David, Father John and Second Lieutenant Wiatrek were shown immediately to the room where Marie's remains lay waiting. Wiatrek dabbed some Vick's Vaporub under his nose, offered the small jar to David. David shook his head and the Second Lieutenant put the jar away, then took up a post outside the door while David and Father John walked through the doorway. They paused just inside. There was a body bag on a table, a coffin on another table. A few chairs.

Father John went immediately to the body bag and began administering the Last Rites. David waited, eyes averted. What he had glimpsed in the photographs was already too much; he did not need to see any more of what six months of death had done to Marie.

The priest finished, zipped the body bag, and left the room, gripping David's shoulder briefly on his way out. He would rest overnight at a nearby boardinghouse. The remainder of their journey was too long to begin this day.

David placed a chair close to the table with the body bag on it. He had no intention of leaving Marie alone. For maybe only the third time in half a year, he allowed his mind to focus solely on her: his love, his light. His face breaking up, he slumped forward, elbows on his knees, forehead resting on the table next to the body bag that shrouded her corpse.

Marie, I'm so sorry. I thought I could keep you safe, but I couldn't. I'm sorry…

–You came back for me.

He felt her tender hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to look to see her; she was always there.

I know who I am now, Marie. I had choices, and my choices led to this, for you, for me, for Drächen…

–We've always known who you are, Drächen and I. You came back—for us, for her, for me. We both love you so much… You're finding other choices; other people will have a chance to know you now.

I'm afraid of the things Jason did, of who Jason was, but it was Jason that you loved… I don't want to let him go if it means letting you go.

–Your fear will point you to your courage, my love. What you need of Jason will always be inside of you. You have a constant reminder of our love: you have Drächen. Hold on to that; hold on to her.

She's so beautiful, Marie. I wish you could see her. She finds magic everywhere, creates beauty out of everything.

–So many people love her; only love is waiting for her… I know you'll do what's right by our baby.

He smelled her now: vanilla and sandalwood and orange. Tasted the sweetness of her, like sugar on his tongue. It was almost unbearable. He didn't want it to end.

Christ, I miss you.

-There's no end to my love. Hold on to that. Even as time passes, even as you turn to new love. No end…

There was a tap on the door. David raised his head blearily from the edge of the table, rubbing the dried tears from his eyes. Wiatrek was there with the pilot and co-pilot from the Osprey. "Ready, Sir?" It was the god-awful hour that Marines call morning.

David stood up, and the detail came in. The four men lifted the body bag gently into the coffin, and David closed the lid, rested his hands on the polished wood for a long moment as the other Marines stood back, patient, respectful. The detail was preparing to convey the coffin to the waiting helicopter when an attendant came in with three ziplock bags. The large one held Marie's mildewed clothing, and David waved it away. The medium one, with a paperback book inside, and the small one, containing her barrettes and jewelry, he took.

"Marines, forward march!" The detail moved out, slowly, to the helicopter. The longest march of David's life.

While the crew was busy with their preflight, David took out the small ziplock, emptied it into his hand. Six little hairclips of the variety Marie favored: butterflies, stars, flowers. Three shell bracelets, the leather lacing hardened from their long submersion. Two small charms on delicate chains: an angel with a helmet and a sword, and a woman with many heads and arms. Marie collected so many little trinkets, necklaces, barrettes; he had never particularly noticed these before.

He showed them to Father John. "Do you know what these are?"

"Ah, religious medals," said the cleric, "St. Michael, the Archangel. Patron Saint of warriors. His sword is the Sword of Truth. And this is Quan Yin, a Buddhist bodhisattva, or enlightened one. Bodhisattva of compassion. Her name means 'Hearing the Cries of the World.' They were hers?"

David didn't answer; it was time to go. He jammed everything but the medals in his pockets, and stood back to let Father John board ahead of him, a steadying hand on the priest's back. He strapped in, gave the coordinates of their next landing to the crew. He turned the charms over in his hand as the Osprey took off.

"Where did you do Basic, Sir?"

David started. It was Wiatrek, leaning in to be heard over the noise of the aircraft. Bored and ready to shoot the breeze. Maybe wanting to help a fellow Marine lighten up.

"RTD, San Diego."

"No shit. Me, too. Who was your DI?"

"Bremerton."

"Luthringer. Man, I can still hear him, as if it were yesterday. He could use the f-word as a verb, a noun, an adjective, and an adverb, all in the same sentence."

David nodded; that skill was probably a basic requirement for becoming a Drill Instructor.

"Luthringer used to say 'Recruits, are you afraid?' What would you have said to that?"

David answered, "Sir, no sir!" Smiling a tight smile, playing along.

"That's what we said! GodDAMN, was he up our asses over that. 'If you aren't afraid, how you gonna locate your courage? Your fear will point you to your courage, and don't you forget it! Now give me push-ups!' "

Wiatrek didn't notice Webb's smile fade, his mouth fall open slightly. David cast a look at Marie's coffin, scrubbed his face with the fist that held the two medals, the warrior and the compassionate one. No end, Marie…