Determinant

by FinnsKeeper

"In every moment of choice, you create a new destiny." One small change can have a big effect. A Jamie/Mitch rewrite of the entire series. Chapters 28-38 loaded 9/15.

35. Interstices - Part 9

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 35: Interstices - Part Nine

When tragedy strikes, Jamie must figure out how to navigate the hardships and pitfalls that arise.

---

Jamie looked up from her editor's notes with a heavy sigh. When she'd first gotten the idea for the book, she'd been excited at the prospect of telling their story. People deserved to know the truth. She just hadn't realized how much work it was going to be.

This was the second time she'd sent her manuscript for editing and the second time she'd received it back with a litany of things to adjust, change or outright eliminate. A few things she could manage without, but the passage she was current working on was one she absolutely refused to erase.

Her computer chimed brightly, and her sour mood lifted. It was the email she had been expecting from Mitch. He hadn't accepted the President's offer of joining the Science and Technology Council, nor had he resumed his position at the L.A. Zoo. Just as she had predicted, zoos around the country had been shut down, either temporarily or permanently depending on how badly they had fared during the Beast Rebellion. Mitch had been contracted by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums to assist with the care and transport of animals remaining in various zoos across the country. It meant he had to travel quite a bit, but Jamie had settled in with Dianne and Clem in Baton Rouge to finish her book.

It had taken almost six months to write and another two or so to find an editor she trusted. Edits, rewrites and battles won and lost meant another few months gone. At this rate, Jamie was afraid she'd never get her book out to the public. Sometimes it felt like the entire world was working against her, that once again she was fighting a one-woman war against an insurmountable enemy.

"Jamie!"

And sometimes…

She turned with a smile as Clementine slipped through the door, her face alight with a grin that reminded Jamie of the girl's father. "How was school?"

Clem sank down in the chair next to her. "Good. Guess what?"

"What?"

"I got a text from Dad. He's coming home tomorrow!" She was practically bouncing in her seat, and Jamie shared in her delight. Mitch had been gone for a while - almost four weeks this time - and she missed him.

"I saw the email," she told Clem. "Does Dianne know?"

"I told her on the way home," Clem was still nearly vibrating. "Do you think he'll be back before school's out tomorrow?"

"Clem," Jamie warned, "you still have to go to school."

Predictably, her face fell. "But -"

Jamie just held up a hand. "Tell you what," she cut off the girl's protest before she could get going. She still hadn't quite mastered the "stern parent" mentality, and Clem often got her way if Dianne wasn't around to enforce rules. "If he comes back early, we'll come sign you out."

Clem deflated, the joy in her eyes morphing into disappointment, then anger. "Fine." She stood and scooped her bookbag off of the floor where she'd dropped it in her enthusiasm. "I have homework."

Jamie watched her leave, waiting until she heard the bedroom door close before letting out a sigh.

"Well done." Dianne breezed through the door and parked her tote in its customary spot next to the sofa.

Jamie offered her a weary smile in return. "How was your day?"

"Oh, it was fine, dear," the older woman lowered herself into the chair Clem had just vacated. "How is the book going?"

"I'm not sure," Jamie sighed again, this time one of frustration. "My editor doesn't seem to understand the meaning of the word 'no.'"

Dianne hummed something that might have been sympathy. "Still trying to cut that chapter?"

"Try being the operative word," Jamie scowled. "I'm not cutting it, or rewriting it. He can just deal."

"Tea?"

"Sure." Jamie turned back to her laptop as Dianne retreated into the kitchen, her voice raised to reach back and continue the conversation.

"Have you told him why it's so important to you?"

"I have," Jamie re-read the notes left along with her manuscript. "I don't think he understands."

Dishes clinked lightly as Dianne prepared the kettle. "What about his other notes? Maybe if you agree to implement the rest of them he'll agree to leave it."

"Tried that," Jamie felt her irritation returning as she opened the chapter in question and saw the vast amounts of red text throughout her work. "He's just being stubborn."

"He's not the only one," Dianne returned with two mugs and a knowing smirk. Jamie accepted the drink gratefully and blew on it before taking a hesitant sip.

"Hmm, thank you. I know where he's coming from, but the rest of the story doesn't work without this chapter as a set up. I can't simply gloss over this information in a flashback or exposition. It's too important for that."

"Alright," Dianne sat back down carefully, "then how about we find you a new editor?"

"And have to go through this process all over again?" Jamie lamented. "It's taken almost six months to get to this point."

"Then why not publish it yourself?"

Jamie paused at the suggestion. She hadn't considered that, already overwhelmed as she had been with simply writing the book. Could she do it? Well, almost certainly, but it would take a lot of research and plucking the right strings.

"Maybe," Jamie relented. "But we've got better things to focus on right now."

"Clem told me," Dianne smiled again, this time more broadly and warm. "Did Mitch say when he would be in tomorrow?"

"No," Jamie shook her head and took another pull from her drink. "But he usually doesn't make it back until the afternoon, hence why I want Clem to go ahead and go to school."

"I agree," Dianne nodded approvingly. "He's been gone longer this time than the others. It'll be nice to have him home for a while."

Jamie just hummed in agreement. When he'd first accepted the job, he'd spent anywhere from four to seven days away to examine animals and make sure they were all healthy. The AZA had kept him on after, using him as a sort of consultant to monitor the transport of the animals to their new homes. A lot of zoos around the country suffered terrible losses - both animal and human - and it was taking longer than planned to get things settled. But from the sound of Mitch's email, things seemed to finally be reaching an equilibrium and he likely wouldn't be called back out for a while.

"Dariela called today," Jamie mentioned as she stood and collected their empty mugs.

"Oh?"

"She and Abe found a house in Michigan. Jackson is going to stay with them until he can get back to Africa." Jamie walked to the kitchen and deposited the cups in the sink. She'd wash them later after dinner.

Dianne followed her, hitching her hip against the counter. "How's Isaac?"

"He's fine," Jamie smiled, remembering the chubby cheeks and delighted giggle of her godson. Isaac Kenyatta was an easy going baby, always smiling and laughing no matter who was holding him. "Dariela said she's glad Abe is taking online classes so he can help her out around the house for a while."

"Hmmm," Dianne crossed her arms and smiled. "I guess housewife is a weird career move from Army Ranger and Savior of Humanity."

"Probably about as much stress, though," Jamie laughed. "I have a hard time keeping up with Clem, and she's twelve. I can't imagine an infant."

"Oh, you'd do fine, dear. And Clem adores you."

Jamie frowned, her own misgivings and doubts about her role as stepmother once again reasserting themselves. "Really? Sometimes I'm not so sure. I know she misses her mom, and I don't ever want her to feel like I'm trying to replace her, but sometimes it feels like she still just thinks of me as the woman who's with her dad instead of a parental figure."

"She's testing her boundaries," Dianne reassured her. "All children do it, especially preteens. Lord knows I got nearly a whole head full of gray hair from Mitch's adolescent antics. He was so stubborn, like his father, and too smart for his age." Jamie soaked in every word like each one was the answer to the most inscrutable questions of the universe; it was rare that she got a glimpse into Mitch's childhood. "And she's still adjusting. A lot has changed for her and she's still learning where she fits in this new dynamic. That doesn't mean she should get away with anything, though," Dianne warned. "Set firm boundaries and be consistent, but understand that it may take a lot of time and patience for her to accept them."

Jamie just sagged back against the edge of the counter. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"You'd manage," Dianne stepped closer and reached a hand out to squeeze Jamie's shoulder. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Jamie. You're stronger than you realize. Why don't you go talk to her? I'll start dinner."

"Thank you." Jamie reached out to hug her mother-in-law gratefully before weaving her way through the apartment to Clem's room. There were only two bedrooms in the place and, not needing much, Dianne had given Clem the master bedroom when they'd moved in. But when Jamie had showed up things had been shuffled around to let her and Mitch have the larger room. Clem was moved into Dianne's room and the older woman had converted the small den off of the main sitting room into a suitable bedroom for herself. She didn't need much space, she had claimed, and did most of her work out on the kitchen table anyway. Clem hadn't been happy about losing her private bathroom, but the grumbling had stopped after Mitch had taken her out for a father-daughter bonding day during one of his early breaks.

