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CHAPTER 122 — THE DOCUMENTARY
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2026-07-17 13:55:04
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burn between us CHAPTER 124 — WHAT THE DOCUMENTARY FINDS
The filming happened over three weeks in February and March, a period that felt both compressed and expansive to those involved. Each location, each day of shooting, was a careful stitch in the tapestry Fleur was determined to weave. The documentary sought not only to capture events but to expose the quiet architecture of a life, of decisions made over decades, and of love expressed in the most deliberate, patient forms.Brussels was the starting point, a city that held the echoes of courtroom whispers and the weighted silence of waiting rooms. The federal court building loomed with its solemn authority, its marble corridors full of the ghostly footsteps of those who had come seeking justice or defense. Dante had walked those hallways many times, the hard soles of his shoes striking a rhythm that he would never forget: the rhythm of testimony, of exposure, of irreversibility. He knew every turn, every echoing corner where he had paused to steady himself. Within those walls, the trial
burn between us CHAPTER 123 — FLEUR DEMERS
She came to the Alentejo in January.Not to film — the filming would be later, in Brussels and wherever else the documentary required. She came first to talk, as she always did. “I need to know the person before I know the story,” she said. “The person is the story.”Fleur Demers was Belgian, fifty-two, with the particular composure of someone who had spent thirty years looking at difficult things—wars, disappearances, betrayals, the kinds of truths that resisted simplification. She had learned to look long enough for understanding to emerge, rather than be defeated by the first wave of sorrow or shock. Her directness came from experience, a soft efficiency that bypassed the ornamental. Clarity, she believed, was a form of kindness.She arrived in the muted light of an Alentejo afternoon, the horizon pale gold and gray with winter sun. Dante met her at the gate, his hands in the pockets of his worn jacket. He gave her the same orientation he gave all visitors: the house first, then th
burn between us CHAPTER 122 — THE DOCUMENTARY
The call from the production company came in December, a time when the world seemed to slow down, wrapped in the quiet of winter. The air was crisp, and the garden outside Dante’s kitchen window lay bare, its bones exposed to the chill. Inside, the range emitted a comforting warmth, a stark contrast to the cold outside. It was a moment of stillness, one that Dante often found himself seeking amidst the chaos of his life.The call was from Annika, Dante’s trusted advisor and confidante. She had been instrumental in vetting the production company, the director, and the broadcasters involved in the documentary about the Meridian’s collapse. The project was backed by two reputable European broadcasters who had been closely following the trial and its aftermath. The director, Fleur Demers, was a Belgian woman with a reputation for her rigorous yet humane approach to storytelling. Her previous documentaries had delved into the murky waters of European institutional corruption, earning her a
burn between us CHAPTER 121 — NADIA WRITES BACK
Her reply came three weeks after they sent the letter.It arrived through Vandermeersch's forwarding channel — she had no direct address for them, and the channel had become, quietly, the conduit for this specific correspondence, which Vandermeersch managed with the particular discretion of someone who understood that some things were not legal proceedings but were nonetheless important.Dante was in the garden when Elian brought the phone outside.He handed it over without speaking.Dante read it.Dear Mr. Voss and Mr. Rhys,Thank you for writing back. I didn't know if you would. I've been waiting three weeks and I almost convinced myself that the letter had gone to the wrong place or that you were too busy or that what I wrote was too much and too direct. My mother says I'm always too direct. I think I got that from my father.You said he was brave. I've been thinking about that word since I read your letter. People say brave like it's a simple thing, like it just means not being af
burn between us CHAPTER 120 — THE LETTER TO NADIA
It came through Vandermeersch's office on a Friday in November, the kind of day when the light outside was pale and thin, and the air, even indoors, had a sense of stillness about it. The office itself, tucked high in the Belgian federal building, was hushed. A single fluorescent tube flickered over a desk piled with documents that seemed to have grown into a small hill of paper. The letter, unremarkable in appearance, was a forwarded communication, its envelope carrying the faint impression of all the hands it had passed through, the subtle creases of travel. The message had come from a young woman in Minsk, fifteen years old, named Nadia Gorev. It had traveled through the Belgian federal prosecutor's office, been flagged as relevant, and then directed to the foundation’s contact. Attached to it was a brief note from Vandermeersch himself, written in practiced, controlled script: This came to us. I believe it belongs with you.Dante received the envelope at the kitchen table. It was
burn between us CHAPTER 119 — WHAT TWO YEARS BUILDS
The second anniversary of arriving in the Alentejo house fell on a quiet Thursday in October. It was not a date either of them had deliberately tracked — the purchase had happened in the last week of October, their arrival not long after, and no one had marked it on a calendar or set any reminder. But Elian had known it was coming, and Dante had known that Elian had known, which meant that the morning carried a subtle, anticipatory weight. Not heavy, not ceremonial, but a faint hum in the background, like the opening note of a piece of music they both recognized. Dante woke first. He lay in the familiar room that had slowly become the axis of his life. The east-facing window let in the first strands of morning light, pale and glancing across the whitewashed wall. From the property’s edge came the sound of the Atlantic — not the roar of winter storms, but the steady, thoughtful rhythm of waves moving around the rocks below the cliffs. The air was cool, faintly scented with salt and
burn between us CHAPTER 4 — THE DRIVE
The car was a grey Skoda — anonymous, reliable, the kind of vehicle that belonged so completely to the background of Eastern European streets that it functioned as near-invisibility. Elian got in the passenger side without being told, which told Dante something. Most civilians needed to be directed
burn between us CHAPTER 3 — FOUR IN THE MORNING
Dante had been inside better-secured hotel rooms.The lock on room 412 of the Hotel Minerva was a standard European keycard system with a secondary deadbolt — respectable by civilian standards, trivial by his. He cleared it in under eight seconds, which meant his hands were quiet and his mind was q
burn between us CHAPTER 2 — THE JOURNALIST
Elian Rhys had a system for hotel rooms.First, he checked the locks — door and windows both. Not because he expected them to save him if someone serious came for him, but because a compromised lock meant a compromised room, and a compromised room meant he'd already made a mistake somewhere down th
burn between us CHAPTER 1 — THE ASSIGNMENT
The folder landed on the table with a sound like a verdict.Dante Voss didn't reach for it immediately. That was the first rule he'd learned inside The Meridian — never appear eager. Eagerness was a crack in the armor, and cracks got you killed. He sat with his hands flat on the steel surface of th
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