Cassandra was full of guilt as she sat at the bar table, more peeling the label off of her beer than actually drinking it. She kept running the events of the day through her mind. How could she have been so wrong? In the end she prevented a disaster but she shouldn't have gotten those people's hopes up in the first place. And then there was Stone.
She couldn't get his distraught face out of her mind. He didn't blame her for what happened. There was never any blame or anger in his face. Just sadness. Even earlier when she and Ezekiel had asked him to join them, he hadn't been angry, didn't blame her. She'd been so afraid that he would, she'd approached him carefully. But his face had been kind, sounded grateful that they'd thought of him. And always polite. But that made it worse. She wanted him to be angry with her. She could handle him angry and he couldn't blame her more than she blamed herself.
But this sadness . . .that haunted look when he'd left her in the control room . . .the pain on his face when Jenkins and Jones had taken Mabel's body out of his arms. . .the fact that he'd gone home right after they'd arrived at the Annex. . .only to come back for some mysterious mission. She couldn't handle this, she didn't know how to.
She should let him grieve but despite the mistrust he probably still felt, he'd done so much to help her since they'd come to the Library. She just wanted one chance to return the favor.
Ezekiel cleared his throat, she realized that she had said no more than two words to him since they'd arrived at the bar.
"Look, being possessed by Colonel Baird took a lot out of me. I think I'm going to head home. How about you?"
She nodded, grateful to get out of ill timed socializing.
But instead of going home, she found herself parked in the Annex parking lot. It was quiet inside, even Jenkins wasn't to be seen. The cables were on the back door, along with a note in Stone's handwriting to not take them down. She resisted the urge to open the doors to see where he went. She had a feeling she knew anyway.
She'd been getting started on making a map of the ley lines, so she figured she might as well get some work done. Sleep was not going to come this night.
Stone wandered the streets of Paris, trying to remember Mabel's stories. But instead other voices ran through his mind:
So self righteous. What a good boy you are because of all you sacrificed.
You made your bed. I didn't get a choice in mine.
So what's your excuse? I can't go, I never could. You just didn't. Why?
It's an excuse.
You spend time with people who don't do something and you start feeling like you can't do it.
I know better.
Cassandra's voice again, talking to Flynn. You already saved me.
"He saved me too," Stone mumbled looking up at a streetlight. But instead of Mabel's face flashing in front of him, he saw Cassandra's eyes, full of sorrow as she looked at him across the room. The look on her face just a short while ago, sad, almost scared. Did she think he blamed her? That he was angry with her? But then he'd said things to her . . . .
I like you but I don't trust you.
Except he did. And part of what he learned from this mission . . .from Mabel . . .was that life had to be lived. Things had to be said. He couldn't count on Cassandra realizing that his feelings had changed. He'd trusted her completely today. She'd made a mistake, but she was only human and she wasn't the only one who'd miscalculated. She'd probably saved many more lives today than the ones who'd already been doomed. And that doom was the fault of someone a hundred years before.
He made a mental note to have a talk with Cassandra then took out the postcards once more. Determined to finish what he'd started instead of listening to the voices in his head.
He was on the Eiffel Tower trying to remember Mabel's story. Something about rain . . .
Rome. This is on my bucket list.
He could almost see Cassandra standing next to him, a breeze blowing her hair. He'd remembered that moment vividly for just one minute they hadn't been co-workers with trust issues. They'd been a man and a woman standing on a rooftop looking over the Eternal City. Cassandra could be breathtakingly beautiful and no more so than that moment.
Right now the memory was so strong that he had to turn and look to make sure she really wasn't standing beside him.
No one was. It was still early and the observation deck was quiet.
Looking over the city again, he wondered why he came. He'd hardly seen it, he'd been too busy berating himself for not taking the time to come.
And thinking about Cassandra and not the woman he'd come here to honor.
But then maybe Mabel was right again. All of her stories had started, "remember when we went" not "remember when I went." Why didn't he say, "hey why don't you two come with me? We'll have a drink in Paris?" Both of them were so sad, he'd never seen the thief looking so down. And Cassandra . . . . Maybe it would have been the right gesture to improve his relationship with her.
Of course, what relationship they had was a matter for debate. As drawn has he'd been to Mabel, there was this underlying current of smugness when he thought about Cassandra's behavior today. He knew jealousy when he saw it. But why? And why was he feeling so damn smug about it?
Was it professional jealousy? They didn't make a habit of involving outsiders in their plans. But it seemed more personal than that. She'd snapped at Jones too. But she'd looked legit worried for him when she'd pushed him away from Mabel. Like she was tryin' to protect him. Well, she was, of course.
