It was a cold night, fathomless and inky in its overwhelming darkness. She parked her car, and let her flashlight and unerring remembrances lead her to the spot.

When she reached it, she tenderly sat down in the sharp grass, feeling it dig into her palms. She shivered slightly- she hadn't brought a jacket. He hadn't been covered, why should she? She was feeling for him now, and she wouldn't forget that.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she angrily swiped the crystalline wetness away. She had no right to cry, no right to grieve. For she has let them all down.

Her fault. Her failure. Had she not connected the dots fast enough? Connect the dots, she thought with an unerring sob, staring at the blades of grass. Connect the dots, connect the blades, and you could see the outline of a child.

Too late, too late.

She had failed. Failed Luke Doggett. John Doggett. Barbara Doggett. Herself. Everyone and no one all at the same time.

Luke would never proudly show off his batting ability for his father, never again whimper in the night only to have his mom soothe his irrational fears of monsters.

She looked again at the ground, at the imprint of his body forever emblazoned on her perfect memory. He had been placed face down- hadn't even been allowed to see the stars one last time, she realized.

Stargazing had been a favorite hobby of hers when she was a child. Did Luke ever get the chance to stargaze in such a city? Was he somehow able to see the starlight gleaming above him, even long after his breath had left him?

Her trembling hand reaches into her purse and digs out the flowers. So woefully inadequate, she thinks as her fingers squeeze the stems.

At this moment, miles from here, he is being wrapped in sterilized white sheets by the medical examiner. She wanted to wrap him in his parents' arms when she found him, make him warm again with the love of his family. With her love as well, a woman he'd never met but who cared about him as strongly as she did any loved one.

She knows she'll have to take time off from the Bureau after this one. The hurt and guilt is too tangible; the urge to flip open her wallet and stare at his photo torn from a missing person flier too habitual.

She wishes desperately that she could have at least met him while he was alive. He is everywhere, and nowhere, and somewhere now. Somewhere she can't save him, can't rescue him. Somewhere she can't tell him she's sorry.

Gathering herself, she wearily stands up, bones creaking. This case has aged her far more than she'd ever expected, but she's glad of it. She's got something to show for it now. A price to pay- Luke's innocence, her innocence. Hardly a fair bargain, for Luke, but it's what she has to take.

She settles back into her rented car, fingers reaching but not quite hitting the heater. No. He is cold, she is cold. Only a fair price to be paid. No matter how irrational.

Starting the car, she hesitates before she drives away. Reaches into her pocket, grasps her wallet between shaking and roughened fingertips. Flips it open to his smiling face, its color and vibrancy lost in xeroxing but still captivating nonetheless.

She runs a fingertip over it just once, then places the wallet next to her on the seat. Open.

I won't forget you. I'll never forget. This promise made, not to be broken.