I had thought to myself that dawn among the flashing police lights and my father's grave face that I would never go back to France for as long as I lived. Damned if it was where I was born, damned if it was where I had grown up, damned if it was where all the memories of my mother remained. Standing there with blood on my hands, I had felt such a burning hatred for the place that I had never even wanted to ever think about it again.
And then we had buried Caitie and Parker in Cannes, and I was here again.
I went to Parker's grave first, because I knew I wouldn't have it in me to visit him after Caitie's. I sat at the edge of it, facing his gravestone, my hands in my lap, and opening my mouth only to discover that I had absolutely no idea what to say.
Parker had been my best friend for years, the absolute best of any that I had ever had. Despite the recoil of finding out he was an agent, placed there to protect me, he was still the same person I had gotten to know, and he still cared about me as much as I cared about him, so it had always stayed the same. It had always been him I could rely on with anything, Parker that got me through the worst of my panic attacks. I was the one he would call to talk about his mysterious girlfriend, the one he was crazy about and was super smart but also the most frustrating person on the planet.
He might not have always been there physically, but he was always there when I called him. He might have hated Caitie Alastair, but I forgave and understood him for that. He might have been the one to dump Caitie out of a helicopter, giving her a traumatic brain injury, but he had been caught in Woodburn's web the same way we all had been.
Parker and I had our days where we didn't get along, where we didn't agree on something important, but that didn't stop making us friends. That didn't lessen any of the horror I felt when that shot went off, and I knew I would be seeing his face in the back of my mind for the rest of my life, still recoiling at the acceptance that crossed his face moments before Shawn pulled the trigger.
Parker had kind of easily gotten lost in the scramble of the Helford trials. He blended into the background the same way Marci did, in a way—like collateral damage. Woodburn and Shawn and Caitie had eclipsed him, and it was kind of nice to just take a moment and sit there and remember that he was real, that he existed, and damn did I miss him.
Parker was one of the most loyal agents to protecting people in the Underground. He was always the person that wanted to do the best he could. And he died for us that day, all so we would have a little extra time to run.
Parker was a lot of a thankless hero, although he would have hated the thought of being remembered that way. It didn't matter to me—it wouldn't change the way I saw him, and I still admired his spirit and strength more than he ever would have wanted me to.
So maybe that's why I didn't have a lot of words. He never would have wanted to hear them, anyway, and I never would have said them out loud. Maybe that was the best explanation I had for someone outside of my mind to understand why I sat by his grave for a half hour in nothing but dead silence, not even bothering to speak as I touched the top of it in farewell before wandering away, my head held down, missing him more than I would like to let on.
And then I walked to where we had laid Caitie to rest.
Really, even that was a bit of a lie—the grave, for the most part, was empty. We buried an empty box, because we couldn't stomach the thought of only having a piece of her in there, even though it would have been more than empty air. Instead, we had buried things that had made us think of her, things that represented our good memories, like some kind of time capsule we would never dig back up.
Valerie had laid out on the bottom a pretty yellow dress that looked like it would have belonged to a princess, the skirts puffy and the color shade something like out of a movie. Meade had quietly placed a burnt crucifix, rescued from unknown hands from the fire, gingerly on top of that, taking an extra step back like he was about to run away. And it took a moment where I thought I was going to stop breathing, but I finally let go of the only thing I had left of her—a paper crane, passed between us for the last five years, and I left it there to lie with her for eternity.
It was almost worse, in a way. At least with Parker, we had a body. We knew where he was. But Caitie, we never would. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and all of that.
So, when I made it to Caitie's grave, all of these little lack of closures finally built into a storm, and I let it rage.
"Hi, Caitie," I whispered, taking a seat at the edge of the gravesite, facing her stone. I hugged my knees to my chest, swallowing hard as I read her real name over and over, the dates that showed her life stopped too short, and the epitaph that read: Peace at last.
Valerie had chosen it. At first, I thought it was a little morbid. Now, I kind of understood her way of thinking a little better.
I clear my throat. I hadn't even noticed the thickness that came with this sadness, this helplessness that I knew I would feel. Wind rustled the grass, cold enough that it raised the hair at the back of my neck.
