Wesley arrived at the Council meeting room still half asleep and in need of a shower and ready to fuel up for the remainder of the day on meeting room coffee. Which was in his opinion, the best coffee you could get in the palace.

"What's happening now?" he threw open the doors, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Are we under attack again?"

Elvira glanced up at his arrival. "We aren't always under attack," she said. "Most of the time, anyway."

"Oh. So, no one's under attack?" Wesley poured himself a coffee, filling the mug to the brim. "We shouldn't be rushing to the safe rooms right now?"

"I don't think we need to be that dramatic," Andrew said, smiling a little. He looked older, Wesley noticed, now that he had spent the last five years being king. You didn't notice it over time until all at once you did. "It's not a total emergency."

"Whew," Wesley dumped several packets of sugar into his coffee.

"Did you just wake up?" Ethan asked him. "It's like afternoon."

"Oh, that's why I'm starving." Wesley whipped out the Pop-tart he had hidden in his back pocket. "I got back with Veyra from the District this morning. And I don't sleep on planes soooo, yeah, I did just wake up. But what happened? Why the urgency?"

"You have one guess," Ben said, entering the meeting room. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"I'm assuming it has something to do with the north. Specifically, Atlin. Specifically, the Berlins."

"You'd be correct," Ethan said, not looking up from the papers he was shuffling through. "We double-crossed them, then they double-crossed us, blew up our base and killed our prisoners, then took their family members home and stirred up more unrest up north. You eliminated Fallon and kept her here, so I'm sure they haven't been too happy about much lately."

Wesley made a face. "No offense but I've been seeing way too much of yall lately," Wesley sat down on Andrew's other side, across from Ethan. "And since Elvira took over General Connelly's job and he retired, there's no voice of reason around here."

"Hey?" Colin interjected. "I'm literally your prime minister."

"Well, then we're screwed. Sometimes I can't believe that we lot help run the country," Wesley joked.

The last person to arrive was Jason Trevelyne, looking his usual level of stressed. "What's the urgent summons for?" He asked, rather breathlessly. Wesley frowned, as he usually did. The new Secretary of Northern Affairs interrupted the banter he usually really enjoyed with the Council. Yeah, the others were all older than him, all accumulated from Ethan's Selection, but Wesley had been through a lot with the Council and considered them his good friends (as much as you could consider your own brothers your friends).

"I'll fill you latecomers in," Andrew said. "It is the Berlins. There have been irrefutable claims released today that they were behind the Slaughter of St. George."

"Huh?" Wesley looked up. "Why?" the Slaughter had been a horrible stain on the war when the rebels had attacked their own people and killed so many innocent civilians.

"Is it from them personally?" Jason looked stressed.

Wesley groaned, leaning back dramatically and tipping the front two legs of his chair off the ground. "I hope not. They probably have some master plan for this."

He wondered how Vera was taking this and was secretly glad he had already eliminated Fallon. Vera had seen the Slaughter first-hand; she had been in the midst of it. Then he remembered her ranting outside the halls of the safe rooms, how somehow, she had already guessed the apparent truth of it. And Eleanor too, her father had been killed trying to stop the Slaughter.

"There's already been severe backlash against them," Andrew said. "The northerners had long accused us of it, not one of their main leaders."

"Maybe that's why they killed General Caine too. He must have known," Wesley said, remembering what else Vera had said.

"It certainly did an excellent job of creating chaos," Elvira pointed out, nodding at the muted television where the headlines screamed the news at the bottom, and aerial drone footage showed the streets of Atlin's capital were filled with rioting and fires. Wesley remembered Alyex was up there and prayed she was safe in all of this. "If that was their goal."

"So, who leaked this information? It certainly couldn't have been them," Colin said. "And if Wesley's right, one of the only others who may have known is dead."

Wesley couldn't help but look at Jason, remembering what Georgia had told him and wondering if Jason knew anything about his brother Cody being alive. As far as he knew, Cody was being held by the Berlins. Could he have something to do with this?

"See, that's the thing," Andrew said. "It didn't come from the top Berlin family members. It came from Conrad Berlin."

Wesley remembered Fallon's half-brother from the reception at the palace during the Public Trials, as well as the Convicting. He was Celinda's son, and he had been very quiet during Wesley's interactions with him. He was, however, their candidate for Jason's role, the Secretary of Northern Affairs. The only other thing Wesley knew about him was from Fallon— he had refused to murder her boyfriend Donavon.

"What the hell is he trying to do?" Ben mused. "Kid's gotta be insane betraying his family like that."

