A/N: I said I'd have an alternative ending, so here it is, the real last chapter. I really have to say that I like this one better. It's much darker and doesn't exactly provide a happy ending for Thirteen and Foreman. It centers on a minor detail, so I hope all of you read chapter eleven fairly carefully. I only got two reviews on the last chapter, so I'm expecting more for this one. Enjoy!

Alternate Epilogue

Thirteen and Foreman sat on the couch in Thirteen's apartment, excitedly planning their wedding day. "This venue's beautiful," she commented, looking at the garden in which the ceremony was to be held.

"Yeah, it really is," her husband-to-be replied. "And now for the guest list."

"I was thinking just your close family and everyone from work. Maybe some friends."

"What about your family?"

"Since my mom... my relationships with most of my relatives have fallen apart."

To her relief, Foreman nodded in understanding. "In that case, there's something I should warn you about. My mom, she has Alzheimer's. Just, don't be surprised if she can't remember my name; if she's not aware of the fact that she's at her own son's wedding."

Thirteen sighed, partially in sympathy, partially in shock. She knew what it was like to lose a parent to disease, but she had never imagined that Foreman shared the same burden. "Alright. I know what you mean exactly."

"You said you wanted to invite some friends. Who'd you have in mind?"

"Natalie. And Brock."

Foreman smiled. "Okay. They'll be there."

Just then, a knock came at their door. It wasn't the friendly rapping of a neighbor or the hurried banging of a delivery man. It was loud and desperate and alarming, begging for the door to be opened. That was why, when Thirteen opened it, she assumed someone was hurt, seeing as many people in the complex knew that their apartment was occupied by not one, but now two doctors. It wasn't uncommon for a parent to bring a sick or inured child, asking for advice. When the door swung open however, that was very much not the case. She was greeted by a anguished looking Jeremy Brennan, who as soon as he saw her, placed a knife to his throat and quickly slit it.

"Oh my god," was all she was able to squeeze from between her lips as he fell to the wood paneled floor and the blood began to flow. "Foreman!" He dashed the few yards to where Thirteen stood, and gasped when he saw Jeremy.

"I'll call an ambulance!" he shouted running back to where he left his phone. Thirteen on the other hand could do nothing. She was numb, only vaguely aware of who she was, where she was, and whose corpse rested on the ground beneath her. What she did know, all she could think about, was that she knew why it happened, and she knew it had everything to do with her. Thirteen did not begin to cry as Foreman returned to her side. She would not cry. She could not hear the things he said to her, regardless of his intent to comfort. When the paramedics arrived at their doorway with the stretcher, there still she stood. Only as her childhood friend was being taken away did she allow a single tear to reach the surface. Thirteen then literally collapsed into Foreman, who guided her to the couch, sat her down, and allowed her to lean into him as he held her.

"Why did he have to do it here?" Foreman whispered, barely audibly, with only sadness in his voice.

"Because of me," she replied, just as silently. And the cycle of guilt begins again.

A/N: I don't know about you guys, but I love it when a character who should be a protagonist ends up as an antagonist and vice versa, like Snape from Harry Potter (movie premiers tomorrow. yayy!) or they're sort of neutral. So please, review or shall have to retire from fan fiction permanently due to lack of self esteem. Please don't kill my self esteem.