Thanks to everyone who's followed this story to the end and been so encouraging in their reviews! It's been a really fun project and an excellent learning experience. I love these characters.
The story wraps up here. I'm taking a bit of a break but might be back in the fall with the next installment (if I feel inspired).
When Robert returned, he found Anna curled in her chair. It was late; she'd fallen asleep. He'd been careful to be quiet as he entered the apartment, though he wasn't sure why, and he hadn't woken her. He knew she'd been worried about him – he knew she'd likely been frantic. He felt another wave of guilt wash through his body.
He sat on the sofa and looked at her. Her breathing was deep and relaxed. She seemed so tired. He wondered if she'd sleep better or worse once he'd told her she hadn't been dreaming about Robin, about her baby daughter, but about her baby son. A son who would now be twenty-two. A son she'd never been given the chance to know.
He'd let her rest a bit longer. He needed to think, needed a shower after everything he'd learned, every foul and distasteful detail he'd read in the file. He tread softly down the hallway to their bedroom.
Undressing wasn't easy. The shoulder struck by the electrode had started to seize up. He gingerly unbuttoned his shirt. His face strained and he let out an involuntary gasp of pain as he brought his arm back and the fabric rounded over his right shoulder and slipped down his arm. He turned on the water, unbuckled his belt, and with his good arm pushed down his jeans, stepped out of them, stepped into the shower, closed the door. The hot water felt good. Maybe it would wash him clean.
He shut his eyes and let it hit his face, then his chest. He turned around and the water struck his back, ran down his legs. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there before he heard the shower door click open and he felt Anna's hands wrap up around to his chest, her arms at his sides, her cheek pressed against his shoulder blade. They stood like that for a moment. Then he turned around. She'd stepped into the shower fully dressed; water had soaked the back of her shirt, was cascading through her hair and down her face. Mascara started to run down her cheeks as she looked up at his face, then at his shoulder. She gently touched the edge of the bruise where he'd been hit, then the raised wound where the electrode had punctured. She looked up again, her eyes a question he didn't want to answer, at least not yet. He leaned down, kissed her upturned face, raised his hands first to stroke her hair, and after lowered them to the buttons of her shirt, now soaked and heavy. He fumbled with the buttons; she lifted her hands to help him. The wet fabric clung to her body, resisting; they struggled together to free her from her blouse, her skirt. With effort, Anna was finally naked, her clothes tossed out onto the bathroom floor, a pool of water spreading slowly out across the tile and collecting in the corners of the room. Robert pressed her to him, couldn't get close enough to her, even when he was inside her. "I'm sorry," he told her again and again, whispering it in her ear as he made love to her.
He knew what she likely thought – that he was apologizing for leaving that morning and not telling her where he'd gone. She'd soon know better.
They lay in bed after, the sheets wet. Anna's hair fanned out on her pillow; her eyes, rimmed with remnants of black makeup, looked hollow, haunted. She was the first to speak. "I was so frightened you weren't coming back."
Robert felt ashamed. "I'm sorry."
"You already said that," she told him. "Don't say it again. I believe you."
After a pause, she asked, "Where were you? Why didn't you answer my calls?"
Robert sat up. "We're safe now. I made a deal. We don't have to worry about Elizabeth Beaty anymore."
"Why not?"
Robert looked at her, reached out his hand and pushed a strand of wet hair from Anna's eyes. "You'd better get dressed, Luv. We have to talk."
Anna put on the first things she could find – sweat pants and one of Robert's t-shirts, draped across a chair. It wasn't clean, smelled of him. She walked into the bathroom, picked up her wet clothes, wrung them out, hung them to dry.
When she came back into the bedroom, Robert had already left. She padded off after him, almost drunk with relief that he was there, that he was home again. She found him in the living room sitting on the couch. She noticed a file of papers on the coffee table in front of him. He gestured for her to sit beside him. She did.
She looked at the file. "Is that what I think it is?"
He paused for a moment, then sighed. "Yes."
"Have you read it?" she asked.
"Not all of it," he answered, "but enough."
"Did you make a deal with Elizabeth for it? Were you with her? What did you have to do to get it, Robert?"
"I had to give responsibility for her over to someone else, someone who promised to control her. I swear to you, she's out of our lives."
Anna looked into his eyes. "What about Carolyn Thompson? What about her child?"
Robert looked away. "A lot of crimes go unpunished, Anna."
Anna touched his arm. "What will you tell her husband?"
Robert shook his head. "I don't know. A lie. A partial truth. Whatever will give him some peace."
Anna stared down at the file. "This isn't like you, Robert. What in god's name is in that file? Is it worth the moral compromise?"
Robert took her hands. "Yes. Yes, it is. Because I've finally realized that love is worth moral compromise. That's a lesson it's taken me my whole life to learn. I could have learned it from you thirty-six years ago if I'd been willing, if I'd been less self-righteous, if I'd pressed you to tell me why you'd agreed to give those secrets to the DVX in the Paris shipyard – and if I'd accepted that sometimes we need to sacrifice not our lives but our morals for the people we care about."
Anna was still looking at the file. "But Robert, you did. You lied to save my life; you kept my betrayal a secret."
"And I hated myself for it. Worse, I was angry with you for lying to save my life. I was wrong. All that hate, all that anger – it was such a waste."
Anna paused, then reached out a hand and opened the file.
He sat beside her while she read, saying nothing, just wanting to be supportive, to be near. She spent more time reading through the record of her early years with the Bureau than he had. He fought the urge to move her along, to encourage her to skip ahead in time. He needed to be patient. She needed to do this at her own pace. He waited.
When she reached the section of the file containing the truth about her kidnapping, she put it down, unable to continue. Robert put his hand on her back. She said nothing. He got up, poured her a glass of red wine, set it down on the table for her. After a time she picked it up and drank deeply, then took up the file again. She continued reading.
The explosion. The medical report.
The positive pregnancy test.
Anna stared at the file. She spoke for the first time. "I didn't lose it."
Robert started. "You remember being pregnant?"
Anna's shoulders slumped. The file rested in her lap. "I remember. I thought I'd lost it. I thought the explosion had taken the baby along with my memories."
Robert took her hand again. "How long have you remembered?"
Anna shook her head. "Not long. And when I first remembered I thought it couldn't be true. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. I didn't know for sure."
Robert reached out, took the file from her, and found the birth record. He placed it in her hands. "You had a son, Luv."
Anna touched the tiny, faded footprint.
Robert continued. "I want to help you find him. But only if that's something you want. I'm not sure – I'm not sure how you feel about it. If you think finding him would bring up memories you'd rather forget, memories of your time with Faison, I understand." Robert went quiet.
Anna understood what he thought and why.
She took a deep breath. "You've just said you'll tell Carolyn's husband a lie, a partial truth. Whatever will give him peace."
Robert looked at her strangely. "Yes. Why tell him that Elizabeth murdered her, that she murdered their child? He can't do anything about it. He'd be risking his own life if he tried. Her father would have him killed."
Anna still stared at the small footprint. "You've said you've finally realized that a lie, a betrayal, can sometimes be a moral thing, can be right."
This time he said nothing.
"I need to ask for your forgiveness again," she told him, her expression unreadable. "I desperately need you to give it. And I need you to believe I only ever wanted to protect you, to give you some peace. Because I felt there was nothing to be done."
She looked into his eyes.
"I told you another lie, Robert, because I love you. But now I need to tell you the truth. I didn't have a son. We did."