Jamie stopped outside Clem's room and listened for a moment. Faint music floated through the door - some upbeat, pop tune she didn't recognize - as well as the soft voice of Clem as she sang along quietly. Jamie knocked, and the singing stopped immediately, though the music played on.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," Jamie answered. "Can I come in?"

There was a beat of silence, and Jamie prepared herself for the moody outburst or request to leave, but then the music stopped. "Sure."

Jamie opened the door a bit and peeked in. Clem was sitting at her desk, one large textbook open and two notebooks on either side. One was full of what had to be notes about whatever they'd learned in school today. The other she recognized as Clem's sketchbook, the one that the girl never went anywhere without. A half-finished drawing sat on the top page, but as Jamie slipped into the room Clem closed it quickly and swiveled her chair to face her guest.

"Listen," Jamie started, "I'm sorry if you felt I was being unfair earlier, but your education is important and -"

Clem interrupted her with a single word. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is it important? It's not like we have much of a future," Clem gestured vaguely with her hands. "My generation is the last one, isn't it? Isaac is probably one of the youngest people on this whole planet, and there aren't any more babies. My friends at school say humanity is going to go extinct in this century."

Jamie furrowed her brow worriedly. Was this really what kids thought about nowadays? It made her sick to her stomach to think about - she couldn't imagine what it was doing to the children. "Clem, honey," she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "You can't give up hope. Everyone who can help is working on a solution to the sterility problem."

"Dad isn't," Clem countered. "He's the one who saved everyone the first time, and he's not even involved this time."

"Oh, he is," Jamie assured her. "He's been in constant contact with the scientists in charge of the problem. Just because he's not directly working on it doesn't mean he isn't involved."

"He could be doing more," Clem slouched in her chair moodily. "Why won't they let him help?"

Jamie tried and failed to find a suitable answer for her. "It's...complicated, Clem. But you and the other kids shouldn't worry about all of that."

"Why not? One of these days, all of you will be gone and it will become our problem anyway. Why shouldn't we start worrying about it now?"

"Because you're just a kid," Jamie said firmly. "And I'm not saying you shouldn't be aware of it, but I don't want you to worry yourself sick about it. It's our job as adults to do everything we can to make things better for you, and it kills me to know that it might not be enough. Me, your dad, your grandmother, all of us...we'd love nothing more than for this whole mess to get resolved so you don't have to worry about it, so that you can go on to live a wonderful, happy, fulfilling life. But the reality is it won't, and one day you will inherit the consequences of our mistakes. But I don't want you to worry about it now, okay?"

Clem didn't look terribly convinced, but she nodded anyway. "Alright." Then, as Jamie had expected, she added, "Do I really have to go to school tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid so," Jamie tried to soothe the command with an easy tone. Clem accepted this too, this time with a bit more grace. "I'll let you get back to your homework," Jamie said with a pointed look at the sketchbook on the desk. "I'll call you when dinner's ready." She stood and squeezed the girl's shoulder quickly, encouraged when Clem returned her gesture with a small smile. Jamie paused at the door, her hand on the knob as she turned back toward her stepdaughter. "I love you, Clem."

Clem didn't look up from her notetaking, but Jamie saw the way her hand stopped mid-word for a split second before she replied. "Love you, too."

Jamie closed the the door behind her and leaned against it briefly, trying to collect herself. She hadn't meant to dive into such a heavy conversation with the twelve year old, but once the girl's concerns had been voiced there was no way to avoid addressing them. Mitch wouldn't be glad to know that his daughter was worrying about so much at a young age, but perhaps he had a better idea on how to distract her or at least alleviate some of those fears.

"Hurry home, Mitch." Jamie lifted her eyes to the ceiling, her lips murmuring the quiet request before she gathered herself and went to help Dianne in the kitchen.

Jamie checked and double checked the message on her phone, her frown deepening as she realized she was in the right place at the right time. Only there was no Mitch. He'd sent her a text that morning with the details of his flight, adding what Jamie could only assume Mitch thought was a cute emoticon. She couldn't tell if the tiny yellow face was smiling or grimacing, but she took it in stride and counted it a great accomplishment that he could even find the emoticon board. Mitch's texting skills had improved in the past year - sometimes it was the only thing she got from him all day, but he was always sure to send her at least one text letting her know he'd had a good day, that he missed her and that he loved her. Still, he likely wouldn't ever get to the skill level of Jamie or Clem, who often had entire conversations in emojis just to annoy Mitch and Dianne.

Basic flight information was well within his capabilities, though, so when several long minutes passed and Mitch still didn't materialize at baggage claim, Jamie began to grow worried. She tried to call, but his phone went straight to voicemail.

"Maybe he missed his flight," she told herself. It made sense; if he had to catch a different flight, he wouldn't be able to use his phone. But then, she argued, he would have sent his new flight information before takeoff so she wasn't waiting at the airport for hours. Deciding that debating with herself in circles would get her nowhere, she sifted through her contacts until she found one that could help.

"Doctor Hartcliff," the gruff voice answered after two rings.

"Dan, hi, it's Jamie." She'd met Dan Hartcliff once in person, just after Mitch had gotten back into contact with his old boss. He was one of those fastidious, no-nonsense types, but he cared a great deal about the earth and the animals living upon it. Better still, Mitch spoke very highly of him, which was the only stamp of approval Jamie needed. He'd proven to be a great resource for her book, helping her get a better understanding of the inner workings of zoos and the behavior of captive bred animals.

"Jamie!" He sounded surprised, though she couldn't really blame him. Most of their communication was done through emails, though she'd Skyped him once or twice when basic text on screen wasn't enough to explain the details she needed. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you had heard from Mitch? His plane landed almost half an hour ago and he's still not here. Did he change his flight plans?"

"No." She could practically hear the frown that was no doubt on his face now. "As a matter of fact, I offered to take him this morning but he insisted on taking a cab instead. Maybe he's in the bathroom? You know how airplane food disagrees with him."

Jamie smiled, though there was no humor in it. "I don't know," she sighed. "I have a bad feeling."

"I'm sure he's fine," Dan reassured her. "Listen, I have to go. I have a conference call I can't miss. But call me later and let me know when you find him."

"I will," Jamie promised. "Bye." She hung up and worriedly tapped the side of her case with one finger. A small voice in the back of her head was growing louder, telling her something was wrong. She silenced it for now and made her way to the nearest counter in search of someone who could help.

"Next!"

Jamie stepped up to the young woman - Pam, her nametag read - and gave her best disarming smile, the one that never failed to get her the information she needed when hunting down a story. "Yes, hi, my name is Jamie Campbell. My husband was supposed to arrive on Flight 445 from Los Angeles but he never came out. Can you check and see if he actually boarded the plane?"

Pam's smile stayed on her face as she responded in a clipped, professional tone. "I'm sorry, but I'm not authorized to reveal that information."

"Then can I speak to someone who is?"

Her smile fell just a fraction. "I can let you speak with my supervisor, but he's going to tell you the same thing."

Jamie was beginning to feel the first notes of panic in her chest, but she shut them down. She was probably overreacting, but this obstacle wasn't helping her calm down. "Is there anyone who I can talk to? I just need to know if he got on the plane."

Pam glanced over her shoulder quickly, typed something on her keyboard, then looked back up. "I'm really sorry, but I can't release that information. Now if you'll excuse me, there are other customers behind you."

"Yeah, well, I'm not done," Jamie slammed her hand down on the counter and squared her shoulders. "I need to speak to your manager."

"I'll call him," she said curtly, all traces of politeness gone. "You can wait over there." She gestured to a small dividing wall that served little purpose other than to delineate the spaces between airlines. Jamie thanked her with a false sweetness and stepped away, willing her heart to stop pounding. She was overreacting, she reminded herself. Any moment, Mitch would appear with that lopsided smirk and the well-used duffel bag he'd had since almost the beginning of their adventures together. Jamie had offered to buy him a new one but he'd balked, claiming his current one was lucky and he'd use it until it fell apart. Right now, she'd gladly let him if he would just materialize and put her growing fears to rest.

"Ma'am?" Jamie turned to find a man in a gray suit approaching. He looked every inch the corporate man, down to the shined shoes and carefully coiffed hair. His smile, while not fake, held a hint of falseness to it that Jamie recognized from her numerous meetings with executives. He held out his hand when he got close enough. "My name is Simon. I understand there was a problem this morning?"

