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Nick Geller had been something special. His betrayal had extinguished the spark in her. Trust had become a major issue for her. Not trusting other people, not trusting her own judgment.

Another contraction came and the obstetrician told her to breathe. Despite how her time in Washington had ended, she had accepted the presidential recommendation for her doctor. Recommendations didn’t get much better. So far, he had been brilliant and had allowed Frankie the natural birth she wanted. Her mom was by her side, holding her hand and supporting her through a pregnancy she deeply disagreed with but would support nonetheless.

Frankie had kept in touch with Reid, although a few emails every now and then were hardly the foundations of a great friendship. The one thing they had worked out was that the list of innocent victims’ names was bullshit. Not one person on the list of names appeared to correlate with a real person. People had shown up at the memorial service but the more Frankie and Reid asked questions, the more the bullshit fell apart. If the press were on to it, they weren’t interested. The return of pre-9/11 style travel was on the horizon. The Islamic faith had been all but cleansed of its radicalization, earning a newfound respect across the world. Their numbers had in fact grown since the incident as more and more Muslims who had lost faith due to the radicals flooded back to the mosques.

Another contraction hit. This time, the doctor told her to push. And push again. Her mother vociferously encouraged her up until the first screams of a beautiful baby boy.

Nurses fussed around the room as Frankie lost herself in the wonder of motherhood, her perfect baby boy nuzzling into her.

Two hours later, mother and baby were finally alone. She soaked up every one of his features. His ten perfect little toes, his ten perfect little fingers. His dark mop of hair, his sallow skin and his piercing eyes, his father’s eyes.

“Miss Franks,” said one of the nurses, interrupting a precious moment. He had been one of the nurses she vaguely recognized as one who had helped during the delivery. “I have a Facetime call for you, shall I hold the baby for you?” He held out an iPad. He was missing the tips of a few of his fingers. She reluctantly swapped her baby for the iPad. He noticed she couldn’t take her eyes off of his fingers.

“Exposure,” he explained. “Not careless.” Ensuring that Frankie could see her son was safe in his arms, he walked to the other side of the room to give Frankie some privacy during the call.

“Congratulations, Frankie,” said a beaming President Mitchell, the crystal clear waters of a Caribbean beach in the background.

“Thank you, Mr. President. I see you’re enjoying some winter sun.”

“Just visiting a dear old friend,” replied the President. “In fact, he wants to say hello.” The image on the screen spun around and a hospital style bed came into view in what otherwise appeared to a beachside villa, one she recognized and had in fact visited.

The image revealed the supposedly dead Vice President of the United States, Donald Brodie, a shadow of his former self, painfully thin and gravely ill.

“Mr. Vice President?” she said gasping. “But…but…”

“Cancer,” he explained breathlessly. “I didn’t want to go through it in office. I took an opportunity and bowed out in a blaze of glory,” he joked, coughing painfully.

The President joined him, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I can’t explain everything but your son has a father to be proud of,” said Brodie.

Frankie was speechless and became suddenly aware of the nurse in the room.

She lowered her voice. “Are you saying Nick wasn’t for real?”

“Your Nick was, our Nick wasn’t,” said President Mitchell.

“So I tried to shoot my Nick?” she asked, suddenly realizing she almost killed him.

“But you missed!”

“I wasn’t trying to miss and I’m damned sure Bill wasn’t either.”

The President’s face suggested otherwise.

“Oh my God, why tell me now?” she said angrily.

“Everyone believes we killed him. Everybody believes Nick Geller the traitor was real. There’s only one person who deserves to know that’s not true. Only six other people know the truth about who Nick Geller really was. You and your son deserve to know he was one of our greatest heroes ever.”

Tears welled in her eyes, which turned into a flood. The emotion of six months of anguish and doubt, about herself, the life her child would lead, about Nick, came flowing out.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” she said through the tears.

“You’ve got a great guy there,” he said. “Look after him for us.”

“Of course I will,” she said, reaching out for her baby.

“I think he actually meant me,” said the nurse, a man she didn’t recognize in the least until she, for the first time, caught sight of his eyes, the only things the plastic surgeon hadn’t changed.