Gone
Twenty-Four Hours Later
By lunchtime the entire country was asking the same question.
The England captain had been everywhere for two weeks.
Television.
Radio.
Front pages.
The Mall.
Interviews.
Photos.
Then...
Nothing.
No interviews booked.
No sponsorship appearances.
No podcast recordings.
No awards ceremonies.
Nothing.
The media assumed she was resting at home.
Some journalists reported she was spending time with family.
Others suggested Arsenal had already called her back for medical assessments.
Nobody actually knew.
And Leah intended to keep it that way.
----
Heathrow Airport
Terminal Five.
Baseball cap.
Black hoodie.
Headphones.
One backpack.
One medium-sized suitcase.
No security escort.
No announcement.
Just Leah.
She moved slowly through departures, her limp hidden beneath the steady pace she'd perfected throughout the tournament.
Every few steps her ankle reminded her it still existed.
Her knee wasn't much kinder.
But nobody noticed.
A little girl walking past suddenly stopped.
Her eyes widened.
"Mum..."
The mother looked up.
Then smiled.
"Sorry... are you..."
Leah smiled, lifting one headphone away from her ear.
"I am."
The little girl clutched an England programme tightly against her chest.
"My daddy says you're the best captain we've ever had."
God.
That nearly finished her.
Leah crouched carefully, trying very hard not to show the pain shooting through her ankle.
"That's very kind of him."
"Can I have a photo?"
"Of course."
The girl's grin could probably have powered Heathrow.
Afterwards she hugged Leah tightly before running back towards her family.
Leah watched her disappear into the crowd.
Then quietly smiled to herself.
Maybe...
Just maybe...
That had once been her.
---
Eight hours later...
JFK Airport.
New York.
Leah walked through arrivals looking exhausted.
The flight had been uncomfortable.
Too many hours.
Too little leg room.
Far too much smiling whenever passengers recognised her.
She rolled her suitcase through the terminal.
Scanning the crowd.
Looking.
Looking.
Then she saw her.
Elle.
Standing against one of the pillars in jeans, trainers and one of Leah's old Arsenal hoodies.
Coffee in one hand.
The biggest smile on her face.
The second their eyes met—
Leah forgot how tired she was.
She dropped the handle of her suitcase.
And walked faster.
Well...
As fast as her ankle would allow.
Elle laughed softly.
"That's your version of running now?"
"Don't ruin the moment."
The distance disappeared.
Leah wrapped both arms around her immediately, burying her face into Elle's neck with the kind of sigh that only happened when she finally felt safe.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
The airport disappeared.
The cameras disappeared.
England disappeared.
For nearly a minute they simply stood there holding each other.
Finally Elle kissed the side of Leah's head.
"Welcome home."
Leah smiled against her shoulder.
"I thought home was St. Albans."
"It is."
Elle squeezed her gently.
"But right now..."
She smiled.
"...it's wherever you stop pretending you're okay."
The words landed harder than Leah expected.
Because she was tired.
Not tournament tired.
Life tired.
The kind of exhaustion that reached your bones.
She pulled back slightly.
"You know what I want?"
"What?"
"To sleep for about three days."
Elle laughed.
"I can absolutely arrange that."
She reached for the suitcase.
Leah instinctively held on.
"I've got it."
Elle simply looked at her.
"No."
"I can carry my own suitcase."
"I know you can."
She gently took the handle anyway.
"But you don't have to."
Leah almost argued.
Almost.
Instead...
She let go.
A tiny thing.
Probably meaningless to anyone else.
But to Leah...
It felt enormous.
Because she'd spent so long carrying everything herself.
Outside the terminal, the humid New York air wrapped around them.
Yellow taxis lined the pavement.
The city buzzed exactly as it always did.
Fast.
Loud.
Alive.
Elle opened the passenger door before loading the suitcase into the back.
Leah slid carefully into the seat, trying unsuccessfully to hide another wince.
Caught.
Again.
Elle climbed into the driver's seat.
"You really are hurting, aren't you?"
Leah looked out of the window for a moment.
Then finally nodded.
"Yeah."
No pretending.
No captain.
No brave face.
Just truth.
Elle reached across the centre console, lacing their fingers together.
"Good."
Leah frowned.
"Good?"
"You finally admitted it."
Silence.
Then...
Leah laughed.
A proper laugh.
One that hadn't come from a press conference or a medal ceremony.
Just hers.
As the taxi pulled away from JFK and disappeared into the evening traffic of New York City, headlines continued to flood the internet back in England.