To Be at Peace
Author's Note: I usually only place these at the end of a story, but this is a special case. This story is my tribute to the 9-11 tragedy, inspired by the episode last year, though it is a bit long in coming.
This is a story about closure, about finding answers. I am aware, however, that this is a difficult topic for many people, and many reasons. Therefore, if this is something you feel is inappropriate, or bothers you in some way, then I do not recommend it. However, know that this is a tribute to the lost, and to those still waiting, and that I sincerely hope that the scenes in this story may become a reality for all those who still wait for closure, whether it be from 9-11, or some other tragedy. To that end, my best wishes, go out to you.
Summary:With a new technique from the lab, and a little help from Reed, Mac finally gets the news he's waited over ten years to hear. Claire has been identified. But how will he react, when it's finally time to truly let go?
He was going through case files and paperwork at his desk when the phone rang.
Mac blinked, looking up as his concentration was broken. He wasn't expecting any calls. No one on his team was working a high-profile case, so it was unlikely to be Sinclair or the media calling. Besides, the call was incoming on his cell phone, not his office one. His caller ID wasn't listing a number he knew either.
The phone rang again, and he reached across and picked it up. "Detective Mac Taylor speaking."
"Detective Taylor? This is Doctor Bernais, from Piper Labs."
Mac stilled, feeling his body tense slightly. He'd worked for Piper Labs for a few months, on the 9/11 project. But during that time, during the building of the Brooklyn Wall of Remembrance, he'd done some soul searching, and come to understand that he had to let go, and that his place was in the crime lab, not looking for Claire at Piper. After the wall, he'd turned in his resignation, with his regrets, and returned to New York CSI.
"Detective Taylor?" The words startled him from his thoughts.
He collected himself quickly. "Yes. I'm listening."
"Sorry to disturb you, Detective, but your contact information was listed in reference to a name on our list. A Claire Conrad Taylor."
Mac felt something in his stomach clench at the words. He sat up straighter. "She was my wife. She died in the 9/11 attacks."
"Well, as you know, that's our main project. We've been experimenting with a few new techniques, and we've had a possible breakthrough." The man cleared his throat. "However, given the age and state of the samples..."
"I know. DNA degrades, even in the best lab conditions." Mac swallowed, trying to force his emotions under control. "And you're calling me because..."
"We've got some partial profiles. In order to have any chance of a match though, we need a comparison sample. A familial potential match would do. We don't have anyone on record for her, and we were hoping you could help us locate someone who would be willing to submit a profile for comparison with our new data."
Mac swallowed hard. After over ten years, he'd more or less given up on hoping. The time spent in the lab, and the ten year anniversary of his wife's passing had convinced him to find peace in his current life, to try and let go of the past once and for all. But now...
He forced his thoughts back to the matter at hand. He had nothing of Claire's left to provide a new sample, and it all would have suffered much the same degradation as the samples the lab already had. That left family. Claire's parents had been devastated by the death of their daughter. They'd moved away, but he'd received notice that both had passed away recently, within the past year or two. However...there was another option.
Reed Garrett. Claire's son, by a different man. Before they'd been married, before they'd even met. As a teenager, Claire had gone through a romantic attachment. She'd given the baby up for adoption when the father left, convinced she was neither old enough or responsible enough to care for a child on her own. She'd always planned to reunite with her son when he reached majority, to at least apologize, but her death had ended that plan. Mac had never thought to see the young man, until the day he'd turned up at Stella's doorstep, looking for his mother.
It had broken his heart to tell Reed that his mother had died, and that she hadn't even been buried, being one of the thousands of unidentified victims of the bombings on the World Trade Center. But despite that, and some rocky intervals, the two of them remained close friends.
"Detective?" The soft query brought him back to his caller, waiting for a response.
He cleared his throat. "My apologies. I was thinking. I may know someone to talk to. Is there a good time to come by, if I can convince him?"
"Any time during the workday. Of course, we'd like the information as soon as possible." The man's voice was calm, professional, but there was also an undercurrent of hopeful, cautious excitement.
"So would I." Mac swallowed again. It was Thursday. Too late to try and get Friday off, and he still had to call Reed and ask him anyway. But... "How about next Monday? Say, nine or ten in the morning?"
"That would work wonderfully." Dr. Bernais murmured. "Shall I expect just you, or will you bring someone else?"
"If he agrees, I'll be bringing him with me." Mac glanced at his clock. "Why don't I give him a ring, and I'll call back and let you know." He jotted down the number on his phone.
"Sounds perfect. I look forward to hearing from you." There was a tone of satisfaction in the man's voice. Then the line clicked and went dead.
Mac set the phone down, and swallowed hard, trying to force his thoughts to calm.
Ten years. He knew that there was every chance this was another dead end. It didn't stop his heart from pounding, didn't stop the emotions creating a lump in his throat and a tightness in his gut.
Mac gave himself a mental shake and flipped his cell back open, scrolling down the list of contacts until he reached Reed's number. He hesitated, his finger over the call button, his mind in chaos. Then he closed his eyes, gathered his thoughts, and pressed the button.
There was a click, the dial tone for connection. Then the phone rang. Once.
Jo walked in, her arms full of paperwork. "Hey, Mac, I need..."
Mac held up a hand, a silent request for quiet as the phone rang again. He knew that personal business shouldn't interfere with work, but he couldn't hang up now. Jo nodded and fell silent, her eyes alight with curiosity.
The phone rang a third time, and then there was a click, and a young, male voice answered. "Reed Garrett."
He recognized the voice as Claire's son. Not just the tones, but the rough, scratchy undertone, a legacy of his brush with death after getting involved with the Cabbie Killer, a few years ago. Reed had healed, gotten back on his feet and resumed his journalism career, but the scars remained, a reminder to them both of the cost of a momentary lack of caution.
He swallowed once, to make sure his own voice was stable, then spoke. "Reed. It's Mac."
"Hey, Mac." There was genuine pleasure in Reed's voice. "What's going on?" There was a pause. "You're usually at work this time of day."
"I am." Mac felt a small grin tug his mouth. Trust Reed to be perceptive enough to guess that something was odd. "I may have something for you, but it can't be handled over the phone. I wanted to know if you could meet me at my apartment, Monday morning. There's somewhere I'd like to take you." He knew he could have been more forthcoming, but Reed loved a good mystery, and besides...Jo was still standing next to his desk. His emotions and his mind still felt too tangled up for him to want to say too much in front of her. Jo was a wonderful woman, and he enjoyed working with her, but there were some things that were just too close to his heart.
"Monday morning..." He heard a rustle in the background. "Huh. Monday I do afternoon street walking. Got one class, but it's an easy one, and I can get the material from the professor tomorrow. Yeah. I can meet you." There was a pause, then the question he knew was coming. "So, what's up? I haven't heard news of any really huge stories on the streets. Or is this a special heads up?" Mac had promised Reed when he began his journalism career that any breaking news he could release without violating his work ethic and rules, he'd give to Reed first. Having an inside source at the NYPD had boosted Reed's credentials tremendously. They'd had a few heated conflicts over what Mac would and wouldn't tell him, but more than once he'd given the young man a valuable article.
He was aware Reed was waiting for an answer. He thought a moment, then spoke. "Not exactly. Actually...it concerns the reason you came to New York. The reason we met."
Silence on the other end. Then a soft, tentative question. "Mac...did they...?"
