Hi All! This is a tribute to the late Judd Stewart from Unstoppable. I never liked how the loss of Frank's good friend and this simple, determined (and at times a little disgruntled) engineer was completely overlooked in the end. I always felt he needed for his story to be told. So this is my humble attempt at making it right for the character. ^^
I name each of my chapters after a song that is relevant to Suzi and Judd. This chapter's is, appropriately, Freight Train by Sara Jackson-Holman.
Not even a casket. They're carrying nothing.
Suzanne Stewart had this one thought repeatedly as she watched the short locomotive procession roll to a stop after having made its way slowly along the stretch of track from Fuller Yard to Brewster in the drizzling rain. The act was in honor of Judd, of course, who always said he wanted his "last ride" to be on a train.
Well, it had been – and for that, what was happening now felt like a big joke. After Judd's actual last train ride, the medical examiner couldn't even distinguish his ashes from the rubble of the train he'd attempted to lash up to the runaway 777.
And what would he have to say about all of this now? Had he realized he could die when he stepped into the cab of that last train? Had he known what was happening when the right side of the locomotive came up off the tracks during that last minute of his life and likely jarred him across the cab?
Did he feel himself burn? This last thought caused Suzi to swallow to keep back the bile. Her experience as an ER nurse did her no favors when it came to assessing how much her ex-husband had likely suffered. She quickly brought her fingers to her temples, massaging hard in an attempt to crush the thought that had visited her so often these last few days.
"Suzi…" she felt Frank Barnes' arm across her shoulders. "You gonna be alright? Do you need to take a break…?" His gentleness nearly evoked the sob she'd been holding back the whole day, but she shook her head quickly, knowing his suggestion wouldn't suit.
She kept the thoughts, and all other words, to herself during the long walk to the cemetery. Frank didn't leave her side, and seemed to realize she didn't want to talk. His steady presence was the only thing she could lean on.
The words said by her pastor were a blur. She clutched onto the small box she held in her hands as he droned on, realizing that, really, her pastor didn't know Judd. None of these people here knew him. He had never been a man easily known. But when she buried this box today, she would bury the things about her ex-husband that defined him – the things she knew, and maybe Frank. It was the least she could do.
"Suzi, you shouldn't do this alone. I'll stay here with you. We'll let all these other people leave, and it'll just be you and me. I can even walk to the other side of the cemetery if you want me to, give you time alone… but I'm not leaving you here."
Frank was insistent as the small crowd of mourners began to thin, leaving Suzi and him alone beside the small hole she had paid the funeral home to dig. Not much space was needed – only enough for what she now held in her hands.
"Frank, I'm a big girl," Suzi finally spoke. "You can go. I just really need to do this myself."
Perhaps sensing her fragility, Frank stared at her for a long time. "Thing is, Suzi…" he finally spoke, shifting his weight into what she could tell was a more defiant stance. "Judd was my best friend. And I gotta do what he would want me to do. Right now, that means—"
Suzi let slip an unrefined snort at his words, causing Frank's expression to melt into something softer, something almost hurt.
"Frank, come on. We both know Judd wouldn't have a clue what for you to do with me. Judd cared about trains. That's what he lived and breathed. Everything else was an aside, so let's just… keep it real here." Suzi found the angry words spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them. In all honesty, she hadn't even realized they were bubbling there in her heart until she actually spoke.
Frank shook his head. "Suzi… no. Come on. Judd was a complicated man, we know that."
"Oh," she let out a bitter laugh. "There was absolutely nothing complicated about Judd Stewart. You of all people should know that, we both should."
Frank stared at her. He stared for so long, in fact, that Suzi had to turn her face away, as it burned beneath his gaze with shame and embarrassment. A well put-together woman like her had no place speaking ill of the dead, let alone her own ex-husband, in front of anyone else.
Finally, he turned toward the back of the cemetery. "I'll go for a walk. You're not in any place for us to talk about this, Suzi. I'll be back in a few minutes, you go on now and take your time."
With that, he moved away from her.
Sighing, Suzi turned to face the empty "grave." She knew Frank was hurting over this, too. She'd had no right to take out her frustration on him. And really… where was her frustration coming from, anyway? She and Judd had been split for five years now. She should have dealt already with these emotions. All that should be left was grief and sorrow. That's all she thought she had room for, until now.
Judd may not have been complicated, but she sure was.
Not minding the wet grass, Suzi knelt in front of the gaping hole in the ground. She placed the box - filled with the things that reminded her of Judd - over it, ready to let it fall into the grave. She had taped it so the lid wouldn't pop off during the fall, or when it hit the earth.
Just when she was about to let go, she decided it may need to be turned slightly so it fell neatly on its bottom. No, that wouldn't do… she turned it again. Before she knew it, Suzi had spent almost an entire minute positioning and repositioning the cardboard box for its fall. She frankly couldn't understand why she was being so particular.
Just let it go, she chided herself. It's about to be buried in dirt anyhow.
But that's when she noticed the tape was loose on one side. Sighing in frustration, she pulled it back and began fumbling with the tape. She hadn't looked at this box's contents in over two years, and she certainly didn't want to see them now, spilled at the bottom of the grave.
"I know I taped this right this morning," she mumbled, smoothing her finger over the loose piece that stubbornly refused to stick to the cardboard. It was then that she realized why the tape wasn't sticking: it had already been pulled loose by something that was poking up in the box, causing that side of the lid to not come down all the way.
Frowning, she tried to just reach her hand into the narrow opening at the top of the box to push down whatever it was that was in the way. The minute her fingers brushed against the item, however, she not only knew what it was, she felt her heart catch.