"I know it's been a while since I was last here," I told her softly, my voice drifting with the wind. "Months. But I was over in the States, for a lot of it. The Helford trials—you wouldn't have believed it. I'm not sure if you would have seen all of these pardons as a miracle, or a mistake. I do know, though, that you would have been happy to see Woodburn go down. It was a good moment, knowing that the right people were being blamed. I should have known that he wasn't as good of a guy as we wanted him to be. You would probably think the same."
I had gotten strangely used to talking to nothing more than memories during my life, my mother having gone before I knew the price of having to lose her. My pauses weren't awkward, and I wasn't uncomfortable speaking to nothing. In a way, it was comforting. It was nice to know that, even though they couldn't hear me, I could at least send my thoughts and feelings out into the universe, and they no longer had to exist exclusively in my mind.
"You had a trial, too, though you probably could have guessed that," I told her, leaning my cheek on my knees. "It was surprisingly sad, solemn. Everyone had made their decision about you before then—they had seen so much of you, knew so much of all of the brave and terrible things you did for all the right reasons. You wouldn't believe how short of a time it took for them to forgive you. I know you would have hated it. In a big way, though, I'm glad. You aren't the bad guy, Caitie. Really, you never were, not in the way it mattered. I'm glad even complete strangers could see that heart in you.
"Valerie was pardoned, too. She's probably going to come and visit you soon, before she heads off to whatever treatment facility she picks. She misses you a lot. Even though I think we all knew she wouldn't be guilty, I think she sees it as the worst injustice of them all that she walked away without being to blame for anything. I know she blames herself for what happened to you every single day. I'll never forget that look on her face when she realized we came back to take her away."
I closed my eyes, swallowed hard, and counted until ten before I could open my eyes again.
"Meade got let off, too, and he took it just as well and you would suspect. He disappeared off the face of the Earth. I kind of wonder if he came here, but I don't think he did. I'm sure he went to see Rian, though. He thinks he's so guilty for everything he did that he deserves to go down for it. I think that, to him, the idea of forgiveness is unfathomable. It'll probably take him a long time to forgive himself for everything he did. I can't help but to think that you would have done the same, reacted the same. What Shawn did to you guys ruined you enough that neither of you are willing to accept you're good people. I hope that he can unlearn that, the same way I would have helped you do the same.
"You're free, Caitie. Maybe it's about time I freed myself, too, huh?"
I dug my fingers into the cool earth.
"I've been thinking about you a lot," I confessed, like I hadn't spent so much time in my life thinking about her already. "It's a little morbid, but I've kind of been thinking about how I kind of wished I knew how much you suffered. I always wanted to help you, and I wish I'd had the chance to, in those last couple of weeks. I wish you had lived, so I could have helped you see how much you matter to the world, and how you might not be the greatest good, but you are good. I would have stayed by your side and helped you fix yourself every single step of the way, and sometimes I find myself lost in how much I fucking wish that could happen—but it can't. You died so soon, so unnecessarily, that I'll never get the chance to try. Story of our lives, right?"
Anxiety and hatred and grief thrummed like electricity under my skin. I dug my fingers in a little deeper, curling them a little more into fists around the dirt.
"It's so goddamn unfair," I whispered like it mattered even a little bit. The only one that heard me was the wind, and all it did was take those words and carry them away, too.
I pried my hands from the earth, ignoring the dirt under my fingernails that stained my skin. I shifted, moving onto my knees. I folded my hands together on my lap like I was about to pray, but I couldn't remember the last time I had done that, and I couldn't imagine starting again now.
"I love you," I murmured quietly, like a secret. "I've loved you in a hundred different ways. I admired you, I hated you, I missed you, I mourned you. Sometimes I idealized you, and sometimes I loved you just because it was easy, and other times because it was hard. Sometimes I didn't love you anymore, and then it came back in a rush, because every time you came back into my life, you were brighter than a galaxy. I loved you enough that I wanted to save you, and it made me angry when I couldn't. I loved you enough that I fell for you again when you were pretending to be another person. Maybe that makes you my soul mate. Maybe that just makes me a fool.
