a bay, palms a little sweaty on the wheel. They both got out. He slung his bag over his shoulder; she locked the car and fell into step beside him.
The automatic doors hissed open, a gust of warm air and departure boards flickering with places she wasn’t allowed to know about. His bag strap cut across his chest. He looked like every other traveller except for the way his eyes kept coming back to her.
They stopped just before the security barrier. The noise of trolleys and tannoys swirled around them.
“Don’t look so worried,” he said, trying for a smile.
“Sorry,” she answered, tucking her hair behind her ear.
He reached for her, pulled her close. “Don’t forget to pick up your dry cleaning tomorrow,” he murmured against her hair.
She nodded, throat closing so she couldn’t say anything right then.
“I hate leaving you like this,” he said quietly.
“I hate you leaving,” she managed, surprising herself with how steady she sounded.
He leaned in, kissed her, brief but hard, a promise pressed to her lips. “Back soon,” he murmured.
“I hope so,” she said.
He gave the smallest nod, then turned and walked towards security. Annie stood by the barrier watching him until he was swallowed by the crowd.
Back at the car she slid behind the wheel, shut the door and sat for a second. She wiped a few tears off her cheeks with the heel of her hand, feeling slightly foolish and raw all at once. The dashboard clock glowed 21:17.
“Right,” she muttered to herself, blowing out a breath. She straightened the mirrors, gripped the wheel and started the engine. The rhythm of indicators, the hum of tyres, the quiet concentration of driving — all of it gave her something to hold on to other than the not knowing.