The cemetery is quiet. The sun is setting over New York City, but he walks, determined to reach his destination. It has been quite a while since he was here last, and he knows that if he does not do this now, he will lose his nerve.
A string of pearls finds warmth in his hands. This simple piece of jewelry has remained cold for ten years, locked away in a dark desk drawer. But they have found the light again. A heart once broken is finally mended, and the person it belongs to is moving on.
His feet start to feel like lead as he draws nearer to where he is going. But he continues on, holding onto the pearls as if they will guide him. And in a way, they have. He would not be here now if it weren't for them.
The wind starts to blow as he comes to a stop in front of an all too familiar gravestone. The pearls feel heavy in his hands as he stares at it, reaching down after a few long moments to trace the name etched into the granite. He is not surprised to feel tears stinging at his eyes, and he wipes them away, drawing in a shuddering breath as he straightens.
"It's been a while." His voice echoes in the lingering silence, and he bites the inside of his cheek, feeling foolish, because he knows that he will never get an answer. He's gotten one from Jamie Ross, from Serena Southerlyn, from Abbie Carmichael…even from Paul Robinette. But ten years have gone by since he last heard Claire Kincaid's voice, and he knows that it will be many more before he hears it again.
"I should have come here before this. Would have, if I knew it wouldn't hurt. But it does, Claire. It hurts a lot. Ten years, and I'm still thinking about what I said to you."
It was something that he had begged forgiveness for many times over. It had stunned those that knew him: he'd heard many times before that he was too stubborn to admit that he was wrong. But he had been wrong that night, and try as he might to forget it, he could not. Tears stung his eyes again, but this time, he did not bother to wipe them away as he went on.
"I hope you aren't where I wished you would go. If anywhere, I hope that you've moved on to someplace better than this city we called home. If anything, where I wanted you to go is where I should be and have been ever since I lost you."
Until he'd met someone and let her close enough to mend what was left of his shattered heart. She was the answer to a prayer he hadn't even realized that he'd been saying. And for the first time in a long time, he felt whole again.
"I found these today, while I was looking for a file." And suddenly, the pearls feel lighter than air in his grip. He opens his eyes, raising a hand to shield them from the wind, and goes on. "I thought you might want them back…I never once saw you without them."
And it's true: until that night, he had never once seen her without her pearls. Now he leans forward and places them on top of the gravestone, before finally reaching up to wipe his tears away.
"I hope that you're where you want to be…someplace where things aren't so complicated. Where there's no giving up on hope because of all you see. I hope that you're at peace, and that you always will be."
He pauses again, swallowing almost nervously before going on again, more quietly than before.
"I miss you, Claire. I have for all this time, and I always will, but there…there's someone else now. I don't feel so lonely anymore, and I…I like the feeling. Don't get me wrong; there is still a place for you in my heart, and there always will be. But for here, and now, I'm happy. And I wouldn't trade it for the world."
He stops there, for some reason no longer trusting himself to speak. Silence falls again, and as it does, the sounds of the city come rushing towards him. He listens for what seems like an eternity before reaching forward to run his fingers over the name on the stone just one last time.
"Hopefully you'll understand." His voice breaks on the last word, and he finally forces himself to turn away. Darkness has fallen over the city, and his footsteps echo in the silence. Shadows dance before him, driven by the wind, and for once, none of them are his own.
By the time he walks out of the cemetery, he feels as if the weight of the years has been lifted off of his shoulders. As if he is free in a way that he never was before. There will be no more nights alone, no more thinking that he will spend the rest of his life on his own. He is whole again, save for a hole in his heart that will take an eternity to fill.
The ironic thing, he muses, is that it took this long for things to really get back on track…and that it took a visit to a long lost love's grave to do it.