“I’ll run the scenario by you. Tell me if I’m hot or cold. It wasn’t for money. It wasn’t because you were their inside man and you wanted to bring us down.”
“Warm,” he said.
“No, with you, it was personal. That’s why you gave them Kestrel. You wanted
her
to suffer. You knew her torment would be threefold—first from how they’d treat her, second, the way they’d make her hunt her friends, and third, what we’d do to counteract her. So much misery, there.”
“Hot.”
“But why? That’s the million-dollar question. My bet is—you wanted her . . . she didn’t want you back. You decided to make her pay.”
“Scalding.”
She squeezed her hands into fists. “It had to be you, Finch. You’re the only one who can’t forget. MB sends you to all our agents, all over the place, and nobody can wipe it away.”
“I wish they could.”
“You knew right where she was, exactly where to send them . . . and maybe you were sorry after you made the call. God knows, you’ve been working for us like a dog ever since, always on call, forever erasing our secrets.”
“I’d take it back if I could,” he said, as if that made it better.
“I loved her. But you don’t know what it’s like to be dismissed because you’re not hero material. It doesn’t make your heart less breakable.”
No pity stirred in her. Plenty of people suffered in unrequited silence; tonight Tanager embodied Alecto, the everangry, and she would judge him.
“The Foundation killed her,” she said softly. “They had a sniper put a bullet in her brain rather than let us liberate her. It would’ve been kinder if you’d stabbed her . . . and saved her all these months of pain.”
An anguished sound escaped him; his shoulders slumped. Finch put both hands to his face and wept in pathetic gulps. Tan didn’t stir. Vengeance could wait.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
She sat forward; this was the moment for which she’d waited, making all the wasted hours worthwhile. The darkness rose, demanding outlet, demanding blood. Tanager gave it luscious, full-throated voice.
“You’ll climb to the top of the tallest building you can find. For an hour, you’ll sit reflecting on what you did to Kestrel. And then, when your time is up, you’re going to fly.”
“Yes,” he said in drugged tones. “That sounds right.” Without saying good-bye, for she hadn’t instructed him to, he turned and left the apartment. Soon, he would be just another suicide. Nobody would care. Nobody would ask why.
That was for you, Kes.
Time to seek an anonymous partner. Balance had to be restored, the price paid. And if she cried while fucking a stranger because he wasn’t Mockingbird—and it never would be—she hoped the guy would look the other way. Tanager let herself out, walking into the dark alone.
No pain. Taye
remembered dropping Foundation goons as if he’d been swatting flies, overloading on power, and he’d known then that he only had to keep them away from her. No more caution, no more keeping resources in reserves. That had been the end, and he’d meant to go out in a blaze of glory.
At first, he decided he must be dead because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up feeling this good. But it sure as hell couldn’t be heaven—not with this fucking bounty hunter leaning over him. Dunn helped him sit up. Other details registered then—the shitty abandoned apartment, graffiti on the walls, blood smearing his skin and . . . the woman unconscious beside him.
No. Oh, fuck, no.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded.
“She healed you.”
“And you
let
her? Son of a bitch.”
“She threatened to shoot me over you, mate. I’ve learned not to cross a woman with a twitchy trigger hand and a mood on.”
“We have to get her to a hospital, if it’s not already too late.”
Fuck. This was exactly everything he never wanted for her—a lifetime of doctors and hospitals she hated against the weight of letting him die. The way he’d planned things, it should have been clean and simple, a heroic death for a bastard like him.
Why didn’t she let me go?
But deep down, he knew why. He knew. They were twin planets locked into synchronous orbit; the current flowing between them would never end, not even in the face of death. Terrified for her, Taye scrambled to his feet.
“Fuck me.” Dunn sighed and shook his head. “Fine. Get her up. I’ll find a car downstairs. Follow as quick as you can.” With that, he headed for the door.
Taye swung Gillie into his arms and ran, taking the steps two at a time. By the time he reached the landing, Dunn had boosted a car and sat revving the engine. He got in on the passenger side and cradled her in his lap; the movement made her whimper. Her skin was already turning yellow, sign of acute renal failure.
“Found one with GPS . . . nearest medical care is three point seven miles.” Dunn’s staccato update didn’t interfere with his driving; he was already making the first turn.
“Just hang on,” he whispered into her hair. “I wouldn’t have done this to you for the world, Gillie-girl, but please, please don’t make me live without you.”
A mile passed with him whispering half-voiced prayers. He didn’t believe in God, really, not after what had been done to the two of them, but if there was anything out there, anything at all that knew mercy, that being would spare Gillie. She deserved . . . everything.
As if he knew Taye needed a distraction, Dunn said, “I did some digging on you. Talked to your mother.”
That should’ve roused a stronger reaction, but he had only one emotion right now. Raw fear. Still, he glanced at the other man. “Yeah?”
“If you care, your real name’s Tyler Golden, father unknown, mother and grandfather living outside Miami, where you were raised. I can give you the address before I bail.”
“I’m an ex-con, aren’t I?”
“Yeah.” But Dunn offered no judgment in the answer. Taye wasn’t sure he wanted to learn anything about the man he’d been. He figured it could only end in disappointment. Right then, he cared only whether Gillie made it through the night. But maybe he’d take the address and keep it. Just in case.
The bounty hunter ran two red lights along the way, but since it was late, no cops appeared to challenge his speed or his reckless driving. Inside five minutes, he was pulling up underneath the portico at the emergency entrance of the hospital.
“I’m done,” the bounty hunter said. “I’ve some loose ends of my own to tie up. Hope I don’t see either of you again.”
