The Long Walk Home

Caleb ran out onto the ice.

"Lena!"

She was lying on her back, staring at the stars. She was breathing hard, a cloud of steam rising from her mouth.

He slid to his knees beside her. "You crazy..."

She turned her head. A slow, tired smile spread across her face. "Did I get him?"

"Yeah," Caleb laughed, a sound that felt rusty in his throat. "You got him."

He checked her for injuries. Bruises. Scrapes. But she was whole.

He looked at the wreckage of the helicopter. There was no movement. The ice beneath it was groaning, cracking under the weight and the heat. Slowly, the machine began to sink into the black water below.

"The ledger," Caleb said, watching it sink.

"It’s gone," Lena said. She tapped her temple. "Or it will be. Without the stress... without you triggering the recall... it’s just noise again. Fading."

"Good," Caleb said. He pulled her up. "Let it fade."

He wrapped his arms around her. For the first time in five years, the cold in his chest was gone. The hatred had burned up in the cabin.

"You came for me," Lena whispered into his chest.

"I came for a ghost," Caleb said, resting his chin on her head. "I found something better."

They stood there for a moment, two silhouettes on a vast sheet of white, while the fire of the cabin burned bright on the shore—a beacon in the wilderness.

"So," Lena pulled back, shivering. "My passport is burned. My house is gone. And I have a head full of government secrets that I can't access."

She looked up at him. "Was I a good partner? Before?"

Caleb looked at her. He saw the strength in her jaw, the intelligence in her eyes. He saw the woman who had saved his life twice—once in Istanbul, and once tonight.

He smiled, and it reached his eyes.

"The best," he said.

He took her hand. "Come on. I know a safe house in Anchorage. It’s a long walk."

"I like walking," Lena said.

They turned their backs on the fire and the sinking helicopter, walking north into the tree line, leaving no tracks that the wind wouldn't cover by morning.