"Yes," Jamie shook his hand quickly. "My husband was supposed to arrive on a flight from Los Angeles. I've already spoken with our friend in California. He says he took a cab to the airport this morning. All I wanted to know was if Mitch got on the plane."

"I am sorry," Simon placated, "but federal law prohibits us from sharing any personal information without direct consent from the person in question."

"But I'm his wife," Jamie argued.

"I understand, ma'am, but it is still against the law. I can page for your husband in the airport. Perhaps he's still in the terminals."

"I've already texted him," Jamie sighed in frustration. "If he was here, he would have called me."

"It is possible he was transferred to another flight," Simon explained. "The next flight from Los Angeles lands in three hours."

"How about this," Jamie was beginning to get irritated with the official runaround. "Why don't you just tell me what I need to do to find out if he was on this plane?"

"We can release that information to a police officer or federal agent during the course of an official investigation." He did look genuinely apologetic, so Jamie took a deep breath and tried to calm her temper. "Let me call our office at LAX," Simon offered. "I can find out if any passengers from the last flight were bumped, but I wouldn't be able to give names."

"That's fine, thank you." Jamie pulled out her cell as Simon walked away, steeling herself for what she had to do next. The number was saved in her phone, though she hadn't used it in almost a year. Mitch wouldn't like it, but Jamie was running out of options. With one more bracing breath, Jamie hit the green dial button.

"Secretary Shaw's office," a young voice answered.

It took Jamie only a second to remember the name of Allison's aide. "David, it's Jamie Campbell. Is Allison available?"

"Of course. Just a moment, Ms. Campbell." There was a beat of silence, followed by a soft click as he put her on hold. The faint music played for only a few seconds before it abruptly ended and another voice came on the line.

"Jamie?"

"Allison, hi." Jamie winced at the falsely-friendly tone she'd adopted. Clearing her throat, she rushed on. "I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this, but you were the first person I thought of."

"What can I do for you?"

"Mitch was supposed to fly in today, but he never arrived. Our friend in LA says he got to the airport on time, and I can't get a hold of Mitch. The airline says they can't tell me if he actually got on the plane because of some stupid federal law. I was wondering -"

Allison cut her off. "As you can imagine, I'm busy with my own duties. I can't just call up and demand information, especially without probable cause." She sounded irritated, and Jamie really couldn't blame her. It wasn't as though she was accustomed to her ex-boyfriend/stepson's wife to call her up after a year of no contact to ask a favor.

"Allison, please. I just need to know if he got on the plane in Los Angeles or if he caught a later flight." As she was speaking, Simon returned with a small shake of his head that Jamie interpreted as a bust in his search for anyone who had been bumped to a later flight. Which meant that either Mitch hadn't ever gotten on the plane in Los Angeles, or he had and something had happened to him before he could make it to her in baggage claim.

Allison's sigh floated over the line. "Give me his flight information. I'll see what I can find out."

Jamie sagged in relief. "It was flight 445 from Los Angeles to Baton Rouge. Thank you, Allison."

"I'll call you back." Allison hung up without saying goodbye, but Jamie didn't take it personally. When this was all over, she would owe the other woman big time. Mitch wouldn't like it, but Jamie couldn't care about that right now.

"No one from that flight was moved to another one," Simon told her.

"I have a...friend," Jamie settled on the word without much thought, "in the government. She's looking into it now. Thank you for your help."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help." He shook her hand once more and left her to her own devices. Jamie paced the small area for several long minutes, her nimble fingers tapping out three more texts to Mitch's phone, before Allison returned her call.

"He never boarded," Allison told her solemnly. "Records show that he checked in on his phone the night before the flight, but he never passed through security or got on the plane."

"So where is he?" Jamie asked frantically. "It's not like him to not call if his plans change."

"I don't know. You said your friend dropped him at the airport?"

"No," Jamie shook her head. "He was going to, but Mitch took a cab instead. You think something happened to him in Los Angeles?"

"That seems the most likely answer," Allison said. "If you haven't been contacted, then it's doubtful he's in a hospital anywhere. Unless he's unconscious without identification." Allison seemed to be positing the worst case scenarios almost absently, like she forgot she was actually talking to someone else. "Call your friend in LA," she said with more authority, like they were once again in roles they hadn't played in over a year. "Tell him to check local hospitals for John Does that fit Mitch's description. We can eliminate that, at least. I'll call my contact in California, see if I can get someone to start a missing person's report."

Missing Person

The phrase hit Jamie like a sledgehammer, and she had to lock her knees to keep them from buckling. This could not be happening, not now. Not when they were finally getting their happy ending. She didn't need a perfect life, but she did need a life with him in it. If he was gone… It was a terrifying thought, fleeting though it was. She shook it off and focused on the task Allison had set to her.

"Okay. I'm going to fly out to LA," Jamie told her. "I can do more in person."

"I'll give my contact your number so you can connect after you land." Allison sounded different now, less annoyed and more concerned. Jamie knew she still had feelings for Mitch and, no matter how twisted and weird it was for her to think about, Jamie couldn't help but be grateful for those feelings now. It was probably the only reason Allison was being as helpful as she was despite knowing she had no chance with him.

"Thank you, Allison." She didn't wait for the brush off she was sure was coming. The moment Jamie disconnected, she went in search of Simon for one last favor.

A week passed with no sign of Mitch, and Jamie was nearing the end of her rope. The cab company that had taken him the airport showed the fare in their system, but the security cameras at LAX didn't record his arrival. The driver of the cab was also missing, as was the cab itself. The local police were at a loss on how to continue, but Jamie was persistent.

Back in Baton Rouge, Dianne was doing her best to keep Clem distracted, but the twelve year old knew something was going on. Each time Jamie talked to her she asked to speak to her dad. Jamie hated lying to her, settling on a half-truth instead.

"He's not here right now, sweetie."

"He never is," Clem snapped back. "Where is he? What's he doing that's more important?" Hearing the scorn in the girl's voice broke the last of Jamie's resolve. She couldn't keep up the charade any longer and a sob escaped her throat. Clem's tone changed immediately. "Jamie? What's wrong?" Distantly, Jamie heard Clem call for her grandmother.

There was a burst of static on the line as the phone was passed from one to the other, then Dianne's voice filled her ear. "Jamie? Honey? Breathe, sweetie. It'll be okay."

Jamie's chest hitched as a week's worth of worry and frustration came pouring out. Dianne kept trying to get her to calm down, but Jamie could barely hear her. She clutched the phone to her ear like a lifeline as she fought to take a breath, then another.

"Jamie? I'm going to call Dariela. Maybe Jackson can come out to help you. Jamie?"

"I'm here," she managed finally, hating how weak her voice sounded.

"You just keep at it, okay? Everything will be alright. We love you, honey."

Jamie repeated the sentiment in a mumbled reply and hung up. The phone slipped from her hand and tumbled onto the too-hard hotel bed. Around her, reports and photos littered the comforter and prevented anyone from actually sleeping in the bed. Jamie had managed a few hours each night, her small frame curled around the evidence protectively, but most of her time was spent going over traffic cams, security videos and the timeline. The best she could figure, Mitch had left his hotel around eight the morning of his flight. Jamie had managed to sweet talk the hotel's manager into giving her a copy of that section of the recording, and she'd played it over and over about a hundred times in the last week.

Feeling just a little maudlin, she keyed it up again on her laptop. It was a short ten second clip, grainy and washed out like most cheaper security cameras. She watched as Mitch exited the hotel with his trusty duffel on his shoulder. He opened the back door, put his bag in first, then slid into the seat. Just before he disappeared he glanced up, almost directly at the camera. Jamie paused the video there, her eyes tracing the blurred contours of his face. Was this the last image she'd have of him?

Her phone rang again, and Jamie saw Jackson's face on the screen out of the corner of her eye. She tore her gaze from her computer to answer.

"Hello?"

"Jamie? Are you alright? Dianne told me Mitch is missing." Jamie could hear in his voice that he was upset no one had told him. Honestly, Jamie had forgotten all about her friends in Michigan in the chaos of the last week, but now that he was on the phone she desperately wanted to see them.

"He never made his flight home," Jamie explained. "And the last time anyone saw him was him getting into the cab at the hotel that morning."

"What do the police say?"

"Not much," Jamie sneered. "LA is still under martial law," she stood and paced the small space between the bed and bathroom. "They've got a lot to deal with, and I don't think one missing person is high on their priority list right now."

