Embracing the Void

June 20th, 1999

" General," I greet her quietly staring at her through the bars of my horse's stall. The last time I saw her standing here was a few weeks ago, when the world as I knew it changed forever. I wasn't expecting to see Cassiopeia standing here before me again so soon, especially now. "What are you doing here?" I ask having thought we had an agreement. She was supposed to stay away from me with other more important responsibilities now.

I can't see her penetrating blue eyes behind those golden aviator glasses of hers but I know she's staring at the ugly bruises and lacerations covering my face from the immense beating I took by the Sentinels on her behalf. My tongue darts out of my mouth at the reminder to lick the stinging split in my lips still held together with small blue stitches. The guilt she feels washes over me like a tidal wave and I look away uncomfortable. She has nothing to feel guilty for. I knew what I agreed to and what the consequences could be.

"I am sorry about your grandfather." She hugs her chest with arms folded in front of her nervously. "He was a good man. I always liked him."

"Thank you, ma'am." I swallow the lump in my throat trying to blink back the welling tears. My grandfather had died of a heart attack walking into this very barn the day after the Sentinels released me. I flew home 48 hours later to help make arrangements for his funeral. The brutal marks left on my body were explained away that I'd been in a car accident shortly after graduation while on vacation with my friends.

My eyes scanned the faces in the sea of black mourners beside the grave the afternoon we buried him, hoping to see her on instinct as she'd been there in the background for both my mother and grandmother's funerals. But I didn't see Cassiopeia lurking about this time. I was happy, knowing she had listened to my wishes to stay away and protect what was more important; and also sad, in realizing it truly was over, the way things were before.

My hand smoothes down the slick red hair of my horse and I grimace, swallowing the sharp stab of pain that hits me around my ribcage when I fling my saddle up upon his back. From the corner of my eye I see Cassiopeia rapidly take a step forward, unfolding her arms about to help me, running on pure instinct after hearing my swallowed cry, before pulling back immediately regaining her composure.

"You shouldn't be doing that by yourself with broken ribs." She scolds me instead. "They'll never heal properly."

My eyes lift from the saddle strap I'm currently threading through the cinch to stare at hers across the distance. She seems to cower with her body language instantly for the first time in my life when I look at her. Another wave of guilt washes over her for scolding me on an injury I've obtained in helping her.

"I want to ride before I can't anymore, ma'am." I reply quietly, looking down and continuing what I'm doing.

"What does that mean?" She asks with narrowing brows I can see even behind her glasses.

"It means, that by the end of the month all of this will be gone, General. Even my horses." I look back up at her, finishing the cinch and reaching around the front of my horse to grasp his lead rope. "My aunts have decided to sell the ranch and everything along with it. As quickly as possible." I lead him out of the stall, past her and down the breezeway towards the door facing the mountains.

"But it's a Legacy Ranch?" She sounds baffled following behind me and upset. I felt the same way upon hearing the decision and still do. This ranch has been in my family since it was homesteaded more than a hundred years ago.

"There isn't much of a legacy left anymore, ma'am." I sigh, turning around to look at her. "They all moved to the city. I'm the only one who wanted to keep this place. They want the money and to move on. I can't really argue with them." Slowly, I slide the halter off and reach for his bridle. The profits from the sale would be divided three ways for each of my grandparent's three children, with my mother's third, being given to me as her only living heir. I'd be a millionaire when all was said and done, but I'd rather have this land and the ranch. I'd rather still have some place to call home. My grandparents never had a great deal of physical money and lived quite modestly; their wealth was completely tied up in the land, as was the case with most ranchers.

"So buy them out." Cassiopeia suggests and I laugh out loud.

"I don't have $12 million dollars just lying around to buy them out, ma'am." I shake my head softly thinking how very differently our pay scale must be for her to suggest I just buy them out of this massive ranch. "I might have $1,200 in my checking and savings account combined right now."

"So have Mikael buy it for you." She suggests immediately, knowing he does have money like that just lying around. "He would. You know he would. He'd do anything for you." She doesn't say it with malice or annoyance, as I would normally expect, but just stating the facts of my relationship with him.

"No, ma'am." I shake my head. "That's too much to ask of him and I don't want to owe him anything of this magnitude. Besides, if for whatever reason things don't turn out well in my future, I don't want Ulric to end up with it. I'd rather let it go." I pat my horse's neck again and kiss his nose. "I will miss this place, though; my last bit of normal. My place of peace." I smile and do something completely unexpected. "Do you want to ride with me, General?" I ask and catch her completely off guard. We haven't ridden horses together since I was very little, seven years old, as part of my instruction at camp.

