NEW ORLEANS/CHAPTER TWO.<br/><br/>The flight excruciating, her sunglasses blinding the now setting sun, a small Vera Bradley carry-on in her possession; every belonging left behind in New York except a change of clothes, hygiene items and her wallet.<br/><br/>She left the dark man behind.<br/><br/>That was one of the most difficult decisions she had made that she could remember. She felt his pain as she walked from the motel room, his anguish fed through her body, and she walked away.<br/><br/>She wanted to turn back. She wanted to help him. To save him. Doing this meant more than a simple hug and pat on the back.<br/><br/>Saving a Fallen meant a sacrifice.<br/><br/>One she was not willing to make at this time.<br/><br/>Sacrifices are so....one sided, no?<br/><br/>With a heavy soul she found her sanctuary, quickly showered and changed, grabbed what she could and boarded the plane.<br/><br/>Perhaps it should be mentioned she fed. A nasty little gremlin of a woman; yum. Feel the sarcasm here.<br/><br/>So here she stood, in the middle of the airport, clad in a pair of black yoga pants, a light blue tank top, and flip flops. She had tugged her hair in a ponytail, it arguing this stance by bobbing about behind her.<br/><br/>Did I mention the ache?<br/><br/>Thank heaven she did not learn his name. It made things easier.<br/><br/>Her eyes rolled behind the dark spectacles as she made way out of the busy arena, arm raising to hail a cab.<br/><br/>She smiled, offering the driver an address. He asked her to repeat it and she did. "Ya know that's a cemetary missy?", he replied in that thick drawl.<br/><br/>She chortled and nodded, "mhm, I'm meeting someone there. Now drive please."<br/><br/>After her meeting she definately needed some blues and a drink, she thought.