"Which is precisely why he is on his way out of there," Andrew said. "I had a call with him right before this, it came out of nowhere. He's getting out of there and going to the east. He swore his oath at the Convicting, so I have no reason to arrest him. To be honest, I have no idea what is going on. They've demanded that we release Lady Fallon back into their custody."

"That is not happening. She stays here," Wesley said.

"It could be a trap," Jason said. "You never know with the Berlins."

"I think we should send in troops," Elvira said. "To try to calm Atlin down. If it isn't a trap, we don't want the Berlins to do something extreme.

"That's a good idea," Jason said. "They stole our prisoners once, and they've got away with too much."

Andrew nodded. "You're right. I've tried to keep the peace as much as possible, but it's not working."

"There's one last thing," Andrew looked at Wesley and Elvira in turn. "Conrad also says the Berlins were behind the faction that was supposed to be anti-monarchist for how he let the rebels off easy. The faction behind the attack on you and Vera, Wesley."

"Why am I not surprised?" Wesley said. At least there was someone to blame now, though "the faction" hadn't been any trouble since the Public Trials.

"So, I have them to thank for almost getting me killed," Elvira said.

Colin continued with the meeting. "We are releasing the information Conrad leaked to the press, but not of our meeting with him or his imminent arrival to Angeles. That could cause problems. There's already so much discourse in this country."

"Wesley, you can help us here too," Andrew said. Wesley picked up his pen, eager for a Council assignment. "The Selection is perfect for right now. It's a distraction. We want to put the war behind us and ignore the chaos."

Wesley groaned. "Do I have to? Can't I, like, do advisor things?"

"You'll be doing those too, don't worry," Andrew reassured him. "But at this point, you have five girls left. Things are very serious. It's not just going on dates anymore. This is the real deal."

"Yeah, aware of that."

"I know we didn't do it for Ethan's Selection since there were extenuating circumstances," Andrew said, and Ethan next to him snorted. "But when I had my final four ladies, they held a ball. It's too hectic once you have the last two, so it's the best time to do it."

"Oh God," Wesley hunched forward on the table. The idea filled him with dread. "Haven't we had enough balls? The victory ball, New Year's Eve…"

"I don't think that exists in the palace," Elvira said.

When the meeting was over, Wesley knew he needed to talk to Fallon. The news had already broken, so he felt bad that she had to find out from the media, but it was too late now. Ever since she had left the Selection and stepped into her role as the palace stylist, they had all been impeccably dressed. She seemed much happier without the stress of the Selection and seemed to enjoy life at the palace. She attended a lot of his Selection meetings to offer her fashion input and also gave really good dating advice. She was also fantastic at telling Wesley when he was stupid, which was something she did a lot, but it was usually warranted. Usually.

For a while, she had stayed in the palace, but she had decided she liked Angeles a lot more. Gracie and Damian had lowkey adopted her and helped her find an apartment downtown. A short while ago Wesley and the Elite had joined her for a housewarming party. Still, she spent most of her days in her office in the palace on the first floor.

That was where he found her, on the phone with some fashion magazine, with various fabrics and sketches covering almost every available surface, and two pink colored pencils stuck through her bun to keep her hair out of her face. She seemed in her element away from the Selection and in her most familiar territory.

She had a few places to sit in her office, a loveseat and chair, but they were covered with gowns and silk fabric swatches, and brightly colored suit jackets, so he ended up sitting on the floor while he waited for her to get off the phone.

"Wesley, I'm very busy so if you need to talk about your feelings, can we reschedule?" she said, hanging up the phone.

"You know I always want to talk about my feelings so you can lightly bully me, Fallon," Wesley said, grinning at their usual banter. "But that's not why I came by."

"Then it must be about the news." Fallon looked up, scooting her desk chair closer to her desk, and crossing her arms on it. "And yes, before you ask, I saw it. And no, I didn't know."

"I didn't think you did," Wesley said, softening his tone. "There's stuff that's not covered by the media, and I figured you should hear it from me. Your parents are demanding we return you to them. And I just want to tell you, that's not going to happen."

Fallon nodded. She looked scared, even hiding behind her act of her new role. "I have no idea what they'd do to me if I did," she whispered. "I don't even want to think about it."

"I think it would be best if you stayed at the palace for a few days, just in case. I don't think anything's going to happen, but it would make me feel better. If you don't mind."

"No, of course, I don't mind staying in a palace," she said.

