Sarah Hillridge is rather surprised to find herself inside her ex-husband's arms.
"You found him," Jake says, his voice coming out as a sob. "You did it."
I didn't do it for you, Sarah thinks. There is a whole host of things she wants to say to him. For the moment, though, her anger is tempered by joy. Plenty of time to argue later. Whatever Jake's failings may have been as a husband, she's never doubted his love for Charlie.
She hears the ping of the elevator and feels Jake look up, frozen. It's just long enough for her to turn around and then time stops.
"Charlie," she says. It's him, the boy she saw in the street. As if there was any doubt.
Sarah recalls the moment when, after twenty-three hours of labor, nine squalling pounds of Charlie were laid in her arms. If that was the day she was born as a mother, today she is reborn.
He says the most beautiful thing she thinks she's ever heard. "Mom."
He remembers.
Charlie seems rooted to the floor, but Jake and Sarah close the distance between them in a few quick strides. He's so solid in their arms, as tall as his father now; he smells like a basement but that couldn't matter less. For a moment, it's like he was never gone.
Sarah is crying, and Jake is crying; Charlie's eyes are swimming but he doesn't shed a tear. He's fixed on the scene unfolding behind them. One of the agents is talking to another set of parents; the mother starts to sob, and he knows.
After a full minute, Charlie extricates himself from his parents' arms and walks away without a word. "What is he doing?" Jake whispers.
Sarah doesn't know, but she holds up a hand. Let him.
Like a little boy, Charlie tugs at the mother's sleeve. "I knew Stephen. He was like a brother to me."
Behind them, Mae smiles beatifically as she melts into her mother's arms. She is at peace, Aimee is at peace. For Charlie, and for Stephen's parents, resolution will be a lot more complicated.
Anne Shepherd smiles at Charlie, though she's never laid eyes on him before. "Did he remember us?"
"You didn't doubt that, did you?" He is exhausted, filthy, and suffering in ways they can't begin to imagine, yet Charlie attempts to offer comfort to the grieving parents. "Remembering you was the only way we survived."
"How old was Stephen when…" Richard Shepherd's voice breaks. "...when he died?
"He died protecting that little girl." Charlie swallows hard, and looks back at Aimee.
And Richard realizes what Charlie can't bring himself to say. "Then he was alive yesterday."
Both of the parents break down, and Charlie isn't sure if he's done them a favor or not.
"No…" Anne sobs. "No…"
They don't look back at him, so they don't see from his expression that he is utterly bereft. That his heart is every bit as broken as theirs.
Section Chief Strauss has decreed that all the children should be transported to a local hospital and checked out. She's probably making the right call, but separating three children from three sets of parents is the last thing anyone wants to do. Finally they form a convoy of black SUVs: three children, three sets of parents. Charlie is in the middle again, flanked by his mother and father. Only now he's the protected instead of the protector.
"Where's Emily?" is the first thing Charlie says once they are underway.
Sarah takes a breath. "She's with... a friend." She and Jake exchange a look over their son's head. There will be time later to tell him about their divorce; they are both too happy right now.
Jake changes the subject. "How are you feeling, son?"
"I feel... weird." Sarah presses the back of her hand against his forehead, and he's feverish, but she guesses that's not what he's talking about.
Jake nods. "I bet you do."
Charlie can't stand their compassion, as guilty as he believes himself to be. He feels sure they won't love him once they know about all the terrible things he's done. "Mom, Dad?" he says. "I screwed up. I'm sorry."
Out of all the things the Roycewoods have done to their son, this is the worst. They have made him believe that he is just like them, that he doesn't deserve his parents' love. Sarah knows that she will never, ever forgive them. "Charlie, baby," she says, fighting to control her voice. "You've got nothing to apologize for."
"You don't know," Charlie says. But still, this tiny act of absolution is a tipping point. He hasn't slept in thirty-six hours - he paced the floor all night after Stephen was taken away - now he lets it go. He lays his head down on his mother's shoulder and by the time they have reached the next stoplight, the boy is asleep.
"What do we do now?" Jake asks. It's not clear whether he's addressing his ex-wife, or the Federal agents in the front seat, but it doesn't really matter. "There's not a support group for this."
It's full dark now, and the passing streetlights cast an intermittent glow on Charlie's pale and dirt-streaked face. Sarah smooths down the scraggly hair. "I don't know, Jake. I never thought this far in advance." She thought so many times about what it would be like to hold him again, but the movie always ended there, cut and roll the credits. He's here now - she has one of his hands and Jake has the other - but they have only scratched the surface. "We figure it out, I guess."
It's not easy to get a sleepy teenager to do anything, and it takes both of them to get Charlie out of the car and into another set of elevators. Once inside, he kicks off his ratty shoes, submits to a cheek swab (paradoxically, the Feds won't release the children into their parents' custody until a DNA test has confirmed their identities) and gives his dirty face a desultory swipe with a washcloth. And then he's done - he's asleep before his head even hits the pillow.
Emily meets them in the waiting room, accompanied by Jake's new wife Liz. (She will always be 'Jake's new wife,' even though they've been married for over a year.) Liz is a high school teacher, a tall, quiet woman with a kind face. Sarah probably would have liked her if the circumstances were different. It's her second marriage too - she was widowed young after marrying her college sweetheart. Probably, she and Jake were drawn together by their mutual understanding of grief.
She's also five months pregnant.
Liz and Jake have just found out that they are having a boy. Jake is going to have a son. For Sarah Hillridge, this is the unkindest cut of all. She knows it isn't fair, but honestly, it feels like he's replacing Charlie.
The two women have a cordial but uneasy relationship, so when Liz hugs Sarah in the hospital waiting room, it's the first time it's ever happened. "Congratulations," Liz whispers, which may be the wrong thing to say but it's heartfelt.
Sarah is feeling magnanimous - this is a lifetime's worth of Christmas mornings, all rolled into one. "Thank you."
Emily is slouched on a couch in the lounge, fixated on the screen of her iPod. She's wearing too much makeup, Sarah notes. Liz lets the girl get away with murder. "Come here," Sarah says, and receives a grudging hug from her daughter. "He's out like a light, but do you want to see your brother?"
Emily shrugs, but allows herself to be led to the doorway. "That's him," Sarah says proudly, looking into the darkened room at the boy asleep on the bed. "That's your brother."
Emily doesn't even bother to remove her ear buds. "Whatever," she shrugs. "I don't really remember him."
Sarah casts an accusing glance at Jake - are you going to let your daughter talk to me this way? - but he is studiously avoiding her eyes.