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First Flight Home

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“You didn’t win.” Olivia stood over the unmarked grave where William Lewis had been buried. “You didn’t win. I’m going to thrive. Thrive. And be happy. And you’re going to be dead. Dust. Nothing. You can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Ever again.

It had been five months since Elliot had come to her rescue. Olivia’s physical injuries had fully recovered. The scars remained.

Her night terrors had almost completely disappeared. She’d gone from multiple therapy visits a week to twice a month. It had been hard work.

Harder than anything else Olivia had ever done in her life.

She’d survived.


There had been times over the last six months where Olivia had considered giving up. Times where she had more appreciation for what her mother had gone through than ever before. Trauma lingered.

It sunk its claws into a person.

And lingered.

In her darkest moments, Elliot had been there to keep her going. To keep her standing. He'd chased the monsters away in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep.

“You ready?” Elliot joined her by the grave. He glanced at her before moving forward to spit on the grave. "Still wish I could've shot him twice."

“Was that necessary?”

“Yes.” Elliot held his hand out to her. She turned her back on William Lewis for the last time and slipped her fingers into his. “Any other stops before we head to the airport?”

“Nope.” Olivia knew Elliot didn’t really understand why she’d needed to stop by Lewis’s grave. It felt like closure, being able to have the last word. “We can grab coffee at the airport.”

With her NYPD pension, Olivia had decided to take a break. She wanted to think about the future with a clear mind and heart. Mark had offered to hire her on as a consultant—helping them deal with rescued hostages.

It felt like a sympathy job.

Or maybe, his way of helping Elliot keep her close.

She’d turned him down for the moment. She had her pension. She had time.

William Lewis hadn’t stolen her future from her.

And while Olivia thought about her future, she’d agreed to move with Elliot to Mark’s company’s Paris office. Why not? She had nothing holding her to New York.

They’d be there for at least the next six months.

Six months in Paris.

Olivia leaned into Elliot while they made their way through the cemetery to the waiting Tahoe. “El?


“I love you.”

Elliot lifted her hand up to his lips. “I’m not kissing you in the cemetery.”


“But I will kiss you every single day for the rest of our lives.”