He explained a few things about Conrad that weren't already being covered like crazy by the media and a little of what their plans were. She didn't seem as bothered as he thought she would be, but he guessed she had left that world behind. Fallon seemed to think Conrad could be trusted and this wasn't a set-up. He was eight years older than Fallon's twenty, and she confessed she didn't know her half-brother very well. They had grown up in different spheres, with Fallon kept mostly isolated as the heir of the family, being the only child of both her mother and father. She had been kept at home, or when she was older, modeling, while Conrad had trained in the rebel military, and she hadn't even seen him for the last five years of the war.

"I suppose I'm glad he got out when he could," she said. "The war's over, and they didn't win. I think I take crazy family to a whole new level."

"You're just glad you don't have to marry into mine anymore," Wesley joked.

"I just have to make sure you look decent. Which could be considered a worse job." Her eyes roved over his outfit. "Speaking of which—never mind. I have to design potential ball gowns. I heard from the grapevine that there might be another one soon." She shooed him away. "And you need to go hang out with your actual Selected."

"You're right," Wesley admitted, getting up from her floor. "Put me on your schedule to talk about my feelings soon though." He pointed to a bottle-green velvet suit jacket on the loveseat. "And I'm never ever wearing that."

He made a quick escape, though it didn't stop her from throwing one of her colored pencils at him.

Vera was his next stop. She didn't answer her door, so after a moment he opened it and found her in one of her usual spots—the balcony.

"Can I come in?" he called out to her, closing the door behind him and heading out to join her.

"I don't know, can you?" she smirked.

"May I?" he tried again, feeling genuinely happy to see her. Things were so easy with Vera.

He leaned down to where she was sitting to kiss her. She smiled lazily, tilting her face up to his. He meant just to kiss her in greeting, but her hands found his face and pulled him back for a lingering one.

"You may," she said when they stopped, eyes still closed. Wesley briefly felt guilty for kissing Vera after he had to stop the physical side of things more or less with Veyra just last night, but it passed. Must be their similar names. He kissed her once more for good measure.

"Seen the news?" Wesley leaned back against the railing, facing her.

"Honestly it doesn't surprise me," Vera looked out over the balcony, the breeze blowing the loose pieces of her golden hair around her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, more serious now.

She shrugged as if it was fine, but Wesley wasn't convinced.

"When we were attacked in downtown Angeles," Wesley began, "by the faction? That was them too. We aren't releasing that to the public."

Her eyes met his. "I admit I didn't see that one coming."

"Yeah."

She looked away again, pretending she didn't care again.

"But we're meeting with Conrad tomorrow," Wesley explained, nudging her leg with his knee. "And then maybe we can put this Berlin mess behind us."

Vera snorted. "I doubt it. No, I don't think you can. There's always going to be something."

He wasn't expecting to hear the pessimism in her voice. "You think so?"

Vera rolled her eyes and started to laugh, and then realized he wasn't joking. "You think it's actually going to end one day?" she asked.

Wesley was surprised. "Well, yeah. I do."

She studied him. "Oh."

He suddenly felt stupid and he didn't know why.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Lots to process and all," he stood up from the railing.

She smiled up at him, but he didn't know how to tell her that it bothered him she didn't think things were going to be okay one day. That she didn't have hope. He made his excuses because if he stayed any longer, he would be late to another Council meeting.

They discussed the specifics of military action in Atlin. There had been plenty of anti-monarchist support and general unrest in Atlin since the end of the war, but now that was starting to clash with the new sentiment against the Berlins for their orders. The riots had escalated throughout the day and were getting worse as night drew closer. Between settling the violence of the citizens, it also seemed necessary to arrest certain members of the Berlin family. They had broken their parole in Angeles and escaped back north, taking Tristian and George Berlin, Fallon's uncle and grandfather, who were prisoners of the crown. There wasn't much else to do other than storm their residential compound, which ended up being the plan for now.

The meeting ended shortly before dinner and Wesley had just enough time to go for a run around the palace in an attempt to clear his head before he had to shower and change for dinner.

He was coming downstairs into the Main Hall, failing at tying his tie and walking at the same time, when he caught up to Eleanor. He'd been meaning to talk to her all day, knowing that she'd lost her father in the Slaughter, and the news that the Berlins were behind it may have come as a shock.

"Eleanor," he called, jogging a little to catch up with her. Her dark hair sparkled against her lilac evening gown, and her smile widened upon seeing him. But behind her sparkly makeup, her eyes looked red and puffy. She'd been crying.

"Hey," he said, concerned. "How are you?"

Her brave smile shook a little at his tone. She bit her lip. "I'm okay, I guess."

