Please see disclaimers in Ch 1.
"Sir, I have to ask you what's in the canister."
Oliver cradled the silver urn as if its contents were worth more than gold. To him, they were far more precious.
"Ashes," the young man explained. "I want to drop them from the bridge."
The border patrol guard slowly shook his head. "Can't, son," he replied. "Aside from the fact that it violates about a dozen laws on both sides, it's a health risk. We just can't allow you to do that."
"Please," Oliver said. "This place was the one place my sister really loved. She wanted to be dropped from the center of the bridge into the rapids. Isn't there anything you can do?"
"I'm sorry. We can't allow it."
Oliver thanked the guards and turned towards the door. He was stuck in Niagara Falls, New York with no way to allow Sarah to 'take in' the falls one last time. He'd thought about taking the urn down towards the Bridal Veil Falls, which were smaller, but he had been turned away there, too.
The young man had been drifting since he'd taken leave from the counterterrorism unit. He'd packed away Sarah's things from her apartment near Georgetown, making sure that certain articles went to various friends or people that had been important to her. Her violin he kept, as well as a notebook of her code-work. He already had several nice pictures of Sarah, both alone and as part of family portraits. He'd dusted off one she'd had of them with their parents, smiling in front of the Falls as seen from the Rainbow Bridge.
Oliver found himself ambling near Goat Island, making a beeline towards the water. Sarah had loved the water, always trying to touch it when they had been kids.
"Look, Dad! Look, Ollie! I can almost reach it!"
"Sarah! Don't get too close—if you fall in, that's the end of you!"
"I won't. See, Ollie, I got some!"
"Yeah, Sarah, you did!"
Her wet fingers had pulled up a rock from the bed. She eagerly held it up so their mother could see, her tiny free hand signing wildly.
--Mom, look! Isn't it pretty?—
--It's beautiful, honey. Come up from there, you'll fall in.—
--No, I won't!-- "Ollie, put me down! I can get back up there myself!"
"Come on, waterbug. Time for dinner."
"Oooh! What are we having…?"
The five-year old Sarah vanished into memory, and Oliver found himself standing alone near the edge. It had been at least eleven years since he'd been out here, and the roar of falling water threatened to entrance him into taking just one more step…
"Ollie! Hurry up, Mom and Dad are waiting!"
"I'll be there in a second, Sarah. I'm trying to get one more shot from this angle…"
"There's more important things than a good picture, Oliver. Mom's about ready to grab your ear and haul you up—eighteen or not…"
"Oh, come on. I remember you being all too eager to stay once…"
"I was five!"
"I didn't see you complain when we decided to come back here…" An impish grin had crossed Oliver's face.
"Ollie." Sarah's voice tried to be stern, but the grin she wore made the attempt a moot point. "Fine. One more. But then we're going, or Dad's gonna carry you to the car himself."
The clicks of the camera shutter faded as well. It was a gray, gloomy day today—there was no sunshine, no warmth. Oliver thought it just as well. He wasn't in the mood for sunshine.
The young man stood against the railing, taking in the sight of the rushing water. It ran just as his thoughts had, curled and bent and free-flowing, with no real form or end in sight. Josh was impatient for him to return to work, but Oliver was having serious doubts about returning to counterterrorism.
"Oh-lee-vair, you air needed more than evair," the thick voice said. "Many of these…these 'premeirs', they do not 'ave what eet takes, I think."
"You've gotta give them time. Rome wasn't built in a day, Josh."
"Eh, thees ees thee Director's way of telling mee I am off my game, no?"
"Josh. You're the best mole-spot I know."
"Tell that to Chreesteean 'anovair."
Oliver had said nothing. Josh might be slightly agoraphobic when it came to his work, but there was still no one better.
"So, you will be returnairing, yes?"
Oliver had evaded an answer. Right now, he wasn't really sure what he wanted to do. Josh would have him believe that it was an isolated incident, that within a couple of weeks everything could go back to normal.
As Oliver stared at the free-flowing water, he realized that it wasn't that simple. This wasn't like when Dad had died from a heart attack, or Mom from cancer—it wasn't just a part of life, something that was sad but inevitably unavoidable.
Sarah had been murdered. She had been targeted specifically by people who sought to use innocent people for their own twisted ends. There were still nights he woke up in cold sweat, his dreams still reliving the sight of Sarah's hand against the small plane window. The sight of Sarah, lying pale and still on the stretcher, having died while he'd saved others. He could hear the sounds of the cruel voices of the people who'd taken her from her bed as she slept and had taunted Oliver with her life as clearly as if they were still speaking.
Even now, Oliver sincerely wished he had been in Chase Davis's shoes, locking the sight of one of those men through a scope. He dreamed about what it had to have felt like to pull that trigger.
But there was still a part of him that wanted the bastards to live. To live in misery until even the world would no longer have them. Those were the times he'd woken up crying, wishing plagues on the now-crippled man who sat awaiting trial. For him, Patrick Callahan could not be convicted fast enough. Nor could Christian Hanover, which struck him even more deeply. Unlike Callahan, Christian had been a friend, a teammate, a partner. It still felt indescribable, the range of emotion he felt every time he came across a picture of the two of them together, smiling as if there wasn't a care in the world.