He sighed. "I don't know yet. That's what I need you to help me find out. That's why I want you to come with me on Monday."
Another, shorter silence. "Okay. I'll definitely be there. What time?"
"Eight should be fine. That'll give us time to catch a little breakfast, before we leave. Or on the way."
"Eight am. Got it. I'll be there." There was a brief pause, and then a soft, "Thanks Mac." Then the line clicked and went dead.
Mac hung up the phone and turned to find Jo staring at him. "Sorry about that. You said you needed something?"
"Well, I've got a load of reports and case files that need your signature." Jo set the stack of papers on the desk, then folded her arms, staring at him with the same appraising expression she reserved for some of their more confusing cases. "Mind telling me what that was all about, Mac Taylor?" her tone was light, but her eyes were bright with curiosity.
Mac shrugged. "It was just some personal business. Something came up that I need to take care of."
One eyebrow rose. "Mac, I've worked with you for over three years now, and that's the first time I've ever seen you let something personal interfere with you during office hours. Besides..." She leaned forward to place her hands on his desk, and leveled a challenging smile at him. "It sounded like you were planning on taking a day off. All I want to know is if there's something going on I need to be aware of, as your secondary head of the CSI team."
Mac sighed. Jo's observational skills made her an excellent CSI, and her compassion and concerns for others made her an excellent friend. Still, he couldn't help being a little frustrated at her insistence. On the other hand, she was right. She was the second-in-command of the CSI team. She'd be in charge while he was gone. "Piper Labs called. I'm taking Monday off to check on some new developments they've had."
Sympathy softened Jo's expression. "Sounds pretty important. And pretty specific." She jerked her head toward the phone. "A friend of yours?"
He sighed again, trying to keep his tangled emotions under control. "His name is Reed Garrett. His mother was one of the unidentified victims of 9/11. He came to me a few years back, looking for her. We've kept in contact ever since." He'd called Reed at least once a week, while he worked at Piper, keeping him informed, as the young man had requested. They'd both been disappointed that there had been no success.
Jo nodded. "I understand." Her eyebrow quirked upwards, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Interesting, that he came to you."
Mac shook his head. "Not really. Reed didn't know when he first arrived in New York that his mother was a 9/11 victim." he took a deep breath, settling his emotions. "Reed was adopted. He came to me because his biological mother was also my late wife, Claire."
The curiosity in Jo's expression changed instantly to contrition. "I'm sorry." She shook her head, looking embarrassed. "I shouldn't have pried. I'm sorry Mac."
"Don't be." He waved the apology away. In some ways, it was a relief that she knew, a relief to be able to tell someone. He took another slow, deep breath, and finished the story. "One of the scientists at Piper Labs called me today. He told me they'd had a possible breakthrough. But they need a relative's DNA to confirm if there's an actual match. Reed is Claire's closest surviving kin, so on Monday, he and I will go to Piper labs. See what we can find out." He looked up and met Jo's eyes. "I'd prefer this be kept quiet for now. I'd rather not have to answer a lot of questions. Especially if it turns out to be another dead end."
Jo nodded. "My lips are sealed." She gave him a warm, motherly sort of smile, the same kind she'd used when soothing his nerves at times during the Tessa James cases, and a few other more difficult ones as well. "In the meantime, I suggest you don't think on it too much. And, fortunately for you, I know just the thing to distract you." There was a definitely mischievous glint in her eye as she grinned and shoved the pile of reports and such across the desk. "Plenty of paperwork, all for you."
Mac nodded, a relieved smile breaking over his features. "Thanks Jo. I'll get right on that." She was right, that he needed a distraction. Paperwork was hardly as distracting as a good case, but it would do well enough.
"You do that." Jo shot him another grin, then turned smartly and headed for the door. Just before she opened it, however, she turned back to him. "Mac." He met her eyes, surprised by the seriousness of her expression. "I won't say anything, but, whatever the result is...take what time you need, okay?"
He nodded, feeling his shoulders relax. Jo was the only person he'd told, of his real reasons for going to work at Piper labs, the few months he'd been gone. One of the few he'd actually spoken to, about his wife's death. "Thank you." Jo watched him a moment longer, then nodded and left his office.
The next three days seemed to pass in a haze. He did manage to get the paperwork done. However, at the end of shift Friday and Saturday, they caught a few cases. Most of them were easy, routine, fairly simple to handle. By the end of Sunday, they'd solved two, and the rest were in the capable hands of his CSI team. He wondered if any of them had noticed he was leaving it to them, or Jo's extra interest in the cases, but none of them said anything, so he shrugged the thought away.
He woke Monday just as dawn was breaking in the sky, too restless to sleep any longer. A glance at the clock showed it was well before Reed was expected. He lay in bed a few minutes, then sighed, got up, and made his way to the shower. The hot water woke him the rest of the way, and the cup of coffee he brewed after helped clear his head. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about his edgy restlessness, or the butterflies in his gut.
He didn't want to get his hopes up. He knew it was most likely to be another dead end. He knew there was no reason to expect success now, after over ten years, and four months of actually working in the labs. But the knowledge did nothing to stop the hope blooming in his heart, or the quiet, desperate prayer that played in the back of his mind, that this time would be different.
At five minutes to eight, a knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. He opened it to find Reed standing there, fidgeting in the hallway. He had a lightweight pack on his back, his ever-present notebook and pen in one hand, playing nervously with them. Mac smiled at him. "You made good time."
"Yeah. Didn't want to be late." Reed flashed him a nervous grin.
Mac answered with a smile of his own and ducked back into the apartment. He grabbed his coat, made sure his wallet was securely stowed, then slung it across his shoulders and pulled the keys from the pocket he'd left them in. Then he joined Reed in the hallway. It only took a moment to lock the door. He studied the young man a moment, then jerked his head down the hall. "Come on. The deli down the street serves great coffee, and a pretty good breakfast menu."
Reed nodded. They took the stairs to the ground floor, and left the building, Reed following him as Mac led him. Neither of them said a word as they strolled down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the early morning foot traffic. Mac felt too preoccupied, too nervous to say anything, and Reed looked as if he felt the same. Rather than force conversation, Mac led him to the diner in silence, inside through the early morning crowd. Mac was a familiar face, and he managed to catch the waiter's eye, signaling the empty booth he'd spotted and an order for two coffees. Then he grabbed a set of menus and led Reed to the booth, settled near the back where they could both have some privacy.
Reed remained silent as the waiter brought their coffee and took their orders. He waited until the man was on his way back to the kitchen before he spoke. "Look, Mac...what you said on the phone...what's this about?"
Mac stirred in his packet of sugar, bracing himself for the conversation to come. Then he set the spoon aside and looked up. "Piper Labs called me. They believe they might have discovered a breakthrough that will help identify 9/11 victims." He saw the sharp, painful flash of hope in Reed's eyes and continued. "In order to confirm their suspicions, they need fresh DNA samples from blood relatives. I need you to come with me, to provide a sample, for comparison."
Reed swallowed hard, blinked. His hands were tight, almost white-knuckled around the coffee cup. "Why me?"
Mac took another breath. "I lost track of Claire's parents years ago. They moved away after she died, and it was just...too painful, for us to keep track of each other. Besides, they may have passed on." He shivered and took a quick sip of coffee, to still his thoughts and banish the lingering ghosts. "In any case, you were the nearest surviving relative I could think of. And...I thought you deserved to know."