Wesley didn't think too hard about it, he just folded her in his arms before he could tell himself it wasn't a good idea. It took her a second to relax into the embrace, and then her arms came up over his back, her face at his shoulder.

"The news just brought up a lot of memories. About my dad," she whispered.

He realized he'd had more time to cope with the death of his own father than Eleanor had. For her, losing her dad was a lot more recent than for him.

"It takes time," he said into her hair, lightly rubbing her back. "It'll be okay. Even when you think it never will be again."

And he realized as he said that—he believed it.

Vera was coming down the stairs, and she saw them hugging. But she only smirked at Wesley behind Eleanor's back and slipped quietly into the dining room. He thought about their conversation earlier today and knew that she wouldn't have believed it.

"You smell good," Eleanor said, her voice still a little clogged from tears as they separated, making them both laugh.

"I'm starving," he said, and reached her hand and squeezed it. "Let's go eat."

The jet lag and the chaos of the day (and the wine) hit at dinner and he ended up practically falling asleep during dessert. He made it through if only for the sake of the chocolate cheesecake and snuck back to his room. His eyes were practically closing as he chucked off his dinner clothes and dove into bed.

The drawback of going to bed early for someone who never did was he woke up with a start in the middle of the night, disoriented. Nightmarey dreams about riots burning Atlin and planes crashing and the Berlins blowing them all up and stealing Fallon faded as he quickly got out of bed, going to stand by the window.

It was going to be okay, he told himself.

His dreams left him wide awake, so left his room to wander around the palace, maybe go for a snack. He detoured to the kitchens to grab a beer and made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was quiet, just the way he liked it. It made him feel like a normal person, maybe not a prince who lived in a palace. The Main Hall looked peaceful this time of night, with the lights off and empty of everyone. He knew for a fact he was on the guard's security cameras, but he was fairly used to that. The temptation of the front doors was too strong, and Wesley didn't know why, but he wanted to look out of them. They were heavier than he would have thought, but as he stood in the doorway, looking out over the front-drive and the walls and beyond that the city glowing quietly in the distance, he felt small. It was kind of cold, and he wished he had stopped to grab a jacket or at least put a shirt on over his pajama pants. But there was a certain peace in standing there alone, in the cool dark night, a quiet breeze blowing and the stairs glowing faintly as they competed with the rest of the lights of Angeles.

"Can't sleep?" he heard a voice behind him. He turned to find Georgia standing like a ghost in the Main Hall. She had her hair down and it was kind of messy, which was unusual for Georgia. She had a silk robe on, with flowers on it. It was pretty.

"Nah," he shook his head. "You?"

"Me neither." She came and stood beside him in the doorway.

They had been here before, Wesley knew, him and Georgia talking in not so many words. Somewhere along the way, in the series of conversations they had shared, he realized he trusted her. It was a far cry from how he started out—terrified of her. It had been a journey, from sharing cigarettes and Georgia's cryptic silence to discussing the politics of the Public Trials to her questioning the loyalty of her actions. And somewhere in that too he had found Georgia to be a source of hope. A hope that everything would be over, and everything would okay and Illea would be okay, and most importantly, that he would be okay. Something that he didn't have when he was with Vera, he realized.

"Cute tattoo," Georgia remarked, her eyes on the stupid little arrow he had on his chest. That had been a military special for sure.

"Oh. Thanks," he said, now really wishing he had put a shirt on.

"And nice scar," she said, referring to the one on his stomach, the one that had bled all over Lissa on the night of their sixteenth birthday, the night the rebels attacked.

"It's kinda gross," he said, tracing his finger over it. It hadn't healed that good. It was jagged and there were ridges along the outside. Sewing a gunshot wound back together was a bit complicated.

"The Berlins have been all over the news," Georgia said, her words slipping outside as she left the doorway to stand outside. "It's crazy."

"You know anything about Conrad?" he figured it didn't hurt to ask her, since she had been in the heart of rebel society.

"Not much," she answered. "I wasn't in Atlin a lot. I know he refused to surrender and hid out in Atlin until the Trials."

"It's hard to see how the north can ever be at peace again. I can't imagine that the Berlins would order attacks on their own."

"They would," Georgia answered. "Most of the men I knew were even horrified when we heard what happened."

"So, you think he's telling the truth?"

"He had nothing to gain by it and everything to lose. That usually makes people tell the truth.

"Were you anywhere close to it?" he asked tentatively. He hadn't been in St. George at all during that, just down in Ottaro finishing up his training.

