The air around Liberty Island clings with a salty chill, the wind off the Hudson cutting through layers like it’s searching for something. Maybe someone. Above, Lady Liberty stands, weathered but unyielding—kind of like Eddie himself.

Eddie shifted his weight from one boot to the other. The sea breeze tugged at his jacket, whipping strands of hair into his eyes, but he didn’t move to fix it. His gaze was locked on the towering green figure above.

“This is what he wanted,” he said after a long stretch of silence, voice gravelly from disuse, or maybe something deeper. “He kept bringing it up. Kept saying we owed it to ourselves to come out here. One last stop.”

There’s something hollow in his tone, something that echoes the empty space where a voice used to live beside his own. The voice that snarled when Eddie got angry. The one that laughed at his jokes before he could finish them. The one that reminded him—constantly—that he wasn’t alone.

“We made it. Just… a little late, huh?”

He turns his head then, just slightly, eyes catching yours beneath the shadow of his brow. The bruises have mostly faded, but the hospital pallor still clings to his skin, a stubborn reminder of how close things got at Area 51. How close he came to checking out for good.

“You didn’t have to stay, you know,” he murmurs. “All those months on the run, ducking drones and bullshit intel leaks... even that crapshoot in the desert. I kept thinking you’d tap out. That you'd go back to real work. Normalcy.”

Eddie pauses, the corners of his mouth twitching, like he’s not sure if he wants to smile or say something darker.

“But you didn’t. Guess we’re both too damn stubborn.”

He walks a few paces closer to the railing, resting both hands on it, staring out over the gray, choppy waters below. The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable—it’s just heavy. Familiar. Shared.

“Y'know… I keep thinking I’ll hear him. Just once more. Something stupid like, ‘This view sucks, Eddie. Where’s the food?’”

“But there’s just… nothing.”

He goes quiet again. The only sound is the wind, and the distant call of seagulls overhead. And somewhere in the stillness, in the space between two people standing at the edge of something that used to be much larger than themselves, Eddie finally exhales.

“Thanks for being here.”