Emma takes in a deep breath, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. "Ah, I love that smell. The morning after a storm, everything fresh." A grin spreads across her face. "Scotland, would it sound flirty if I told you you smell fantastic?"

"It would sound more cheerful than think about that spooky picture again," Paul murmurs.

"It must have been one of Soleil's followers, a member of the Burn" Charlie says over the speakers. As much as she didn't want Jackson to hear her, it's easier this way, and she can always switch back if she wants to. "She must have told some of them my name, possibly someone with... what sounds like mental health problems."

"Soon all those worries will be a distant memory," Jackson states. "We're getting out of Scotland today, my friend."

Emma blinks in disbelief. "So, you're definitely... the CIA is definitely..."

He shrugs. "Hey, we're all seen what Soleil did unprovoked, and based on internet chatter, we have to believe those devices are capable of far more than that. If she got her hands on them... Boom!"

Paul tilts his head to the side. "Boom?"

"Pretty much," Charlie affirms. "Yeah. Those advanced weapon systems the devices control... yeah, she could probably destroy the whole world. I didn't want to... well, I didn't want to frighten you."

I run my hand through my hair. "I'm pretty frightened as it possible is to be frightened already, Charlie."

"Not long now," Jackson says, and I can tell he's holding his tongue to keep from calling me that nickname again. I think my blank stare is the only thing keeping his mouth shut. "Choppers coming for us, one of those new remote-control ones with stealth capabilities. We keep them around the place just for safekeeping. I knew there's be one that was stored in a hardened hanger. Just had to wait for here." He grins slyly. "They usually keep the bars well stocked on those things. Want to try some CIA vodka?"

"I don't drink," I reply flatly. "Interactions with my medication."

I took a count of my medicine after taking my pill for the day. I've got exactly two weeks' worth left. A part of me desperately wants to believe this will be over today, and that Jackson and the CIA are actually going to help us get to Geneva, just because I know if it turns out to be something different, then I'll run out of my medicine far before this is all over.

I've had detox symptoms before. I remember when I was first put on medication-the first time I remember, anyway-and after about six months of it I wanted to stop because it was making it hard to focus on my studies for my Master's. I was sick for weeks, with brain zaps and hallucinations hitting me with full force. I think I passed out a few times. I tried to stop taking my medication cold turkey like that again.

If I can't get any more soon, I'll have to start breaking the pills to make them last longer, as well as help myself taper off so I won't be hit with a full force of withdrawal.

"CIA vodka?" Emma repeats, bringing back the subject at hand. "Isn't that a big Russian for the CIA?"

Jackson scoffs. "Cold War's long over. You're the important asset now. As long as we make that flight, we're home free. Got to pick up the pace thought. Automatic takeoff time. If we miss it, we're history."

There's a beat of silence as we keep walking, our walk becoming a bit brisker. I chew on my words, letting them settle on my tongue as I contemplate actually saying them. As much as I want to close this chapter in the book of my life, for many reasons such as it'll allow me to get a refill on my medicine, but I can't say I trust Jackson or the CIA.

They know what Soleil can do. They don't want her to have these devices because they know it can do a lot. And I doubt that they trust Charlie fully, so how do we know they'll take us to Geneva?

"So, are you going to just drop us off somewhere in Geneva, or are you going to escort us to Charlie?" I ask after a few minutes, and Jackson looks at me with a raised brow. "I mean, I don't know if Charlie's supposed to be seen by you since you're, you know, a part of another government agency, but I doubt your bosses would let you just leave us unattended since you seem so concerned about the devices."

"I'll do whatever's necessary to keep you out of the hands of the Burn," He replies, and I narrow my eyes.

"Vague answer."

"It's more than you've given me when I've asked you questions."

I grit my teeth. He's avoiding giving a direct answer.

"How long will it take us to get to Geneva in your chopper?" Paul asks, and I don't miss how quickly Jackson's hostility dissipates when he looks over at the dark-haired man.

"Shouldn't be more than four hours depending on the wind," He answers, and Emma's eyes light up.