Georgia shook her head. "No. I was in Yukon that summer, with General Caine and his officers."

She walked past him from the doorway and took a few of the steps down toward the driveway. Wesley followed her outside, the moon shining on the driveway and making things oddly pale. She looked upset, and he wondered if it was the mention of the now-dead General Caine. Perhaps she had lost people in it as well. "That was when we all realized that it wasn't just a game. It wasn't just fancy uniforms and titles and parties." Her face was frozen, unreadable. For once, she didn't seem to be entirely and completely in control of her emotions. He noticed her hands were shaking like he did when he was practically panicky. "I think that was one of the reasons I became what I did. It was so horrible—"

"Hey," he cut her off. "Are you okay?"

It was then her face crumpled, her eyes filling with tears, something he thought incapable of Georgia Sorrel.

"Georgia, hey," he reassured her. She looked away; her lips pressed so tightly together to hold back crying they were white. She was unsuccessful, the dam breaking and tears spilling out on her cheeks. "It's going to be alright," he reached out his hand to her, not quite brave enough to touch her and not quite knowing what to say. "It's going to-"

"Wesley," she interrupted, her voice choked. "You have to get them to do it."

"What?" He was confused, thinking they were still talking about the Slaughter.

"This thing, that Celinda Berlin is demanding." She broke off in a shuddering choke. "To hand Fallon back over to them."

Instantly, Wesley got mad. There was no way Fallon was ever going back to those people. And for Georgia to even ask that of him…

"What did they do to you?" Wesley demanded, stepping back. The Berlins had done something to her.

"Nothing," Georgia's voice squeaked, her cheeks wet with tears.

Wesley asked again anyway. "What did they do to you." They had to have done something. They had hurt her or were manipulating her—something.

She just kept shaking her head, her choked breathing and swallowing back crying straining her voice as she tried to explain. "Wesley, please,"

He raised his voice. "How did they get you to ask me about Fallon? What did they offer you? She's not going back." He had the horrible feeling he never should have trusted Georgia. And more than anything he was terrified of the Berlins. Terrified for Fallon.

"Nothing!" she repeated, almost desperately.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"They're gonna kill Cody!"

Her voice broke in a sob as she broke down in front of him. Part of him was terrified that she was crying. He didn't even think she was capable of it. He turned away, gritting his teeth against the anger that always seemed to come with the fear.

It all became clear then, as she came to him for help. To convince him to do the Berlin's bidding in exchange to save Cody's life—a life she had already tried to save so many times—at the cost of Fallon's. In the back of his mind, he realized she was picking Cody over him. He wondered how much of their relationship had been using him, and how much was real.

"I'm sorry," She explained, getting her emotions back under control. "She said that if you do it and you do it soon, she'll let him go."

"Oh, and you believe them?" Wesley turned back to her. "You're the one who told me that they can't be beaten."

She looked so small, standing there, smoothing back her hair like it was the only thing keeping her emotions back. She squared her shoulders with resolution. "I have to."

There was that hope again. That stupid hope he had believed so much in.

"Jason and I have been in contact with them," she confessed, not quite brave enough to look at him. He sat down on the steps.

"We're not traitors. It was only for Cody. We have nothing to do with anything else. Conrad betraying them wasn't part of the plan, neither was you eliminating Fallon. They weren't supposed to kill General Caine either when they took them."

"You knew about that?" Wesley demanded. "You knew they were going to attack the base?" He wanted to be angry, but the fear was winning. Either that or the overwhelming betrayal.

"They weren't supposed to kill all those people! They were going to get theirs out and I made a deal with them to get Cody out too. I was supposed to get you to choose Fallon, so when you eliminated her and then she stayed here, the deal was up."

"What?" Wesley could hardly believe what he was hearing. "You were spying for them, is that it?"

"I was doing it to save him!" Georgia shot back. "I wasn't just going to go along with their plans I just needed more time. I would have figured something else. And then this with Conrad—I'm out of time. They said Cody and I are of no further use to them."

"Are you serious right now? This whole time you've been here?"

"It wasn't the whole time," she argued back. "I thought he was dead. We all did. But Jason found out he was alive before the Trials and he told me. We had a plan for him to escape, and we staged the distraction of the car bomb when everyone got evacuated to the safe rooms the first time."

Wesley looked at Georgia incredulously. That was when his pictures from his parties had been leaked before Jason had been here or Wesley had cut to his Elite or anything. He remembered talking to Georgia after that night.

