Walking Away
By: Olivia
I'm walking away. I'm walking away from my job, my colleagues, and my partner. I'm walking away from the one thing that I thought had made sense in my life because it no longer makes any sense. It had been my calling, my vocation next to being a husband and father. I was the murder police. It was the highest calling I thought, to speak for those who could no longer speak for themselves.
I'm sitting here looking at my partner, at Tim Bayliss, lying there hooked up to tubes and monitors. He's unconscious. He can't speak for himself. I certainly cannot speak for him. Sure they guy who shot Tim is dead and I got a confession out of Mike Kellerman, but what has that done for Tim? Nothing that I have done today had helped Tim at all. His life is in the hands of God, not men.
I look across at his mother sitting on the other side of Tim, holding his hand, hovering like some guardian angel. Her silent prayers fly to heaven and mingle with my own. I'm begging God to spare Tim's life, to do what I was unable to do, protect him.
Mrs. Bayliss' words earlier chilled me. "He said you were his friend. And that means a lot because you're a person who doesn't have friends." Truer words were never spoken about me.
I never wanted a partner. I never wanted to be paired with this rookie six years ago. I worked alone. I was fine working alone. The other detectives reveled in their partnerships-Howard and Felton, Munch and Bolander, Crossetti and Lewis-they were all about working together. Tim was supposed to have been partnered with Howard and Felton was to have been partnered with me. I couldn't stand being partnered with Felton and they didn't want to be split and so the rookie got assigned to me.
I never wanted or needed a partner before Tim. It was only after he didn't want to be my partner during those few months that I realized how much I missed working with him, how at some point over the years working together he became more than my partner, he became my friend. He had been angry with me for not being there for him. Eventually, he forgave me and we were partnered together again. Now I'm right back where I was before; I let my partner down again.
Suddenly, I feel anger rising in me. I'm angry with the perp who shot at me and hit Tim. I'm angry at Tim for stepping in front of me, taking the bullet that was meant for me. It is a sacrifice that I would never have allowed him to make. I'm angry at Kellerman for killing Luther Mahoney and with Gee for not charging Kellerman for bringing this vengeance upon us. I'm angry at Junior Bunk for shooting Ballard and Gharty.
But mostly I'm angry at myself for not shooting, for letting my partner down. I chuckle mirthlessly inwardly. Tim's here because of my inaction. All I had to do was pull the damn trigger. I had him in my sights and I just froze. All it took was a few seconds of inaction on my part to bring us to this point.
Mrs. Bayliss has gotten up to go stretch her legs and get a drink. I'm all alone with Tim.
I reach for Tim's hand and hold it. It's so cold, almost as cold as the bodies whose deaths we investigate. I watch mesmerized as his chest rises and falls mechanically. There's a distance, a comfort that comes with investigating unknown homicide victims. But tonight there is no distance, no comfort. Three people I serve with are lying in this hospital, two hovering between life and death.
I wish I could be what Tim was to me when I was recovering from my stroke-my protector, my partner, my friend. But I can't stay here and live this lie. I can't lie to Tim. He deserves better. I let him down tonight and I can't face that or him. But not only this time have I let him down, but so many times in the past. All he wanted was to be my friend and I kept him out, kept him at a distance in my life, because I didn't want this job to become personal, but it is personal in so many ways.
Tim made it personal for me. I've learned so much from him. I've learned to see things from his perspective, through his eyes, and that makes me a better person to be able to come at things from different angles. Tim snuck into my life while I wasn't even paying attention and I haven't been the same since. Because of him, Mary has a husband and Olivia and Frank Jr have a father tonight who is alive and healthy. Tim would have made a good husband and father.
"I'm so sorry, Tim. I'm so sorry I let you down. You saved my life."
Something wet is dropping on my hand that is holding Tim's. I wipe away my tears with my free hand.
"I'm leaving Homicide, Tim. I gave Gee my badge. I'm no good at this job. I'm not good to you anymore. You're better off without me. You're going to be just fine, you hear me? But you've got to fight. You've got to hold on."
Cases we worked together, discussions in our Cavalier, dinners we had together, Tim holding my children...all these memories go rushing through my mind.
"Please, Tim, you've got to get better. There's so much left for you to do here. There's so much left unsaid between us. You are my friend, Tim. You're my only friend."
I gently lay Tim's hand down and I lean back in my chair. I just look at him. Today I walked away from my past and in a few moments I'll be walking towards my future, a future that will be sustained by my wife and children. I don't know what the future holds for me, but I will always carry the past with me wherever I go. I know this as surely as I know Tim will recover, simply because I will not allow it to be any other way in my mind. I refuse to believe that God would put Tim into my life only to take him away. I refuse to believe that God would let this good man die, let his light pass out of this world, simply for saving my life, the life of a fallen man. God is calling me back into the fold. He is trying to show me the way back to him, the way back to being devout. He is all I have left to turn to for help in saving Tim's life. It is time for my miracle.