"No." Cassiopeia answers immediately. "Thank you." She adds quietly after a moment and then switches topics. "I came to tell you that I'm leaving for Kosovo tomorrow, given the political situation."

"Okay," I look at her strangely, waiting to hear why she is telling me this. She is under no obligation to tell me where she's going and has never done so before in the past.

"You'll be joining me on this mission for North America as soon as your wounds are mostly healed and you're ready to be back in the field. Until then you'll be assigned desk duty at Langley."

"I'm ready now, General." I tell her trying to ease her guilt I see and feel constantly washing over her now with every mention of or look at my wounds. "I'm fine."

"Julia, you're not ready. You still need several more weeks of down time." She shakes her head.

"I'm fine." I reply more forcefully, adding. "Ma'am." At the end remembering she is my superior and wants me to maintain that boundary.

"You're too stubborn."

"I think it runs in the family." I answer her quietly, catching her gaze for just a moment remembering Maria saying the same of Cassiopeia, and Cassiopeia saying the same of Maria. I look away and change topics again as I finish securing my horse's bridle. "I'm ready to go. I could meet you there in a week. Is that enough of a compromise, General?"

She looks at me for a long time in silence. "At least two weeks more to heal." She insists quietly and I resist the urge to roll my eyes that she's calling me stubborn.

"Fine, ma'am."

"There is something else I'd like you to do before joining me in Kosovo. Not for me." She clarifies quickly remembering the last time we spoke in this barn. "But for someone of mutual interest." My curiosity is certainly peaked hearing such a request and I watch with heart starting to pound as her hand reaches into her back pocket and removes a bent, tattered postcard handing it to me.

"Bryggen Hanseatic Wharf," I read out loud in wonder looking at the photo. It's a beautiful landscape of colored houses and shops with sailboats in front of them. I know this location in Norway. I'd been here once before with Nyah and Mikael.

"You want me to go to Bergen?"

"There is a café and restaurant there. Tracteursted."

"I know the place, ma'am." I inform her and see a flash of surprise cross her face even though I can't see her eyes by the way the muscles in her face twitch. "Old red building. I've been there before with Mikael and Nyah."

"There is a table in the far corner. Be seated there at 11:30 am, Saturday the 10th of July." She shifts on her feet nervously. "You'll be meeting a contact."

"And what will I be meeting this contact for?" I ask cautiously.

"You'll know it when you see it." She says quietly.

I feel my heart simultaneously freeze and start pounding in the same minute with those now famous last words. "Okay." I fold the postcard in half again and stick it in my own jeans back pocket.

"I should be going. I'll see you in three weeks." Cassiopeia turns quickly heading towards the exit without so much as a goodbye. Being around me right now really makes her nervous and her instinct is to run. I can't decide if it's simply because I know her secret, or the constant reminder to her of what I endured for that secret that's still written so horrifically all over my face.

I shake my head watching her walk away that at least some things never change and turn around again preparing to ride for the last time. I put my foot in the stirrup, cringing and inhale a deep cry through grit teeth hauling my self up into the saddle feeling the instant tears in my eyes from the pain of broken ribs, bruises and torn muscles from stab wounds and electrocution. Tears run silently down my cheeks with my efforts. When I'm situated in the saddle, I turn my horse around and find Cassiopeia standing in the middle of the breezeway looking back at me.

"You shouldn't be riding alone." She says in a flat monotone.

"Nothing is going to happen to me up here, ma'am." I shift in my seat, wiping my tear tracks, walking slowly towards her on my horse and now towering above her. "It's the getting up and down part that's painful, but I'll survive." I smile through tear-filled eyes I'm trying to blink back from the pain.

"You're still recovering. You shouldn't be going alone." She argues, reaching up and grabbing hold of one of my horse's reins to stop him from walking by.

"There is no one left to go with me, General." I sigh tired of arguing with her, and realizing how true that statement really is. My family as I knew was gone now. My grandfather was the last tether really keeping me here. My father had moved on with his life and my extended family had very little to do with me ever since my mother had died. My grandparents and this place, were all that remained and now they were both gone and soon this ranch would be too. "I'll be fine on my own."

"No you won't." She pivots quickly on her heel and stalks towards the nearest horse stall, sliding open the door. "Because I'm going with you."

"That really isn't necessary." I can't believe she's actually volunteering now. "I know you said you didn't want to go. I'll be fine, ma'am. Really."

