We stopped by an an electronics store on the way to the airport and got two shiny new laptops, and some backpacks so we could look more like normal travelers. I thought one laptop was for me and one was for him.

I was wrong.

He configured the laptops in the car on the way to the airport. Apart from security checkpoints, he has been using both non-stop. He doesn't seem overly concerned about appearing human. He types on one computer until he fills up the buffer, then he grabs the second one and does the same. He doesn't seem to be deliberately hiding what he's doing from me, he is just moving too fast for me to catch much.

From the glimpses I've seen, he is writing two dissertation-length technical papers simultaneously about vastly different topics. One seems to be about nuclear fusion, and the other about quantum mechanics.

It takes him about an hour and a half to finish the first two papers. Then he seamlessly starts writing the next two papers. I'm not really sure how he can write two papers at once. I wonder if he can write three.

I spend the time reading and re-reading the emails from my sister, while trying to look like I'm the one using the second laptop. She has lived a good life. My niece and nephew appear to be wonderful children. I have missed so much.

Half way through the flight, Damian finally closes one computer and passes me the other. "What do you intend to email your sister?"

"I've read everything a thousand times, and I still don't know how to respond to her. I… I think it may be better to call her instead of emailing. If we are going to get her on side, we will need to meet." I try not to sound hopeful. I dread this meeting as much as I look forward to it.

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"Will you tell her the truth?" There is no emotion in Damian's voice. He may as well have commented on the weather.

"I don't see another way to do this that is successful."

"Nor do I. It is a gamble, but one I fear we may have to take."

"What does the key look like?"

He takes the laptop back and navigates to the museum website, where he brings up the item description of a Triskelion. There is no picture. "Memorize this item number, we need this exact piece to enter the laboratory."

I take the computer and work on memorizing the number. It is not out for display, that will make it easier to grab—especially if we have a curator with access on our side. And it looks like it is a small piece. Slip it into the pocket and walk.

I slide the computer back when I've finished memorizing the information. He is sitting in his seat, appearing to be asleep, but he instantly 'wakes up' when I slide the computer over. He has a new email, and I'm sure he has more work to do. After reading the email, he turns to me, "there is new footage of a werewolf changing. The FBI and Interpol are both opening investigations into its authenticity. It has made the evening news in many countries."

"That is much faster than I thought it would be."

"It appears we are running out of time."

We don't speak again until we land in Heathrow. At the baggage claim, Damian grabs our bags, hands me mine and says "I have some other errands to run. You have my number, call me when you have the key."

I nod, we put on our hats and part ways. I take a taxi to the museum, and sit on a bench out front. She should be at work today. I stare at my phone, and try to talk myself into calling. It is overcast out, which means my hat, long sleeves, and gloves are enough to protect me outside. I relish the breeze on my face, but I can't put this off any longer.

I dial, hang up, and dial again.

It rings.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Abi, it's been a while."