"So you're going at it alone?"

"Not the first time," Jamie returned.

"Yeah, well, not anymore. I've already got a flight out tonight. Abe wants to come, too, but he's so busy with the new baby and his schooling. I told him we'd call if we need him."

Relief flooded Jamie as Jackson's words sunk in. He was coming. She wouldn't have to to this by herself any more. "What time do you land?"

"Eleven, I think. What hotel are you at?"

"I'll meet you," she said quickly. "Just text me your flight info."

"Alright." He took a breath, and Jamie knew what was coming. "Why didn't you call us?"

"I don't know," she told him honestly. "I guess I was so sure I could find him, that he'd just appear one day. I've been so overwhelmed with the search that I forgot. I'm sorry."

"No, I didn't mean to sound so harsh," Jackson apologized. "It's just...hard to imagine. I thought all of this craziness was over."

The sound that escaped her throat was half a sob and half laughter. "Me, too."

"Just hang in there," Jackson reassured her, his voice pitched low and even. "I'll be there soon."

Jamie thought of nothing else the rest of the night, and the moment Jackson's form appeared in the crowd of people exiting the terminals, Jamie ran forward and threw her arms around his neck. Tears stained his shirt as he held her, and his arms were warm and comforting as he shushed her.

"It'll be okay," he whispered. "We'll find him." He repeated the promise over and over and, for a while anyway, Jamie believed him.

A week became two, then four, and finally Jamie couldn't stay away from her family any longer. Jackson went with her back to Louisiana, and as May ended and June began Dianne spoke to their landlord about moving to a larger apartment to accommodate all of them. It took a bit of cajoling, but they finally moved to a three bedroom, two bathroom unit at the back of the complex. Jackson slept on the fold-out so the girls could each have their own room. When Abe and Dariela arrived with little Isaac, Jamie happily gave them her room and moved onto an air mattress in Dianne's room.

With all of her friends under one roof, Jamie felt better. There was still an ache in her chest each time she passed Mitch's picture or caught the glint of her ring when she moved her hand. She spent every waking moment on the search, calling in every favor she was owed, pulling every string she could to get any new information. But there was none to be had - Mitch had simply vanished into thin air.

She knew what the police thought; she'd overheard their conversations during one of her frequent trips to the precinct. They all thought he'd left voluntarily, that he'd seen the opportunity to escape all of the pressure and expectations and taken it. Jamie just ignored them. They didn't know Mitch - didn't know how hard they'd fought to be together, how much they'd endured to get their happy ever after. He wouldn't just leave, especially now that he finally had his daughter.

Clem was holding herself together well, considering. She'd taken the news hard, but rallied after a few weeks to help Dianne with the upkeep of the household while Jamie and Jackson spent day after day hunting down leads that often turned out to be dead ends. But without Mitch there and with Jamie being gone for most of the time, her relationship with her stepmother deteriorated. When Jamie was home the girl was civil but cold, choosing to spend her time in her room or with her grandmother. Dianne tried to smooth things over, claiming the strain on Clem's teenage hormones and Jamie's tendency to take so much blame onto her own shoulders. But Jamie knew better. She was losing Clem, and there was only one thing she could do to make things better.

A piece of Jamie died the day she finally laid down the search for good. It had been over a year with no leads or hints, and it was finally time to focus on her family. Clem had been surprisingly accepting of the decision. Jamie wondered how long ago the girl had given up, then decided she didn't want to know. Clem had been through too much in her short life; it was probably best she'd accepted it and moved on. Jamie's constant promises that Mitch could be found, that he would be home soon, had probably only caused the girl more pain.

On the occasion of her fourteenth birthday, Clem made the decision to invite her paternal grandfather. Dianne wasn't happy with it, but Jamie was still feeling guilty about neglecting her stepdaughter, so out the invitation went. She didn't expect a reply, let alone a confirmed RSVP, but the morning of the party there was a knock on the door. Dianne had grumbled something and disappeared into the kitchen as Jamie went for the door.

"Hello Max," she greeted as she opened it a bit wider than necessary for his entrance.

"Good to see you again," Max stepped through with a grin. "Sad to hear I wasn't invited to the wedding."

"It was kind of a last minute thing," Jamie said apologetically as she returned the hug he offered. "Thanks for coming. Clem really wanted to meet you."

Max clapped his hands together eagerly. "So where is my granddaughter?" For a fleeting moment, the expression his face was so similar to Mitch that Jamie felt her heart skip a beat.

"In her room. Why don't you have a seat and I'll go get her." She gestured to the small living room where Jackson was catching up with Abe and Dariela. Jamie left Max with them and walked down the short hallway to Clem's room.

"Clem, honey?" She knocked softly with two knuckles. "Your grandfather is here."

The door opened a crack and Clem's piercing eyes stared back. "What's he like?"

"Why don't you come see for yourself?" Jamie took a small step back, pleased when Clem slipped out into the hall next to her. She could hear chatter in the room beyond - Max was no doubt regaling his captive audience with another of his stories - but everyone fell silent when Jamie led Clem into the room.

Max stood from his place on the couch. "You must be Clementine."

Jamie nudged the girl gently to get her to respond. "Hi."

Max either didn't sense her unease or just decided to ignore it. "Well come on over here," he flapped his hands wildly, "let me look at you." He gripped her shoulders in his hands and studied her with a critical eye. Jamie kept close, ready to step in if she felt Clem was too uncomfortable with the scrutiny. She knew firsthand how...spirited Max could be. "You look a bit like your father," Max said finally. "Though I imagine you take after your mom quite a bit."

"Lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes," Dianne announced from the doorway. Max turned abruptly with a charming smile, but Dianne just glowered back. "Max."

"Dianne!" He took three steps toward her, then checked himself at her hard stare. "It's wonderful to see you again, my dear."

"Wish I could say the same," Dianne returned dryly. "Jamie, honey, can you give me a hand with the dishes?"

"Of course." Jamie squeezed Clem's arm encouragingly and retreated to the kitchen with Dianne. "How are you holding up?" she asked the older woman. It couldn't be easy trying to be civil with someone who had so deeply betrayed her. Jamie thought about her feelings toward Logan after his treachery had been revealed and knew that this was so much worse. Dianne and Max had been married, they had a son together, and Max had thrown it all away. Jamie knew Dianne still carried a lot of hurt where Max was concerned, and his presence was probably as painful as Mitch's absence.

"I can suffer it, for Clem's sake," she answered flatly. She offered Jamie a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's just one day."

One day turned into two, in part thanks to Clem's offhand comment about wanting to spend more time with her grandfather. That was all it took for Max to invite himself to stay overnight rather than in the hotel room Jamie had booked for him. Abe and his family had been shuffled there instead and Max camped in the living room with Jackson.

The next day, he asked if he could take Clem out for a day of bonding, and since Jamie could find no reason to say no she instead sent them out with instructions to be home before dinner. At Jackson's request, she spent the day on herself. Dianne took her out for a girls' day at the spa, and Jamie realized it had been a long time since she'd had a day like that. It had been a long time for Dianne, too, she thought as she watched some of the stress of the last few days lift from her mother-in-law's shoulders.

They were hit with two surprises when they got home. Jackson had spent his day cleaning the apartment top to bottom, then preparing a meal for everyone. Dianne had hugged him so tightly, Jamie had laughed at the startled expression on his face. The second came from Max in the middle of dinner.

"I want to take Clem back to live with me in Finland."

Silence fell over the table like an oppressive blanket. Utensils froze mid-air and conversations stopped abruptly as they all turned to Max with matching incredulous expressions.

"Are you insane?" Dianne finally broke the tension.

"Absolutely not!" Jamie cried.

The two women continued to berate the obviously-deranged man, but Clem's quiet voice broke through and silenced both of them. "I want to go."

Jamie was the first to answer. "Clem, honey, you can't just move to Finland."

"Why not?" she shrugged. "We talked a lot today, and I think this is what's best for me."

"You're only fourteen, and you've been through a lot these last few years. I'm not sure you know what's best for you right now."

"And you do?" Clem challenged. "You're not my mother, you can't tell me what to do."