"I never said I didn't want to go. You asked if I wanted to go and I answered simply with, 'no, thank you." She argues back even as she leads the horse into the breezeway with her fingers holding onto his halter. "You just assumed my answer meant I didn't want to go when in reality I'd said no because I haven't the time to go."

"So then what are you doing if you haven't the time to go?" I ask confused standing in my stirrup, about to climb down so I can help her. "I will be fine on my own, ma'am."

"No!" She says rather forcefully stopping my movements. "Stay put, Julia. I can saddle a horse by myself. I've done it a thousand times."

"Ma'am, you just said you didn't have time for this."

"I'm making the time." She says walking over to the front of the stall and retrieving the saddle.

I'm astonished she's making the time for me, but this monumental moment in our history together feels cheapened when I think about why she's doing it. She heard my failed attempt at swallowing my scream in pain when I mounted my horse, saw the tears from that pain, and feels guilty about leaving me alone, to ride when I'm still so obviously hurt from being tortured.

"You don't have to do this." I reach down to hold onto her horse's halter while she heaves the saddle up onto the animal's back. "Really, General." I try to get her to look at me but she's determined to ignore me, furiously working to saddle her horse at an exponential speed. She really has done it a thousand times to be so efficient. "Cassiopeia." I address her quietly, but forcefully by given name to get her full attention. She stops adjusting the cinch and finally meets my gaze. "You don't need to do this. It's okay. I'm okay. You don't need to do this." I say quietly and with great held back emotion in my voice. There are things we vowed in this very spot to never speak of again, and I don't want that to be the reason she's doing this now. I hope I'm conveying that clearly enough without crossing the line. "I knew what I was agreeing to then…and I know what I'm doing now. Some things are worth the pain. You don't owe me anything, General. It's okay. You can go."

She stares at me a moment, swallows hard and then sets back to work finishing the task at hand. "The last time I checked, Julia Taylor, I was the one who dismissed you as your General. Not the other way around."

I can't resist the urge to roll my eyes and a small smile turns up the corner of my lips. She's impossibly stubborn.

"Yes, ma'am." I wait patiently struggling to stifle my smile that she's so determined to do this with me.

With the ease of a seasoned pro, she mounts her horse and settles in. "Well," She pauses looking at me expectantly, "Lead the way, Julia." She commands quietly.

I feel my heart skip a beat that she's letting me take the lead for the first time in my life. "Yes, ma'am."

July 4th, 1999

Langley, Virginia

Flashing my badge as I exit security, I hear my name being called from behind. "Julia! Wait up!" The distinctly male voice turns my head. The security officer returns my badge with a sympathetic nod as he does everyday when I flip my sunglasses down over my eyes again to cover the lingering carnage. I step aside to let others pass who are on their way home for the day and wait for my new partner to catch up to me.

Benjamin Tate is a young CIA Operative recently assigned to Langley after graduating from The Farm. He's twenty-two years old, tall, muscular, blonde, with deep brown eyes and a gorgeous smile that resembles Brad Pitt. He's also completely enthralled with learning more about me and how I came to work for The Company at such a young age. The Council has reassigned me to the CIA on Desk Duty until I'm cleared for Field Duty again given the severity of my injuries. The Sentinels torture not only left lingering cuts and bruises, still quite visible, they also left me with severely blood shot eyes from broken vessels refusing to heal causing temporary blind spots and heart palpitations that nearly left me with a pacemaker. I'm bored sitting behind a desk, analyzing data with Benjamin Tate, not that he's bad company. I'm just itching to get back into the field again, even though I'm still in considerable pain. Sitting here, having everyone stare at me has only reminded me of the day I'd rather forget.

I smile at my protégé who happens to be four years older than me as he approaches and walk side by side with him out the door towards the parking lot.

"Do you have any plans this evening? I thought you might like to join me and some friends for the 4th festivities around the city." He smiles at me, "We're going to grill out at my buddy's in Georgetown and then take his sailboat out on the Potomac to watch the fireworks from the river."

"I'm sorry. I can't." I deflect again. This is not the first time he's asked me to do something with him after-hours from work in the past week since my arrival. He's asked me to dinner twice and both times I've found an excuse.

"Ah, come on now. This is the third time you've turned me down! You're young! You should be having fun! This is going to be fun. I promise." He pleads with a smile and teasing eyes as I fumble, reaching into my backpack to locate my car keys.

"It sounds like fun." I shake my head with a soft smile. He's persistent; I'll give him that. "And I'd love to come, Benjamin. Honest."

