This is a very short sequel/companion of sorts to my first CM fanfic, "Saying Goodbye," although you don't have to read the earlier story to understand this one. (But please feel free to do so and send me a review!)

Special thanks to hotchityhotchhotch for her quick beta services, and for easing my apprehension before publishing. Thanks, you're the best!

Picks up immediately after the final scene in "Lauren," Emily's POV.

As I walk away from my best friend, I only hope that someday I'll see her again. For the two weeks I was recovering, and the month after that until I was cleared to leave the States, JJ was the only person who could come to see me. Before her first visit I had been moved to a classified location, my "body" buried. JJ told me then that Aaron was the only other person who knew the truth. Even my parents couldn't know that I survived.

In a weird way, I wanted to be like Huck Finn and watch my own funeral, but between the Agents protecting me and the doctors I couldn't get out. For those first few weeks I was also mourning. I hadn't even known about our child until the doctor told me I lost it, and that there would never be a chance for another.

Trying to look like I'm enjoying the cool spring air in Paris, I take several deliberate wrong turns on my way back to the hotel. I don't notice anyone following me, which hopefully means that I'm safe. It's my last night in Paris. Tomorrow my search for Doyle will officially begin.

During my walk my mind wanders to the team – to my family. During my recovery time I prayed to a God a barely believe in that I had done the right thing, that Jack and Aaron and the rest of the team were safe. I occasionally catch myself crying at night for him, for the little boy who has already lost one mother. I know I was never a replacement for Haley, but in the time I spent with Aaron over the last few months I also grew close to his son. Leaving them was the hardest part.

I take a shower before I open the envelope JJ gave me in an attempt to clear my head. As I'm drying off, as always, my eyes are drawn to the clover-shaped scar on my chest. The plastic surgeon did what he could to diminish it but it will always be there, another reminder of the past that I'll never erase.

Once I'm dressed for bed, I'm ready to open the envelope and get acquainted with my new identities. I empty the contents onto my bed, and notice a smaller, blank envelope sealed inside. I put it aside and pick up the first of three red passports: Anya Petrova from Perm, Russia. The second was a deeper red hue, almost brown. Mirielle Simon from Toulon. I pick up the final passport, for Esperanza Herrera from Tarragona, Spain, before looking more closely at the small envelope.

I pour myself a drink – a rare indulgence – before sliding my finger under the seal and carefully pulling out the contents. There are three pictures: one of Jack, one of Aaron and me at this year's Christmas party, and one of the entire team. There's also a letter, and I know it's from him. I quickly drink the rest of my wine before unfolding the paper.

First I take in the narrow scrawl, the wide, open loops, then focus on the words.

Dear Emily,

I know that for now you can't contact me. I had to beg JJ to let me put this letter in the package she's bringing to you, but I couldn't let you go without saying good-bye, and making sure I gave you a reason to come home.

I wish you would have told me – told all of us – what was going on sooner, but I understand why you didn't think it was safe. I know you were worried about putting Jack and I in danger, and that you're still afraid for all of our safety. But please know that you're not alone. You're a part of me, and I'll be with you every day.

Please, find Doyle as soon as possible. Stay safe, and come home soon.

I love you, always.

Aaron

I don't even realize I'm crying until a teardrop hits the letter, blurring his signature. I spend an hour committing the letter and the pictures to memory before carefully concealing them in the lining of my purse. I know it will be weeks – perhaps months – before I can safely look at them again, but I also know that while I have to be away from everyone I love, I will keep these reminders as close to me as I can.

Thanks so much for reading. Please take a moment to send me a review!