"It didn't work at all," Georgia continued. "So, we started working with the Berlins. They wanted us to implicate General Caine anyway. I guess now we know why, they must have been trying to cover up the Slaughter was them. It all worked so perfectly until Cody refused to swear the oath. I didn't have a choice."

"You and Jason testified against him," Wesley reminded her.

She held out her arms in protest, then let them fall back down in defeat. "We lied, okay? I framed General Caine so Cody might have a shot at his freedom. But his stupid conscious got in the way and he messed it all up."

"You lied at the Public Trials? Georgia, that's—"

"Treason? Yeah, I'm aware. I knew was I was risking. He even told Jason not to do it, and his part was all true anyway. But I had to."

There was so much to process, Wesley didn't even know what to say. Georgia was waiting for him, he knew. To have her arrested, or to tell her it was okay, to help her. She turned away, her eyes still glassy and distraught, like some kind of wounded animal.

It was only them in the front driveway of the palace. Just like they had been so many times before, sharing a cigarette in the gardens or outside the palace somewhere. Times that had slowly built his trust in her, only to have it shattered.

"I just want to know one thing," he said quietly to her back. "Why?"

She smiled and even laughed a little, an about-to-cry kind of laugh. She swallowed hard. "For a long time, I thought I had killed him. I was the one who knew about his last attack, his stupid final attack." She shook her head. "Jason told him before he left, that I betrayed him and had been a spy the whole time, but he must have chosen to go anyway. I chose Illea and leaked Cody's plans to attack after the surrender. I thought he died with his soldiers."

Wesley wondered if things would have been different if she hadn't. If she hadn't chosen Illea and instead chosen to let Cody attack after the surrender, in a chance to save his life.

"He told me he loved me the night before," she admitted, her voice choked up. "He didn't even know me. And I don't think he'll ever forgive me for betraying him."

"And you did all this. You betrayed him and then risked treason and dealing with the Berlins and trying even after he refused to swear the oath and trying to rig my Selection…all for him? Even if he'll never forgive you?"

She nodded. "I guess the answer to your question is that you do crazy things for the people you love."

And why, why, did his traitorous heart think of Lissa?

"I'm so sorry, Wesley," Georgia said softly. "For everything."

He wanted to be angry, to yell at her for betraying him, for choosing Cody in whatever form she got him instead of him, for committing treason. But it didn't seem to matter much anymore.

"He was our prisoner originally," Wesley continued. "Maybe we can get him back. It's a start. The Convicting was all ceremonial anyway, right?"

"But Celinda said—"

"I know what she said," Wesley interrupted her. He could forgive Georgia, but he wasn't about to throw Fallon back to the wolves just for her ex-lover's sake. "Fallon stays here. I'm not sending her back just for the sake of your boyfriend."

It was a subtle thing to see how her face fell before she quickly schooled her features back into ice.

"You are asking me to save Cody's life and that could be treated as treason in the Selection, not to mention he's still openly holding ties to the rebellion" he reminded her. "I like to think that we're not so archaic as to cane you or throw you out of the palace or anything like that, but I'm sorry, I can't put Fallon into this."

"Of course," she said, pulling the sides of her robe closer. "I never wanted to hurt her, I just…"

"You do crazy things for the people you love," he finished for her. "I got that part." There was so much to absorb and think about and he felt overwhelmed. He put his head in his hands. His thoughts ran around in his head so fast he felt sick to his stomach. Georgia stood before him, biting her lip, waiting for him to speak. He needed another beer.

"You sacrificed him once to save our country. And for that, I owe you my thanks," he said finally. "I will help you get him back if I can. I'll…" he pushed back his hair, thinking. "I'll talk to the Council about Cody."

She looked sharply toward him. That damned sliver of hope was sparkling in her eyes again. Her smile was shy, and it took him a moment to realize it was a real smile and not one of her long-practiced ones.

"Besides, most of the time, I like to think we're friends."

Her smile widened, but yeah, it wasn't quite funny enough in all the upheaval that had occurred just now to get her to laugh. She gave him a nod and started back towards the palace.

She paused before slipping inside. "I really never meant to hurt you either, Wesley."

He stared out in the blackness of the driveway. He had been angry at first, but…not like he thought.

"You still think it's true?" he asked her, thinking back to the night a few weeks ago when the Berlins bombed the military base and stole Cody and their own prisoners. Something that Georgia had known all along. "That everything is over?" he didn't say that everything was going to be okay.

"Yeah," Georgia said, and he knew she wasn't lying. He swore he could hear the hope in her voice. "I do."

…