Two weeks before, a fishing vessel off the coast of Maryland pulled up Abraham Quincys body in its nets. Montgomery had already revealed that Andrews had ordered the body heavily weighted and dumped in such deep water that it would never be found. He wanted Quincy to never know what happened to Abraham, to always have to wonder if his father was still out there, maybe still alive, maybe still waiting for his son… Not even Andrews could control fate. A fishing vessel happened to be active in the area. The fish happened to eat through the ropes bearing the weights. Abraham Quincy was found.

Rainie heard the news from Kimberly, who called her sounding quiet and much too old. They were going to have a small family ceremony for Abraham later in the week. Perhaps Rainie could come?

Rainie bought a third ticket to Virginia. Then she waited to hear from Quincy and waited to hear from Quincy and waited to hear from Quincy. Finally, she picked up the phone. He didn't return her call.

Rainie had had enough. She drove to the airport, flashed a ticket that wasn't valid for another two days, told them she had a family emergency and boarded the plane. Eight hours later, she knocked on Quincys door. He opened it, looking tense, then shocked, then genuinely grateful. She jumped his bones before he ever made it to the bed. She decided she was getting pretty good at this sex thing.

Later, they went out to Arlington and simply sat next to Mandy's and Bethie's graves. Didn't talk. Didn't do anything. Just sat until the sun had sunk low and the air had grown cold. On the way back to the car, Quincy held her hand. Funny, she was thirty-two years old and she'd never walked hand-in-hand before. Then he opened her door for her, and by the time he got around to the other side she had this strange ache in her chest. She wanted to touch him again. She wanted to take him into her body and wrap her legs around his flanks and hold on tight.

Instead, when they were back at his house, she put his exhausted body to bed. Then she stayed awake for a long time afterwards, stroking the lines on his face, the ones that didn't go away, not even when he slept. She fingered the salt in his pepper hair, the scars on his chest. And she finally got it. All of it. The enormity of it. Why people sought each other out and formed families. Why baby elephants stumbled relentlessly through drought-stricken deserts. Why people fought and laughed and raged and loved. Why people, at the end of it all, stayed.

Because even when it hurt, it felt better to hurt with him, and when she was angry it was better to be angry with him, and when she was sad it was far, far better to be sad with him. And damn, she didn't want to get back on that plane. So silly. They were two adults, they had independent lives and demanding jobs, and it's not like there wasn't the telephone, and damn she didn't want to get back on that plane.

She stayed through the funeral. She held Quincy 's hand. She patted Kimberly's shoulder as the young girl wept. She met extended family and played nice with everyone. Then she went back to Quincy 's house where they came together as if they'd never touched before and would never touch again.

Monday morning he drove her to the airport. She had that tight feeling back in her chest. When she tried to speak, nothing came out.

Quincy said, "I'll call you." She nodded. Quincy said, "Soon." She nodded. Quincy said, "I'm sorry, Rainie." And she nodded, though she wasn't really sure what he was sorry for.

She got back to Portland. Five days, six hours, and thirty-two minutes ago. Her phone did ring. But when she picked it up, Quincy was never there.

"I can't be this well adjusted forever," she told her computer screen. "You know this isn't my style. Are women supposed to change everything for men? I mean, I was hostile, insecure, and stubborn before and he wanted to get to know me better. Now I'm honestly trying to be a mature, productive member of society, and I haven't heard from him since. On the one hand, the man is under enormous amounts of stress. On the other hand, that's just plain rude."

Her computer screen didn't reply. She scowled. "Do you think it was the sickening-sweet pet names? Maybe if I had called him stud muffin…"

Her buzzer sounded. Her head bobbed up, her gaze going to her TV/security monitor. A man was standing in front of the outside doors. He wore normal clothes, but she would've known that salt-and-pepper hair anywhere.

"Shit!" Rainie yelled. "Why doesn't he ever give me a chance to shower!"

Screw the shower. She buzzed him up, ran to the kitchen sink, and hastily splashed water on her face. Two sniffs. Hey, at least this time she'd done deodorant. He rang the doorbell of her loft just as she dragged on a clean white shirt. One last hand through the hair, and she was at the door.

"Hello, Rainie," he said.

She just stood there. He looked good in his Quincy-like way. A little uptight, a little too smart, a little too much weight of the world resting upon his shoulders. But he was wearing slim khaki pants with a navy blue open-collar shirt, the first time in weeks she'd seen him out of a suit.

"Hey," she said. She opened the door a little wider.

"Can I come in?"

"It's been known to happen."

She let him in. SupSpAg had something on his mind. He walked all the way to her family room where he promptly paced back and forth while she gnawed her lower lip. Six days ago they'd been so close. Why did they suddenly feel like strangers?

"I've been meaning to call," he said.

"Uh-huh."

"I didn't, though. I'm sorry." He hesitated. "I didn't know what to say."

" 'Hello' is always a good start. Some people like to follow that with, 'And how are you?' I find that works better than, 'Drop dead.'" She smiled.

He winced. "You're mad."

"Getting there."

"You've been very understanding."

"Oh God, are you breaking up with me?"

He finally stopped pacing, looking genuinely startled. "I didn't think so."

"You didn't think so? What does that mean? I asked if you were breaking up with me. If you're not, for God's sake say no, with authority!"

"No, with authority!" he said.

"Five days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes!"

"What's that?"

"How long since you promised to call. Not that I'm counting or anything." Her hands flew up into the air. "Oh God, I've become one of those women who waits by the phone. I swore I would never be one of those poor saps waiting by the phone. Look at what you've done to me. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

"Rainie, I swear I haven't been trying to torture you. I swear, last week when you arrived, I've never been so happy to see anyone. I've never… needed anyone the way I needed you. When I drove you to the airport, all I could think was that I didn't want you to go. Then I had this image of us – driving to and from airports, the high of getting together, the low of splitting apart, trying to be a couple, but still leading separate lives and… And in all honesty, then I thought that I was much too old for this shit. There are so few things that make me happy, Rainie. There is so little I have left. So why was I driving you to the airport?"

"I had a ticket?"

He sighed. She could see the tightness around his eyes. He stood too far away, half of the loft looming between them, but she couldn't bring herself to close the gap. He had more to say. That was the problem. He'd said the good stuff, so if he still had more…

"I'm no longer an FBI agent," he told her quietly. "I tendered my resignation to the Bureau two days ago."

"No way." She rocked back on her heels; she couldn't have been more surprised if he'd suddenly announced that he could fly.

"I've decided to reinvent my life. Kimberly has returned to school and is saying she's perfectly fine, so we know she's going to need help. Even if she's too stubborn to let me hold her hand, I think it would mean a lot to her to know that I'm really there for her this time. Not out in the field where I could get hurt. Not running back to the job as I've always done. But close. Say in New York, somewhere by NYU, where she could drop in for dinner if she liked or simply show up to chat. I'm thinking I'll get a loft, put up a shingle and work as an independent consultant for law enforcement agencies."