"If they've identified my mother?" Reeds expression was intent, desperate and hopeful, almost painfully so. Mac wondered idly if he'd had that expression when Jo had pressured him. It made sense why she'd been so insistent, if he had.
He forced himself to speak again. "Yes. It's my hope that they did. However, you have to understand..." mac broke off as Reed shook his head.
"I know. The odds aren't good. Trust me Mac, I know." Reed glanced up. "I saw you at the memorial wall you helped set up in Brooklyn. I get it." They both paused as the waiter returned, bearing plates. Then, as the man moved away, Reed spoke again, his voice sounding somehow much younger. "You still think there's a chance?"
Mac was tempted to say yes. But he'd promised the boy the truth. Especially when it came to Claire. "I don't know. But I do know we'll never find out, unless you're willing to submit a DNA sample. That's why I asked you to come with me. If you're still interested."
Reed blinked at him, and incredulous look on his face. "Of course I'm still interested." he stared at Mac a moment longer, then offered him a crooked grin. "I wouldn't miss this for the front page story of the Sunday news."
Mac smiled back, relaxing suddenly. "I'd hoped so." He glanced at his watch again. "We'd better eat if we're going to make it on time."
Reed nodded and dug into his pancakes without another word. Mac followed suit with his oatmeal. Both men ate quickly and drank their coffee to the dregs. Mac ordered a second cup, to go, then paid the tab and ushered Reed out of the apartment. It took a few moments, to find the right bus and pay the fare, and then they were on their way.
Reed remained quiet during the journey. Looking at his companion, Mac could see the young man's shoulders were tense. He wondered if it was the upcoming visit to the lab, or the one disastrous incident with the cab before, making him wary of public transportation. He reached out and put a hand on Reed's shoulder. "You okay?"
Reed jumped a little, glanced at him, then relaxed and nodded jerkily. "Yeah. I'm good." He looked out the window a moment, then back at Mac. "Just nervous."
Mac nodded. "It's understandable. He met Reed's eyes, and raised one eyebrow. "I've got a few butterflies myself." Reed blinked and stared at him a moment longer. Then he turned away, back to the window, but his shoulders relaxed the rest of the way.
Finally, the bus reached their stop, only a few yards from the lab building. Mac got out, waited for Reed to follow, then led Reed to the doors used by visitors. Inside, a receptionist greeted them with a smile. Mac gave their names, the purpose of their visit, and Dr. Bernais' name, then waited while the receptionist processed them and presented their visitor passes. Beside him, Reed fidgeted, his hands fiddling nervously with the pen and the pages of the notebook. The receptionist finished, and handed the passes to Mac with a smile. "I trust you remember all the rules, Mr. Taylor."
Mac nodded as he passed Reed his badge and clipped his own to his shirt. "I do. And I'm sure Dr. Bernais will take excellent care of us."
Moments later a man in a white lab coat came through the doors at the opposite side of the room. He was medium build, stocky, with brown hair just going to grey at the temples. He approached, then held out a hand. "I assume you're Mac Taylor?"
"I am. I assume you're Dr. Bernais?" The doctor nodded. Mac shook hands with him, then extended his arm to include Reed in the group. "This is Reed Garrett. He's an associate of mine. He's also Claire's son."
He saw a brief question in the doctor's eyes, but the man didn't comment. "Excellent. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Garrett."
Reed nodded and shook hands. "Just Reed sir. It's nice to meet you too." He shifted nervously. "Mac said you might be able to identify my mother."
The doctor nodded. "With a little help from you, it might be possible. There's nothing certain yet, but we try to be optimistic. But I hope you understand it's not a guarantee."
Reed nodded. "I know." He shuffled nervously again. "Mac said you needed a DNA sample from me?"
Bernais nodded. "A fresh DNA sample and, if you'll approve it, a blood sample to help cross reference." Bernais glanced at Reed's nervous expression. "Tell you what. Mr. Taylor is already familiar with our facilities, but why don't I give you a quick tour, answer any questions you have, before we get down to business?"
Reed nodded, interest brightening his eyes. "That would be great." His fingers fiddled with his pen. "I don't know if Mac told you, but I'm a freelance reporter. I do a general interest and news blog. Is it okay, if I include this in a story?"
The doctor considered a moment. "We prefer to withhold specific details, to avoid upsetting people, however, there's no such thing as too much positive publicity. As long as you don't mention names, or give out too much information, especially on our latest techniques, it should be fine."
Reed nodded. "Sure. If it helps, I'll run my report by Mac first." He glanced at Mac. "It's okay, right?"
"It is." Mac was actually rather pleased Reed was asking him. They'd had a few rocky moments in their relationship, with Reed's tendencies to report too much, or try to blackmail him into giving out sensitive or privileged information.
"All right then. If you'll come with me, I'll show you around, and then we'll get that sample and send you on your way." The doctor turned and gestured them through the doors.
The took a moment to go through cleaning procedures, and don the jackets and gloves that everyone in the labs was supposed to wear. Then the doctor led them on a short tour of their various departments, with quick explanations on what each group did, and how it contributed to their efforts, particularly for identifying victims of 9/11. Mac let his mind wander for most of the tour, though he noticed Reed was listening attentively, and taking avid notes.
Finally, Bernais led them to a small room, equipped like a standard medical examining room. "All right, Reed. If you'll just take off your gloves, roll up your sleeves and open your mouth, then we'll get those samples."
Reed nodded. He stripped his gloves off and deposited them in the waste bin, then cleaned his hands in the sink. Then he sat down on the low table, rolled up his left sleeve and opened his mouth.
Bernais worked quickly and efficiently. He set the tourniquet on Reeds arm, then swapped his mouth and presented Reed with some water to wash away the feeling. That done, he checked the young man's arm, and with expert movements he tapped into the vein and withdrew a vial of blood. Both samples were marked with Reed's name, the doctor's, the date and the identity and purpose of the sample. Watching as a CSI, Mac could find nothing wrong with his technique. That done, the doctor bound Reed's arm and clapped him on the back. "We're all done. I recommend you get something to eat, just in case, and then relax a bit."
Reed nodded. He jerked his sleeve down, then glanced at the vials. "When will you know?"
Bernais frowned. "It will take several days. The procedure is delicate, and a bit difficult. It's also mostly untested, so we'll have to re-check ourselves, make sure. So we're looking at a few days, in all probability a week or two, at the least."
Reed looked as if he wanted to protest. Mac put a calming hand on his shoulder. "We understand. I assume you'll call us if you find anything? Even if it's just a negative result."
Bernais nodded. "Absolutely. The minute I'm sure of anything."
Mac nodded, then met Reeds gaze and gave his shoulder a bracing squeeze. After a moment, Reed relaxed, signifying he understood. Mac smiled. "Come on. I'll spot you another meal when we get back." Reed nodded and the two of them said their good byes.
They rode back to the city in silence, and found a nice place to have lunch, a place Reed knew from his work. Lunch was as quiet as breakfast had been, both men wrapped in their thoughts and anticipation. Finally, when they'd both finished their food, Reed looked up. "Well...I've got work to do."
Mac nodded. "I understand. I have a few errands I should probably run." he saw the wary hesitation in Reed's eyes. "I'll let you know, as soon as I hear anything."
Reed nodded. "Okay." He slid from his seat, then stopped and looked back. "Thanks Mac."
