For the first hour of the drive, Ethan was only ever a heartbeat away from turning around. His hands locked tight around the wheel, his gut churned, and only the thought that he had made his choice when he rented the car kept him on his path. After the first hour it got a little easier. He ran over the conversation with Bree that he knew was coming so often it almost began to sound like a mantra. He plotted out conversations, whole swathes of dialogue so that when they finally met again he would be in control of the whole situation. He checked the numbers over and over again, knowing that there was only so much aid he could garner from them, but unable to resist the compulsive behavior.

It didn’t take him very long to decide that he wasn’t going to tell Bree much about the situation. He wouldn’t avoid her questions if she asked, but nor was he going to offer information that she didn’t strictly need. Like the fact that Jacob’s father was getting closer and closer to committing suicide the longer his child was missing. If he told her, Bree would undoubtedly place the man under constant observation so that he wouldn’t go through with the act. And if they failed, for any reason, that kid’s soul would join his sister’s, resting squarely and permanently on the father’s shoulders. Ethan knew how unbearable that weight was just for Victor, what would he have felt if he thought he was responsible for the death of his own child?

Of course, Ethan saw no reason for them to fail. Once Ethan found out where the kid was located, he could help Bree find the one piece of evidence that had to be out there pointing in the direction of the kid. It would seem lucky, almost impossibly lucky, that they happened to come across it, but that was what Ethan did. He created luck. No one, except Bree, would ever need to know he was involved, keeping his identity secure. Then Jacob’s father would be able to testify against the organization and all its members, they would go to jail, and it would be over. No more guilt traps, no more feeling responsible. Bree would leave him alone, and he would be free.

Five hours after he started driving, almost to the minute, Ethan entered into the city limits of Boston, Massachusetts. He wound his way into the city, making his way towards a spot where the numbers told him there would be parking, before walking a couple of blocks to get a late lunch. He wasn’t sure whether or not his stomach would be able to handle it, now that he was closer to Bree all the tension that had been in his gut when he had started driving seemed to have returned, but he had skipped breakfast and barely eaten the day before that. He could feel the lightness in his head and, assuming he didn’t puke, the meal should do something to stabilize him.

As he sat and slowly worked his way through a cheap burger and basket of fries, Ethan began to think in a little more detail what exactly he was planning to do now that he was in Boston. He knew that he was going to have to find Bree. He was here, and he was committed to that. But he was going to have to find her at a time when she was alone, and when there was no opportunity for someone else to show up without warning. As little as he liked the idea, he was probably going to have to find her at her hotel, and wait until a point when she was the only FBI Agent there. 

He paid for his burger and left the building, returning to his car just as the parking meter was running out. At the present moment in time, there was only ever complete certainty. Either something was, or something wasn’t. Because of that, Ethan was quickly able to find out that Bree’s hotel was to the north and the east of him. At every intersection he checked the numbers again, winding his way ever closer to her hotel. It wasn’t the most efficient means of travel, and more than once Ethan found himself trapped in a dead end he would have to work his way back out of, but eventually he pulled into the parking lot of a Comfort Inn near the Boston Airport. He settled back into his seat and waited for the chance to go up to her without being seen.

When the moment came he nearly let it pass. This was his last chance to back out, to run away and leave everyone to their own fate. But how could he turn around after going so far. He got out of the car aggressively, slamming the door to the car and locking it closed behind him. He knew what he was going to say. He had it all figured out. There was no mystery in the matter.

He walked through the lobby, nodding politely to the attendant, before heading deeper into the hotel. She wasn’t on the first floor, but she was on the second. He worked his way from room to room slowly, checking each number until the numbers finally told him he had found her room. 

Last chance. Last chance. It was running over and over in his head. He knocked three times, before clasping his hands tightly together.

When the door open, he nearly froze. “Please don’t run, Bree.” In his head it had been a witty opener, something to break the tension that would undoubtedly rear its head as soon as she saw who was at her door. Instead it came out mechanical, sounding every ounce the script it was. He tried to smirk, but it came out looking far more like a grimace.

Why was he doing this? This was a bad idea.