He thought of the people he'd met that day, people like Dr. Reid and Agent Hotchner and the others. He thought a lot about Chase Davis, her attitude and outlook on things a severe contrast to his own. He'd learned a bit about the woman through Kyle Parker, who was fast becoming a good friend. It was Kyle who'd helped reawaken a part of himself he'd thought lost when his mother had died.
How can they do what they do and not go insane? he wondered.
The rush of water assailed his ears. A light rain began to fall, one Sarah had called a 'spitting rain' when they had been younger.
Oliver was more convinced than ever that he couldn't go back to work for Josh. Not that he had lost any respect for the man, nor affection for him, that was quite the opposite; but rather, he felt that if he had been able to be targeted and manipulated as well as he had, it could happen again, and counterterrorism couldn't handle another fiasco like that.
Heaving a sigh, Oliver stared at the silver jar that was still cradled in his arm.
"Sorry, Sarah," he whispered, speaking half to himself. "I couldn't even give you the funeral you wanted."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," a voice said, startling Oliver out of his reverie. He turned to his left and saw two people idly leaning against the wooden railing, string out at the water. One of them had a mop of sandy-blonde hair that was being tousled by the stiff wind. The other was raven haired, and had bright green eyes.
"How did you…"
"It's our job to know things," the woman replied. "Besides, your boss was pretty helpful. He's worried about you, you know."
Oliver twitched his eyebrows and bit his lip a bit. "I can't go back there," he said. "Aside from everything else, I can't bear the thought of going back and seeing all those old memories, day in and day out."
"I know the feeling. I have a certain house that does the same thing to me."
"What brought you up here?"
"Besides the gorgeous view? Well, to look in on you. Things didn't end so well for you back in Quantico, and there's some people I know that were beginning to worry…"
"How are they?"
"Doing fine. Garcia wanted to come up, but then they got thrown into this case out in Paducah somewhere. She asks all the time if there's something she can do to help. Dr. Reid as well. Agents Hotchner and Rossi looked a little concerned when they found out you weren't back at work yet, and I hear Morgan's taken a bit of a liking to your style."
"Really."
"It's true. Emily doesn't lie."
"How's her mom?"
"Back at work, planning a second summit with Mo's father. They're hoping to get more people involved. I'm supposed to head up security there, which is kind of a laugh, considering…"
"Hey, you did what you had to."
"I guess. Mo wears that thing like a badge of honor now; can't get him to cover it up half the time."
The two fell silent, standing next to the young man with the sandy hair. He picked up his hands towards the young woman and moved them pointedly.
The woman shook her head.
The young man signed again, his face determined.
Another shake.
"Ask him!" the man finally said, though the words were blurred by a thick, fuzzy voice.
"Ask me what?" Oliver asked.
Chase looked down at her shoes. Her face held that mysterious half-grin Oliver had come to like. "He wants to know if I've asked you something yet," she explained.
"What?"
"Well, ah…we were thinking."
"About?"
"Well, you know I've taken a more active role in my sideline…"
"Oh, yeah."
"And we've decided we could really use an extra pair of hands. Kyle wants to hire some guy just out of college, but I said we needed an experienced individual, one who's not afraid to bend rules a bit and has a lot of passion for the job."
"And?"
"We hired you two days ago." The smile on Chase's face grew a little wider. "That is, if you're interested…"
Oliver thought about this proposal. It was much like he'd been doing for Josh, only it would give him the fresh start he'd been looking for…
"I'll think about it."
"Good. Think fast, 'cause that summit's in two weeks…"
For the first time in five weeks, Oliver smiled. He looked out at the open water, still rushing past them as it had before time began. A few hundred yards away was the crest of the falls, its edge bubbling with white foam.
"Hold this," Oliver said, handing Chase the silver urn. Before Chase could ask, Oliver hopped the fence and held on to the railing on the other side.
--What are you doing?!—Kyle asked, his hands flying.
"Something I should have done sooner," he replied, making sure Kyle could read his lips. He took the urn from Chase, lifted the lid, and stood precariously over the edge of the riverbed.
"Good-bye, Sarah," he whispered, pouring the contents into the rushing water. "Tell Mom and Dad I'll be all right."
After a few seconds, the last remnants of Sarah Lawrence's earthly remains floated into the rushing foam and plummeted to the depths of the lake below. Oliver watched as it fell with tears in his eyes.
A hand clasped over Oliver's, keeping him from falling in himself. "You ready?" a voice asked.
Oliver gave a small smile. "Yeah. I think I am."
The young man crawled back over the fence, and wandered towards the direction of town, his new friends taking places on either side of him.
In the end, it'll be all right, he thought as he led Chase and Kyle to a tiny hole-in-the-wall known for making the world's best hot chocolate and crispy turnovers.
And with that, the end. This was by far my longest story ever, in any format--nearly 260 pages and almost 84,000 words! I sincerely hope you've all enjoyed the ride, and please remember to leave shiny shiny reviews. I am considering a stand alone for my intrepid trio (to be posted on FP) and we will definetely see more of Chase, Kyle, Oliver, and Josh. Thanks much! :)