The End
"I'm walking away, from the troubles in my life. I'm walking away to find a better day."-Craig David
"In every parting there is an image of death."-George Eliot
"I will not serve in that which I no longer believe."-James Joyce
By: Olivia
I'm walking away. I'm walking away from my job, my colleagues, and my partner. I'm walking away from the one thing that I thought had made sense in my life because it no longer makes any sense. It had been my calling, my vocation next to being a husband and father. I was the murder police. It was the highest calling I thought, to speak for those who could no longer speak for themselves.
I'm sitting here looking at my partner, at Tim Bayliss, lying there hooked up to tubes and monitors. He's unconscious. He can't speak for himself. I certainly cannot speak for him. Sure they guy who shot Tim is dead and I got a confession out of Mike Kellerman, but what has that done for Tim? Nothing that I have done today had helped Tim at all. His life is in the hands of God, not men.
I look across at his mother sitting on the other side of Tim, holding his hand, hovering like some guardian angel. Her silent prayers fly to heaven and mingle with my own. I'm begging God to spare Tim's life, to do what I was unable to do, protect him.
Mrs. Bayliss' words earlier chilled me. "He said you were his friend. And that means a lot because you're a person who doesn't have friends." Truer words were never spoken about me.
I never wanted a partner. I never wanted to be paired with this rookie six years ago. I worked alone. I was fine working alone. The other detectives reveled in their partnerships-Howard and Felton, Munch and Bolander, Crossetti and Lewis-they were all about working together. Tim was supposed to have been partnered with Howard and Felton was to have been partnered with me. I couldn't stand being partnered with Felton and they didn't want to be split and so the rookie got assigned to me.
I never wanted or needed a partner before Tim. It was only after he didn't want to be my partner during those few months that I realized how much I missed working with him, how at some point over the years working together he became more than my partner, he became my friend. He had been angry with me for not being there for him. Eventually, he forgave me and we were partnered together again. Now I'm right back where I was before; I let my partner down again.
Suddenly, I feel anger rising in me. I'm angry with the perp who shot at me and hit Tim. I'm angry at Tim for stepping in front of me, taking the bullet that was meant for me. It is a sacrifice that I would never have allowed him to make. I'm angry at Kellerman for killing Luther Mahoney and with Gee for not charging Kellerman for bringing this vengeance upon us. I'm angry at Junior Bunk for shooting Ballard and Gharty.
But mostly I'm angry at myself for not shooting, for letting my partner down. I chuckle mirthlessly inwardly. Tim's here because of my inaction. All I had to do was pull the damn trigger. I had him in my sights and I just froze. All it took was a few seconds of inaction on my part to bring us to this point.
Mrs. Bayliss has gotten up to go stretch her legs and get a drink. I'm all alone with Tim.
I reach for Tim's hand and hold it. It's so cold, almost as cold as the bodies whose deaths we investigate. I watch mesmerized as his chest rises and falls mechanically. There's a distance, a comfort that comes with investigating unknown homicide victims. But tonight there is no distance, no comfort. Three people I serve with are lying in this hospital, two hovering between life and death.
I wish I could be what Tim was to me when I was recovering from my stroke-my protector, my partner, my friend. But I can't stay here and live this lie. I can't lie to Tim. He deserves better. I let him down tonight and I can't face that or him. But not only this time have I let him down, but so many times in the past. All he wanted was to be my friend and I kept him out, kept him at a distance in my life, because I didn't want this job to become personal, but it is personal in so many ways.
Tim made it personal for me. I've learned so much from him. I've learned to see things from his perspective, through his eyes, and that makes me a better person to be able to come at things from different angles. Tim snuck into my life while I wasn't even paying attention and I haven't been the same since. Because of him, Mary has a husband and Olivia and Frank Jr have a father tonight who is alive and healthy. Tim would have made a good husband and father.
"I'm so sorry, Tim. I'm so sorry I let you down. You saved my life."
Something wet is dropping on my hand that is holding Tim's. I wipe away my tears with my free hand.
"I'm leaving Homicide, Tim. I gave Gee my badge. I'm no good at this job. I'm not good to you anymore. You're better off without me. You're going to be just fine, you hear me? But you've got to fight. You've got to hold on."
Cases we worked together, discussions in our Cavalier, dinners we had together, Tim holding my children...all these memories go rushing through my mind.
"Please, Tim, you've got to get better. There's so much left for you to do here. There's so much left unsaid between us. You are my friend, Tim. You're my only friend."
I gently lay Tim's hand down and I lean back in my chair. I just look at him. Today I walked away from my past and in a few moments I'll be walking towards my future, a future that will be sustained by my wife and children. I don't know what the future holds for me, but I will always carry the past with me wherever I go. I know this as surely as I know Tim will recover, simply because I will not allow it to be any other way in my mind. I refuse to believe that God would put Tim into my life only to take him away. I refuse to believe that God would let this good man die, let his light pass out of this world, simply for saving my life, the life of a fallen man. God is calling me back into the fold. He is trying to show me the way back to him, the way back to being devout. He is all I have left to turn to for help in saving Tim's life. It is time for my miracle.
The End
"I'm walking away, from the troubles in my life. I'm walking away to find a better day."-Craig David
"In every parting there is an image of death."-George Eliot
"I will not serve in that which I no longer believe."-James Joyce