"You mean this could all be over in a few hours?"

"Sure could. Then what're you gonna do?"

"Me?" She chews on her lip. "I... I might have said that I wanted to hang out with you, Charlie, after all this time online, after all those late-night conversations of you listenin' to me go on and on about my ex. You know, I still want to hang out. We'll have some serious chat, right? Then we'll get fondue or somethin'."

"I can't wait," Charlie says, her voice full of relief. "I really can't."

She nods, satisfied. "Will it take long; whatever it is you need to do with the devices?"

"Not really. You'll plug them into the mainframe here, I'll use them to... disarm Soleil's weapons systems, and then you'd be done. Not that-I mean, you wouldn't be able to go home immediately, what with the EMP."

"Yeah, still." She glances over at Jackson. "I except the CIA could pay for hotel for us, right?"

He shrugs. "Whatever you want."

I hum lowly, unable to push away the feeling stirring in my chest. The sound of chopper blades whirling gets my attention. Looking ahead, I see a chopper flying, coming in for a landing about a mile out. Emma grasps my hand and squeals with glee.

"There it is, Walker! It's our ride home!"

"It looks quite..." Paul stiffens. "Is it fitted with extra fuel tanks?"

"Just in case, if needed," Jackson answers quickly. He jerks his head towards the chopper as it keeps coming down. "Come on. It won't wait forever."

We keep moving, and as I glance over at Paul, I notice how his shoulders are still scrunched up slightly, an uneasy look on his face. I want to ask him what's wrong, if he's starting to have doubts about this too, but I can't really, since Emma has ahold of my hand and if pulling me along to keep pace with Jackson.

Not to mention I'm sure Jackson would get suspicious if me and Paul started trailing behind when we know we're on such a tight timetable.

I clutch at my cross necklace, my pulse fluttering as the wind whips my hair around and we lose sight of the helicopter. It lands somewhere out of sight, and the whirl of the blades seems to die down for a moment. I bite the inside of my cheek, wishing I could tell Charlie how bad of a feeling I have about this. Maybe Jackson isn't a bad guy, but I don't think he's as for us as he seems. It just makes so little sense.

Maybe I just can't let myself believe that this could actually be over. With what happened in Edinburgh, I can't allow myself that luxury to think that we could be home free. Letting my guard down is what nearly got me killed, and it's what got Stanton killed.

My brown eyes slide to Emma and then Paul. I won't-I can't-watch anymore of my friends die. I can't handle the grief, the guilt.

That's why I left the first time.

I blink. Where did that thought come from?

"Hey, Emma, you doin' okay?" Jackson asks, and the blonde nods and gives him a closed lipped smile.

"I'm fine, actually. Nice brisk walk on a beautiful day. I'm fine."

"She's fine," Paul affirms, and I blink at the slight... harshness there in his tone. It's subtle, easy to miss, as the other two do. But it's there.

Paul definitely noticed something when he saw that chopper.

"Great. That's great." The forced cheerfulness in Jackson's voice makes me press my lips together. "We're nearly there. See the gorge?"

I swallow thickly as I nod. "We're not going to have to climb down the sheer face of a rocky gorge, are we?"

He laughs. "Well, that wouldn't be very hospitable of us, would it? No, we do ty to land out whirly-birds in out-of-the-way locations. Wouldn't do to have local people investigating them."

"And since the EMP, one of those would certainly draw attention," Charlie states.

Still, I frown at Jackson. "That doesn't answer my question."

He rolls his eyes at me. "No. There's a gorge path that winds down the side. No handrail though. Gotta hug the mountain."

Emma tenses, her grip on my hand tightening. "I'm not goin' down a gorge path. I'm not!"

"And," He add quickly, "there's a concealed ladder. You'd have to know the area very well to know it's here. We'll be down in a quarter of the time."

Paul's face is skeptical as he looks at him. "You've thought of everything..."

"Certainly have, my friend. Now, step this way. Emma, would you like to be the first down the ladder."

