“I suggest you get these kids out of here before the authorities arrive,” Luther says quietly to Marie, standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “We need to lock down the scene. And then we’ll round up those involved with The Program. We have everything we need.”
Marie smiles at him, and I imagine she feels vindicated, justified in everything she’s done to get us here. I’m not sure I agree, but I’m still grateful. She stares at Luther, but it’s different from how she looked at Dr. McKee, not as deep. She’s lost people too.
“Just give me a few minutes with them,” Marie says to Luther. He nods that he will, and Luther tells Realm and James that he hopes they’ll feel better. He says good-bye to Dallas—who apparently does freelance work for his office—and then offers me one last smile before taking his team, and Marie’s equipment, out to his van to make more calls.
Marie comes over to the stove, her body still shaking, and puts on a kettle for tea. Wes says he’ll be back and goes to the room with Sloane to check on the others. The space is suddenly intimate, and Marie looks at me.
“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you, Tatum.”
She doesn’t need to thank me for being a good human, and I tell her so.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Little bit of a headache,” I say. “Heartache.”
She nods like she understands and leans her back against the sink. “I didn’t know,” she offers. “Not the extent. I was Arthur Pritchard’s employee, and I brought him Quinlan several times, but I didn’t realize how much she knew. I would have never... I didn’t know he was so cruel to her.” She closes her eyes and gathers herself.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” she continues after a moment. “And I’ve spent years trying to correct those mistakes, sometimes making more. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“Every time I try to make things better, they get worse,” I tell her.
“It’ll be different this time,” she says like she believes it with her whole self.
The kettle starts to whistle, and Marie takes out two cups and turns off the burner. When she’s made tea, she brings the cups to the table and sets one in front of me.
“I’m not sure I can live with it,” she says quietly. “Live with what I did to Quinlan... Nicole,” she corrects. She hitches in a breath, and her entire façade breaks wide open. For as many times as I’ve seen Marie, I’ve never seen this. The woman here now is shattered.
“She’s my baby; she’s my little girl,” Marie says, choking. “And I did that to her. I...”
My eyes are tearing up in response, and I reach over to put my arms around Marie. I admit, what she did was disturbing. She ruined that girl’s life. She tortured her.
But I hug Marie anyway, because even though she messed up, she tried to make it right. She never gave up, even when other doctors did. Teachers, politicians, and parents—theyallgave up on us at some point, relying on The Program instead.
Marie Devoroux never did. She searched for a cure until she found one. She’s the true face of this rebellion. She’s our hero, even if she nearly killed us to save us.
As Marie straightens out of my arms, thanking me and wiping her tears, Wes comes back in. He pauses a second, not sure if he should interrupt, but Marie offers him her chair.
“I’m going to check on my patients,” she says. “Dr. Wyatt is on her way, and we hope to start clinical trials immediately. Fast-track it to the market. Now, the rest of you should get out of here. Go home. It’s over.”
It’s such a strange thing to hear:over. I can’t quite believe it. Marie leaves the room, but Wes and I take a moment to absorb what’s happened. I’ll call Nathan in a few minutes, ask him for a ride so we can fill him in. He won’t believe it either.
“I hate to bring this up,” Wes says, biting his lip like he knows he shouldn’t continue. “But what are we going to do about your grandparents? That whole memory was really... fucked.”
“They’re not my grandparents,” I say, although not coldly. “But I love them anyway. They’re my family. Do you remember the other day when I asked you how we live with the people we love, knowing they betrayed us?”
“Vaguely,” he says. “I was much shinier then.”
“Yeah, well, you told me that you justdo—you forgive the people you love because you have to. And I don’t know... I forgive them.” I take a sip of tea. “But I’m going to tell them everything, what I remember. It’ll hurt them, seeing themselves as the villains. I’m going to anyway. It’s time for all of us to see the whole picture—even the messy parts.”
“I’ll come with you,” Wes says, picking at a scuff in the table. “If you want me to.”
“You can be there,” I say, making him smile.
“That’s good,” he says. “Because I’m never going home again, so... I hope I can live with you too.”
It’s sad, but we laugh anyway. I tell him there’s always room for him. He murmurs that he loves me, that he’s happy we saved the world after all.
And it reminds me of something Michael Realm said to me once in The Program. He told me that Wes and I were a heart rate on a monitor, sky high and then through the floor. Never quite even. We love hard and completely, and that’s the stuff that never goes away. Not from us. Not ever.