"Benji." He corrects me immediately with a smile, insistent, that I call him by his nickname.

"Benji." I smile and continue, " I can't, though. I have somewhere I have to be. It's important." I look at him thinking it did sound like more fun then I've had in far too long. Every night this past week I've spent alone in my flat in Georgetown, eating take-out, and binge watching the last several episodes of The X-Files I've missed in the past few months.

"What's more important than hanging out with me?" He insists leaning against my car motioning his hands towards his chest with a smile. "You're very cool protégé? I'm much more fun outside of work. I promise, Julia." He waggles his eyebrows at me with a smile trying to make me laugh.

"Yes, I'm sure you are." I answer him shaking my head that he does have a way of making me smile and I've no doubt, he would be a lot of fun to hang out with outside of work. "But I can't. I'm sorry."

"So really," He straightens up, folding his arms over his chest as I toss my bag into the passenger seat of my car. "What's so important you're going to ditch me again?" He smiles.

"The President." I answer and his eyes flash with surprise.

"Seriously?" He asks.

"Yes." I nod and look at my watch. "And I'm going to be late if I don't get moving. I'm expected for dinner in forty minutes and with traffic on the Beltway at this hour, I'm cutting it very close."

"You're having dinner with the President?"

"And First Lady." I add.

"At the White House? On the 4th of July?" He stammers in a bit of awe and shock.

"Yes. I am." I sigh pulling my hair back and twisting it into a messy bun to get it off my neck standing here on the concrete in the hot summer sun.

"Well, aren't you just full of surprises. Who are you really, Julia Taylor?"

"That's a long story." I brush off his intrigue once more.

"Why are you meeting them for dinner? Is this business or pleasure?"

"It's both. You ask too many questions." Telling him this has only made him all the more curious but I know given who and what he is, that if I don't tell him something he'll try that much harder to unravel the mystery surrounding me. Giving him bits of truth to satisfy his curiosity was better than having him digging where he didn't belong. Cassiopeia had taught me that. "It's another long story." I shake my head.

"How long could it be? Give me the short answer."

"I'm Council, Benji. That is the short answer." I answer quietly and silence his inquisition immediately. I know he knows exactly what that means. New recruits into the CIA learn all about the true masters the moment they graduate and walk through doors into the pristine white walls. To them, The Council is more myth than anything, rarely if ever having any experience with anyone from The Council as such newbies, they only hear stories passed down from more senior officers. "I'm only here on Temporary Assignment until I heal." I inform him, wanting to explain why I'm hesitant to get too close and form new bonds of friendship with anyone. "And then I'll be back in the field."

"You're an EHW?" He asks tentatively and I nod my confirmation. "That explains a lot." He adds looking me over. "The age, the rank, the abilities… the bruises."

People look at you differently once they know what you really are. After what happened in London, I don't care anymore about what people think of me. I'm done apologizing for my life. I am, what I am, and I'm going to embrace it.

"That's badass." He smiles to my surprise. "You should let me buy you a drink sometime." He continues, "Before you leave me for far greater adventures than analyzing Intel in The Company's dungeon." He smiles with a soft laugh at what every analyst in our section calls the small space in the basement where they've hidden us away to track down terrorists. "But I still think you should join us tonight, whatever time it is that you're done dining with the President. It's a holiday. You should have some fun."

"If I'm done early. I'll call you and join you." I relent. Interacting with anyone whose not Council like this is strictly forbidden but I just don't care anymore.

"Promise?" He's skeptical.

"Yes." I nod my assurances feeling a little lighter with my decision. "This is the second invitation for dinner this evening with President Thorne. I already declined once, so I can't cancel again or I'd join you now." President and First Lady Thorne invited me as soon as I'd arrived last weekend into D.C., but I was still too sore and visibly bruised to feel up to socializing.

"So I'm not the only one you bail on then? You also brush off the President." He laughs softly. "I guess that makes me feel a little better that I'm not the only one."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a jerk." I hop into the drivers seat and look up at him reaching for the door. "I'll call you when I'm finished with dinner."

By the time I reach the White House, I'm right on time. Immediately, I'm escorted upstairs to the private residence and wait outside the door with a member of their Secret Service team as he rings the bell. I haven't been back here, to the White House, since last year around Christmas when they'd invited me to join them for dinner. That meal was served downstairs in the formal dining room, and this time I'd be joining them in their private residence. It was still very surreal they had any interest in me at all given our stations in life. I suspected it had a great deal to do with the fact I was nearly their daughter's age and it unnerved them greatly to see me in this role. Whatever their' reasons for the kindness they'd shown to me over the past several months, I wasn't going to question it. Kindness was a rarity in my world.

