In a world where so many vanished without trace, where so many families waited in vain for closure, that was something.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough to balance the scales against 25 years of suffering and loss, but it was what they had.

And somehow, impossibly, Jennifer had learned to make it sufficient.

The mountains receded in the rear view mirror, their peaks touching the sky, their secrets finally told, and Jennifer Morrison drove toward home, toward life, toward the future that Michael and Sarah never got to have, but would have wanted for her, toward healing.

however imperfect, toward peace, however fragile, toward the simple, profound act of continuing to live, to love, to remember.

That in the end was the only justice she could give them.

And so she

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