Early the next day, Michael stood on the corner of the familiar BART station facing three men with briefcases. It'd been a long sleepless flight and mind-numbing car ride. Christine had been on the phone for most of it, making sure they didn't let Gary pull anything. Michael had listened intently, but there had been no word on Stuart.
The BART station was busy with people on their morning commute. Michael had been told to stand by as the workers handed in their phones and climbed aboard the busses. When the last of the workers were aboard, the bus doors closed and pulled from the curb. After everything that had happened, The Company was running the same routine.
"Quint would like to thank you for your services." The man started. "As promised, you are both being terminated from The Company."
Michael looked at Christine, not sure if the word terminated was positive. When she looked relieved, he let out a sigh.
The agent handed them tickets and keys. "Michael, take the train to the last stop, your car will be parked at the station. Christine, it will take you to Civic Center, where you can walk to your apartment." He buckled his briefcase, and the three agents walked across the street towards the parking garage.
Michael and Christine walked together towards the station.
"Of all the jobs in The Company, I think they have it best," Michael said, getting Christine to smile. "Is this really it?" He asked.
"I think so," She answered. Michael watched as a little liquid swelled in her eyes. She turned and quickly wiped it away. "I didn't think this day would come. Thank you." She turned to him. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you. I don't—"
"It's ok." Michael interrupted. "None of it was your fault. It got me out of teaching for a few weeks, and that's more than I could've ever asked for." He chuckled.
They scanned their clipper cards and made their way into the station. They walked side by side to the first escalator leading up to the Southbound train. "Thank you, Michael. You know where to find me. Please visit sometime. I'm a lot nicer when I'm not killing innocent people."
A mother sitting on a cement bench to their left with two children turned to look at Christine.
"We could watch Ice Age." Michael laughed.
"It's only good on hard drugs." She smiled back.
"I have children here." The woman announced loudly.
"Goodbye, Mr. Sinclair," Christine said and stepped onto the escalator.
Michael peered out the window of his train. For the past month, he'd imagined he'd feel an overwhelming sense of relief when it was over, but he felt nothing. If anything, he felt a strong sense of loneliness. It was over, but what had even happened? Why was Stuart shot?
He drove slowly through the city with his windows down, letting the warm summer air beat across his face. The radio played a string of new summer hits that he didn't yet recognize.
"What happened here?" Michael yelled out the window to the policeman on Mimsy's front porch. There was still caution tape wrapped around her yard with a single police cruiser parked in the driveway. It'd been several weeks, why were the police still here?
"It's under investigation," the policeman yelled back.
"Is she home?" He asked.
The policeman looked at his partner, unsure of what he was supposed to say. "No," He said shortly and turned his back to the car.
Michael gave a short "Thanks," and drove off. He was confused as to why the police were at the house. She'd gone to Quint several days before the cars arrived. What had Gary done in there, and why was it being covered up? Was Gary covering it up, or was The Company?
By the time he got back to his apartment, he was ready to lay down. The adrenaline from the past few days was finally wearing off. He hung the keys up on the hook.
"Michael is that—"
Michael instinctively grabbed a mug off the counter and hurled it across the living room, shattering it on the wall just a foot above Katiella's head. She was lying on his couch in pajamas.
"Michael!" She yelled, covering her face.
"Katiella! What...where....how long have you been here?" He grabbed his head with both hands.
"Michael, please, I'm sorry!" She began sobbing. "I'm so sorry. Don't hurt me, please. Dad said I couldn't come home until we were engaged again."
Michael took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse.
"I didn't know about the money!" She said through sniffles.
Michael squinted in confusion.
"I didn't know we owed money!" She sobbed again. "I didn't even know you were rich! Why didn't you tell me you were rich?" She said, peeking her fingers through her eyes.
"I didn't realize your dad only wanted me for my money," Michael bluffed, then realized how ridiculous that statement was.
Katiella took the bait. "They're going to take his school if you don't help him pay it off." She pulled out a piece of paper, "He wanted me to read this directly."
She unfolded the paper, wiped her eyes, and began to read, "Dear Michael, I am officially offering you the title of vice-superintendent of Bissett Academy School for Extraordinary Youths. I apologize for the misunderstanding and should've been upfront with you. I didn't know my private investigator would talk to you before I did. Honesty is my 10th rule, and I planned on coming clean then. I took out a twenty-year loan to start the amazing school and unfortunately will not have the resources to pay it off this September. The inheritance the PI found could easily pay off the last bit, which would save the academy. I will continue to train you, and we can run the school together. Even without the money, I see greatness in you. Sincerely, Victor Bissett."
Kat set down the paper on the couch and smiled. Michael realized she'd merely read the words and not listened or processed what the letter had said.
"Get out of my house."
"Our house?" Katiella stood and sauntered toward him. "He said you'd give in."
"No, get out of my house," he smiled. "I never want to see you again.”