Waiting was never Tracey's best attribute. She knew that when Greg agreed to 8pm he would be there at half past, but still, it didn't stop her from pacing the floor until he got there. Why had he come home? She'd thought he was staying away for a reason, that England held too many bad memories. Not that she wasn't happy about him coming home. She'd missed her friend. Unfortunately, it was something they hadn't really ever broadcast, not many knew about their relationship, so it was hard to be sulky without having to explain something so special. Why she hadn't just insisted on Apparating straight to his flat was beyond her, but now the nervousness that only waiting for time could instill was upon her. She'd wanted to give him space. Maybe have him come to her for once... but this was just as good, she supposed.

Greg rushed up the front walk, clearing his mind of the handsome, redhead he'd spotted at the pub. The line at the pub had been terribly long and he knew that his Maeve would pace until he arrived. At least he'd had the sweet and sour mix at his flat which meant one less stop. He hated to keep her waiting, though he always had and most likely always would. She was the sister he'd never been blessed with. His confidant...the shoulder he'd cried on when it all had been too much over the years. Merlin, she'd been the first one he'd confessed to that he liked both blokes and birds. He would kill to protect his Maeve. She was his, enough said. McLaggen learned that lesson, now didn't he?

He sprinted up the steps and set the take away on the front bench before pulling his wand. He tapped the plaque in the pattern they had come up with when they were seven to open the large oak doors. The wards would recognize him instantly. Greg took a big step back, hastily setting the bottle next to the take away. He knew what was coming when the door swung open.

"GREG! You're here!" she shouted joyfully as she jumped fully into his arms. Tracey held him tightly and she kissed his forehead, temple, and cheeks over and over again, all while he stood laughing at her. He hair brushed his face and Greg couldn't remember being this happy in a long time.

He grinned and wrapped his arms around her to keep her close. She was the one thing he had truly missed. He almost didn't want to let her go, as if maybe having his Maeve back was all a dream he would wake from only to find himself alone like he had been those first horrid weeks after he'd left everything he had known. "I've missed you, Maeve," he admitted, burying his face further into her hair. She smelled of Chanel No. 5. He could remember one time, in Seattle, when he'd caught the scent and immediately looked for her. Rose and Jasmine would forever remind him of Maeve would always garner the same reaction for him. They meant home.

Reluctant to let him go, she allowed herself to stand on her own feet but still held to his arm while taking up the bottle. He grabbed the take away and they walked through the big doors to Whittom Park, Tracey's ancestral home. Once inside, Tracey turned to the nearest house-elf. "Baxter? Bring the dishes to the front room, Master Goyle and I are going to eat in there."

Greg scowled at her. "Master Goyle? You know how much I hate that, Poppet."

Tracey couldn't help but grin cheekily at him. "They're the help, would you like them to call you Master Greggie like they did when we were five?" She was amused... and she was so happy to have him home at last.

Greg led her into the lounge, his favourite room in her home. It was one of the least formal and had always put him at ease- even as a small child. Maybe it was the soft yellow walls... He eyed her as they set aside the take away and bottle, his eyes missing nothing about her appearance. It had nearly killed him to leave her here with only Blaise to help her- he knew she'd never let anyone else know if something was wrong.

She looked up at him and smiled, though he could tell it never reached her face. His eyes narrowed, something was off he just couldn't place it at the moment. He wasn't sure if it was big or small, or even a figment of his imagination. He doubted the last option, but had to ask. "Maeve...Tracey, what is wrong?"

Tracey's smile remained where it was. Thoughts flooded her mind. What had she said or done to make him doubt her happiness to have him home? She'd actually practiced that afternoon, tonight was supposed to be all about him, all about being able to help him. He wasn't supposed to recognise that she was just walking through her life. "Val, I'm fine. Things are good. What about you? You're here... and I'm so happy you're here... but-"

Greg didn't let her finish, he just pulled her into his lap and held her close, tucking her head in the crook of his neck. He didn't know what she had been playing at but he wasn't about to let her continue on. He rubbed her back with one hand as he ran the other through her hair. He could feel her slowly relax and kept quiet. He'd learned long ago how to soothe her and how to wait her out. His heart was breaking. Was this his fault? Had his selfish need to get away from here harmed her? Heart in his throat, Greg held on as he felt the light tremors start. She was killing him. He could feel her tears on his neck. But, he waited knowing that she needed the time to collect her thoughts. If he found out who had hurt her he wasn't going to be responsible for his actions. She was his baby sister, his only family. He brushed a light kiss on her brow, allowing the rose and jasmine to soothe him or else he'd be no good to her. His temper, rarely seen, could turn deadly where his Maeve was concerned. He sat back and waited.

Tracey hated that he could read her so well and said as much into his chest. "I'm fine, Greg. Really I am. I'm just happy you're home. I've missed having someone here who actually cares about me. Are you going to tell me why you're home now?"

Greg smiled, though he knew she could see the wariness in his eyes. He only hoped he hid the thoughts of maiming Blaise for not taking proper care of Maeve. "Raven convinced me that I couldn't run anymore, that it was past time for me to come home." He winked as he added, "and I missed you, of course." Her attempt at distraction wasn't going to work. He had to be sure that there wasn't anything serious bothering her. "Are you sure there isn't anything else?"

"I'm sure. There's something... something just hurts and I don't even know how to explain it... but when I do, you'll be the first to know." Tracey finally looked him in the eye, hoping that he would resist asking her about it again, she wasn't above crying again... not when she was with her Val. "Why are you really home, Val?"

Greg brushed his thumbs under her eyes to brush away the tears. He just couldn't stand to see her damp lashes a moment longer. "I...I was lost..."

"I'm glad you're found now." Tracey sniffled. "It wasn't the same without you, no matter how much you felt you had to leave us."

He pulled her close again and whispered into her hair, "I'm here now and I'm not going away again for a long, long time, Maeve. I will be here for you. I promise."

Greg settled her on his lap and motioned for the house-elf hovering near the door to serve their food. He was selfish enough to want to keep Maeve right where she was for as long as she'd let him. He'd been away far too long. No matter how difficult returning to Britain was, he would do it...for Maeve.


(Summary: Tracey and Greg meet for drinks and more than a little guilt is shared between the two friends over whisky sours. )