"I think, sometimes, I loved you because it felt like I had to. I had lost everything, and you were the reason why, and it felt like I had to keep loving you to make it all mean something. But other times, I knew it was real. When we found each other again, in those last weeks, I think I could have lived my entire life with you. I think I could have stayed by your side through anything, and I would have never stepped down from any challenge. I would have loved you like you deserved to have someone love you. For better or for worse. Till death."
I smiled sourly.
"You were my own living hell, Caitie. But goddamn if I didn't love you anyway.
"I know I won't love you forever—not like this, anyway. It's only logical, and time will heal wounds and all of that. I'll still love you, but it will fade, and someone else will come along and I will transfer that love onto them, and I won't have to worry every minute that I'm going to lose them. I guess that's not a bad thing. But right now, Caitie, it feels like fucking torture.
"I love you. I'll love you for a long time. And I am genuinely afraid of the day I have to let you go.
"You've been such a big part of my life. You've essentially shaped me into the person I am, or at least was my strongest influence. You're a part of me and, even though I know I have to let you go, it feels like I'm losing a limb. It feels like I might have this eternal emptiness inside of me forever, and it makes me not want to let you go. It makes me want to cling to you until my dying breath, but I know I won't.
"I followed the Helford trials to watch them set you free. Now it's time for me to be set free, too.
"I'll always love you, Caitie Alastair. Gemma Havarti. But now it's finally, finally time for me to say my first goodbye."
I slowly rose onto my feet, not breaking my gaze away from the gravestone. An emptiness throbbed somewhere around my heart, and I let it as I took a small step back, taking another deep breath as the wind blew colder and colder still, reacting to the setting sun.
My voice was sad as I said, as loud as I dared, "Goodbye, Caitie."
And then I turned and walked away.
I didn't turn back. I didn't look at the graves I was leaving behind as I moved forward, only forward, pushing my legs harder every time the temptation to turn hit me. I didn't stop walking for a long while, long after the cemetery was behind me, long after I passed the car my father, Matthew, and I rented when we got here. I walked until it was dark, and until my feet were hurting, but I didn't stop until I reached the water, until I was staring out at the English Channel and feeling the screams I wouldn't let loose bubble helplessly in the back of my throat.
I understood now. I understood everything.
I had to let go of Caitie, and Parker, and everything that happened with Helford. And I finally understood why Valerie and Meade couldn't do it surrounded by people who cared. I finally understood how it felt too much like being trapped, like constantly being watched.
I understood the desire that came with wanting to run. I didn't give myself enough time to think of the consequences.
I reached into my pocket and took out my phone.
I can't keep doing this, I sent to Matthew with shaking hands, my stomach turning. I need to run.
His reply came seconds later. Then run.
Will you take care of everything when I'm gone?
Of course. We'll be here when you get back.
I paused to take a deep breath, urging the nausea building in my stomach to settle.
Thank you, Adrian.
Good luck, little brother, the man who would someday feel even more like family than he always had been replied, and I could feel the sincerity behind it. Matthew had never bothered with telling more lies than he had to.
I closed my eyes, grasping my phone tightly in my hand.
And then I threw it as hard as I could.
The rush that came with watching the phone hit the water and then disappear was an unexpected one, a burst of adrenaline that made possible what I had to do next. It made it possible for me to remember the wallet I left in the car, but the passport I had slipped into my back pocket with every bit of cash I had on my person. It made it possible for me to turn away from the Channel, start down a street I had never seen before, and keep walking. It made it possible for me to not look back even once, every step into the unknown I took one more meant to set me free.
Valerie was right—it was about time I did something for me, and not for anyone else. My father would be upset, and he would be angry and scared, but I would be back. I would live in a way I never would have been able to if I had stayed back with him and Matthew, who deserved the chance to bond together, anyway, without me there as a distraction. For one of the first times in my life, it was time for me to be selfish, even if it was in a way that hurt other people. I had to set myself free. And if that meant this, then so be it.
So I started walking, not knowing where I was going and not really caring, just wanting to be free; and I didn't look behind me as I walked, letting my feet carry me away and feeling like, for the first time in years, I could look at the world going on around me—
And just breathe.