Chapter Thirty-seven

Stage Five: Acceptance

Nate scrunches his toes in the sand of Venice Beach, watches the sun slowly sink toward the ocean. He's not sure what he's doing here; he feels like he was sent by something, that this place is important, but he can't remember what or why. It may be something as simple as not having any place better to be.

He's been lost since his time in the Nevada desert, in every sense of the word. He's not sure whether he's going to run away or testify, not sure if Reid would ever take him back, not sure how it would work out even if he did.

And Christ, Nate is lonely. He was never much of a people person, but he'd become accustomed to having someone there that could understand him on the few occasions when he did have something to say. He misses having Reid around to laugh with, to hold his hand when he needed it, to be his partner. He misses their weird hybrid sign language, he misses his type-to-talk app, he misses the Camaro. Drifting through the world alone is grating and exhausting.

So he's just sitting on a beach, waiting to find some sort of answer. Waiting for a sign.

Waiting for a miracle.

A woman wanders slowly up the shoreline, a red-tipped white cane sweeping across the sand in front of her. Her hair is as dark as the sunglasses that hide what Nathaniel can only assume are blind eyes, but when she reaches him she stops, seeming to stare straight at him.

"Can I help you?" He signs before realizing his mistake and blushing. But how is he going to communicate with someone who can't see-

"Nope," she answers his signed question with a wide smile. "But I think I can help you. God, you're handsome."

The blind thing must be an act, he thinks, but then she flops down into the sand beside him and from this angle he can see behind her glasses. Not only is she blind, but her eyes are missing.

He tries signing again, beginning to be thoroughly creeped out. "I don't know how much of a compliment that can be coming from someone who clearly can't see."

She laughs, tossing her head back. "I like you. You're different."

Nate frowns and looks away. Like he needed some stranger to tell him that.

"Look," she says, "I don't usually do this, but the spirits - they're screaming at me to talk to you."

"Spirits?"

She bows her head, waving her hands theatrically. "Psychic Penelope, the self-proclaimed Wandering Oracle of Venice Beach, at your service. You were waiting for a sign, yes?"

This is the last thing he needs - some charlatan using parlor tricks to prey on the last hope of a desperate man.

"I don't believe in psychics and I really don't want a reading-"

"Too bad. You're getting one. Now shut up and let me give you your message so I can get back to my paying clients."

She reaches over and takes Nate's hand between both of hers, her clunky silver rings cold under his fingers. It's the first time anyone has really touched him since Reid and he finds himself almost curling into the comfort against his will.

She speaks slowly and emphasizes every word, as if what she's saying is of grave importance. "You need to know that Reid still loves you, every bit as much as he always has, and that he will defend and protect you forever. And you should really try to stop blaming yourself so much, because he doesn't. Not for what happened to him, or how you ran, or any of it." Penelope rubs Nate's hand, gives him a small encouraging smile. "You're a good man, Nathaniel. As long as you remember that - remember who you are - it's all going to be just fine."

And apparently that's it; the spirits are appeased. She drops his hand and stands, dusting the sand off her ass.

Nate is stunned - no, he's more than that. A stranger just said five sentences that dug into the very core of him, five sentences that told him everything he needed to hear at the exact moment he needed to hear it. And he's frantic to hear more, to know everything she can tell him, to know how any of this can possibly be real.

This is what he has been waiting for, this is the moment that will determine his future.

But the only thing he says is, "'How did you know my name?"

"Same way I know what you're saying without seeing your hands, and that you've got gorgeous blue eyes and an ass so tight I could bounce a quarter off of it." She smiles, tucking her fingertips in the pockets of her low-slung jeans. "Psychic, remember?"

Nate hasn't believed in anything in a long time, and he definitely doesn't believe in psychics. At least, he didn't ninety seconds ago. Now? He's not quite sure.

But he must still have a little faith left, some remnant of the boy who believed in magic and destiny and higher powers, because her words light up something long neglected inside him, something that had been cold and dead and rotting in his chest. He feels...hope. Inspiration. Some sense of purpose that he'd forgotten he'd ever had.

The self-appointed wandering oracle of Venice Beach has just changed his life.

And she's walking away before he can even tell her.

Nate chases after her, desperate to keep her there, to know who she really is, to know how she found him.

"Wait, please, at least let me pay you or something-"

Penelope backs away with a playful bounce in her step. "Keep your money, sweet cheeks. You can pay me back by doing what you're supposed to do. It's important - to everybody."

She spins, snapping her clearly-unnecessary cane back into place and wandering on down the beach. Nathaniel watches her until she's just a spot of darkness in the distance, her words chasing circles around in his mind.

Reid still loves me. He doesn't blame me for getting him shot, for leaving him in the hospital.

I could really have him back someday.

I just have to remember who I am.

...Who am I?

Awkward. Misfit. Broken.

Too different to be a part of society; too rebellious to be a part of his family. The only place Nathaniel has ever fit was with Reid.

And that - having a home, having a life - is worth fighting for.

So who is he?

He's powerful - so powerful that his entire family is afraid of what he can do.

He's a survivor, a fighter, a good man.

