Epilogue

The sun rests on the ocean like a watchful red eye. I pluck a white rose from the dozen that Claire bought. The sunlight paints it pale gold.

"This one is for my dad," I say. "I'm sorry I had to do what I did. I hope you understand."

I drop the rose in the lapping water. Plucking another rose, I hold out the remaining ten.

"These are for my mom, and Sylvia, and the people who were killed so I could live, and the people who wanted to leave but didn't make it. I promise I'll make each day count."

I toss the roses in the water.

"And this one is for my best friend, Trish. I don't think you knew how brave you really were. Thank you for everything you did for me. I'll always love and miss you, Trish."

Kneeling, I lay the rose in the water. It twirls as the waves wash it and the others out to sea to meet the sun. Exhaling, I sit cross-legged. The sand feels silky and warm.

Claire sits beside me. Smoothing her red halter dress that she bought in town today, she undoes the white wildflower fastened in her bun. She places the flower in the water and then takes my hand in hers. Chris tosses in another wildflower picked from the same bunch. The two flowers swirl around each other and then float after the roses. He squats on my other side. Biting a cigarette, he lights up and exhales a curling stream of smoke. His phone buzzes. He flips it open and types something.

"Jill says the Plaga deal she was investigating involved HCF. So that's where Mitchell's Type 2 came from," he tells me. "She also says they finished processing the employee names. They'll notify all of the families so they can make arrangements. If you want, we'll personally notify Sylvia's family and the orphanage where Trish grew up."

"It should be me who notifies the orphanage. I'll call them as soon as I get to Vermont," I say.

He nods. "What time are you leaving?"

"Late," I say, "but since it's Christmas Eve, I'm catching the evening bus to the airport."

"I'm finally free," says Jill, emerging from the jungle footpath. She's wearing a blue button-up and khaki shorts. "I'm still miffed that I missed shopping and pizza, but unexpected rescue missions and paperwork come with the job. Graciously, the troops have invited us to their Christmas feast. The fireworks go off after sunset. We'd better head back before the food's gone."

"Thanks, but I'm about to head out," I say, grabbing my bag as I stand. "Got a late flight home."

Home. The word still sounds weird to me, like my name, birthday, and everything else about me. But it's a good kind of weird. A kind that makes me see myself differently, makes the possibilities endless.

"You know you're welcome to stay here with us," Jill says. "We're not leaving until after tomorrow. Can't pass up the opportunity to spend Christmas in Hawaii."

"Yeah, I know. But I got some things to take care of. And considering how lucky I got booking this flight on Christmas Eve, I think it's a sign I should take care of them sooner rather than later."

"I copy that. Before you go, though, we should get a photo of all of us with that beautiful sunset."

Chris tucks the cigarette behind his ear, and we squish together. Jill holds out her phone to take the photo. Then she takes a photo of me, Chris, and Claire and one of just me and Claire.

"What's your number?" Jill asks.

"Send 'em to me," says Chris. He pulls a cord out of his pants pocket and winds the cord around his phone. He passes it to me. "Here. A little Christmas loan until you get your own. The passcode is 78277."

"Are you sure -?"

"Positive. Just contact us every now and then to let us know you're okay. And don't go jumping into any rivers with it."

I pocket it. "I'll make sure you get it back in one piece."

Jill hugs me. "Good luck, Steve."

Chris extends his hand. I shake it. "Safe travels, Steve. I hope you find what you're looking for," he says.

"Thanks, Chris."

"I'll meet you guys up there," Claire says to Chris and Jill.

He nods and takes a drag off his cigarette. "We'll save you a spot at the table."

Waving, Chris and Jill start down the footpath into the jungle.

"Speaking of safe, I thought you were going to quit smoking," Jill says.

He shrugs. "It's a process. Doesn't happen overnight."

"Right…"

The sun is almost gone. Stars pierce the violet sky like bullet holes. The moon hangs half-full above us. The crashing waves fill the evening like music.

"You've been really quiet since we got back," I say.

"You don't have to go tonight," Claire says. "You could stay with us so you aren't alone for Christmas. Your parents wouldn't want you to be alone."

"Claire, I told you why I have to leave tonight -"

"But everything is closed tomorrow, Steve. What will you do if your house is gone? Or everyone who knew your family has left? Or you can't remember anything, or you remember something bad? What if something happens to Chris's phone and you can't call us? What if the temp card doesn't work and you can't get a hotel? What if something happens to you and you disappear again?"

