Chapter thirteen / Closure

I found him in his apartment, a hole in his head and a vintage pistol in his hand; taken straight from his antiques collection.

It was raining on the day of his funeral; as it always seems to be when bad things happen. Thanks to Tynan's efforts, Corbett was buried in the OA's official graveyard; the graveyard specifically set aside for presidents and the greatest heroes of our time. He used his own funds to build an extravagant tomb.

The entire world seemed to be watching my brother's burial. The very day my brother killed himself, Tynan went on television and told the world the crisis we'd been dealing with this whole time. The world needed to know, he said. He was right, I suppose, but it bugged me how, when Corbett was alive and well, no one bothered to give a shit about him. Now that he was dead... everyone who never knew him was mourning his departure.

I guess one part of me was glad that he would be remembered, and that people actually appreciated what he did... but at the same time, I couldn't help but be mad that all these people who had shunned him in life and scared him into being the antisocial hermit he was, these same people that were probably responsible for his negative emotions, were acting so sad, as if they had ever really cared for him.

Tynan gave a beautiful eulogy. He had wanted me to speak, but I couldn't bring myself to. I never realized, before then, what a good speaker Tynan was. I mean, he'd always given good speeches, but that was more because he was just very charismatic. But now that he was giving a speech he had written himself (not written by those brain-dead speech writers), one that he actually had put his own emotion into... well, I was just really glad he had done the speech instead of me. I would have never been able to move the audience the way he did.

The crowd dispersed as soon as the funeral was over. The media tried to get interviews from myself and Tynan, but Tynan kindly told them to "fuck off," and to "give us some fucking time to mourn."

So we sat under the pavilion that had been set up to shelter the crowd from the rain.

Tynan lit up a cigarette. He wasn't the kind of person that smoked very often; usually only when he was having a particularly bad day. I suppose today was as good a day as any.

He sighed, exhaling a puff of smoke. "This is fucking miserable."

I nodded.

"It's just a media circus. That's all it is. No one cares about Corbett, no one gives a shit what he did. They're just interested because their pretty-boy president is," He complained.

"History will look at him more respectfully, I guess," I said, more to assure myself than to assure him.

He nodded. "I guess he'll go right up next to Reden and Fordon as the modern world's champion. The epitome of self-sacrifice, and all that."

I nodded again.

"You think I should have a statue built of him?" He asked me.

I shook my head.

He nodded this time. "Yeah, I don't think you'd appreciate seeing pigeons shitting on your brother's head."

I didn't say anything.

"And you," He said to me, "You're going to be in the media's eye from now on. You're related to the deceased; you had a hand in bringing this all about. You're gonna be in the newspapers, books... the tabloids."

"I know."

"Are you okay with that?" He asked, "I can relocate you, if you want. Change your identity. You won't have to deal with a single reporter or cameraman or-"

"It's okay," I said, "I can handle it."

"You sure?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

We sat there in silence for a while, quietly contemplating whilst listening to the rain fall.

Eventually his cigarette ran out, and he threw the butt to the ground, crushing it under his heel while lighting another one.

I sighed. "This was the last thing I ever expected when we started this," I said quietly, "I went to the moon and got that vital information. I thought that I was going to be a hero. I thought that I was going to uncover some horrible villain. I thought...," I blew my nose on a handkerchief I had had in my pocket, "I thought there was going to be some epic battle... good versus evil."

He pondered this, gnawing on the cancer-stick in his mouth while breathing in its fumes. "... Maybe there was an epic battle."

I looked to him questioningly.

He shrugged. "The human mind is neither purely good nor absolutely evil. It contains both extremes, and they're always fighting. There's always an epic battle, always raging, in our heads. Corbett's just had higher stakes," He exhaled a cloud of smoke, "Good prevailed. It always does in the end... But there's always a price to pay."

He was entirely right.

I departed for the moon the day after.

I had a hard time, once again, finding the MiB base. Mostly this time due to the fact that there was no longer an illuminated window to show me where to look. But I found it within a matter of hours, and entered.

I walked, knowing just where to go. Room after room lit up as I entered, the only living being moving around the base.

I soon arrived at the room in which Indrid had been when last I visited. Oddly enough, the room was completely dark until I stepped foot into it.

"Indrid," I said to him, "It's done," I walked up, over to the chair in which Indrid sat, "The world's safe now, but-"

He wasn't moving.

I nudged him. "Indrid?"

No answer. I touched his neck, looking for a pulse. I found none.

I sighed. I wondered if he even got to see what he had been waiting for for so long.

As I took my hand back, I accidentally moved some of his hair away from his face. It was then that I noticed something.

He was smiling.

He had died smiling.

The end.