"You're welcome." Mac paid the bill, with a tip, then rose and shook hands with Reed, and they parted ways.
The next several days passed in a sort of blur. Mac returned to work, back to the routine of cases to solve, evidence to examine, paperwork to file. But he was aware, despite how busy he was, of the feeling of waiting, the edgy restlessness that settled over him as the days went by. He found himself sleeping less than usual, staying late at the office. It was difficult to keep still, and as each day passed, it was harder and harder for him not to constantly check his phone, harder still not to call the labs and ask if they were done yet.
At the end of the second week, Jo caught up with him as he was leaving the office. "Mac, got a moment?"
He nodded. "Yeah, sure. I was just on my way out, but I have time. What's up?"
"You know, that's actually exactly what I was going to ask you. You've been acting like you expect something to jump up and bite you for the past two weeks. And you keep messing with your phone. Every time we go out for a case, the first thing you do when we get back is race into your office and check your messages. I've never seen you so preoccupied. What's going on?" Jo looked at him with concern. "Did something happen?"
Mac shook his head. "No. I'm just waiting for the results from Piper Labs. They said it could be several weeks, since they want to be sure, but..."
Jo nodded sympathetically. "I understand. Waiting is hard." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Tell you what, why don't you let me and Ellie take you out for dinner tonight. Take your mind off it for a while." She grinned.
Mac raised an eyebrow. "Why am I sensing an ulterior motive here?"
"Because, Ellie's been wanting to meet you for a while. She's heard a lot about the 'famous Mac Taylor' in New York. She'd love to talk to you, plus, it'll give her social life a boost, and what mom could miss an opportunity to do that for her daughter?" Jo grinned.
Mac laughed, allowing her air of camaraderie to sweep over him, relax him. "Sure. Why not?" he gave her a crooked grin. "I wouldn't want to disappoint, and deprive a young woman of a possible higher social standing."
"That's the spirit." Jo clapped him on the back, and they entered the elevator together.
Dinner was nice, and it did get his mind off waiting, though he couldn't help thinking of Reed, watching Ellie and Jo interact. He couldn't help thinking how much he liked spending time with the young man, just like this. Reed hadn't ever met Jo, but he thought they'd get along well. And there was something about Jo's maternal attitude, her relaxed mannerism and kindness that reminded him of Claire. It wasn't that he saw Claire in Jo specifically, but there was a similarity that made him more comfortable around her than anyone else, even people he'd known a long time.
The following days were easier. Jo kept an eye on him, raising an eyebrow, giving him a look when he started to get to restless, deflecting the team when they might have noticed his unease. She even brought him coffee once or twice, and lunch. A part of him felt exasperated at being handled. The rest of him was just grateful to have someone who understood, and was watching his back.
He was in his office, three and a half weeks after his visit to Piper, when his cell phone rang. He picked it up. "Mac Taylor speaking."
"Mr. Taylor. This is Dr. Bernais." Mac felt himself go completely still. "I have your results."
Mac swallowed hard. "And?"
"I'd like to request your presence and Mr. Garrett's, at the lab, as soon as you feel able to come."
Mac took a deep breath. "I understand. Let me call him, and I'll call you back to tell you when we'll arrive."
He hung up, then dialed Reed's number with hands he fought to keep from shaking. Reed picked up on the second ring. "Reed Garrett."
"Reed, it's Mac." He took a breath to steady his nerves. "Piper Labs called. They'd like us to stop by, as soon as it's convenient."
He heard the rush of air as Reed exhaled sharply, the deep breaths on the other end of the line. Then Reed spoke. "I'm free tomorrow."
Mac knew he had to work, but for this...well, he hadn't used any of his personal days, or his sick days. "Tomorrow will be fine. I'll see you at eight."
"Eight. Right. I'll be there." Then the line clicked as Reed hung up.
Mac made a quick call to the lab, telling them when he and Reed would arrive, then shut his phone and stowed it in his belt, and dropped into his chair. His chest felt tight, his mind whirling. He closed his eyes, trying to settle his thoughts, but it was no good. Only one thought continued to emerge. They'd asked for them to come to the labs. Surely Bernais wouldn't have requested their presence, just for a negative result. Which meant...his brain stalled on the thought, refused to go through with it. He ran his hand over his face, fighting to get his thoughts and emotions under control again.
"Mac?" Jo stood in his doorway, concern written clearly on her face. "You look like hell. Did something happen?" She strode into the room, shut the door behind her. "You were all right earlier..."
"It's nothing." He waved her back, forcing himself to focus.
"It most certainly is not 'nothing'." Jo put her hands on her hips. "You haven't looked this shaken up since the one case where you nearly got shot."
Mac glanced at her, then away. "Piper Labs called."
"Ah. Well, that explains a lot." Jo settled onto the couch in his office. "So? What did they say?"
"They asked if Reed and I could come back in." He glanced back at her. "We're going tomorrow."
Jo nodded. "Makes sense. I'd certainly want to know as soon as possible." She studied Mac's face. "You think they've found something?"
He swallowed hard. "I don't know. But they don't usually call someone in for a negative result."
Jo nodded again. "Well, no wonder you're all shaken up. That kind of situation is always tough." She stood, reached over to pat his hand. "Well, whatever they've found, or not found, I'm sure it'll all turn out fine."
Mac nodded, then looked up. "After all this time...I'm not even sure what I'm hoping for." He ran his hand over his face, shoving himself to his feet, suddenly unable to remain sitting. "I thought I'd laid my ghosts to rest, put this behind me, after we raised the Brooklyn Wall of Remembrance."
Jo patted his hand again, sympathetically. "I know what you mean. But...I'm not sure this is the sort of thing anyone really just...gets over."
"You're right." Mac sighed, then met her eyes. "Think you can handle being in charge of the lab tomorrow?"
"Mac Taylor...if I didn't know how flustered you were, I'd almost be insulted." She cocked her head at him, hands on her hips. "You take care of whatever you need to take care of. I'll hold down the fort. But we'll all do better if you can resolve this, instead of pacing around like a nervous cat in a dog kennel."
Mac chuckled. "Point taken." He considered the state of the lab. There weren't any urgent cases up right now, most of his team was just maintaining records, going over details, getting prepped for cases that were going to court. He glanced at his desk. Most of his paperwork was done, and what hadn't been finished wasn't urgent. It would keep. "I think I'm gonna go ahead and call it a day."
"You do that, and get some rest. Don't stay up all night brooding." Mac smiled, and Jo shook a finger at him. "I mean it."
Mac nodded. "I'll do my best." He gathered together his coat and briefcase.
Jo watched him, then stepped between him and the door. "One more thing."
Mac raised an eyebrow. "And that would be...?"
"Call in. Let us know how it goes?" She cocked her own eyebrow at him, meeting him stare for stare.
Mac nodded. "I'll try to remember."
"See that you do." She shook a finger at him, half teasing, then stepped out of his way. Mac managed a weak half smile in her direction, then took himself to the elevator before he could embarrass himself any further.
His night was restless. He couldn't settle, couldn't sleep. Finally, he retired to a chair in his living room, to sit and stare into the night, wrapped in his memories of Claire. It was inevitable that they drifted to their last morning together, but he made no attempt to stop it, nor to wipe away the solitary tear that trickled over his face. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, he managed to doze, only to wake some time later from disturbing dreams. He glanced at the clock, realized Reed would arrive in an hour, sighed, and went to take a shower.
