Mark swallowed.
“That sounds like him.”
“It was.”
“Did he ever talk about coming home?”
“All the time.”
“Did he think he would?”
Elise hesitated.
“I think he hoped he would.”
Mark closed his eyes.
The distinction was small, but it mattered.
He had spent eight years believing Andrew had been certain he would return. He had built that certainty into the stories he told himself. It had made the loss seem crueler, but also easier to understand.
Now he was beginning to see his brother as a person who had lived with uncertainty, not a character in a story whose ending had already been written.
“I wish I had known you then,” he said.
Elise looked at him.
“I wish I had known you then too.”
A door opened at the far end of the corridor.
Vice Admiral Brennan stepped out, carrying the presentation box.
“Commander.”
Elise straightened.
“Sir.”
“I thought you might want to see this before the ceremony.”
He opened the box.
Beneath the identification plate lay a folded piece of waterproof paper sealed in a clear archival sleeve.
Mark leaned forward.
“What is that?”
“A fragment recovered with the plate,” Brennan said. “It was found inside the same equipment casing. The preservation team identified it as a handwritten note.”
Elise stared at it.
“I thought that had been lost.”
“So did we.”
Brennan turned the sleeve slightly so she could see the writing.
The ink had faded. The paper was stained and torn along one edge. But the handwriting was unmistakable.
Elise's mouth parted.
“That's Andrew's.”
Mark looked at her.
“You recognize it?”
“Yes.”
Brennan nodded.
“The foundation's archivist found it during the final cataloging review. It was not part of the original recovery inventory.”
“What does it say?” Mark asked.
Elise read the visible words.
Then she looked away.
“It's not a message to the family.”
“Who is it for?”
She did not answer.
Brennan lowered his voice.
“It's addressed to Anchor Two.”
Mark stared at the paper.
“To you?”
Elise nodded.
The admiral held the sleeve between them.
“I thought you should decide whether it is appropriate to include in the private family archive.”
Elise took a careful breath.
“May I?”
Brennan handed it to her.
She did not touch the paper itself. She read through the protective sleeve.
The note contained only a few lines.
Anchor Two,
If this reaches you, I hope it means the channel survived longer than we expected.
Tell them the crew did what they could. Tell them nobody stopped trying.
And if you ever get home before I do, remind my mother that I was planning to visit.
Raven Six.
Elise read the last line twice.
Mark's eyes filled.
“He wrote that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don't know.”
“Was it before the fire?”
“Possibly. The paper was recovered from the equipment casing, but that doesn't establish when he wrote it.”
Mark looked at the note again.
“He wanted you to tell Mom he was coming home.”
Elise nodded.
“He did.”
“Did you?”
“I tried.”
Mark frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Elise looked at the note.
“There were letters and official communications. But I never knew whether I had the right to tell her what he had said in a private message to me.”
“He asked you to tell her.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn't you?”
Elise's voice grew quieter.
“Because I didn't want to give your mother another promise that I couldn't guarantee.”
Mark read the note again.
His brother had written that he was planning to visit. Not that he would return. Not that he was certain. He had written what he hoped to do.
And someone had preserved that hope in a piece of paper that had survived a fire.
“Can she see it?” Mark asked.
Brennan nodded.
“If Elise agrees.”
Elise held the sleeve carefully.
“She should.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The admiral closed the box.
“I'll make arrangements for the archivist to prepare a certified reproduction. The original will remain protected.”
Mark looked toward the ballroom.
“She's going to ask what happened.”
“She can ask,” Elise said. “I'll answer what I can.”
“And if she asks about the last moments?”
“I'll tell her the truth.”
Mark's eyes met hers.
“Even if it hurts?”
“Especially then.”
Brennan watched them for a moment.
“Commander, the foundation has delayed the program by ten minutes. We can proceed when you're ready.”
Elise handed the archival sleeve back to him.
“I'll be ready.”
The admiral nodded and walked toward the ballroom.
Mark remained beside her.
“Do you want me to go in first?”
“No.”
“Do you want me beside you?”
“Yes.”
He took her hand.
They returned to the ballroom together.
The conversations had resumed, but the atmosphere had changed. People were speaking in low voices. A few guests looked toward the doors as they entered.
Judith stood near the table where the presentation box had been placed.
She saw them and immediately looked at Elise's face.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
Mark started to answer, but Elise gently touched his arm.
“About what?”
Judith looked at her.
“About Andrew.”
Elise nodded.
“All right.”
Judith glanced around the ballroom.
“Not here.”
“That was what I asked for earlier.”
Judith lowered her eyes.
“I know.”
She gestured toward a small adjoining reception room. Elise looked at Mark. He gave her a quiet nod.
They walked inside.
The room was nearly empty. A few chairs had been arranged around a low table. Through the open doorway, they could still hear the muted sound of the ballroom.
Judith remained standing.
“I want to apologize,” she said.
Elise waited.
“I was wrong to pull your cover off.”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong to touch your uniform.”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong to say you weren't a real sailor.”
Elise nodded.
Judith struggled to continue.
“I thought you were making yourself important by wearing those things. I thought you wanted people to believe you had done something you hadn't.”