"No," Daniel answered. "I don't think that's silly at all." They touched glasses gently. There were no witnesses watching in alarm, no crew members gathering in the galley, and no captain approaching to make an unsupported accusation. There was only a husband and wife marking fifteen years together, with six additional months of shared difficulty woven into the story of how they had arrived at this moment.
As the aircraft taxied toward the runway, Daniel reached for Alana's hand. She rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes, listening to the familiar change in engine pitch as the airplane moved through its departure sequence. Years of professional experience made the sounds recognizable, but tonight she did not analyze them. She let the machine perform its ordinary work while she thought about the places they would walk in Paris. The pilot made a calm announcement, the cabin lights dimmed, and the aircraft began its takeoff roll.
For a few seconds after the wheels left the ground, Alana's grip tightened. Daniel looked toward her, but she kept her eyes on the window. The lights of Houston spread beneath them, turning roads into golden threads and neighborhoods into small bright islands against the dark. They were flying at last. She exhaled slowly and leaned toward him.
"We made it," she whispered. Daniel squeezed her fingers. "We did." He had no desire to tell her what he knew about the aircraft's systems, or the weather patterns along their route, or the countless people who had worked to make the flight possible. For once, his only job was to sit beside her and admire the view.
Later, with the cabin dark and most passengers asleep, Alana found herself thinking about Karen Miller and Mark Jensen. She did not feel satisfaction at imagining them unemployed, and she did not feel obligated to wish away the consequences they had earned. The distinction was more complicated than a simple story of villains punished and heroes rewarded. The couple had been hurt, the individuals had been held accountable, and an organization had begun the long work of changing itself. She hoped the changes would last, but she did not need to spend her whole life checking on them.
Daniel woke when she shifted in her seat. "Can't sleep?" he murmured. She smiled. "Too excited." He adjusted the blanket over her knees and asked whether she wanted to look at the Paris itinerary again. She laughed softly and reminded him that the whole point of the trip was to stop treating every experience like a schedule to be managed.
"Then we'll do nothing tomorrow," he said. "Absolutely nothing." She raised an eyebrow. "Nothing at all?" "We can walk somewhere," he conceded.
"And eat something. Maybe see a museum if we happen to pass one." Alana smiled and closed her eyes. "That sounds like the most sensible plan you've made in fifteen years."