Reed arrived promptly at eight, his face a clear indicator that his night had been as fitful as Mac's own. They grabbed a quick breakfast not in the diner, but at a fast food joint, then took the bus. Neither of them were in the mood for conversation, and the journey was made mostly in silence.
Finally, they arrived at the labs. Mac stepped off the bus, then adjusted his jacket and tie nervously. Beside him, Reed was flipping a pencil between his fingers, flicking it over the palms of his hands, fingers interlacing and loosing in a show of rare agitation. Mac took a deep breath to still his nerves, then looked over at his younger companion. "Ready?"
Reed jumped, then took his own deep breath and pulled his windbreaker a little closer around himself. "Yeah. Sure."
They made their way to the main entrance. The receptionist inside was the same they'd met before, and she was obviously expecting them. She stood as they entered, and handed them their visitor passes. "Dr. Bernais is expecting you. Through the doors, second office on the left."
Mac nodded, feeling as if the whole situation were slightly unreal. Then he straightened his shoulders and crossed the lobby, Reed behind him. He heard the click of the lock, and pushed the heavy doors open and stride through them, his heart thudding in a way he hadn't experienced in years.
Bernais was sitting at his desk when they arrived. Mac knocked, and he looked up, then rose to greet them. "Mr. Taylor. Mr. Garrett. Glad you could make it. No trouble, I trust."
"None." Mac settled into the chair Bernais offered him, Reed perching in the other one, looking almost ready to bolt. "I trust it's no inconvenience?"
"None at all." Bernais settled behind the desk. "I assume you've filled Mr. Reed in on the reason for my request?"
Reed nodded once, a short, jerky movement. "He said you had results." His hands interlaced again, tapping his knee in agitation. "So? Did you find my mom?"
Bernais sighed. "You have to understand, it's a delicate procedure. However...we have located DNA samples that show at least a partial match to yours."
Mac felt as if he'd been hit in the gut, and possibly in the head as well. "How close? Is it definite?"
"Not extremely close. With the damage and the fact that it would only be a partial familial match to begin with...it's not a high percentage. However, unless Mr. Garrett had unknown relatives at The Towers that day, I would be willing to swear that we have, indeed, most likely found the remains of Mrs. Claire Conrad Taylor."
Reed jerked as if he'd been struck. "Mac?"
Mac closed his eyes, his jaw tight as emotion flooded through him. "Claire was an only child. Her parents were nowhere near New York City that day. And she never spoke to me of having any other children. I don't know about uncles, aunts or cousins, but she would have told me if they were in town. She would have wanted us to meet." He forced his eyes back open, trying to control himself
Reed stared at him. "So...it's my mom?" His eyes went to the doctor, behind his desk. "You found...you found my mother?" He was pale, breathing hard, and Mac reached over to put a hand on his shoulder, afraid the boy was about to pass out.
Bernais nodded. "We have. Though you must understand, it isn't as simple as identifying a body would be in the police morgue, or something of that nature. We're working off fragments of DNA, some of them horribly degraded."
Mac nodded, and kept his hand on Reed's shoulder, to steady the boy. "What happens now?"
"Now that we know what we're looking for, we'll scan our records and all the fragments we have for matches. Those samples we find that are a match will be collected and given to you, along with whatever debris and such that is attached, as much as we're able." Bernais looked sympathetic. "I realize it isn't much, however..."
"It's more than either of us had a year ago, or even a few months ago." Mac nodded. He wanted desperately to be alone, preferably with a bottle of whiskey or scotch or even wine in hand. Even beer. Reed looked as if he felt no better, and Mac knew they were both in a sort of shock. He forced himself to remain calm and in control, as he had at hundreds of crime scenes. "How long?"
"A week to ten days, I believe. Possibly longer, with the magnitude of the task. I'm sure you understand." The doctor shifted in his chair. "We can help with the arrangements, if you like. If there are any preferences you have."
Reed shifted, and turned a desperate, imploring gaze to him. "Mac? I don't...I mean...I have no idea..."
"She liked simple things." For a moment, all he could think of was Claire's love of music, everything from Backstreet Boys to opera to rock. "Simple, but elegant. And lighter colors." Claire had loved bright colors, one of the reasons his own clothing was always so dark.
Bernais nodded. "I'll see what we can do." He glanced over both their faces. "Perhaps it would be best if I called you, when we're close to completion, and you can make your plans from there?"
Mac nodded. "That's fine with me." He glanced over. "Reed?"
The young man nodded jerkily again. "Yeah. Sounds great." He shifted restlessly. "I'm not exactly, well, you know, at home a lot. So...maybe they could call you, Mac?"
"Sure. That's fine." He wasn't sure he could handle a third call, or a third visit, let alone for the purpose of picking up Claire's earthly remains, but he knew he couldn't put it on Reed's shoulders either. He knew his own control was on the breaking point, and they needed to get out of there. He looked at Bernais. "Is there anything else?"
The doctor shook his head. "Nothing at this time."
Mac nodded and rose, his touch drawing Reed to his feet as well. "Thank you for your time, Doctor. I'll be waiting for your call."
Doctor Bernais' expression was compassionate. "I know you will. I'll do what I can, to make it as soon as possible." Mac nodded once more, then led Reed from the building.
Their return trip to Mac's apartment was as silent as their trip out. Mac left Reed to his thoughts. When they finally alighted from the bus, he acted on instinct and led the younger man to the diner. He placed a quick order for the two of them, grabbed a table, and settled into it.
He waited until their drinks had arrived, and pushed one across the table to Reed. "Penny for your thoughts."
Reed nodded, took a quick sip of his soda. It seemed to stabilize him some. "It's just...I came here looking for her, you know. And when you told me she died...I didn't have any idea what to do. So then...I just decided to shadow you, to see what kind of person you were, what kind of guy my mom wanted to spend her whole life with..." He broke off and took another quick gulp of soda. "And then, you told me she died in 9/11, and you couldn't even bury her...I guess, it just felt like everything was over, you know?" He glanced at Mac through the fringe of his hair. "And now...it's not. I don't know what to do."
Mac nodded. "I understand." He glanced out the window, knowing quite well why Reed was uncomfortable with actual eye contact. "I thought, when we raised the Brooklyn Memorial months ago, that I'd finally made peace with her passing, and her loss. Only, now...I'm not sure exactly how I feel, either."
Reed swallowed hard. "What do we do, Mac? I mean, are we going to bury her? Or...what? Divide her ashes and keep them on the mantle?" He managed a ghost of a grin, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Mac swallowed, his own throat too tight for easy words. "She told me once, she wanted to be buried in a simple plot, or have her ashes interred, if something bad happened to her body. She wasn't really all that particular. Of course, it's not like we discussed it all that much. Honestly, I think with my position on the Force, we discussed my death more often than hers." He glanced at Reed's pale face. "Do you have a preference?"
Reed blinked. "I...she was your wife."
"I know. But she was your mother, and that's just as important. Even if she never really got to know you."
Reed nodded, gratitude in his eyes. He sat for a long moment, then spoke softly, slowly. "I just...I mean, we don't know what they'll find."
Mac shook his head. "We don't. Though, at this stage, it's most likely to be just fragments. Not an intact body."
"Yeah. I get that." Reed took a deep breath, and his hands stilled on the cup. "There are...memorial plots right? Places for the victims of 9/11."
