Epilogue
Nine months later
Finn paced back and forth in the sterile hallway of the newly finished hospital, his heart pounding in sync with the frantic screams echoing from behind the double doors.
The bright fluorescent lights buzzed above him, casting an unforgiving glare on the cold tiles, a stark contrast to the warmth of the life he had built with Lucie just a breath ago.
Henry had permitted Lucie to stay at the Way Station after their wedding, his expression a mix of pride and concern as Finn shoved the marriage certificate into Henry’s hands.
“Take care of her,” he had said, a weighty command that Finn took to heart.
Lucie had blossomed in the months that followed, diving back into her studies, earning her doctorate with a passion that fueled her every moment.
She was a force of nature, bringing life and light wherever she went.
But now that light flickered precariously, and the ground beneath him shifted, threatening to swallow him whole. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hands to his ears, trying to drown out the screams.
Blood stained his shirt.
So many things had gone wrong.
Finally, the double doors swung open, and Lucie pushed through in her light pink scrubs.
“Finn, I need your help. Charlie’s coming to,” Lucie panted. “He won’t calm down. He’s asking for her.”
Finn swallowed hard, nodding as he followed her to Charlie’s room. He pushed open the door, and his heart twisted at the sight inside. Charlie paced the short length of his room in a hospital gown, his eyes wild, fists clenched. The moment he saw Finn, his face filled with raw desperation.
“Where’s Sabrina?” Charlie demanded, looking around like she might be hiding. His voice was sharp and pleading—a man hanging onto his last thread of hope. He looked at Finn, eyes red, searching, demanding an answer. “I need to see her. Where is she?”
He forced himself to step forward, resting a steadying hand on Charlie’s shoulder.
“Charlie.” He paused, knowing that once the words were out, he could never take them back, and that his friend would never be whole again.
But it had to come from him. He continued, “Sabrina . . . she didn’t make it.
” His voice was barely above a whisper, the weight of each word sinking into the room and pressing down on both of them.
The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with disbelief and agony.
“No,” Charlie choked, his voice trembling as he shook his head, backing away like he could escape the truth. “No, you’re lying! She’s—she can’t be?—”
Charlie clung to Finn, holding onto him for dear life, digging his fingers into the back of Finn’s uniform. Finn just held onto him while Charlie unashamedly cried.
Charlie’s grief transformed in an instant. A split second later, Charlie’s fist crashed into Finn’s face, the pain blossoming through his jaw. He stumbled back, but he didn’t resist, didn’t lift a hand in defense.
“You left her!” Charlie yelled, his voice cracking. “You left her, and now she’s gone because of you!” He swung again, his voice breaking into a sob as his fists connected with Finn’s shoulders, his chest. “She saved you a thousand times, and you let her go!”
The words struck deeper than any blow. Guilt clawed at him, the helplessness, the sorrow that filled every fiber of his being. Sabrina had pulled him back from the brink of death more times than he could count. In her final moment, he hadn’t been able to save her.
After months of looking for the leader of Legion, they’d finally come face-to-face with the Voyant.
There were only whispers that the Voyant was real.
Finn had convinced himself she was just a ghost story to tell others so agents would be safe in the field.
Dozens of stories circulated of civilians found with their eyes missing and their tongues cut out had circled the Atlas breakrooms.
It was supposed to be a routine check with Atlas. Finn was supposed to go, but thought checking the perimeter would be better, but the Voyant had been there as if she were waiting for them. Sabrina called for reinforcements, but it was too late.
He should have been there . . . maybe if he had been there, Sabrina wouldn’t have… Her last words to him were to get Charlie out of the parking garage.
Over the past couple of hours, Finn had replayed how the night could have gone.
He had considered where he should have been stationed, whether he should have had another round of ammo, how he could have treated Charlie’s wound, and whether he could have swung his car over to Sabrina and gotten her out, too.
Now Finn was here, waiting, barely able to process the chaos that had left him hollowed.
If he had known last night was going to be the last time he would see Sabrina, he would have stayed behind to ask her what the fight with Henry was about.
Last night at the Way Station, Finn went to ask Henry about a route change when he overheard Henry and Sabrina screaming at each other through the closed office door.
“How long have you known?” It was all Finn was able to make out from Sabrina.
He couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation before she burst out of the door.
But he supposed it didn’t matter anymore. Sabrina was dead. Nothing mattered.
What would happen to the Way Station and more importantly, to his friend?
Charlie sank onto the floor, his face crumpling as the weight of the truth settled over him.
“She’s gone,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face. “Finn, she’s gone, and I can’t . . . I can’t do this without her. Why didn’t you let me die with her? I didn’t even ask her . . .”
Charlie’s sobs filled the room, the sound of his heart breaking, and Finn held him, sharing in the silence of their shared loss, as the reality of Sabrina’s absence settled over them, a wound that would never fully heal.
She’d just won the bet last week. Sabrina beat him in more fights. Just yesterday, she’d bragged about how she was going to take Gypsy out that night and stuff French fries in the seats on her only drive she’d won from their bet.
Now that would never happen.
He swore if she came back, he’d let her take the car. Anything to have her back. But it wouldn’t work.
Sabrina was dead, and she was never coming back.