"Julia," President Throne opens the door, greeting me with a large smile. He nods at his Secret Service agent to be excused and ushers me inside. "It's so good to see you again."

"Mr. President." I smile nervously back at him. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Of course. The invitation is open to you at any time. Katherine and I enjoy having you. The house is far too quiet these days now that Kelsi's gone." He smiles and the irony of that statement makes me smile. It is undoubtedly the busiest home in America as the White House and yet they feel it's too quiet with the absence of their child. My inkling about their reason for being kind to me, is cemented all the more. "We enjoy visitors." He ushers me towards the sofa to take a seat. "May I get you something to drink? Kate will be out in just a moment. She's speaking with her mother on the phone." I'm blindsided by his offer to get me something to drink, playing host to me when he's the President of the United States and I'm just a lowly Worker Bee.

"A water with lemon if you have it please, sir?" I stammer slightly in surprise to see him walking around behind the bar in their living room to retrieve refreshments.

"Absolutely." He smiles and I can feel his eyes focusing in on the still healing split in my cheek even though he tries to be discreet about it. As President he knows I was taken into Council custody last month and I get the distinct impression from him that his roaming gaze now in looking me over, is that of fatherly concern, from across the room is trying to assess the damage. "How are you enjoying being back in D.C.?" He asks trying to make idle chitchat while he makes our drinks. "It's been awhile since you've been stationed here, hasn't it?"

"Yes, sir. Not since last December and the last time I was put on Desk Duty for injuries." I answer his question and see his features fall and brows narrow as he slows his movements. He doesn't like being reminded of my reasons for being in this city for any length of time. "It's nice to be back in the summer." I add with a smile, trying to change the topic back to something more cheerful.

"Julia," Katherine Thorne addresses me from across the room and I stand to greet her. My sweaty palms smooth down the ridges of my skirt before extending my hand to hers. "It's so good to see you."

"Thank you, ma'am." I smile feeling the same visual scanning of my body from this woman as I felt from her husband. They're both deeply concerned about my condition and I'm thankful I delayed this meeting another week giving my body more time to heal and more bruises to disappear.

"How are you feeling?" Katherine wastes no time digging into what I know is their' foremost concern right now. Her eyes keep flickering to mine and staring and I know she's concentrating on the bright red bursts of broken vessels now covering what is supposed to be the whites of my eyes. The reminder of how badly I was beaten in my torture.

"I'm fine, ma'am." I offer a small smile trying to reassure them. This conversation makes me uncomfortable.

"I'm so sorry for what happened." She apologizes while we take our seats on the small sofa and President Thorne offers me my glass of water. "We had no knowledge of what was occurring until after the fact."

"It's fine, really." I answer still trying to ease their discomfort, which is ridiculous given I was the one beaten and tortured. "How are you? Ma'am?" I smile switching topics and feather my stray hairs sweeping down my cheek behind my ear. I've had enough discussing my current condition and what happened a month ago. I'm ready to move on and wish everyone else would let me.

Thankfully, she takes my cue and accepts the shift in conversation. "I'm well. Thank you for asking. I apologize for making you wait."

"No apologies necessary, ma'am. President Thorne explained that you were speaking with your mother."

"Yes, she's very excited about my recent decision to run for office." Her eyes flash with the President's and he smiles at her with pride.

"I'm sure you'll make an excellent Senator, ma'am." I smiles nervously, wishing I had Nyah here like last time to help absorb some of this attention. I wasn't used to it given my station beneath the heirs. Having them both focusing on me now was unnerving.

She laughs softly, "Thank you, Julia but first I have to win the election."

"You will." President Thorne smiles at her confidently. "How long will you be in Washington, this time, Julia?" He shifts his focus back to me.

"Just through the next week, sir." I smile back at him nervously fingering my hair behind my ear. "I'll be joining General Hendrix in Kosovo as soon as possible." Kosovo was one of their assignments.

"I thought you were to remain on Desk Duty until you're fully healed?" Katherine asks with pinched brows of concern looking at her husband with questioning and accusatory gaze, believing he may be responsible for sending me back sooner.

"I asked to return sooner, ma'am." I quickly add hoping to resolve the situation before it develops into one given the look in her eyes.