"A few. Some have been claimed in advance by relatives, some not. You can have a full burial, or a wall internment, in one of the mausoleums." Mac couldn't honestly say which he'd prefer.
Reed nodded. "Can we put her there? We can plan an exact location once we know...know how much..." His voice trailed off and cracked on the words.
"Sure. We can do that." Mac reached out and took the young man's hand gently, but firmly. "I think I know who to talk to. You want me to give you the names, or just make the calls?"
"I...I've never planned a funeral before." Reed had gone pale once more.
Mac nodded. "I'll go ahead and make the calls then. We'll decide final arrangements together, once we get the word."
Reed nodded, then glanced at his watch. "I should probably get going on my rounds and all." He gulped the last of his drink, then rose to his feet. "Thanks Mac."
Mac gave him a quiet smile. "It's no trouble. I'll see you later." Reed gave him one last nod, then vanished out the door. Mac sat for a long time, sipping his drink and staring at the empty booth. Then he paid the tab and returned to his apartment, hoping he could lose himself in the music of his guitar.
The guitar helped, but he still spent another restless night. Fortunately, he was used to insomnia. He was relieved to see that his face was no paler or drawn than usual, so there was a chance that Jo wouldn't be able to fuss at him, though he had to admit she was surprisingly perceptive. Still, when he knotted his tie and surveyed his reflection in the mirror, he was confident that he'd be able to hide the turmoil that still roiled in the back of his mind.
He made his way to the office. Don greeted him in the hallway, and he managed a half-smile for his friend. He greeted the rest of his team with the same smile, then retired to his office, to try and look over Jo's reports.
It wasn't easy. He kept getting distracted by random thoughts. Still, he'd learned discipline in the military, and he applied it, forcing himself to stay focused.
"Mac Taylor." Jo's admonishing tone broke his concentration some two or three hours later.
He glanced up to find her standing just inside his door, arms crossed and one finger tapping the inside of her opposite elbow. "Yes?"
"Well, I don't want to name any names, but I believe someone forgot he was supposed to call in yesterday." She arched one eyebrow. "Unless you want me to believe that your errand took all day."
Mac chuckled, feeling his ears flush in faint embarrassment. "Sorry. I was a little distracted."
"I'll bet." She shoved the door closed, then took a few steps closer to his desk. "And? What did they say?"
Mac swallowed hard, trying to contain his emotions and keep his voice calm. "They've made a successful match. They'll contact me as soon as they've gathered together everything that has that DNA coding sequence in it. Within the next two weeks, the doctor said." He clamped his jaw shut, before he could say anything foolish, or too emotional.
Jo's eyes softened. "Well, no wonder you're shaken. You went to all that effort to settle everything, and then the whole issue just...pops up in your face again like this." She settled, leaning against his desk in a comradely fashion that was somehow very comforting. "And Reed, her son?"
"He's asked me to handle the arrangements. He wasn't sure what to do. We're planning to lay her to rest in one of the memorial plots." Mac's throat closed.
"Wow. That's a hefty decision to make. I'm betting you feel a little overwhelmed." Jo's voice was soft, sympathetic.
He was tempted to brush it off, say he was all right, but Jo was smart, and good at reading him. Besides, he didn't really have the heart to deny it. "I suppose so."
Jo studied him a moment, then leaned out and caught one of his hands in hers. "You know, if you need to take some time..."
Mac shook his head. "I can't. It's not fair to everyone else. Besides...being home, by myself...I need something to distract me."
Jo nodded. "I can see that. Well, in that case, we have a whole slew of new cases for you to look at. So, why don't we go through these reports, and find something to distract you with. And if that doesn't work, you can go to Sid, and I'm sure he'll be able to tell you all sorts of fascinating stories to take your mind off things." She grinned at him.
Mac managed an answering smile. "Sounds like a plan." Then, together, the two of them bent over the reports and began to go through them.
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The next several days passed in a blur. Mac managed to keep most of his mind on the job, but he couldn't help being distracted, waiting for the phone call. Don noticed a few days after his visit to the lab that he was slightly on edge, and even Hawkes and Sid mentioned that he seemed a bit more tense and nervous than usual. He told them it was simply his insomnia rearing up again, as it did every so often. Don gave him and odd sideways look, knowing it got worse with stress, and Sid stared at him for several minutes, but fortunately, they both left it alone.
He used his day off to make arrangements. He'd worked most often with the caretakers of the Brooklyn Memorials, so he chose to call them. They remembered him, and were more than willing to provide him with either a small plot, or with a wall niche, whichever he and Reed deemed was more appropriate. Mac made all the needed plans, then spent the rest of his day staring distractedly out his window, lost in thought. He spent that night with his guitar as well, with only slightly better results.
Finally, sixteen days after his visit, his cell phone rang. He picked it up. "Mac Taylor."
"Dr. Bernais speaking. We've finished. Everything is ready for your pick-up, at the earliest opportunity."
Mac swallowed. He had the following day off, and he knew Reed would come regardless. "Is tomorrow is soon enough?"
"Of course. We'll have everything waiting, including the paperwork for you and Mr. Garrett."
Mac swallowed. He almost didn't want to ask the next question, but he had to. "How much are we talking?"
Bernais' voice was gentler. "Only about as much as a funeral urn after cremation, I'm afraid."
Mac took a deep breath to control the mixed emotions in his heart. On one hand, he was rather grateful that the transportation wouldn't be difficult. On the other hand, to have so little of Claire left...he pushed the thought away. After ten years, even this much was more than he'd expected. "It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Of course." There was a gentle click. Mac held the phone for a long moment, then slowly settled the phone back into it's hip holster.
"Mac?" Jo knocked gently on the inside of his door. "I was coming to bring you the lab reports on Lindsey's case, and I saw you were on the phone." She studied his face a moment. "Piper Labs called?"
"Yes." Mac looked away. He felt too unsettled to face her. "Reed and I will be picking up Claire's remains tomorrow."
"Well, that is news." She set the folders in her arms down. "You don't look quite as excited as I expected."
He managed an ironic look. "I'm not sure how I feel."
Jo pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Understandable. Are you having the burial, or internment the same day?"
Mac shook his head. "We didn't know when we'd be able to collect her remains. I told the caretakers we'd call, when we knew more." He swallowed. "Reed and I will discuss it tomorrow."
"Of course." Jo studied him a moment longer, then offered him a gentle smile. "So, about these lab reports..."
A chuckle forced it's way through the lingering constriction in Mac's throat. "Right. So, what have we got?"
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The next day, Mac and Reed collected Claire's remains. The urn they'd been placed in was plain, more utilitarian than anything. Neither of them minded. They filled out the required paperwork for claiming a loved ones remains, and bid Dr. Bernais a grave farewell. They traveled to a funeral parlor, and together they picked a more decorative urn. After some thought, they both agreed to a wall niche for the internment. Mac called and made arrangements for the following Sunday. Then, as the sun set, he took Reed to the opera house he had planned to take Claire to. Together, under the light of the fountains, they solemnly transferred Claire's remains from one container to the other. Neither of them were in the habit of praying, not out loud at least, and so it was a silent moment. Mac tied the lid on. They stood reverently in silence, then Reed carefully hefted the urn, offered Mac a solemn nod, and walked into the darkness.