He's an Angelev, damn it. It's time he really accepted that.

Because, for the first time, that doesn't feel like a curse. It means that he's strong, that he's a soldier - and that he's going to win this war.

Nate lies back in the sun-warmed sand and, for the first time since he left the hospital, he smiles.

*******

Reid's sitting in a squeaky desk chair in the Reno police station, combing through photos of a stolen - and then recovered - station wagon. It would be completely unremarkable if it weren't for the thousand dollars that had been put under the visor with a note in familiar handwriting that said simply, "Sorry for the inconvenience."

Reid can't make any sense out of it. Why steal a car, drive it out into the desert, and then leave it? With money? Where's Nate getting that kind of cash anyway?

The only thing Reid can take away from all of it is that Nate is still alive - or was, a week ago.

It's a small comfort.

He's exhausted, having lain awake nearly every night as he stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember the exact shade of Nate's hair or the shape his hands took when they spelled Reid's name. He's beginning to lose these details; it's growing foggy and distant and confused.

It's all so useless.

But still, Reid spends every night trying to remember his past and every day trying to find his future. Because what else is he going to do?

And beyond his personal obsession, finding Nate is still his job. Andy's boss is all over their asses over losing Nate in the first place, and Christine's getting anxious that they should drop the case altogether - without Nathaniel's testimony they don't have a leg to stand on.

Reid stands, rubbing his eyes, and wanders to the break room for his fourth cup of burnt, bitter coffee. He grimaces when he takes a sip, leaning his hip into the counter.

His phone buzzes and he checks it wearily, frowning in confusion when he sees the caller ID.

Ben - home.

Except Ben isn't at home. He's in Austin, chasing down some other long-shot lead, which means that Janie is calling him.

Weird.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Reid. You got a minute?"

"Sure. What's up?"

Janie twists her hair in her fingers, trying to figure out how to say this. "You, uh, well - you got a letter here today. I was just going through the mail, opening it all and sorting it like I always do...I swear I didn't mean to read it, Reid. I just never expected you to get something at our house, you know?"

Shakily, Reid puts his crappy coffee down, eases himself into one of the break room chairs. He has to clear his throat before he can respond, some part of him already knowing what Janie is going to say.

"It's from Nate, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's - well, it seems kind of personal. I didn't read more than the first few lines, I promise, I didn't know if you'd want me to-"

"Read it to me. Right the hell now."

Janie straightens the creased page out on her kitchen table, takes a deep breath.

"Dear Reid,

I'm coming to the trial. I just want to get that out of the way first, so you and Ben and Christine know how to proceed. I will be there, I will testify, I will end this. You have my word.

I'm so sorry for leaving the way that I did. Please believe that I did it to protect you; my family was coming to the hospital to say good-bye to Elsa. She died, by the way, a few hours after I left. I know because I emailed the hospital to check on you both. I wrote every day until you were discharged, just to see your status improve. I had to know, because if you hadn't made it... well, I don't really want to put it into words.

But I know that you don't hold it against me that I left. And I know that you still love me. I realize that this sounds insane, and who knows, maybe all this time out here on my own really has made me crazy. But there was this psychic, and she was amazing - she was like a sign from God. I still don't know if I even believe in God, but I have to believe in something. Because I know that what she told me was true.

It's going to be okay, Reid. It's all going to be okay.

I know you're looking for me. Please don't - it's only putting us both in danger. I've learned that I'm fine out here on my own. I have resources, and I'm using everything you taught me. You don't need to worry about me.

You'll worry anyway; it's what you do. But there's only a few more weeks until trial, and we'll be together then. That's all that matters.

I love you, Reid. More than anything or anyone, more than my own life. I'm doing this to keep you safe.

And if you still want there to be a life for us after the trial, then there will be. We will find a way to be together.

Because it's all going to be okay.

All my love now and always,

Nate

P.S. Happy late Valentine's Day - I'm sorry we weren't able to spend it together."

Janie is silent for a long time after she finishes, just listening to Reid breathing on the other end of the line.

Nate is fine. He's not scared, he's not running away forever - he's fine.

The thought runs on a loop and with every pass Reid feels something in his chest loosen and crack, the pieces scattering and dissolving.

It's suddenly so much easier to breathe.

Reid wasn't even aware of how afraid he'd been, how panicked and hopeless, until it all lifts from him.

And then he's just a trembling, weeping, snotty mess, laughing at himself, crying like an idiot in the middle of a dingy police station in fucking Reno over one little letter.

One little letter that held the answers to every question he'd been asking himself for weeks. That held the answers to the rest of his life.

He finally draws in one deep, shaky breath, scrubbing away the tears with the heels of his palms. "Thanks, Janie."

She's quiet, concerned. "Are you okay, Reid?"

He smiles, feeling lighter than he has in months. Since Memphis, maybe earlier. Maybe ever.

"I'm great. Thanks, Janie. I'll see you soon."

He disconnects the call and rubs at his chin, nodding to himself.

"Alright, Nate," he murmurs, accepting his new reality. "We'll do this your way now. If you've got faith in some psychic, then I've got faith in you."

Reid takes the next flight back home to Kansas City.