"Clementine Marie Lewis!" Dianne stood up to her full height and tossed her napkin onto her plate. "I never met your mother, but I can't imagine she raised you to be so disrespectful to your family. Whether you see it or not, Jamie has done nothing but sacrifice for you and take care of you. Now, either you apologize and we can discuss this civilly or you can get up from this table and go to your room!"

The girl stared back defiantly for a moment, then pushed her chair back and stood. "Fine. But it doesn't matter. Grandpa Max already filed the paperwork." She stomped away in a fit, leaving the rest of them staring at Max angrily.

"Max," Jamie kept her tone even despite the turmoil within. She knew if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to control her actions and might do something she'd regret later. "What did Clem mean?"

Max, for his own part, seemed unfazed by the chaos he'd caused by his simple statement. "Clem and I did some talking today. She's not happy here," he told them plainly. "She lost her family in Maine, and now Mitch. I think she needs some distance from everything, and when I mentioned she could visit me in Finland she asked if she could just move there. So I called my lawyer and talked it over, and he sent the paperwork to the county clerk and we filed a motion for a custody hearing."

"A custody…?" Jamie felt a little faint and sank back in her seat. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Dianne, on the other hand, had had enough. "Get out."

Max looked surprised at her command. "What?"

"You heard me," Dianne reached out and grabbed his arm, bodily lifting him from the chair with a strength that belied her smaller frame. "I don't want you near me or my family...ever. I'll be damned if I sit back and watch you tear it apart again. Get out!" She shoved him toward the door, and when he tried to protest it was Jackson who pushed him the rest of the way out. The door shut behind them but Jamie hovered next to it to listen as Jackson spoke to Max.

"You know," he commented with a deceptively calm tone, "when Mitch used to go on and on about how awful you were, I never really believed you could be that bad. You hurt him, and his mom, and he never forgave you for that. What do you think he'd say right now if he knew you were trying to take his daughter away from the only family she has left?"

"But they're not," Max argued. "I'm her family, too."

"Who's been in her life for two whole days! Jamie and Dianne have cared for her the last two years. Where were you?" He laughed humorlessly. "Oh, that's right. Finland. Doing what you do best. Running away from your problems. So who do you think the judge is going to rule in favor of, hmm? A grandfather who never once - in fourteen years - attempted to contact his granddaughter, or the two women who have sacrificed everything to make sure she has a healthy and happy life?"

"But she's not happy here!"

"Of course she isn't," Jackson barked. "She just lost her father. You wouldn't understand what that does to a kid, because you weren't around after you left your family. She's angry and sad and confused, but that doesn't mean she needs to move halfway across the world. What does that teach her? That she can just run away everytime something gets tough? Is that the kind of life you want for her? Your life?"

Jamie held her breath waiting for Max's reply. When it came, his tone was much less spirited than before. "No, I guess not. I just...don't like seeing her so sad."

"Neither do I," Jackson said. "But she's resilient. She'll pull through."

There was a beat of silence, then, "Can you tell them I'm sorry? And I'll call my lawyer tomorrow and cancel everything. I just wanted to help. Can you tell them that, too?"

"I'll tell them," Jackson promised. "Are you going to be alright tonight? Do you need me to take you to a hotel?"

"No," Max said. "I'll find my way. Thanks."

Jamie jumped back as Jackson came in, and the moment the door was closed she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she breathed into his shoulder.

"Of course," he rubbed her back slowly. "You heard?"

"All of it," she admitted. "You think he was telling the truth?"

"Yeah," Jackson released her and walked with her back to the kitchen. When he told Dianne what had happened she hugged him, too.

"I'm gonna go talk to Clem," Jamie announced. There was no answer when she knocked, and when she called Clem's name she only received a muffled command to go away.

Jamie remembered the spiteful words the girl had spat across the dinner table and tried not to let it get to her. They had been struggling this past year, and Jamie bore a large chunk of the blame where that was concerned. She closed her eyes and laid her forehead against the door as tears stung her eyes. She sent a silent apology to Mitch out into the universe, wherever he was.

"Clem," she spoke softly, both to keep her voice from carrying down the hall and into the ears of the others and to hide the fact that she was on the verge of breaking down. "Listen, I know you're upset, and I understand. And that's okay. If you need to be mad at me right now, then be mad at me. But I just want you to know that I love you, and I am always here if you need to talk. I told you once that I would never try to replace your mother, and that's still true." She swallowed around the sudden tightness in her throat and plowed on, unsure if Clem was even still listening through the door. "But I love you like you're my own and I just want to keep you safe." Having said her piece, Jamie stayed there for several long moments hoping that Clem would answer.

When she didn't, Jamie just sighed and pushed away. Maybe they could talk tomorrow after everyone had slept and gotten some distance from the emotions of the evening. She shuffled back down the hall and into the living room where Jackson and Dianne had already prepared a mug of tea for her. She accepted it gratefully and sank down into the armchair in defeat.

"Don't take it personally," Dianne reassured her. "Mitch went through a phase like this, too. It's a teenager thing. She'll come around."

Jackson blew a breath through his nose in a muted laugh, and the two women looked at him curiously. At their stares, he explained. "It's just, you made the comparison to Mitch, but her behavior reminds me a lot of Jamie."

"How?" Jamie's tone made it clear he should choose his next words carefully; she was in no mood to spar with him tonight.

"She spent - what? - two days with the man and decided to go live with him? Then when hit with resistance she digs her heels in. I'm not sure if impulsiveness and resilience are hereditary or learned, but she definitely reminds me of you. Or, at least, how you used to be when I first met you." He seemed almost wary of his own words, like he was afraid of her response.

Jamie smiled softly to let him know she didn't take offense. "If you think I was brash and impulsive when you met me, you should have known me back in college."

As Dianne retired to her bedroom, the evening morphed comfortably into one of nostalgia. Jamie shared stories about her pre-Beast Rebellion years and Jackson answered with tales of life in Botswana. She was surprised to hear he'd once had a family of his own, many years ago. As he spoke of their deaths, about how helpless he'd been as he'd watched them die in a horrible accident, surprise turned to horror.

"Oh, Jackson, I'm so sorry. I had no idea…" The universe seemed hellbent on throwing them to the wolves at every opportunity, but everytime they seemed to come out stronger.

He just shrugged one shoulder. "It was a long time ago," he told her. "I've dealt with it and moved on."

But knowing his past made Chloe's death even more tragic than it already was. Neither of them could seem to catch a break, but thankfully they didn't have to face anything alone anymore. She set her now-empty mug down and moved from the chair to the sofa cushion next to him. He seemed to sense her intent and let her curl against him comfortably as he lounged back.

"You think things will ever be good again?" she asked him.

"Of course they will," he squeezed her shoulder and let his head fall back against the cushions. "We just gotta take things one day at a time."

Over the next few weeks, Jamie found herself repeating Jackson's words to herself at least once a day. Interactions with Clem were still tense, but the teen had apologized for her behavior and never mentioned it again. She gave no indication that she'd heard Jamie's impassioned speech through her door, but both of them made an effort to get things back to normal. When Max called to apologize again, Jamie let him talk to Clem for over an hour and they made tentative plans for her to visit next summer. When they'd hung up, Clem had hugged Jamie tightly and whispered her thanks. Jamie cried.

Eventually things settled down. Jamie went back to her book, and Clem and Dianne went back to school. They'd expected Jackson to go back to Michigan with the Kenyattas, or even back to Africa like he'd always mentioned, but he surprised them by finding a local job at a wildlife center and sticking around. She'd never tell him, but Jamie was glad he'd decided to stay. It was nice to have someone around to talk to who knew what she'd been through and who wasn't afraid to talk to her about the hard things.

Nothing could ever soothe the ache in her heart left by Mitch's disappearance, but with Jackson around things didn't seem so bad. She'd never give up hope that Mitch was alive - not until she was given absolute proof otherwise. All of the information they'd gathered on their search remained untouched on her laptop, and every now and then they'd sit together late at night and go over everything again. Even more rarely, they'd find something they'd missed and attack it from a new angle. But no matter how many times they did it, the end result was the same. Mitch had simply disappeared.

Jamie's book, A Rumor of Crows, was released in the Spring of 2020 and it was clear from the first week of sales that it was going to be big. She soared to the top of the New York Times' Bestseller List and, almost overnight, became a household name. Everyone wanted to know the story of how six people had saved the world. She'd given all of her friend's pseudonyms, but it didn't really matter. Thanks to their little press junket they were all virtually famous anyway. Still, it had been easier to write using false names, especially when she'd had to write particularly difficult scenes.

