This is no place for her to be. One wrong step and the hounds that she knows are on her trail will be upon her. Her hard-earned freedom, given her by her capricious mistress, will be forfeit again, and she would rather die than be lost once more in someone else's soul. If she had a choice in the matter, she would never have come anywhere near here. But these are the terms of her bargain, of her deal with the devil in her head; one last command for her to obey from beyond, and her chains will be gone as if they never were, except for the reminder she'll see every day in the mirror and every moment from the corner of her eye.

The wind cuts cold and bitter, even through her thick coat. Her hands clutching her burden are raw with weariness. She longs to stretch her tight, cramped, fingers, but she dares not put her burden down until she finds the exact place on this barren plain that she needs. Of course it would be unmarked. She remains unsurprised, though. Everything she was told suggests that the owner of these lands is heartless and soulless, even if she is far from mindless.

But she sees now the four cleared spaces that are even more barren than the winter would allow for, and she knows that this is what she has been looking for. A shiver runs down her spine, not completely caused by the screaming wind and the bitter, bitter chill. Hard to believe that there are bodies buried here, flesh rotted away until the bone shows through, the bone worn away by time until only cold metal remains to taint the water and the land. Hard to believe she once knew them all before… before is a good place to leave it. Hard to believe them all really and truly dead, dead twice, thrice over now, erased and forgotten, those they allied themselves with discarding their empty shells, those who stood against them ignoring their passing. Again the shiver down her spine, the sense that someone is walking over her grave, the sense that she is that someone, the recollection that her spine, her body, is borrowed from another entirely.

She has to guess that they use logic here, a guess she cannot be sure is true. But the line begins alongside a fence, so she lays her first bouquet at the foot. She did her research well and carefully, or at least as well as a session with Google allowed. Rosemary for remembrance, asphodel for the regret she carries from another, thyme for the strength and courage that should never have been needed, tobacco flowers and dogwood from Durham, irises from Louisiana and for the message she carries. "She did well by you, Alana," she says softly. "She did real well." It never should have come to this, she knows now; the memories given her by another reveal the gravest mistake the Mystakes ever made, a mistake that ended in blood.

She moves over to the second, which seems almost vandalized. She cannot bring herself to be surprised; defiance comes with a heavy price, and the Indiana Fever defied the system for six long years because of this woman. Rosemary for remembrance, of course, because Tamika's sacrifice was the most amazing of them all. Magnolia for nobility and dignity, and for four years in the South. Chrysanthemum for the truth that Tamika always held dear. Feverfew for protection. Violets for modesty, and for Illinois and New Jersey; a yellow rose of Texas; iris for the message she carries from Tennessee; peonies from Indiana, mark of the righteous indignation that fueled her. She has nothing to say to Tamika, nothing that Tamika would have heard in any case.

The only way she recognizes the presence of the third grave is the presence of the second and the fourth. Kara turned the Dream into a nightmare, and only the rise of Georgia-born Amy Bryant had put Atlanta into a more pleasant slumber. If Kara's madness had convinced other teams to turn away from the technology- but it had not, and the consequences of her actions were visited on her clones and them alone; even Ukari could not find and save them all before rash actions brought them to their doom. Still, she brings the rosemary, petunias for resentment and anger, basil for hatred, columbine for folly, marigolds for grief and cruelty, Georgia's Cherokee roses with their symbolism of grief and greed, and lays them on the cold, cold ground. "I know what you tried to do," she says quietly, her words ripped from her mouth as the wind screams. "And Detroit is still free, and Tweety is still just Tweety." The mix of grief and relief that pierces her heart like a knife takes her by surprise. It hurts to contemplate Detroit as just another extension of the system, or to think about Deanna staring blankly at another screen, all that quicksilver grace forever stilled.

But this is a good pain. This is her pain, from her past and her memories. This has nothing to do with her existence of the last eight years, with the life someone else led through her. With the woman buried at the far end of the row, the last for now. No need for rosemary here; she will remember until her dying day, even if she tries to forget. But she understands the choice her teammate- her mistress for these eight years- made, and given the same incomplete knowledge, she would have made the same choice to protect her teammates. Sunflowers are for loyalty, eucalyptus for protection that turned out worse than it should, sweet pea for goodbye, thyme again for strength and courage, yew for sorrow… and mistletoe, holy parasite, for an Oklahoma girl who left home but never left it in her heart. The flowers fall from her hands; the pressure releases in the back of her mind. She is free again, herself again in heart and soul.

"I should be mad at you," she mutters. "But I'm not, because you kept to your word. I can't fault you for that. And you did what you had to do."

She's relieved to find that Crystal has no answer for her. Before she gets ready to go, she leaves one more flower atop the pile: a white hyacinth. I'll pray for you. Snow starts to fall as she walks away. So the flowers will die. Happens all the time, and at least it'll hide her footprints.

Time to put the "twin" back in the Twin Cities. Coat over her nose and mouth, taking deep, rapid breaths, Coco walks away.