But if she was jealous because she had feelings for him . . . .
Stone sighed. Thought about Mabel. He'd been drawn to her because she reminded him of himself. And, if he was honest, she reminded him of Cassandra. Three souls trapped because of circumstances, his the only one of his making. Mabel who'd been born before it was easy for anyone, especially a woman, to travel the world. Then to be trapped for a hundred years in a small town, while everything else changed so much around her. Cassandra, a child with so much promise, who'd found out far too young that her death lurked in her head. Put on a shelf, treated as fragile by everyone around her. And now she was free. And she lived . . .He thought about Mabel. If they'd freed her . . .she wouldn't have stayed with him. He felt it in her kiss, knew it was their first and last. She would have flown the second she could. She deserved to. . . .
His trap was of his own making . . . .
And he was going to do something about it. Starting today. He shut the voices off in his head and headed toward the elevator.
He had a late breakfast in a cafe, wrote a list of places he planned to return to. Took a few photos on his phone and headed back to the Annex.
It was still the middle of the night when he returned to Portland. Sitting with her head on the desk, pens around her, fast asleep was Cassandra.
He smiled and then put a hand on her shoulder.
"Wha? Stone?"
"Yeah, have you been here all night? What happened to that drink?"
"I . . .I wasn't very good company. Didn't even finish my first beer. Ezekiel went home and I came here. I . . .didn't think I could sleep. Where did you go?" She shook her head. "I shouldn't have asked. I hope you found what you were looking for."
He shrugged, taking his coat off and hanging it on the rack. "I went to Paris. I went there because . . .Mabel . . . ." He trailed off, not quite sure how to explain.
Cassandra's face turned sad. "I'm so sorry, Stone. It's my . . .she's gone because of me."
"No, Cassandra, no. It's not your fault. She didn't blame you and I sure don't."
"I was so wrong . . .I know I'm not perfect . . .but I was so very wrong. None of you should have trusted me . . . ."
"Stop it!" Stone realized he was shouting and took a deep breath. In a lower voice, he continued "you made a miscalculation. But you were taking a big risk with old machinery. Jenkins didn't catch it either. When you realized what had gone wrong, we trusted you to be correct with the dangers. You may have saved thousands of lives today, Cassandra. It was a tough choice. But I trusted that there was no other option. I trusted you, I trust you."
"You said . . . ."
"I know what I said. I was wrong, okay? I'm wrong about a lot of things. I used to see the world a certain way. Right and wrong. I told Mabel today that I would do the right thing . . . ."
"But it cost her . . . ."
"And it was a sacrifice she willingly made. It was the right thing to do, Cassandra. I've learned that what's right isn't always what I think it is. Some really wise women I've met this year have taught me that."
Cassandra sniffled. "I wish I had been right today. It was awful and I'm so sorry you lost her."
"I never had her. She was a bird in a cage and I got to admire her for a moment before she flew away. Even if you'd been right, I would have let her go."
Cassandra nodded, her eyes still watery. "I had a feeling it was like that. I'm sorry for that too."
He shrugged. "I got to meet her. She was good for me, a fleeting moment, but she opened my eyes to things about myself . . . ."
"While we're on apologies, I want to apologize for my behavior today. Wow, I do not know what that was all about."
Stone shook his head, looked at her. "I think you do."
"No, I really . . .I was snarky and rude . . .and . . . ." Her eyes widened.
"And jealous . . . ." He'd slowly crossed the room, standing only inches from her now.
"Jealous?" She blushed, giving it all away. "Well, you know we don't usually tell people . . .and you trusted her when you just met her . . .and . . . ."
"I know better now."
His words echoed a conversation the day before with a different woman. The kiss that had followed then had been nice but it hadn't felt right somehow. A kiss hello and goodbye at the same time.
He looked into Cassandra's eyes as they fell shut and moved in closer. This kiss felt right. It wasn't just hello, it was coming home. It was as beautiful as her hair blowing in a Roman breeze. And when they pulled away from the kiss, the smile she gave him was more breathtaking then anything he'd seen that morning in Paris.
"No more flirting with town archivists." Cassandra muttered.
"Never," he promised, kissing her on the forehead. "You hungry? I have this list of cafes in Paris and I forgot to take the cables down."
She grinned at him and his heart skipped a beat.
In years to come, he'd turn to his wife and say "remember that bistro in Paris? What was the waiter's name?" And she would answer, "I think it was Laurent, it was our first date . . . ."
[end]