Whispers began to reach them of a small group calling themselves the Shepherd Hunters. At first, Jamie didn't think anything of it. She'd known some of the Shepherds had escaped the hybrid massacre - Mansdale and his team had been the ones to save Mitch and bring him back to her. Still, she couldn't feel too sorry for them. It had been their plan that had sterilized the human race, and whatever fate befell them was entirely their own doing.

But then another whisper reached her, and this one she couldn't ignore. Jackson's name had popped up on a site listing known targets of the Shepherd Hunters, simply for the crime of being Robert Oz's son.

"It's ridiculous," she told him late one night, long after Clem and Dianne had gone to bed. "How can they possibly think you had anything to do with your father's plan?" She was pacing back and forth in front of the couch, her hands fidgeting more and more with each pass.

"They don't really seem very interested in rationalizing things, Jamie." He was seated in the center of the sofa, his eyes tracking her. "They're out for blood."

That made her stop. "Your blood." She could hear the tremor in her own voice as the fear of losing another of her friends came bubbling up.

Jackson stood up and came around the low coffee table to wrap her in a hug. "Hey, it's gonna be alright. Okay?"

"How?" She shoved away from him, her fear quickly morphing to anger. Anger, as she'd once told Clem, was an easier emotion to deal with. "How is you being on some insane most wanted list going to be okay? What if they come after you? What if they come here?"

He paused then, his face pinched in thought. "You're right. I can't stay here."

"Jackson, no! That's not what I -"

"If I stay here, I'm endangering all of you."

Jamie reached out for him, desperate to hold on as though she could physically keep him here with her. "You can't just leave."

He pulled back out of reach and shook his head sadly. "Jamie, these people are killing Shepherds and anyone else they think is a threat. I can't stay here and risk them hurting you or the others."

"You're not a threat!" She could see she wasn't getting through; Jackson was the only person she'd ever met who could match her hardheadedness. They were a lot alike in many ways - whenever he set his mind on something he saw it through to the end, no matter what.

"Listen," he ran a hand down his face as he stifled a yawn. "It's late. We're both tired. Why don't we get some rest and talk about this tomorrow?"

"Okay, just promise me you make any rash decisions before then?" This time when she reached for his hand he didn't pull away. He squeezed her fingers gently.

"Alright."

She should have known - should have heard it in his voice, seen it in his eyes. But as she shuffled into the kitchen the next morning, the only indication she had that something was wrong was the silence and a folded paper sitting under her favorite mug on the table. Her fingers were trembling as she slipped it free and unfolded it, recognizing Jackson's hasty scrawl immediately.

Jamie,

There's nothing to say except I'm sorry. Hurting you is the last thing I want to do, but I can't stay knowing that it might put you or someone else in danger. I know you're mad at me right now. I know that by leaving like this I have forever hurt our friendship, but I can live with that so long as I know you're alive and safe. I can't thank you enough for your company, your companionship and your love. Maybe if things had worked out differently

Please don't try and find me. I'm doing this to keep all of you safe. I will contact Abe and tell him what's happened. I'm counting on you to keep him from coming after me. He's got his family and his career to think about, and you need to focus on Clem. She's a great kid, and she needs you more than either of you realize. I only wish I could be there to watch her grow up to be the wonderful young woman I know she'll become, especially with you there to look out for her.

I hope one day you can forgive me.

With love,

Jackson

Jamie could barely read the last few lines through the tears in her eyes. Her fingers clenched as the emotions swelled in her, but she checked the movement as the paper in her hand began to crumple. She laid his letter flat, smoothing out the wrinkles she'd made, and read it again. The shock of his words faded after the second reading, quickly replaced by a burning anger. But rather than boil up and spill over like her temper was prone to, this anger sank into her gut and settled, like sediment on a seabed. He'd abandoned them - abandoned her - after he'd promised to stay.

Fresh tears stung her eyes and a few fell to the paper before she could stop them. Her gaze fell to the center of the page where he'd scratched out one line of text. She tried to pretend she didn't know what he meant, but even as she forced the words into her mind she knew they were wrong. How many times in the past six months had she caught herself staring at him too long? How many times had she woken in a cold sweat with his name at the tip of her tongue? Maybe if they'd had more time, if he'd stuck around, they might have found solace in each other. No one could ever replace Mitch - she would never be rid of the searing ache in her heart each time she thought of him. But maybe - just maybe - she could have found some measure of peace with Jackson.

She'd never know now. He was gone. Soon the other two occupants of the apartment would wake, and Jamie would have to explain it all to them. Dianne would understand - she wouldn't like it, she would be hurt, but she'd understand. Clem would take it harder. Jackson had been her only male role model the last year or so. He'd become not a father figure, but something like an older brother or an uncle to the girl. He was fiercely protective of her and she made him laugh, and she would be devastated at his loss.

Jamie felt another wave of anger hit her. How could Jackson do this to them? How could he abandon the only family he had left? Before she could think about it, she grabbed her phone and called him. It rang through to voicemail, so she tried again. Same result. She sent a text so long that it broke into four pieces on sending, but there was no response. Ten minutes passed, and when she tried to call again the number had been disconnected. He was gone.

She found him almost by accident one day, scouring the internet for information on the Shepherd Hunters. She'd stumbled on a forum for the hunters, and though their language was coded, it wasn't difficult to decipher the meaning. They'd found Jackson hiding in Omaha under an alias (really Jackson? Abraham Morgan?) and were offering a substantial reward to anyone who could bring him to justice. From their language, Jamie got the feeling Jackson wouldn't live to stand trial for his imagined crimes.

So she got to work. She called every contact she still had, she taught herself about the ins and outs of coding and exploiting weaknesses. It took almost a year, but she finally manage to throw the Hunters off Jackson's scent and let him vanish beyond the partially-built barrier.

Because the world wasn't awful enough, hybrids from Pangaea had somehow made it to the west coast and were killing indiscriminately. Jamie had no idea how they'd gotten there, though the theories being tossed around on the net ranged from ridiculously implausible to terrifyingly realistic. The governments of North America had agreed to pool resources to construct a nearly 1200 mile long barrier running from Juneau, Alaska to Salina Cruz, Mexico. It was a tremendous task, one that would reportedly only take months to complete. Hundreds of teams of workers would construct their portion, linking up with other teams once finished to hasten the construction of the entire wall. The National Guard as well as government formed militias would be tasked with keeping the hybrids on the coast while the wall was going up, and would remain to shuttle all civilians that remained behind after the general call for evacuation was sounded.

The Barrier, now capitalized on all media outlets and government reports, was finished in September of 2022. The hybrids outbreaks that had started in San Diego had radiated outward, reaching as far north as Oregon's southern border and as far west as Phoenix. The National Guard had been folded into Homeland Security, and the Barrier was officially under the jurisdiction of the IADG. For the most part, life was fairly normal east of the Rocky Mountains, but Jamie watched the news every day to keep up to date on the horrors taking place on the west coast. The death toll was still climbing as the military and civilian squads alike scrambled to evacuate anyone still remaining. Current estimates on total evacuation was still calculated in years, rather than months, due mostly to the stubborn nature of the more rural residents and the sheer area they had to cover.

The day after Clem graduated high school, Jamie received an envelope in the mail. It had no return address but there was no mistaking his handwriting. She opened it with shaky fingers and slipped the congratulations card addressed to Clem from within. There was another small piece of paper folded inside the card, this one bearing her name. Jamie opened it and smiled.

Still alive. Still sorry. Stay safe.

Dylan Green

At least his new alias was more solid, and less traceable. Jamie had made sure of that herself. She'd gotten good at manipulating the rapidly growing technology boon that had sprung up as a result of the scramble to solve human sterility. Scientists and technologists from around the world were collaborating on an unprecedented scale to combat the issue, but they were no closer than they were six years ago. Abe had gotten his doctorate the year before on a fast track program designed to add more minds to the global think tank. She knew he was working as a reproductive endocrinologist in Michigan, though through their emails they shared more personal information than professional. She knew he'd want to know the latest news about Jackson, so she logged on to her secure server and sent a quick message.

The munchkin and I are doing well. We can't come for a visit now, but hopefully soon. Love, Jamie.