"But your body is not. You need more time." She argues back with me and I can see the upset in her eyes and hear it in her voice.

It's odd to have someone this concerned over my health and wellbeing inside The Council. Most Division Heads can't wait for us to get back to work after an injury and this one is upset I'm not taking more time off. "By the end of next week, I'll be in much better shape than I am even now, ma'am. I will be fine but thank you for the concern. I'm ready to get back to work." The sale of the ranch went through this last week. It was snatched up practically the moment it went on the market. Another chapter in my life had finished and I was ready to start a new one. Sitting around pondering what that new life looked like wasn't doing me any favors. It only made me more depressed to think about all the things I'd lost in the past, and the things I'd never be able to have in the future. I'd come to the resolution I couldn't change any of it, so I may as well just start doing what I was born to do: work.

July 10th, 1999

Bergen, Norway

"Julia?" Maria looks just as astonished to see me sitting in the corner booth as I do seeing her walking towards me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask her quietly, standing to greet her and hesitate about how exactly I'm supposed to do so. I'm supposed to maintain my distance with her but after each interaction that boundary line seems less and less clear. Once again, she engulfs me into a bear hug before I can contemplate it any further.

"I thought you brought me here." She reaches into her purse and retrieves a tattered post card, "You didn't send me this?" Maria asks handing it to me as we take our seats again in this little café.

"No, but I know who did." I answer her, taking my own that matches from my pocket and showing her. "Cassiopeia. She gave it to me a few weeks ago."

"Why?" Maria asks nervously. "All mine said was this address on this date." She flips the postcard over to show me the back. "And this..."

"Her name is…" I read off the back quietly with knit brows and then flip mine over, showing her. "Freya."

"Whose name is Freya?" She asks.

"I don't know." I shake my head softly. I hadn't turned the postcard over in Cassiopeia's presence that day in the barn to ask her then. It was only after she'd left when I was lying in bed that night looking at it, that I turned the postcard over for the first time and saw the name Freya had been written on it.

"She didn't give you any other instructions?" Maria asks curious, anxious and excited to know that Cassiopeia was interacting with her now in some way when she seemed so intent on ignoring her before.

"No. When she gave this to me, she just said to be here at this time to meet a contact and that I'd know it when I saw it." I smile at her softly. "I assume now that means you."

"Then who is Freya?" Maria ponders looking at the matching postcards.

"I have no idea."

"Well, we are both early according to the time here so maybe we should order something for lunch and see if Freya appears." She smiles reaching for the menu.

"Good idea."

We order and sit in awkward silence for a moment while she stares at my face. My bruises are slowly fading away and I don't bother trying to hide them with make up. It's ineffective and people assume I'm domestically abused trying to hide such carnage. I've learned that when you wear them openly people are more accepting of the car accident story as nothing shameful to hide.

"How are you feeling?" She asks quietly broaching the subject. I haven't seen her since leaving London after I was released by the Sentinels a month ago.

"Sore, but okay." I answer honestly. "The burn is nearly healed. And," I rub my forearm where the metal rods reside inside. "I still feel bolts of lightening shooting down my arm at times. I think they must be phantom nerve pains." I shrug, "But mostly it's just my ribs and muscles that hurt the worst." I add quietly. "I understand now, why Cassiopeia struggled that night getting into her pajamas." Maria's eyes hold mine intently and nods softly with empathy remembering that night we first saw the devastating remnants of Cassiopeia's own torture. "Everything still feels so tight and deeply bruised around my entire torso. The smallest jolt of motion sends a shooting pain up and down my spine."

"You mentioned she gave you the postcard." Her eyes flash down to the two matching pieces of tattered paper sitting on the table. "I assume that means you've seen her again?"

"Yes. She appeared in my horse barn in Montana about three weeks ago." I nod quietly, and stop talking the moment the waiter comes to our table and delivers our drinks. I smile at her and wait for her to leave before continuing. "She offered condolences on my grandfather, told me that she was leaving for Kosovo, and that when I was medically cleared, I'd be joining her there. Then she handed me this postcard and asked me to do something for someone of mutual interest on my way over." I smile at Maria, "I believe you are the someone of mutual interest."

"I'm not sure what that means."

"Nor do I. But I'm sure we are about to find out."

"Why would she want to do something for me. Now? After she was so adamant about ignoring our connection before."

"You hadn't offered to die for her before." I whisper quietly thinking about Maria throwing herself into the line of fire with the Sentinels. "That meant a lot to her." I swallow hard and blink back tears, "I could see it in her face then. I think she finally realized you had something in common besides your obvious looks."

