It had been a trying week... very much so. Particularly trying to stay out of sight as I tailed that man. All he did over the time I was watching him was go out, do his job, and leave.

That is, until he thought no one was watching him. That's when he sat in his car... an older model that no one would expect someone of his success to still drive... and leaned his head heavily against the steering wheel, sighing audibly.

Depression was setting in again. That always happens when this man works so hard, only to come within inches of ultimate success. That kind of reaction is not uncommon among men his age, actually. There is something different about the man I was watching that night, though...

He's my husband, Trent. Tracer Bullet.

That's right. Despite his wishes, I booked a flight up to Chicago just to catch Birthday Brawl live. If he was going to make it to the top again, I wanted to be there. I had to be a part of it.

Sadly, things didn't turn out as well as we had hoped.

It's not that he was being entirely unreasonable in asking me to stay away just one time... it's more like he was overreacting... putting a little too much emphasis on a few things over a myriad of others.

He does that a lot, come to think of it.

As I sat in the shadows, watching... feeling more and more like a big pervert the whole time... I saw Trent sit bolt upright, a look of utter rapturous glee on his face.

I knew that look.

He'd had an idea. He quickly threw the Dart into gear and left the arena parking lot.

It was at that point that I realized something else... if I didn't make my return flight, I'd have a lot of explaining to do. Luckily, Trent has a thing for long drives when he needs to clear his head. I should beat him home by hours.

It was very early the following morning when he rolled into our driveway. Hearing the engine cut off, I walked to meet him at the door. After a long homecoming kiss, he spoke to me for the first time in days...

"I'm sorry." Not unexpected, but still nice to hear. "I put us all through so much in my quest, and I was unable to make it worth the pain."

"Don't worry about it," I replied, secretly smug about my own journey to the Windy City, "I kept myself occuppied."

"Look, let me make it up to you. How long has it been since we've gone on a nice vacation to faroff lands?"

"I'm pretty sure it was just a couple months ago, last time the WWA toured England."

Tracer looked at me blankly. "Well, at least I'm not alone in calling England a faroff land. Be that as it may, I would hardly consider that a vacation. I had to work, and you had to sit around and watch me work. Not a lot of time to ourselves. This time will be different."

"Where are we going?"

There was a long, embarrassed pause.

"England."

I sighed. "Another tour?"

"Yeah," Tracer admitted. "But at least I don't have a match this week. I will have to make a brief stopoff at the arena to take care of another pressing matter. But that shouldn't take me more than five minutes, give or take. Then we can take in the local culture. Or lack thereof."

I had to laugh at this. I knew it was a backhanded slap at some of the people he had to deal with on a day-to-day basis. He can be so petty sometimes... closer to all the time, really.

"Sure," I smiled. "I'd like that."

"Great," Tracer replied. "I'm sure we'll have a great time. And speaking of great times... you know what else I've really missed this past week?"

Uh-oh. I knew that look, too... though I must admit, I'd been waiting to see it again.