Mac watched him go. He had agreed to give Reed care of the urn until the burial. After all, he had had Claire for the years of their marriage. Reed had never known his mother, never had anything of her except the photographs Mac had given him. It was right, but it didn't stop the ache in his chest.
The next few days passed in a haze of tension for Mac. He barely slept. He managed to be civil, and to keep his mind on his work, but only through force of habit and discipline. He knew his team noticed, but either they had decided not to comment, or Jo had mentioned he had personal business and hinted they should leave him alone.
Finally, Sunday dawned. Mac woke early, to dress in his best suit. As he pulled the black jacket straight, he remembered when he'd last worn it, months ago at the memorial. Then, he'd thought he was laying his ghosts to rest at last. Now...he was. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, then carefully knotted his tie, glad his fingers weren't shaking.
At exactly nine a.m. Reed appeared on his doorstep, also dressed in a black suit and carrying the urn solemnly in his arms. There were no words between them, only a solemn, handshake. Mac had forced himself to take some toast, but he didn't feel like more, and the look in Reed's eyes said he wasn't hungry either. They studied each other a moment, then Mac led the young man downstairs.
In honor of the day, Mac had chosen to rent a car. He had enough money to afford the expense, and he wasn't going to ride the bus. Not for this. The car was a black sedan, sleek and polished. It was hardly the fanciest, but neither of them needed it to be.
They rode to the graveyard in silence, removed themselves from the car in silence. A solemn grounds attendant led the way to the spot they'd chosen, then left them there alone. Neither of them had wanted a priest. Both felt their own words were enough.
Reed moved forward, and carefully placed the urn into the appointed spot. Mac was more familiar with tools than the young man was, so it was he who sealed the burial spot, while Reed held the marble in place. Then together, they affixed the nameplate. Claire Conrad Taylor.
There were spots where they'd been told they could fix mounts, for flowers or such. Both of them had elected to do so. Mac let Reed place his first, then attached his own, and both of them produced a single flower to place in each sconce. Mac knew he'd bring more flowers, the next day or soon after that, and he suspected Reed would as well, but neither of them had really had a hand free when they'd gotten into the car.
They stepped back almost at the same time, giving themselves a couple feet to look at their work. Beside him, Reed was pale, and a single tear tracked over his young face.
Mac swallowed, throat and chest tight, his eyes burning as memory assaulted him. Their first meeting. Their first date. Claire the first time she'd greeted him coming home from a tour of duty. Their wedding. Days spent in laughter and love. Their move to New York. Their final morning together. The phone call, and the terrible knowledge as it went dead, as he watched the Towers fall. All the joy and pain of their relationship washed over him in a dizzying, painful wave of raw emotion, threatening to break his self control to pieces.
A hand touched his shoulder, gently, kindly, as a familiar voice spoke. "It's okay. You can let it all out, you know. No one's going to think less of you, Mac Taylor."
He turned, surprised. Jo stood there, her teenage daughter behind her, both dressed in simple, elegant black outfits. And with them, his entire team. Flack, dressed in a crisp black suit, a small bunch of flowers in his hands. Sheldon and Sid, side by side in almost identical wear, also bearing tokens. Adam, shifting nervously from foot to foot, his black clothing rumpled as if he'd only remembered to pull it from the bottom of a clothes heap that morning, but no less touching for that. Danny and Lindsey and Lucy, standing in a tight little family group. Danny held flowers, Lindsey and Lucy little memorial trinkets. Lindsey and Lucy wore neat black dresses, Danny a set of dark trousers and button down shirt.
Mac's gaze flicked back to Jo, still smiling kindly at him and Reed. "What is this?"
Jo's smile widened, just a fraction, the warm smile of a comrade welcoming another. "Oh, come on. You didn't think we'd actually let you go through this alone."
Don stepped forward. "Mac." They held gazes for a moment, then Don stepped past him, shook Reed's hand, and walked to the tomb. He stood a moment, then offered a small salute of respect, and set his flowers in one of the sconces. "Your husband's a hell of a guy ma'am. Don't worry. We'll take good care of him." He bowed his head again, then stepped back.
Sheldon took his place, offering his own tribute, his own words, followed by Sid. Then Adam. Then Jo gave his shoulder a soft squeeze and stepped forward with her daughter so both of them could place their flowers. And after that, the Messer family.
Reed was paler than before, and looked shocked, more tears escaping him as he watched the CSI team honoring his mother. Mac felt himself wavering, watching his god-daughter, and the two agents he had trained from their first steps on, treated as surrogate children.
Jo came back to his side a looked him in the eyes, then reached out and touched his face. "Mac. Let it go."
Something inside him broke, something that hadn't broken since the day at the memorial, when he'd wept with the other survivors in shared loss and uncertainty. It was a different kind of breaking, a different kind of understanding. A different kind of connection. He stumbled forward, and the others made way for him. Tears fell, first one, then another, until they were streaming down his cheeks. He laid his hand on the marble, fingers tracing the letters of his wife's name. Grief, more potent than it had been since the day he'd first taken off his wedding ring, ripped through him. He leaned against the wall as he'd once leaned against the fence at Ground Zero, trembling slightly as the emotion washed over him.
Hands touched him. Reed's hand, on his wrist, in shared love and grief, even if the boy hadn't known her has he had. Sheldon and Don, hands on his shoulders, giving awkward comfort. Sid's hand on one arm, offering the same. Lindsey and Danny, Lindsey juggling Lucy awkwardly on her hip as they came close to his side and Reed's. Jo's hand, kind and warm, rubbing soothingly across his back. Adam and Ellie, visible on the peripheral, uncertain but offering their presence, completing a circle that surrounded him with family.
He had no idea how long his tears lasted, but he was aware that no one moved, no one spoke as he wept. They simply stood, offering support and respecting his grief. Finally, the tears dried, leaving him drained, slightly embarrassed, but more relaxed than he could remember being, except for the months he'd dated Peyton, years ago. Even the grief he'd shared at the memorial, or the slight catharsis he'd received from symbolically releasing their unused opera tickets to the ocean hadn't felt this way.
He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. Sid offered him a damp handkerchief. "Here. This might help a bit. You're eyes look like they could use it." There was no teasing, only kindness in the words.
Mac nodded, took the cloth, and ran it over his face. It did help. His cheeks felt sticky, his eyes sore and irritated and puffy. The cool cloth eased the sensation. A glance sideways showed Reed didn't look much better than he felt. He handed the cloth to the young man, who wiped his face and handed it back. Mac folded it carefully, then returned it to the ME. "Thank you." He reached up to squeeze Don and Sheldon's hands, then put careful arms around Danny and Lindsey, to cup their necks in a gentle embrace. Then offered Jo and Ellie and Adam a smile. "Thank you, all of you."
Jo grinned. "Anytime."
Danny smiled too. "Hey, you're family. This is what families do, right." The smile widened. "And you know...I never thanked you. For helping me, after Louie. I figured it was about time to return the favor." Beside him, Lindsey nodded.
Don snorted. "No kidding. Besides...I've wanted to do this for you almost as long as I've known you." He clapped Mac on the shoulder. "You'd better be glad Jo told everyone, cause if you'd tried to do this alone, I'd have had to beat your sorry ass."
Mac couldn't stop the sheepish little grin that washed over his face. "I brought Reed."
"Yeah, but you're both going through the same thing. Besides...it's not the same. And I think we all wanted to be here for you." Sheldon's turn to speak.