Emma stands at the edge of the gorge, still holding my hand as she peers down. "Uh, what ladder?"

"If you just look here, you'll see that... oh."

Paul and I both peer over into the gorge, and while my face remains neutral, I internally am screaming because of course this would happen.

"The storm last night must have taken it down," Paul sighs as he rubs his temples, gazing down at the broken bits of the ladder at the floor of the gorge.

Jackson deflates a bit, and while this is an inconvenience, it's nice to see him taken down a peg. "Oh. Well, Emma, guess we're going down the path." He holds out his hand to her, and she lets go of mine to take his. "Hold on to my hand really tight, okay?"

She nods jerkily, and I can see from her skin becoming clammy from fear. "Okay."

"Then let's go."

•

"I don't like this. I don't like this. I really, really don't like this," Emma whines, her fingernails digging into the rock of the gorge so hard it starts splitting the skin.

I'm trembling just as much as she, although I've done well to not voice my fears. Instead, I just blink back the stinging tears and don't look down. I think if Emma saw me panic, it would only make her panic more, and I seem to have much more balance along this thin pathway. If I caused her to panic more, and that panic caused her to fall-

"It's okay, Emma," Paul says soothingly. "Look at me. We're more than three quarters of the way down. It's alright. Just look at where you're putting your putting your hands and feet. The path is wide enough for your feet, do you see?"

Her face twists, and the look she sends Paul lacks any real heat, her fear far outweighing it. "I like my paths quite a lot wider than my feet, actually."

He doesn't seem upset by her snapping, and instead just looks at her with sympathy. "I know. Not long now."

"Guys," Jackson's voice is tinged with worry, "look over there. See the clouds? There's a bad whether front heading in from the south. That chopper will take off to protect itself if we don't get to it before the storm hits."

I look at him, perplexed. Is he trying to say this chopper can't handle rain and wind? Wouldn't taking off as the storm reaches us or just before make it more likely to get caught in the storm anyway?

Those are questions I never get to ask, since Jackson gives us the order to pick up the pace and tells Emma to put her hand on his shoulder to keep her steady. I'm unsure how that will keep her hands steadier than bracing herself on the rock, but I don't question it.

As we keep moving, I can hear the chopper blades whirling, the sound getting higher and higher in pitch as the blades go faster and faster.

"I helped get people out of Miami, you know. People more scared than you are. You'll be just fine," He adds, and Emma nods even though she doesn't look the slightest bit convinced.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," She murmurs before starting to count under her breath. "One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four..."

"You're doing really well, Emma," Charlie encourages.

"Stop talkin' to me," She snaps. "One, two, three, four..."

She keeps repeating her numbers until I almost start to question if they're words anymore, but it helps keep me occupied. The wind is picking up from the incoming storm and from the chopper blades, and I shudder at how cold it is. It's been cold, of course. I nearly died of hypothermia a couple of weeks ago, but the harshness and strength of it nearly cuts through my skin.

"You could jump off from here," Paul says after a few minutes, looking down. "You'd be fine."

She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut. "One, two, three, four-"

"Hey, I've got you," Jackson assures. Without warning, he reaches around and wraps his arm around her waist, picking her up and jumping the rest of the way down. It's only about five feet, but it's enough to make Emma shriek in terror. When Jackson lets her go, she takes a moment to catch her break.

"Oh. I'm okay. That wasn't as terrible as I thought. Don't want to do it again though."

He smirks in amusement, before eyeing Paul and me. "Come on, you guys. To the chopper. Let's run."

Paul jumps down, letting out a grunt as he hits the ground. I jump down as well, thankful that he stays behind to make sure I'm okay. It's not a big jump, but the impact is still a bit of a pain. When I give him a nod, we hurry after Jackson and Emma, who are already rushing after the chopper.

I swallow against the lump in my throat, a small part of me still saying that something doesn't seem right. But what choice do we have? We won't be able to get to Geneva on our own. I mean it's in Switzerland! It's not like we'll be able to get there without a boat or plane, and that's with the hope that the Burn doesn't catch up and I am somehow able to stay sane after I run out of my medication.

