I made it to the airport with five minutes to spare before Julienne's flight was supposed to land, and nearly broke my neck skidding through the waxed hallways to the gate, only to find out that the plane was behind schedule and wouldn't be there for another fifteen minutes. Ain't that always the way? After buying an over-priced cup of coffee and sitting down to wait, I noticed that I was being stared at. Not in the mood, I glared back, realizing too late that it wasn't some civilian gawking at the scars, but a gaggle of news reporters. Shit. "Ms. Blake!" began the chorus, and I sighed, wondering if it was really a crime to shoot them. If ever there was a time I didn't need publicity, this was definitely it. And lucky me, Irving Griswold was one of the throng. Double shit. Reporters were bad enough, but having one that was a werewolf and would report back to my sort-of ex-sweetie was worse. Of course, Murphy's Law decided at that moment to make my life a true living hell, and people began spilling out of the terminal. Apparently, the plane had landed while I was busy glaring at the news crew. Turning my back on the reporters and their questions, I scanned the crowd of deplaned passengers, looking for the little girl that was mine. I hadn't seen her since the day she was born, but somehow, I knew that I would recognize her on sight. Call it a mother's intuition. Me, a mother? Yikes. Julienne was one of the last few people off the plane, lead by a stewardess in a navy blue skirt and jacket. I felt my throat close looking at her, it hitting me solidly at the sight of her that she really was mine. Her skin was the same porcelain pale of my own, seemingly made lighter by the long mane of black corkscrew curls that framed a soft, baby-round face. The only trait she'd inherited from her father was blue eyes the hue of watercolored carribean. She looked up and her eyes found mine. There was almost an audible click as we recognized each other, and I knew instinctively that she'd inherited something else from me. She was almost painfully young, still, but I knew that she would raise the dead someday. The hubub of voices in the waiting area faded to white noise as I walked toward her, my heart pounding in my chest, the sting of tears in my eyes. "Mommy?" she asked quietly, staring up at me with wide blue eyes. I nodded and knelt in front of her. We stared at each other for the space of a few seconds, then she flung herself into my arms, hugging me tightly. I hugged her back, for once not discomfited by physical contact. Most of the time, I shied away from such obvious displays of affection, but the wereleopards had been helping with that. This was more than simply growing accustomed to being touched, though. Julienne felt right in my arms, as if she should have always been there. "Are you okay?" she asked me, and I realized that I was crying. I nodded and smiled. "I'm fine. I just never realized how much I missed you." And where had that come from? I wondered. As soon as I said it, though, I knew that it was the truth. I had spent the last seven years forgetting that I had a child somewhere in the world that was growing up without me, like a missing piece of myself. I had learned how to go on with my life, and was content, if not happy. But, I had missed her. I caught myself wondering at odd times what she was doing, if she was happy. "Are you okay?" I asked her, brushing the glorious mass of curls away from her face. She gave me a watery smile. "I am now," she said softly. I matched her smile with my own. "Let's go home." She nodded and wrapped her arms loosely around my neck as I lifted her, neither of us really caring that she was really too big to be carried. I settled her on my hip, her legs wrapped around my waist, and headed back toward where I'd parked the Jeep, ignoring the white flash of the reporter's cameras going off. It would be plastered all over the newspapers, probably by tonight, but I didn't care at the moment. My daughter was safe, and I was taking her home. That was all that mattered.