"And what was that?"

"That you were both willing to die to protect your children." I reach across the table and squeeze her hand gently with a soft appreciative smile. Being one of those children Maria was trying to protect, I feel I need to thank her properly. "Thank you."

"No thanks needed. I did what any good mother would do. If she should be thanking anyone, I believe it's you, Julia."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I shake my head with a small smile, denying any involvement in Alexei's recovery as I said I would.

"I think you do." She insists. "Though I doubt you'll ever speak of it." She swallows the lump in her throat and I see new tears welling as she looks at me. "What you endured was unimaginable and still you maintained your silence."

"Some things I've vowed to take to my grave." I stare at the ice cubes in my water glass, refusing to make eye contact feeling the icy chill run down my spine as a flash of that torture flits before my eyes.

"You nearly did." She whispers thinking about my heart stopping repeatedly.

"They wouldn't have let me die. Or remain dead, I should say." Correcting myself given the events of that night. "As I've been told all my life, I am the exception." I wipe away a single fallen tear and look up at her smiling, "Besides, all they ended up proving to me was that they can do their worst, and I survived. More importantly, I realized I just don't care anymore what they do to me; I'm not afraid of him and I'm not afraid to die. There is a sense of freedom in that."

"I don't want you to die." She smiles at me through tears, gripping my hand more tightly. "I've just found you."

"I don't want to die either. I'm just not afraid to."

"I understand." She nods, understanding this life all too well. "Just don't die, Julia."

"I'll do my best not to." I smile back at her with a soft laugh reaching or my water glass. I'm in the middle of taking a sip when my eyes catch sight of a good looking older man in his mid to late 60s I'm guessing, walking towards us in the back carrying a small child in his arms. When the baby turns in his arms my heart all but stops. Slowly I squeeze Maria's fingers once more to get her attention as the man and the baby take a seat across from ours.

"What?" She asks quietly and follows my gaze towards the man joining our once isolated corner of this café.

"She said I'd know it when I see it." I swallow hard repeating Cassiopeia's. "And I see it."

"What does that mean?" She asks and I turn my head to look into her eyes intently having a silent conversation with tears welling in my eyes and a slow smile spreading across my face. I look back to the baby not five feet away from me, watching as the man sets him on the ground where he stands on tiny legs. The darling blonde looks right at me and immediately toddles forth on swift, wobbly legs, giggling as he lunges for me. I swoop him up before he falls and he screeches in joy looking at me with his big blue eyes.

"Oh my, Alexei!" The old man laughs in surprise and apologetic for interrupting our lunch. "I'm so sorry. You must remind him of his mother." He smiles.

"It's okay. I don't mind at all." I smile trying to contain my tears holding him close, relishing in the contact and lock eyes with Maria. Looking at him now, less than two feet in front of her, she understands. She's looking at her grandson. "Hello Alexei, sweet boy." I coo and Alexei buries his face into my neck, wrapping his tiny little arms around me. He remembers me from a month ago. Our three-day adventure to freedom left a lasting impression on him.

"He seems completely taken with you." The older man smiles and laughs softly with the way Alexei is trying to climb up me and hold on as tightly as possible. "I'm not as good at this babysitting thing as my beautiful wife is. She leaves me alone for five minutes with him and he's already found mischief with a stranger." He chuckles.

"Alexei and I are old friends." I reveal quietly, looking at Maria and confirming to her without saying it that I am the one who took back Alexei from the Russians. "I know his mother quite well." I hold his tiny fingers with mine, quietly showing Maria the mark on his hand. It's the same birthmark Cassiopeia has. The same one Maria has and I see new tears welling in her eyes of something else her grandchild inherited from her besides her gorgeous blue eyes and blonde hair.

"You know Casey?" He smiles more widely.

"I do." I smile. "I'm Julia and this is Maria." I extend my hand in greeting and nod towards Maria who is completely transfixed in staring at Alexei in my lap. I know she's struggling to compartmentalize her feeling in this moment and not break down sobbing.

"Bjorn." He smiles taking my hand and then shifting his gaze towards Maria extending his hand to her as well. "A pleasure."

"Likewise."

"Wait until my wife gets here." He beams. "She will be so happy to meet friends of her beloved granddaughter, Casey."

"Granddaughter?" Maria asks with breath catching seeing the woman approaching us. The woman is in her early to mid-60s, I'd say, gorgeous with blonde hair and big blue eyes. Eyes that are unmistakable. Eyes I'd know anywhere.