"I don't have all the answers, Claire. But if I want any, I have to go home. Tonight. So I can start trying to piece my memory back together."

"But you don't have to try alone. If you wait, we can try together. I can take off work and go with you to your hometown or wherever you want to go. The Raccoon research center maybe, so they can start working on a cure -"

"It's not about being alone, and it's not about getting cured. It's about finding out who I am."

"I know who you are, Steve."

"You know a piece of who I am. I need to know the rest so even if I never remember it, I can feel like a whole person."

She wraps her arms around me. I stroke her hair. The waves have slowed to a gentle rhythm. Holding her close, I start to sway. She sways with me.

I sing, "I'll be home for Christmas. You can plan on me. Please have snow, and mistletoe, and presents on the tree. Christmas Eve will find me where the love light gleams. I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams..."

"Steve," she says, pulling back so our eyes meet. "I don't want you to leave."

She leans into me. Her breath caresses my skin like a warm breeze.

I lean into her. "Claire, I…"

An explosion makes us jump apart. Red and green fireworks light up the night. I whip out Chris's phone. The battery is dead.

"The bus," I say.

We run through the jungle and across the base. The bus sits by the shelter, motor purring, as a group of soldiers boards. I snap on the eyepatch that the base gave me.

"Steve, wait." Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a small box wrapped in red tissue paper. "I got this for you in town today. Don't open it until tomorrow."

I take the box and flip up the eyepatch. "Claire, I don't know what to say. Thank you. I wish I'd thought to get you something -"

"You being alive is the greatest gift I could ask for," she says.

The last soldier climbs aboard.

"Claire, I have to tell you something," I say. "I remembered what I said to you all those years ago. And I...I still feel the same way."

Her eyes glisten. "Oh, Steve."

She throws her arms around me and kisses me. I drop my bag and hold her close, deepening our kiss. The bus honks. We break apart, my hand in hers. Flipping down my eyepatch, I pick up my bag, and we jog to the bus.

"Call me as soon as you land," she says.

"I will. I promise," I say.

"Merry Christmas, Steve," she says, smiling.

"Merry Christmas, Claire," I say.

We kiss again. The bus driver blows the horn. As I climb the steps, her hand slips out of mine. I sit by the window. She waves as the bus chugs forward. I wave back. The bus circles and starts toward the base entrance. She disappears into the firework-lit night. I trace the gift she gave me and gingerly set it in my bag.

The ride is long. So are the lines to pick up my plane ticket and get on the plane. Both wind past a Christmas tree - fake, of course. As soon as we're in the air, my hunger hits me. Since I had pizza today, I order a medium-rare steak. The Christmas movie playing is an old black and white deal that I saw on HBO, so I dig out the plane headphones. Beside the headphones outlet is a regular outlet. I plug in the headset and Chris's phone. Christmas music fills my ears. A bunch of messages from JILL VALENTINE pop up: the photos that Jill took of us followed by a text:

Steve, this is Claire. Jill is letting me use her phone. I'm reminding you not to open your present until Christmas AND to call me as soon as you land!

"This is your captain letting you know it is midnight Hawaii standard time, so it is officially Christmas," says the pilot through the intercom. "We want to wish you happy holidays and remind you to choose us for your next holiday getaway..."

I dig out Claire's gift and open it. It's a black wallet like the one her dad gave her. I open it. A small paper scrap falls from the wallet's empty photo booklet. The paper says:

Dear Steve,

Bad times come and go. That's why it's important we cherish the good times. I thought you could use this to store your happy memories so you can look back on the good times!

Love always,

Claire

I put the photo of my family in the first slip and Trish's ID and the computer drive in the next. The photos that Jill took will go in the next slips. What will follow them...who knows?

Frank Sinatra's "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" starts playing. Leaning against the window, I shut my eyes. They grow heavy. I let my mind wander into the void between wakefulness and sleep - reality and dreams.

In it, I can hear the woman with the sweet voice singing. My mom sings:

"Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more

Through the years, we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now..."

the end.

Thank you so much to anyone who read this. Special thanks to anyone who dropped me a comment/review or even just a like. Please know that I appreciate it all, and I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. -Akumu