It was short, but it relayed the necessary information. Jackson was okay, but still underground and unable to come home. She'd added "hopefully soon" to the end to let Abe know her own work was going well.

Under an alias of her own, Jamie had ingratiated herself with the Shepherd Hunters some time ago. At first, it had been a good way to keep tabs on Jackson's whereabouts and throw off the scent however she could. But the more involved she became, the more she began to sympathize with them. They were angry at the injustice the Shepherds had wrought on the world, and if the governments of the world weren't going to do anything, then they would. The Hunters were officially listed as a terrorist organization, but Jamie knew there wasn't a federal agency in the country that would actively pursue them so long as they continued to bring Shepherds to justice.

There were two that continuously eluded every effort at capture. The Falcon had been number one on the hit list for almost two years; every time they thought they had him, it turned out to be a decoy. There were so many theories on who the Falcon could be, each one too high in power to be reached. Number Two - known only as "Mr. Duncan" - was a virtual ghost. Unlike the Falcon, no one had an inkling who it could be, and every member of Mansdale's team had been accounted for (except the man himself). Jamie wondered if Mansdale was Mr. Duncan, and had cast her net for any feelers. She wanted Mansdale herself.

Jamie had come to the conclusion that there were only two entities who could be responsible for Mitch's disappearance. One was Reiden Global, motivated by revenge for their usurpation of the cure. They'd managed to come out of the court of public opinion relatively unscathed, wounded but not defeated. They'd rallied in the last few years, using their extensive resources to aid the search for a solution to sterilization. They'd even managed to get back in the government's good graces, and though they were not nearly the powerhouse they had been in their prime, they still held considerable sway.

But Reiden wasn't her most likely suspect. When Mitch had disappeared, Reiden was still buried under a mountain of lawsuits and injunctions, swamped with so many fines and fees that Jamie was fairly certain revenge was the last thing they were thinking about. So that left the Shepherds.

Mitch and his friends had been the ones to unleash the hybrids on the island in the first place, so rushed in their getaway that they hadn't really considered the consequences of opening Section K to the rest of the facility. It was possible they wanted vengeance for their fallen comrades, but that wasn't their likeliest reason for kidnapping Mitch. Before the massacre at Pangaea, the Shepherds had endured for hundreds of years, comprised of scientists and technicians from all fields and all walks of life. Now, with most of their lead scientists dead, they would need to rebuild. People like the Shepherds - who hadn't even blinked or hesitated to commit genocide in the name of protecting the planet - wouldn't be above kidnapping the people they needed to further their agenda.

Jamie had formulated her theory one lonely evening after Jackson had left, and had spent almost every waking hour since scouring the net for any information that would support her hypothesis. There were reports from across the globe - scattered among the chatter about hybrids and barriers and martial law - of people going missing. A geneticist from Sweden, an electrical engineer from Hong Kong, a physicist from Paraguay. Taken individually, the reports were little more than footnotes in their respective cities' police ledgers. But Jamie knew each case by heart, knew their names and faces and every other minute detail. She had alerts set to notify her on changes in the cases, algorithms set up to search for any mention of their names in the news or elsewhere. Because if one of them was ever found, they might be able to lead her to Mitch.

Which brought her back to Mansdale. He was the only Shepherd from the island left to be found. The Falcon was untouchable, climbing to the highest ranks in an effort to protect himself from the Hunters' long reach. But if Mansdale was Duncan, then finding Mansdale would ultimately lead them to the Falcon. And maybe - just maybe - if the Hunters took out their top two targets they would forget about Jackson.

On the ninth anniversary of Mitch's disappearance, Jamie packed a bag and drove seventy five miles east to her hometown. Her aunt and uncle welcomed her with open arms, took her things and pushed a bouquet of lilies into her hand with a kiss and a promise to have dinner ready when she returned.

It had been a year since she'd set foot in the cemetery where her mother was buried. As she crouched down in front of the stone plaque she wiped away the leaves and dirt that had gathered, then laid the bouquet down atop Nancy's name.

"Hey, Mom." It was getting warmer by the day, and the humidity of a southern spring didn't help. As Jamie sat there and spoke about everything that had happened over the past year, she could feel the sweat soaking through her shirt. But she didn't budge until she was through, enduring the discomfort for the small measure of peace she gained from the telling.

"Mitch is still missing," she said to the wind. She refused to believe he was dead - he was no good to anyone that way, and she was sure she'd have heard about it by now if he was. Whoever had him was keeping him away from his family on purpose. "I thought I was close last October. The Hunters caught Mansdale's right hand man, but they dispatched him before anyone could question him. Sometimes I don't know if it's such a great idea for me to be involved with them. But they're the only way I know to find Mansdale, and when I do he's going to pay." She still had no real evidence that Mansdale was behind Mitch's disappearance, but until a better theory presented itself it was all she had.

"Clem's doing great at college," Jamie moved on to brighter subjects. "She said she might even be able to graduate a full semester early. Of course, that won't be till next Christmas. Hopefully Mitch will be home by then." She reached up and grasped the ring dangling from a silver chain around her neck. Having grown tired of answering questions about her husband to nosy strangers, she'd stopped wearing it on her hand some time ago. But she couldn't bring herself to simply tuck it away in a jewelry box, so she'd slipped it on a chain and wore it under her shirt every day. It's steady weight against her breastbone was a constant reminder that she should never give up hope.

The sun was beginning to set behind the copse of trees that surrounded the cemetery, so Jamie stood and stretched her cramped legs. "I'll see you next time, Mom. I love you." She lingered for a moment more before turning to walk the short distance to her car. She'd spend a few days with her family, bask in the warmth and safety that came with sleeping in her childhood home, and then return to her life in Baton Rouge.

The summer came and went as Jamie toiled away on her second novel. This one was entirely fiction, but it helped her stay sane whenever she grew too focused on the search for Mansdale. Just before Christmas she received an encrypted email from someone she didn't recognize. It contained only coordinates (that she figured out led to an abandoned airport hangar in Houston) and four words that froze the blood in her veins.

Sorry about your toe.

She hadn't heard a peep from Logan for over nine years. He'd sent her an email after the wedding offering his congratulations, though it felt hollow. She'd replied with a quick thank you and a hope that he was doing well. He never responded. If he was contacting her now, after so many years of silence, then it was probably important. Or, she mused, important to him. Her curiosity got the best of her and she told him she'd meet him in three days.

She had the cab drop her a few blocks away, on the south side of the old regional airport. Finding a gap in the fence wasn't too hard - it was clear no one had been here for many years. She let her phone guide her to the right hangar, a large looming structure in the dark. There were no cars outside and all of the windows were blacked out. Adrenaline flooded her system as she ran through all of the possibilities in her head, each more ludicrous than the last. She had almost convinced herself that Mansdale had set this all up in order to lure her out into the open when the door on the side of the building opened.

The figure silhouetted in the doorway was familiar, and when he raised his arm to beckon her over she nodded. Logan stepped back to let her in, and Jamie was pleasantly surprised by the warmth that hit her the moment she crossed the threshold. Logan hovered nearby as she stamped her feet and shed her coat, obviously stalling as she searched for something to say.

He hadn't changed much, other than the mustache that was growing in above his upper lip. His hair was still shorn almost to the scalp, and she thought his face was a bit more filled out than before. The years had obviously been good to him, and she wondered idly what he'd been doing since he'd disappeared after Maine.

"Hi, Jamie." He was apparently done watching her stall.

"Hi." She glanced around the small office curiously. Unlike the rest of the airport, this hangar seemed to be well kept and operational. A bank of large screens hung on one wall as surprisingly clear camera images blinked across them. It was how he'd known she was outside, she guessed. A small desk sat in the opposite corner, and the laptop on its surface was covered in files and papers. No personal touches could be found, not even a generic photo or painting on the wall. There was another door on the wall to her right, and judging from its placement it probably opened into the large hangar beyond.

"What is this place?" she asked finally.

"Headquarters," Logan answered. "I'm a part of a special operations team. This is one of our lesser used bases."

"Used for what?"

"That's classified. But I can tell you that you and I, we have the same goal." For a moment she thought he was talking about Mitch, then he moved to his computer and hit a key. Mansdale's image filled one of the screens, and Jamie began to understand.

"You're a Hunter?"

