One hundred and thirty-seven: End

Alistair was waiting there. He nodded at me and gestured for me to follow him. He looked so much older than I remembered.

He took me home to his house where Gracey helped me in the shower, helped me change and then tucked me into the spare bed in their guest room. When I woke up, Gracey had fallen asleep in the armchair by my bed. I smiled at that. She helped me to the toilet, got me to drink a glass of milk, before I was nodding off again. Back to bed I went.

After a few days of this, I was brought back to the hospital for an examination. All the doctors could say was that the surgery seemed to have gone well, but had no explanation for my sleepiness. The Psychiatrist said it might be compensation for all the mental stress and trauma I had been under. Perhaps I was depressed again. They tried a few drugs. Nothing worked.

Then I was back at Alistair's house and I managed to stay awake for longer and longer periods of time. When I was fully back with it, I realised that Alistair had retired for good now and was only looking after me, because he cared.

"It's kind of your fault, I think," I told him after I had finished reporting my story to the recorder for him. "If you hadn't come, I would have stayed in that blissful nothing state and not ever known any better. You stirred up my memories. You made Kiran mad with me because you wouldn't leave. He hurt me to get back at you. Your words woke me up."

"Well, they should have," Alistair mumbled, rubbing his tired looking face. "That was no way to live. The fact that you did wake up showed that some part of you was still fighting. It was against human rights. Against all things godly. But with Liza's escape, we managed to catch all the ring leaders of that human trafficking group as well as Alfred Barrell while you had kept them all occupied. I'm sorry we didn't arrive any sooner. "

"Thank you," I said. "What's going to happen now?"

"Now? Nothing. You died in that horrid warehouse. You have a new identity. You can be anything and anyone you want. Go wherever you want within the country. You just can't leave the country. You can even settle down in another city if you really want."

"No thanks," I replied. "If you don't mind, I'll stay here. Do you think I'll ever get to see my kids one day?"

"Maybe. We'll see if we can make it happen some time. I have to give you some bad news, Jean."

"Kiran's dead?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

"He's not controlling me anymore," I smiled and giggled a bit. "I'm free. It feels a bit strange and dangerous to be so free. Like freefalling. Everything is so surreal. It's almost as if I went to sleep one night and woke up to find I have had eight children, while everyone around me has aged. Am I allowed to use a computer again yet?"

"Not until we've gotten control of whatever they put in you," Alistair said, standing up. "So that nobody can control you again."

"I could do that with some help."

"Let me see what I can do."

"Before you go, how old am I?" I asked Alistair. "And how old are you?"

"Me? Gracey and I, we're turning 84 next month. As for you, how old do you think you are?"

"I lost track of time before the initial Bosky Invasion had finished," I told Alistair. "I've never been able to find it again since. All I know is that I was 23 when the war began and it's been years since then."

"Thirty-seven," Alistair gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "You're turning 38 in November."

"Oh," I thought about it. "I've lost a lot of years. I'm much older than I thought I was. So much has happened. If you and Gracey are tired of having me..." I trailed off.

"I'll be honest," Alistair scratched his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'd prefer you stayed here where Gracey and I can see you. I'm worried someone will come and kidnap you again or you'll disappear. I can't help becoming anxious now if I haven't seen you for at least ten minutes. I'm scared you'll have been abused again in that time and that the next time I see you, you'll be dead. Besides, Gracey told me you can barely walk to the other end of the corridor. How can I let you go live on your own with this kind of health?"

"Thank you," I replied, wiping the tears that kept dripping from my eyes for no reason. Alistair's eyes grew red rimmed as well. The warmth touched my heart like nothing else. "Thank you both for being here with me.

"No problem," Alistair looked across to the other side of the room. The door opened and his eyes met Gracey's. "Since you'd like to stay, then just stay. Gracey and I are glad to have you and will keep you safe."

Gracey nodded at me.

"You both and that security team out there?" I gave a faint grin pointing at the trader's van sitting on the other side of the road.

"They aren't with the agency exactly," Alistair told me. "They might be from the agency and one or two might be tattletellers, but they're all good men and women. Volunteers."

"It's kind of them. I should make cookies for them sometime or something," I said, carefully standing up on my still weak and unsteady legs. My chest ached. "At least they won't have to do this for too much longer."

"Jean, you…" Alistair's face had a conflicted expression and it was then I noticed he had forgotten to turn the recorder off. It was too far to reach and I pointed it out to Gracey who nodded her understanding, she reached out to it but paused when I started talking.

"Nobody's said anything to me yet, but it's not like I don't know what's going on. I've seen the way the doctors and nurses treat me. The way you and Gracey look at me. While I don't know what's wrong, I can feel it. That my body isn't going to last much longer. And that's fine. It's fine with me. I'm with people who care about me for who I am, not what I know, can do or is implanted in my body. So, when I go…"

"Jean, don't talk like this," Alistair and Gracey took one of my arms each to help me limp slowly back to my room.

"I'm so tired," I confessed, feeling the ache in my chest growing. "Exhausted."

"Go back to bed and have a little nap," Gracey said. "Recharge those batteries."

"Mmm," I replied. I had to finish getting everything out before the chest pain grew anymore. Strength was leaving like the ebbing of the tide. "Tell my parents and Henry that I love them for me, won't you? Oh. And my children. Tell my children I love them too. It would have been nice if only I could have met them. At least learnt their names. Even if it were only once. Don't let anyone keep my body. Burn it and all that stuff inside me. Don't let anyone have it. Destroy it all. Scatter my ashes in the ocean. As far from the Bosky mountains and this city as you can get. Let me wander some distant places and have adventures of my own. Don't keep me imprisoned here anymore. Let me go. You'll be able to get my parents and Henry to come for my funeral right? I hope so."

They helped me sit on my bed, preparing to tuck me into bed. Their eyes were moist and red.

"May I have a hug?" I felt water trickling off my wrinkly chin. It didn't used to be wrinkly. "May I hug both of you? I feel like I haven't had a real, sincere hug for a long time."

"Of course," Gracey beamed with overflowing eyes, enveloping me in a fierce embrace. Alistair wrapped his arms around the both of us.

"Thank you," I said, my chest feeling so tight and stuffy. God, I'm done. I'm so tired. Is it ok to just leave like this? "Thank you. My story has been told. There's nothing more to be done but thank you. Especially Alistair for all these years. Thank… you…"

I felt my weight droop into Gracey's body as my strength ran out. Alistair's hand patted my cheek, but trembled when I had no reaction. He held his hand to my nose.

"Jean?"

I breathed a sigh of relief at the strange feeling I was having. Like slipping out of a body suit. Being set free. Freer than free. My journey and struggles were done. I was done. I was going home.

"Jean!"

The voices calling me couldn't hold me back anymore. I was flying for the light at the end of the tunnel.

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.

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End