two months later

- K A L I - A L I -

     "How have you been feeling?"

     My brother's voice reaches me across the bench as we sit in the main courtyard of the palace. As the repairs have been ongoing, I've found myself liking this place the most. The balcony, as much as I like it, only makes me remember one man right now.

     The words take a minute to register as I look his way. His hair blows in the breeze as he looks on at the garden, the trees casting long shadows over his eyes. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I awkwardly close my mouth, my mind feeling empty all of a sudden.

     Silence fills the air as the breeze slows. I notice the lack of bite on my neck, a result of letting my hair grow back. I hadn't made much progress, but it was starting to come together. Maybe eventually I'll forget I cut it entirely.

     Very funny.

     "I..." I stammer, my voice more hoarse than I figured it would be. I swallow, fidgeting and taking a breath. "I'm working through it."

     There's a noticeable pause before Suri responds. "You did the right thing."

     "It just," I mutter, my eyes burning a hole into the brick path the bench sits on. I trace the edges of each brick, trying to distract myself. "It scares me that it felt so... good."

     "Maybe you were meant to be an assassin," Suri chuckles, laughing dryly as I sigh. He stops, noticing my lack of participation. "Sorry. Not funny."

     I look up, focusing on the trees as I keep my mouth shut. I feel like there's so much I should say, so much I should do, but after all this, I don't know. I avoid looking at Suri, knowing he'd feel bad now. "I'm sorry."

     I see him shake his head in my peripheral vision as he stands up. "I still have the pistol. Maybe we could, I don't know, destroy it?"

     My eyes finally turn toward his, knowing a bargain when I see one. "No."

     "No?" Suri asks, a hint of shock in his tone.

     "It's all you have left of her," I remind, watching his face soften. "I'll figure this out. I just need time."

     A smile creeps onto his face. "Luckily it's been pretty peaceful after those new policies," he smirks, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans; not everyone has to be ornate all the time. "Take as much as you need."

- M E N A - J U R I V I C H -

Ding

Ding

Ding

The engine of the car idles as my hands stay clasped onto the steering wheel. My grip, while not tight, rests on ten and two awaiting a command. I keep expecting some feeling to rush onto me, to take hold and make me get out of the car... but nothing arrives.

Nothing but the damn seatbelt alarm.

After what feels like forever, I step out of the car and feel the wind against my face. I had imagined this day as rainy and bleak, but it was about as beautiful as I could expect for this time of year. Sunlight bounces off the car's paint as I slide on a pair of sunglasses, stepping onto the fluffy grass below. It waves ahead of me, dancing from side to side like a country bar on a Friday night.

Sturdy oak trees throw shade across the field as I pace forward, my hands firmly in my pockets. Trepidation pangs through me with each step I take. I find myself walking lightly, as if I'll awake someone sleeping soundly nearby.

Which is exactly what's happening.

My heart sinks as my eyes reach the horizon. Alone, in a clearing, lies a single stone protruding from the Earth. Trees encompass the site, with only a small patch of open grass surrounding the monument. I pause, guilt crashing into me like an avalanche of timber.

I couldn't make it to Lucas's funeral. His family, aware that something was wrong, banned anybody associated with Maelstrom from coming. I understand why - the selfish part of me is glad Raleigh didn't get the chance to - but it meant I couldn't come. I'd only gotten to now by sneaking in, and I would never come back again.

I had plenty of time to mourn him, though, in an Al Kamaran prison. They kept me there for a couple weeks, surprising me with extradition. I should be dead right now, but I'm here - somehow. I wasn't even told who wanted me extradited... but I have theories.

The memories attack me as I stand still, looking on at the stone. One moment, I was with Adara on that rooftop. The next, concussed, overpowered and helpless as we were dragged away from each other. I try not to think about it, but she has a way of worming into my head.

Anytime I think of it, anyway, I cry.

I find myself stepping forward again, the grass crunching under my feet and free strands of hair blowing across my face. The gravestone comes into view, its matte edges framing the words in the middle.

Lucas Collins.

Thoughts begin to rush through my head as I reach into my bag, pulling a bouquet of flowers out and holding them with my weak hand. Countless memories of the two of us on missions, at base, and living a fun life play like a VCR tape in my eyes. He always had a way of making things better, more fun, more...

I kneel down, setting the flowers down as gently as possible. My breath speeds up suddenly as I feel the emotions overtake my body. Water falls from my eyes as I fall backwards, sitting in front of the grave with my head in my hands. Maybe I could've saved him... maybe...

Stop. I can't play those games. I didn't kill Lucas... but I did lose my friend.

Light bounces in my eyes as I make a feeble attempt to stop the tears. Sniffling, I brush some water out of my eyes, looking forward at the tombstone. The blur is so much, I can't even read his name. But I don't need to - I know him more than that stone would ever tell me.

Behind the stone, for a split second, something tells me she's here. My memory fills in the shape as the tears blur my clarity. One thing is for certain, though.

I can finally be at peace.