"No," Logan shook his head quickly. "The Shepherd Hunters are unsanctioned. Rogue. And they don't want justice, they want vengeance. The organization I work for now, they want to find the Shepherds so they can be held accountable. So they can stand trial for their crimes."

The idea that Logan was even talking about accountability and justice hit her as ironic, but she kept that thought to herself. Mostly. "So you're legit now?" Jamie spat derisively. "Do they know about your past?"

"No," he told her honestly. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell them about it."

"I don't owe you anything."

Logan just smirked cryptically. "You will."

Jamie scoff was met with a knowing smile, and Logan gestured for her to open the second door. She almost didn't, just to see that smug smirk fall from his face, but in the end her inherent need for answers made her reach for the knob.

"Oh my God," she whispered. It was their plane, the one that had been their home for almost a year.

"Surprise."

Jamie ignored Logan's smug tone and walked around to the open bay doors. Two vehicles were parked inside, though both were far newer than the SUVs that had come with the plane originally. She stepped inside slowly, giving herself time to process the wave of nostalgia and heartache that hit her. She glanced at the door at the top of the stairs and almost turned away; she wasn't sure she was strong enough to step into the lab - into his lab - knowing he wouldn't be there.

"We've made some upgrades," Logan said quietly, as though he sensed the heaviness of her thoughts. "Wanna see?" She appreciated the verbal prod he was giving her, though she'd never tell him. Her pride wouldn't let her admit her fears, so she steeled herself and slid the door back.

The chill in the air was the first thing she noticed. The lab had never been cold to her before, not with him here. No matter what was going on in her head, no matter how the cold crept into her bones, she could always come to the lab - to him - and find warmth. But it was like a tomb now, cold and silent. There was no comforting hum of machinery or the bubbling of Moe's tank filter. The faint guitar notes straining through earbuds and gentle rhythmic tapping of fingers against stainless steel were only in her head, and when she took another breath the oppressive silence slammed into her. She almost took a step back to get away, but Logan's presence stopped her.

"The IADG contacted us a few years ago and asked if we wanted the plane," he said. "They were going to scrap it, but that didn't feel right. So I told my boss to take it. We've overhauled the pilot interface." He gestured for her to keep walking, and she made a beeline for the back hall with him right behind her. He took the lead as they ascended the spiral stairs to the cockpit, which Jamie was surprised to see wide open.

The door had been removed, along with both seats and most of the instrumentation. She turned to Logan with a puzzled frown, but before she could ask he spun around with a tablet in his hand.

"The entire plane can be controlled with this," he told her. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"The entire plane?"

"Yep," he grinned. "You don't even have to be in the plane. It has a pretty good range, so you can warm up the engines and do pre-flight checks before you even get to the airport."

"Okay, what's going on?" Jamie stepped back and shook her head. "Why are you showing me all of this?"

Logan's smile fell and he tucked the tablet back into a small slot next to the cockpit. "I know you want Mansdale," he said as he turned back toward her. "And I know why."

"You don't know anyth -"

"I know you think Mansdale is Duncan, or knows who it is. I know you think he can lead you to Mitch, or at least point you in the right direction. Am I warm?" Jamie just crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing. "Look, I know you and I don't have the best relationship -"

"We don't have any relationship!" she interjected.

" -but, I think I can help you."

She tried to gauge his sincerity, but Logan had always been hard to read. It was how he'd fooled her in the first place. He seemed earnest enough, but then again he always had. "How?" she asked finally. "Why?"

"I know where Mansdale is," he answered her first question. "As for the second question...I want to bury the hatchet. I want us to be friends again."

"That presumes we were ever friends in the first place."

He looked genuinely hurt at her words. "We were, or at least I thought we were."

"Was this during the weeks where you were selling us out to Davies right under our noses? Because if so, you have a very weird definition of friendship."

"Look," he sighed in exasperation, "I'm offering an olive branch here. You and I take the plane and go find Mansdale. You can question him, see if he knows anything about where Mitch is. After that, I deliver him to my bosses."

Jamie couldn't help one last jab. "I bet bringing in Mansdale would score you serious brownie points. Maybe even a promotion."

His exasperation grew to irritation. "You want in or not? Because I'm leaving in an hour either way."

Her answer came almost immediately. "I'm in." There was no way she was going to let this opportunity slip by. She was certain Mansdale could lead her to Mitch, and until she knew for certain that there was no hope - that he was truly gone - she wouldn't give up.

Mansdale had holed himself up in what Jamie graciously deemed a hovel in Guatemala. Jamie had expected a team to meet them, but Logan surprised her again.

"Just you and me," he said as he handed her a rifle from the gun locker. "You still remember how to use one of those things?"

"Sure," she gripped the stock a little too hard. "Point and click, right?"

He smirked as he checked his ammo. "Right."

The moment Logan had flashed his badge at locals, they pointed toward the north side of town then bolted. Mansdale was eating breakfast when they burst through the door. An elderly couple cowered in the corner crying and pleading in Spanish, but Mansdale just looked up from his bowl calmly.

"Took you long enough."

Logan had made other upgrades, too, including a long cell in the bowel of the plane. They dumped Mansdale in rather roughly before slamming the door.

"We'll be back to talk about things in a few hours," Logan sneered. "Thank you in advance for your cooperation."

As far as intimidating lines went, it wasn't the best. Jamie followed Logan up to the main level, then raised her eyebrows in question.

He shrugged. "What?"

"'Thank you in advance for your cooperation?'"

"Best I could do on short notice."

"He's not gonna tell us anything." Jamie began pacing around underneath the stairs that led to the top level. "He's been on the run for almost ten years. He's smart and resourceful. We can't come at him directly."

"So now you're an expert at interrogation?" Logan had leaned back against the railing with his arms crossed over his shoulder. When Jamie turned, he just waited expectantly.

"I used to be an investigative journalist, remember?" she countered. "It means I'm good at getting information from people." She waited a beat, knowing her next request would be met with resistance. "I need to talk to him alone."

Predictably, Logan shook his head. "No way!"

"Look, either he knows where Mitch is or he doesn't. Either way, the faster we learn what he knows, the faster you can take him and I can go find Mitch."

"You're gonna find Mitch on your own?"

"If I have to." There was no hesitation or uncertainty in her voice. He was out there somewhere, she could feel it, and she wouldn't rest until he was found. This was the closest she'd gotten in nine years and she wouldn't let the opportunity escape.

"Why don't we both go down there?" Logan offered. "Good cop, bad cop. If you want, I'll let you be bad cop."

Jamie cringed at his suggestive undertone and met his glare with her own. "Because you hit him pretty hard with that rifle, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't like you. You go down there, he's gonna shut down and refuse to tell us anything."

"He's probably not going to tell us anything anyway," Logan said. "I say we let him sweat for a while. You hungry? I saw a little cafe on our way into town. I'll buy breakfast."

Jamie almost refused. She was so close to finally finding out what had happened to Mitch; she wasn't even thinking about food. But then a plan began to form, and she changed her mind.

"Fine," she barked after a few long seconds, hoping to seem reluctant. "But the moment we get back…" She let the rest of the sentence hang, knowing he would understand her meaning.

But he was so relieved she'd accepted his invitation that her motive went undetected. "Sure, sure."

A quick "bathroom break" was long enough for her to go upstairs and swipe the plane's tablet. Logan had run her through the basics on the flight down, so she felt relatively confident she could at least get airborne. The rest she could figure out later.

It was almost ridiculously easy to lose Logan once they were in the town proper. He underestimated her, thought she had lost her edge after almost a decade of a "regular" life. But the instincts were still there. That same drive that had kept her alive in Canada, kept her moving when all hope seemed lost, allowed her to separate herself from him quite easily in the morning bustle of the marketplace. All it took was a frantic plea to the local authorities - her Spanish was rusty but it was enough to get her point across - and Logan suddenly had more than he bargained for.

She stayed only long enough to watch him get taken into custody, watch him struggle as he searched for her in the crowd. Did he know what she'd done - know that she'd lied to his face and to the police in order to get what she wanted? Did he feel betrayed, hurt that she could do this after he'd helped her? Probably, but she couldn't think about that right now. She shoved aside the sick feeling forming in the pit of her stomach and raced for the plane, her fingers already tapping out the pre-flight sequence on the tablet. Right now, her sole focus was to find Mitch no matter the cost. She could deal with the moral ramifications later.