The pink-striped Jeep is parked behind him, Acapulco sun beating down upon him. He sits alone on the low wall, feet dangling, listening to the shouts of the children playing way down below, the way they did two years ago. It's hard to remember anything of the events of two years ago. He wasn't in his right mind then.

He isn't now, either.

"All alike." Did he really say that? He supposes so. He hopes Scotty never thought he meant it. In any sense. He hopes Scotty knew so many things… but most of all, he wishes things could have been different.

If only he'd jumped, that day. If only Scotty hadn't stopped him. Scotty would have been broken up about it, but he'd have survived. Probably quit the service. By now he'd be over it, married with kids somewhere. Living the life he ought to have had. Instead, Kelly's useless heart beats on for nothing, while the finest man he has ever known lies in the earth.

At least Mom and Jo will be well provided for. Whatever else its flaws, the Department takes good care of the families of those who give their lives for their country. And Kelly's glad that Scotty's brother Russell came home. He met him briefly, when he took Scotty back to be buried in Philly. He tries to remember what it was like to be there, Mom holding Kelly and crying, but all he can remember is feeling like a traitor, a usurper, being there with them while one worthier should have been. As soon as Russell arrived and he was sure the women had a man with them, he fled. Funeral, hell. He doesn't even remember packing. No suitcase on the flight, hands dangling uselessly at his sides.

He told himself he didn't know why he was headed for Acapulco, but he was lying. He knew. He's always known, ever since that moment he saw Scotty fall, ever since he gathered his partner's body into his arms and felt the life sigh out of him.

He looks down the cliffside, at the children playing down below. He's sorry to upset them. He never meant this. Never meant a lot of things. And he should be strong enough to live and set right all those wrongs, but setting the world to rights is beyond the powers of a lone, lamebrain secret agent. And he's tired. Man, he is so very, very tired.

He has no delusions that he'll see Scotty again. Whether there's an afterlife or there isn't, he knows that anywhere Scotty would end up isn't any place he could ever hope to enter. It's not that. He's just had enough. Enough of fighting, enough of resisting… enough.

When he slips forward off the wall, it's silent and quick, like dropping into a swimming pool, down into the water with nary a ripple.