"Darling, come!" Bjorn waves her over. "These are friends of Casey. Julia," He gestures towards me, "And Maria." He waves at her with a smile. "Julia and Maria, my beautiful wife and the love of my life, Freya."

Maria and my eyes flash to each other in an instant hearing the name before averting back to look at the woman coming closer.

Time seems to slow down as the two women look at each other. The same eyes, the same shape of face, the same height, weight and hair. They could be twins, just as Cassiopeia and Maria could be. Grace Kelly lookalikes: only one a slightly older version than the other. In this moment, I realize Cassiopeia must have overheard our conversation in the kitchen that night last November. Maria had said she didn't even know her birth mother's name. Her name is Freya was written in Cassiopeia's handwriting on the postcards. It all makes sense now. Cassiopeia's not good with emotions but she is a good spy. Arranging this, I imagine, is her way of saying thank you to Maria for throwing her life on the line with the Sentinels for the both of us, and especially, Alexei.

"Freya." Maria says her name out loud extending her hand and the woman takes it slowly, unsure of what she's seeing and what is happening in this moment but feeling something different in the air. "A pleasure to meet you." She smiles when the woman takes her hand and then inhales a sharp breath when she sees the birthmark on her skin: the same lopsided heart that matches her own.

"How is it that you know my granddaughter, Casey?" Freya asks looking slightly pale, seeing the matching birthmarks on their hands and looking into Maria's blurry eyes.

"I am her mother." Maria answers quietly, her eyes glistening with apprehensive and excited tears, unsure of how this woman will react to her, "And I think that means… you are mine."

July 19th, 1999

Kosovo, Serbia

This can't be happening. It isn't real. I refuse to accept this. The flashing blue light on the handheld analyzer display has confirmed the DNA match with 99.9% certainty.

"It's a match." Jupiter says quietly what we can all see standing around him where he's kneeling next to the shallow grave of bones and ash.

"It's not her." I shake my head, "It's not her." My mouth is dry and my heart feels like lead in my chest but I don't feel the disconnect I'm certain I would feel if she were really dead. I felt it with my mother and my grandparents. Surely I would feel it now.

"It's her, Julia." Jupiter looks up at me standing slowly and deep sadness in his eyes.

"No." I shake my head tugging at the protective vest around my torso now suffocating and strangling me around my neck as I find it difficult to breathe. "It's not her!"

"Julia, it all matches." Isis looks at me, reaching for my arm with tears in her eyes. "The blood in the cabin, the hair, the fingernails, the teeth," she swallows hard shifting her gaze towards the shallow hole in the ground before us containing the burnt remnants of a body. "The bones…" She adds quietly, "They're all a perfect match. I don't want to believe it either but it's her."

"No!" I shout back at her angrily and force my eyes to hold back my tears. I will not cry for someone who is not dead. "No." I put my hand up stepping back and away from our group that had been gathered as a search and rescue party after she was taken nearly a week ago.

On a tip from a villager nearby, our search had led us to a small cabin deep in the woods where the old woman said she saw several Russian military men carrying an unconscious woman into the area. Inside the abandoned cabin, we found overwhelming evidence of immense suffering from obvious torture. Blood smears and splatters stained the walls, floorboards, and bed mattress and tiny pieces of what was left of her were littered about the room and area. I was the one to make the unfortunate discovery of the shallow grave we stand before now when I ran out back to get some air on the verge of puking and passing out when the first analysis of the DNA from a blood stain on the mattress came back positive as a match.

"Jules," Nyah reaches for me, raining tears streaming down her face.

"No, Nyah!" I shout back at her in anger that she's so easily accepting this the same as the rest of the First Gens with us. "This is not her! I refuse to believe it!"

"The proof is right here, Julia. The FSB struck back. They killed her." Isis cries stepping towards me trying to offer comfort she's never ever offered before and I can't stand it. None of this is right. Ares falls to his knees before the grave hearing Isis's words and starts sobbing in silence with a horrific pained scream etched across his face. "The DNA is a match." Isis's eyes fill with more tears seeing Ares' reaction. Her tone is softer as she inhales her own sob. "It's her, Julia. I know you don't want to accept it-"

"I won't accept it! I can't accept it! It's not her! I'd feel it, Isis!" I jam my fingers into my chest over my heart and soul, "I would feel it! She's not gone! This is not her body!" My eyes fill with tears glancing at what is left of the mutilated and burnt corpse in the muddy grave. "Cassiopeia is not dead!"