I glance over at Paul, and from his knitted brows and tight features, I can tell he's not thrilled about this either. I imagine he's not voicing his concerns for the same reason I haven't. We have no proof, and we have no other choice.

When we reach the chopper, Jackson makes sure we've all pilled in before he climbs in himself and shuts the door. He leans forward to grab the radio near the pilot's empty seat and grabs it. There's a sinking feeling in my chest as I hear the chopper blades whirl and the wind blow outside. It's all so loud.

Still, I take a seat like everyone else has, my fingers digging into the fabric of my pants.

"Yep, that's confirmed," Jackson says into the radio. "Two packages on board. Destination pre-programmed. We're on our way."

And with that, I feel the chopper start to take off, rising from the ground. The higher we go, the tighter my chest feels.

"Packages?" Emma repeats. "Is that what you think of us? Packages?"

Her tone is joking, but Jackson cringes. "It's uh, it's just the way we talk."

A small smile appears on her face as she shakes her head. "You know, I never would have thought I could trust a CIA operative-"

"Why are we heading west?" Paul asks, looking out the window.

"I... We're on a pre-programmed trajectory, my friend," Jackson replies, his cheerfulness a tad bit forced.

"You don't have to be a cartographer to know that Geneva's east of Edinburgh. Why would your guys pre-program a western trajectory?"

"Probably to avoid the Burn. They'll have scanning equipment."

I narrow my eyes. "I thought you said this chopper had stealth capabilities."

He turns to me, his face hardening at my butting in, but he quickly conceals his glare with a neutral shrug. "Yeah, but we don't know how advanced the Burn's technology is."

"And why would you think we're more likely to evade them heading west?" Paul asks incredulously. "Surely the best route is the fastest and most direct." He glances over at Emma. "You've told me before you're pretty good with technology. Why don't you check you the equipment and see if you can work out what this pre-programmed trajectory is?"

Emma looks confused, but she nods.

"I really wish you wouldn't do that, Emma," Jackson warns, stepping in front of her when she tries to get to the pilot's seat.

"Jackson, what are you-" She stops herself when he pulls something out from his waistband. "Is that a taser?"

He doesn't answer. "Paul, you know, I was never supposed to bring you along anyway."

I stay frozen to my seat, paralyzed. He chose to get a taser instead of going for his gun. That's good. I think I know where he keeps it in his waistband. I could try to grab it from him, force him to tell us what's going on-

I think of what I could do, but I don't move.

"Walker, I know you've done some flying before," Charlie says slowly. She's switched to just our earpieces again. "Go to the controls. The green level will set them to manual. We need to start heading east."

"What?" I whisper, and the others don't hear me, too busy with each other as Emma demands to know what's going on and Paul warns Jackson to put that taser away. "I-I can't-I'm not-"

"Walker, you have to!"

"But I can't," I whisper.

"Walker!"

"I'm not who you think I am!" I say, loudly enough to get the others' attention, although they're still on guard. "There was a mix up. Whoever was supposed to get this device was in the cafe and Fiona got confused. I'm not-"

"Evangeline Freeman?"

I freeze. "What?"

"Are you not Evangeline Freeman, born November 24, 2000, in Benton, Arkansas to Alan and Sherry Freeman? Your father is an FBI agent, your mother an owner of a craft store."

My eyes are watering. "I-how do you-"

"I have on my records that you have been an agent since you were eighteen years old, and your last mission was when you were twenty-two after Budapest. You were a pilot for a bit. Now get to those controls!"

I abruptly stand, shaking, confused, and Jackson points his taser at me.

"Walker!" He shouts, and I flinch. "Don't move a muscle."

Paul tackles him, wrapping his arms around Jackson and pulling him away from the pilot's seat. "Go, Walker! Now!"

I race into the seat, grabbing the headset and shakily putting it on, stammering unsurely as I grab the controls.