Adam nodded, a little hesitant. "Yeah. I mean, you go out to dinner with us and everything boss, but nothing else. And you're even more of an insomniac than I am. Which is kinda weird." A small, hesitant grin crept across his face.
Mac nodded. He did join them for memorial dinners, but not much else. Unless they needed him, as Danny had after his brother Louie had been beaten. As Don had after Angell's death. And the others, he'd spoken to them about things. But never his own grief.
He felt...better, but oddly out of focus, uncertain. It felt as if he'd let go of something, the way it had felt when he began dating again, when he had helped with the memorial, but much stranger. Suddenly, he wanted, nearly needed, to be on familiar ground again. "Speaking of dinner, I think a trip to our usual place might be in order. I'll even buy this time." He cracked a smile.
"No you won't, Mac Taylor. I agree that going for dinner will be enjoyable, and is quite appropriate, but today is about you and Reed here, so don't even think of trying to pay for it. I think we're going to have to draw straws to see who gets the honor of paying for your dinner as it is." Mac opened his mouth to protest, but Jo simply smiled at him. "You can pay next time."
The faces around him showed the exact same expression, and he knew he was outnumbered. "Fine. You win." He turned to Reed. "You'll join us?"
Reed seemed hesitant, then he nodded. "Sure."
A few minutes later, they were all seated at their table in their favorite Italian restaurant. For informal things, they tended to make it to a friendly bar and grill, but today had had a slightly more formal cast to it. So they settled in, making small talk, men hanging jackets over the back of the chairs, women setting aside purses and, in Ellie's case, kicking off shoes. They ordered bread-sticks and other favorite appetizers, water for Lucy and wine for the rest of them. It took a minute for all of them to figure out what they wanted, especially Reed, who'd never been there before. Once their orders were placed, they helped themselves to the appetizers, and talk began to flow. There was a little about Claire, and Mac himself, but Lindsey had arrived on the scene just as he was exiting that period in his life, and Jo and Ellie had never seen it. There was some talk of how all of them had spent 9-11, and the memorial. Then it drifted quietly into people sharing, simply reminiscing and getting to know each other.
Reed remained fairly quiet, though the others included him easily in the conversation. He'd met most of them at least once, and all of them except Jo had known his relationship to Mac. Adding in the fact that he was a regular reporter of stories on the team, he was comfortable enough with the conversation, and not lost when it drifted into the lab, or the cases. And he had both wit and humor enough to appreciate theirs. Still, Mac watched him fidgeting with his pen, and writing down notes in his notebook. He recognized the abstracted look that appeared on Reed's face as his 'writing trance', the way he got when he was working on a story.
Finally, while the group was reminiscing on something that had happened while he wasn't in the lab, he leaned over. "Story?"
Reed blinked. "Uh, yeah. It's a bit more personal than I usually do, but not out of my range." He glanced down at the paper, then up at Mac. "If you don't mind...I mean, it's a bit personal for you too..."
Mac shook his head. "I don't mind." And he didn't. People deserved to have hope. Hope that one day there would be answers. What had come today, for him and for Reed, it could give them that. "Can I read it, before it hits your site?"
"Yeah, sure." Reed glanced at his paper. "Actually, it's mostly done now..." He blinked at it again, then nudged the paper over to Mac.
Mac drew the paper to him, barely aware that the table was quieting, and began to read.
Today marks an occasion of both sorrow and rejoicing, for one of New York's most dedicated men. Today, something precious, long lost, has been found. Today, Mac Taylor, New York's most celebrated and decorated CSI, laid to rest the mortal remains of his wife, Claire Conrad Taylor, one of the many victims of the 9-11 Twin Towers attacks. He was joined by his dedicated co-workers, who are equally his dedicated friends. It was a day of mourning, for what was lost. It was a day of celebration, for what was found. It was a day of closure, for a man who has already proven he remembers the sacrifices of that day, in his efforts on the Brooklyn 9-11 memorial wall, in 2011. Today, we celebrate the emergence of hope, for all those who are still waiting, grieve for those who yet have no answers, and offer silent tribute, to the memories of all involved.
There was more, a brief description of the work Piper labs was doing, and the funeral service, such as it had been. Mac read through it, then handed it back. "I'm a little embarrassed, but it's not bad. Still, I think you forgot a few things."
Reed stared at him. "What?"
Mac nodded at the page. "You didn't mention the other person involved. Claire's son. You." He met Reed's eyes. "You were a part of all of this. In fact, without you, it wouldn't be possible."
Reed swallowed. "Well, I've never reported on my relationship with you. Besides...I'm not your son."
Don smirked at him. "Well, I don't know what the hell Mac was reading with that much interest, but I can tell you this kiddo. Mac's considered you family since you stepped on his doorstep the first time. And this..." He waved his hand at the table. "This means we think you are too. Anyone else is just peanuts."
"Here, here." Sid raised his glass in acknowledgment. The others followed suit.
Reed looked startled. Jo smiled warmly at him. "I haven't been with the department that long, so we haven't really met, but I can already tell you belong here, and that Mac cares for you. So Don's right."
Reed nodded, looked back at Mac. "You're sure you're okay?"
"Yes. And one other thing." He gestured at this table. "Include this. People need to hear the full story, both sides of today. It's not going to kill me for people to realize I'm human. Or that we are."
Sheldon snickered. "Mac, you're a city wide legend. Something like this is just going to add fuel to the flames. Trust me on that."
Danny grinned. "Well, the rest of us could all use the press, no?"
Sid grinned too. "I certainly don't mind."
Jo nodded. "Same here." She gave Reed another one of her warm, friendly smiles. "You just go ahead and write the whole thing up, and give yourself the other starring role. Mac's right that you're an important part of the story. It's not going to do him, or us, any harm to share the limelight. And it certainly won't hurt you."
Reed nodded, a tentative smile breaking across his face. "I think I need to do some revisions."
"But not right now." Don gestured as three waiters came toward them with tray. "Dinner's here. And this is the part where we all really cut lose and relax kid. Feel free to join in." He grinned. "Jo hasn't heard half the stories you've been involved in with us."
"Quite right." Jo accepted her plate and set her napkin gracefully in her lap. "For instance, how you and Mac first met. I understand you were looking for your mother, but not a whole lot else. I'd love to hear all about it."
Reed blushed and fumbled his fork. "Actually...he had a lady co-worker. I saw her coming out of Mac's apartment. I thought...I thought she might be...you know. I had no idea my mom had gotten married, or died. But I wasn't sure how to approach her, so..."
"He was stalking her." Danny chimed in with a grin, and Reed blushed further.
Mac busied himself with listening as he unrolled the silverware and started eating. He felt...still odd, but better. Grounded. Helping with the memorial had helped him come to terms with everything, but this...it was as if the ground had come back under his feet, and stopped shaking as well. It was somewhat similar to the way he felt when he solved a tough case, but much deeper, stronger. Better.
It was like the way he'd felt when he'd honored his father's death and life after returning a missing inheritance to a holocaust survivor. When he and Peyton had found resolution after their rather abrupt and painful breakup. Like he'd get a full nights sleep, with no nightmares. Like he'd wake and dress in the morning with less pain.
He felt...at peace.
Author's Note: So, that's the end of it. There may be a few odd points, like the burial site being a memorial for the victims, and I'll beg your indulgence there. For the rest...I hope you found this to be a good read.