Author's Note: And this is the end. I haven't decided if I want to write a sequel, but it's definitely a possibility in the future. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review throughout the course of this story. Your feedback is greatly appreciated!

Epilogue

"You sure you wanna do this?" said Rick.

Philippa had asked herself that question countless times over the last couple of hours, but she always settled upon the same answer. "Yes," she said. "I'm sure."

"Follow me, then."

Rick led the way into a neighborhood far different from the well-ordered street the Carnahans called home. The streets were darker in spite of the cloudless sky above and Philippa had to avoid garbage, stray animals, and people who sat huddled against the dilapidated buildings, living haunted lives of poverty and filth. An old man stood up to relieve himself in a cracked clay pot that sat on the street, completely oblivious to his surroundings, and Philippa averted her eyes and stuck close to Rick.

"How can people live like this?" she whispered.

"Some of them don't have a choice," Rick murmured.

It got worse as Rick took her further into the neighborhood. A couple of scrawny, hollow-eyed children came up and tugged on their clothes, babbling something in Arabic, and Philippa may not have understood the language but she knew they were begging. Rick pulled out a coin and wordlessly tossed it to the children, who took it and immediately scampered away.

"We can still turn back," said Rick.

"No," said Philippa. She had never been in such a poor neighborhood before, but she wasn't some pampered aristocrat who couldn't handle the sight of poverty. "I have to do this."

She continued to follow Rick, keeping an eye out for pickpockets or muggers, and breathed a sigh of relief when he told her they had reached the building. The apartment looked no better than all the other apartments in the neighborhood, with cracked walls and peeling doors, and Philippa was reminded of Rick's own apartment, with its cramped quarters, yellowed ceiling, and rickety furniture. Only Rick's building was cleaner than this one.

"You're sure this is where he lives?" Philippa asked.

"This is definitely where he lives," said Rick. "Second floor, first door on the right."

It was exactly where Philippa had expected a man like Beni Gabor to live. No wonder he was willing to do anything for money, no matter how unscrupulous. Philippa started to move forward, then halted and looked up at Rick. "Will you go up there with me?"

Not once had he called her crazy, though he probably thought she was nuts for concocting this whole idea. "Sure."

She walked with Rick to the second floor, her handbag swinging from one shoulder, and she grew bolder as they approached the first door on the right. She didn't know if Beni was home, but it didn't matter. She had already made her goodbyes.

"No chance of changing your mind, huh?" Rick said quietly, careful to keep his voice down. The walls were thin in a building like this.

Philippa reached into her handbag and pulled out the little box that had prompted this journey. "He needs it more than I do."

"Doesn't mean he deserves it."

Philippa ignored him and set the little box down on Beni's doorstep. The gold cuff bracelet decorated with diamonds was a fine treasure to have, but after she realized that she didn't want to keep it, Philippa put the bracelet in a box and asked Rick to find out where Beni lived. She knew it was crazy; she didn't owe Beni anything and he probably didn't deserve it, but she needed to let go of the strange relationship that had sprung up between them, and she couldn't think of a better way to do it.

She already felt like she could breathe easier as she set the box in front of Beni's door, like a burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and she finished her task by placing a simple note on top of the box: To Beni Gabor.

A little something for the man who had nothing.

"You ready to go?" said Rick.

"Yes," said Philippa, taking him by the arm. "I'm finally ready."