And when I do, it's like my body no longer listens to my mind's commands. I have no idea what I'm doing, but my hands have the controls, and I've switched the chopper off manual and am turning us around to head east instead of west.

How do I know how to do this?

I'm pulled out of my head when I hear the crackle of electricity and Paul scream. I jerk, yanking on the controls and sending everyone sprawling. Although as I look over my shoulder, I see that Paul's gone limp, not unconscious, but unable to move from the sudden shock.

Jackson grabs him and opens the door to the plane.

"What have you done to Paul?!" Emma shrieks, her screams only becoming shriller as Jackson hauls Paul towards the open door of the helicopter. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm sorry, Emma," He says, pointing the taser at her threateningly with one hand, "but his weight was always going to be going too much to get us to our black site in Iceland anyway. Gotta get him out of here before he burns too much fuel."

"Iceland?!" She repeats. "No! Stop! I won't let you!"

Before Jackson can even try to throw Paul out of the chopper, Emma's tackling him, grabbing his arm and pushing it away so he can't taser her. I can't watch, knowing I have to keep my eyes ahead to keep from accidentally flying us into something unexpected. Still, from the corner of my eye I can see Jackson let go of Paul to concentrate on Emma, allowing Paul to weakly crawl away from them both.

"Emma, so help me-" Jackson warns.

"Keep heading east, Walker! I've got him!" Emma shouts, and my shoulders scrunch up as I hear more sounds of their struggle, then the zap of electricity again. Dread fills me, but it's not Emma I hear crying out a second later.

It's Jackson.

I look back for just a second to see the taser in her hand as she hits Jackson with another volt. She must have managed to take it from him.

I turn my eyes back to the sky as a gust of intense wind rocks the chopper one way, and I tighten my grip on the controls to try to keep us steady again.

I hear Emma scream.

"Oh, God! Oh, God!" She yells, and Jackson shouts in panic.

"Jackson's slipping back towards the door!" Charlie screams in my ears. "Walker, you have to stabilize the chopper!"

"I'm trying!" I yell, but every attempt I make just makes us more unstable.

"No, no, no!" Jackson shouts, and I grit my teeth, praying that I can actually do it.

"Emma, try to grab him-"

Charlie is cut off by Jackson's scream, and my blood goes cold when his scream fades to nothing.

I go still, my hands a death grip on the controls. I refuse to look back. "What just happened?"

"Walker... Evangeline," Charlie says slowly, "don't turn around. Just keep your attention on the controls. Jackson's... he's fallen out of the helicopter."

I let out a choked, pathetic noise as if I'd been hit.

"Oh, God," Emma whispers, her voice nearly drowned out by the wind since the door is still open. "Jackson. I've... I killed him."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she lets out an agonizing wail, and I hear a thud behind me as she falls to her knees. Paul has finally gained enough strength back to get up and close the door, and he quickly wraps Emma up in his arms and she sobs, horrified at what she's done.

I felt that horror too, when I first shot a Burn member in the manor house that Paul worked at.

But I did it so easily, shooting that rifle, just like I'm flying this plane.

And Charlie is saying I am the person who was supposed to take this box.

Bile burns its way up my throat, my ears ringing as Emma continues to sob, nearly screaming her throat raw.

It must be some mistake. I couldn't have been an agent for anything. I was getting my bachelor's degree. And why would I be an agent for the secret service? My dad is an FBI agent. I could have easily worked there-

Except that I couldn't, because I'm not the kind of person fit for the job. I want to help people. That's why I decided to become an occupational therapist. I couldn't handle the horrors of the job.

This has to be some mistake, some mix-up. It has to be.

"It wasn't your fault, Emma," Charlie says. "You didn't mean to do it."

"What does that matter?!" She shouts through her teats. "I actually killed him!"

I squeeze my eyes shut for a minute. "No, you didn't. I couldn't keep the helicopter steady. If I had, he wouldn't have..." I trail off. "The responsibility lies on me."

"But he was disoriented because I tased him! And you didn't even seem to know you were a pilot!"