Taye acknowledged that and slid out, Gillie cradled against his chest, and jogged toward the doors, which swished open on approach. Typical hospital. Parents waiting with children who probably didn’t need emergency treatment, but they likely didn’t have insurance. A few wounds, people looking out of it.
“I need help,” he called. “She’s dying. Her kidneys . . . she needs dialysis.”
A nurse came over and apparently she agreed with his assessment. She called for a doctor and an orderly, a gurney for Gillie. They threw forms at him and asked about a hundred questions. It was hard for him to answer for the roaring in his head; that noise wanted to translate into fireworks, shorting out all the lights.
Fuck no. You have to keep a lid on this, or she’ll die for sure. They need their equipment, dammit.
With sheer effort, he locked it down and controlled the brown outs. The next thing he knew, they were taking her away. Helpless, he dropped into a waiting-room chair and buried his face in his hands.
This is on you. You didn’t trust her judgment, asshole. You thought infatuation would overwhelm common sense . . . and deep down, you were afraid—afraid she’d leave you. Afraid she’d be sorry for saving you someday. You
let
this happen. Better to die with your pride intact than take a chance on Gillie Flynn. You son of a bitch.
And now she’s dying for you.
“Not today,” he said aloud. “Please. Not today.”
Hospital room.
Gillie
had visited so many during her childhood that she could recognize the place by scent alone. All the antiseptic in the world couldn’t cover the stench of sickness.
So I lived.
She hadn’t been sure she would, in fact. It would’ve been worth it. She opened her eyes slowly, lashes sticky and clinging, blurring her vision at first. Slowly, things came into focus.
By her estimation, Taye should be in that yellow vinyl chair, beside her bed, worriedly holding her hand. This room ought to be filled with flowers and it wouldn’t be a bad idea for him to get down on his knees either. Instead, the space was bare apart from a blue curtain screening her from the other bed, the medical equipment and a wheeled table with a pitcher of water on it.
The door creaked as someone slipped in.
Maybe he just went to get coffee. I bet he hasn’t slept in days.
But she didn’t intend to make it easy on him. When she got out of here, they were having a fight to end all fights.
But Tanager slid through the curtain, not Taye. She was as colorful as always with her spiky white hair, now tipped in crimson. Today she wore low-slung cargo pants, revealing a tattoo on her hip, a corset-style camisole, a torn jean jacket, and a pair of red Doc Martens.
“How you feeling?”
“Not bad, all told. Are you allowed to
be
here?” Gillie added.
“It’s a brave new world, Miracle Girl . . . the old rules don’t apply anymore. We can be friends if you want.” She sounded awkward in making the offer.
Not that Gillie was an expert. “I’d like that.”
“Sure you wouldn’t rather forget that part of your life and make a fresh start?”
She shook her head. “So we did it then.”
“Foundation’s shut down. No more funding. The parent company cut them off. No more money for facilities, research, or personnel.”
“God, it feels so weird, knowing we can do whatever we want from here on out.”
“No more looking over our shoulder,” Tan agreed.
I will not ask about him. I will
not.
“Thanks for coming. It means a lot.”
“I missed the big showdown, so I figure this is the least I can do.”
“What?”
“Sort things out here. I told one of your doctors you’ll be private pay . . . Mockingbird’s taking care of it. The admin women were giving Taye a hard time.”
So he was here. He just isn’t anymore. What the
hell
—
“Thank you.”
“The way I hear it, you’re the heroine of the hour. Liberator of our people and everything. You hacked their system and slew the beast. Good on you, Gillie Flynn.”
“Can I be me again?”
“Yep. MB’s working on getting you out of the federal databases, and I’ll go with you to Wichita and talk to somebody in charge. Explain about your temporary witness protection status and how they should update your college records, listing you as Gillie Flynn.”
“If someone recognizes me from the news and calls the tip line—”
“It’s been shut down. They’ll get an out-of-service message. Don’t worry, it’s over.”
“Thank God.”
“But MB won’t be paying for stuff anymore. He’s dividing what’s left of the money he skimmed from the Foundation among all surviving agents and that’ll be it.”
“Severance package?” Gillie joked.
Tan smiled back. “Pretty much. We all make our own way from this point.”
“Sounds good to me. Can you get me out of here? I hate hospitals.”
“That’s the other reason I’m here. We need to get you sprung before they notice anomalies. We don’t want some other fringe group taking interest in what you can do.”
“So you’ll get a tech to contaminate my samples.”
“Fancy way of putting it, but yeah.” Tan sauntered over to the call button and pressed.
A few minutes later, a harried, middle-aged nurse came in; her nametag read “Betty” and she wore a pink and brown camo scrub top with “Private Betty” printed on it.
Wonder if she’s former army.
“You’re awake, I see,” she said to Gillie. “What can I do for you?”
Tanager said, “Send Doctor Howard in.”
The nurse sighed. “It’s early. He’ll be along on his rounds shortly.”
Short of a medical emergency that would draw attention counter to their aims, that was the best they could do. Tan took a seat, propping her foot against the side of the bed. They made quiet conversation and somehow she managed not to ask about Taye.
That bastard. I saved his life. He could at least thank me.
Eventually the doc came in. He checked out her chart and shook his head. “The consequences for a missed appointment can be severe, as you see.”
So that’s the story.
Gillie nodded and donned her chastened face. She had no doubt that the sudden influx of unfiltered waste did resemble a patient with renal failure who had missed several appointments. People sometimes chose to die that way, and it could take anywhere from a few days to several weeks, depending on a plethora of factors. But they couldn’t be allowed to discover that her kidneys were intact.