I bite my tongue to keep from telling her I'm not a pilot. I'm not a secret agent. I'm not!

I'm not!

"He would have killed me if you hadn't tried to stop him," Paul says. "You saved my life."

"That's... yes," She replies weakly.

I let out a slow breath from my mouth, trying not to think too hard or stress myself out too much. The last thing we need is for me to start hallucinating again and cause a crash.

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this," I murmur.

"You're doing well, E... Walker," Charlie says, probably decided it's best to stick to code names or else Emma might start calling me by that name too, since she heard everything Charlie said. "We're almost back on course. That was... well, it was horrible, and I'm sorry about Jackson and what he was trying to do. But well, we've got a working helicopter now. You can still be in Geneva in a few hours. It's going to be okay."

I don't reply. I don't believe her.

"I just can't believe I... I mean, I saw Walker shoot those Burn members but..." Emma looks at Paul, who still has his arms wrapped around her. "Have you ever-"

"No, but I would have if someone were trying to hurt you."

I don't look back to see her expression, but the long pause tells me his response has surprised her.

"Oh."

Suddenly an alarm goes off. The sudden noise nearly causes me to jerk again, but I hold back that reflex as an automated voice comes through the speakers.

"Manual override engaged. Please input security code to continue manual override."

My stomach drops. "Oh, no."

"Security code must be entered in 360 seconds, or engines will be shut down."

•

"Seventy-four, seventy-three, seventy-two, seventy-one," The automated voice counts down, and my heart pounds in my chest. I've thought of every code I've ever seen on those papers my dad would sometimes bring home and forbid me from looking at, but the FBI and CIA apparently have different codes because none of them have worked.

"Here, Emma. You take Jackson's backpack," Paul instructs as he hands it to her. "It's probably got some useful survival gear. Does your parachute feel secure?"

"Yes. I-I'm scared," She stammers, and Paul rubs her arms comfortingly and then places a kiss on her cheek, not noticing how big her eyes get.

"It's going to be alright. We'll see each other very soon."

She gasps. "Oh! Yes..." 

"You're likely to get spread out by the wind," Charlie says. "I'm just checking for likely landmarks, and... Oh. I've uh, um, I've got someone who... You see that steeple with the larger flag flying from it? It's quite a way off, but it's-it's the most distinctive landmark. If all you head there, you should meet up."

Emma nods. "Paul, Charlie says head for the tall steeple with the red flag, okay?"

"Okay." He notices her fear still lingering. "It's okay. You'll like parachuting. People pay good money for this, you know. Walker, you want to show Emma how it's done?"

"I..." I trail off, but grab a cloth band to tie around the controls to keep it steady while in manual. I don't remember if I've done this before... but I've seen myself do it before. I've seen the other versions of me do this before. Hopefully it's enough. "Yeah."

I get out of the pilot's seat and head for the door that Paul's already opened.

"See you soon, Walker," Emma says, and I force a smile, hoping that there are no tears of fear in my eyes and that the stinging is simply because of the wind.

And I jump.

For just a second, I think I die. The shock of it makes my heart, my lungs, stop completely. Gravity pulls me farther and farther down, and all I can do is fall.

My chest hurts, the pain so sharp from the fear that it shocks me into doing something, and I pull the string to open my parachute, The sound of it opening is not comforting, nor is the sudden jerk of me slowing down. More tears leak down my eyes as the wind pulls me one way, and I don't look to see if Paul or Emma have jumped as I head the plane start to go down.

A loud boom of metal crushing against rock hits me ears, followed by a firey explosion. I look back to see scorching orange and black smoke, so far from where I am now as I contueing to go down, down, down at an extremely fast pace, even with my parachute.

I stare at the smoke and flames with wide eyes, watching what was supposed to be our ticket to freedom burn.

I slam into the ground, pain erupting from different parts of my body. The side of my head hits against something hard, and pain ricochets up the side of my head before everything goes dark.

A/N: Here you go guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please be sure to vote and comment and have a blessed day!