Back at our desks, Liv and I sat across from each other, both too tired to say anything. It was eleven on a Friday night, and everyone had gone home. After about a minute of silence filling the precinct, Liv asked, "What's bothering you, Alec?"

I looked up at her, and then back at my desk. "That boy's room was just like my brother's when he was a kid." I sighed, trying to fight back tears. "Plastered wall-to-wall with sports idols, but especially with football players. His room was just like any other eleven year old kid's—sports trophies, football uniforms balled up on the floor near the hamper… but my brother had one thing that many other kids didn't; he had a little corner devoted to the things that were the most important to him. He had pictures of his family and I, framed report-cards that read he had all A's, and little memento's of places he went. He was a great kid." I looked back down at my desk, drawing circles with my finger on the soft, pine wood.

"'Was'?" Asked Liv.

I had already told half of the story; I couldn't go back. "It was my birthday, and I was in college. I had told him that I was spending it alone, because I didn't want to have anything fancy. He was planning on surprising me, by visiting me to celebrate. But while he was driving, he was rammed by a drunk driver—with a girl about fourteen stashed in the trunk and who I later found out was raped—into my brother's side, and forced him into a tree. He died from the impact."

Liv stayed silent, balancing her head in the palm of her head. Pure sympathy flooded to her eyes. "How did you find out?" She asked, softly.

"I actually didn't know until the next day in my homicide course. My professor came to me, put both hands on my shoulders, and said, 'I'm so sorry about your brother.' Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about, so I said with a puzzled look, 'What?' He then looked at me, shooting back the same look I gave him, and he said, 'You don't know?' He filled me on everything, and the teachers gave me a week off to grieve. A week later on his birthday, they had his funeral. He'd be 28 now." I looked to the ground as I spoke, because I knew that if I looked into Liv's eyes, I'd lose it.

"I'm… I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have made you go in there if I had known."



I shrugged, one of my tears spilling onto my cheek. "It's fine, you didn't know." I bit my lower lip.

I knew that Liv didn't want to press on, but I could tell that the curiosity was killing her. "What was his name?" She asked, softly.

I actually looked at her this time, as I responded, "Patrick."

Liv walked over to my desk, and hugged me out of sympathy. "I'm so sorry." She pulled back. "Alec… Alec if there's anything I can do, call me. Okay?"

I nodded. She went for her coat, and began for the door. Lingering, she turned around and said sweetly, "Goodnight."

I smiled, and waved. She turned on her heel, and left.

Once she was gone, and I was the last person in the building, I pulled out a picture from my desk. It was one of Patrick and I at my college during my freshman year. Being the goofball he was, he had put bunny ears behind me. We had taken the photo after we had reminisced about our childhood dreams; I always thought I was going to be on Broadway, and he thought he was going to be a dumpster diver.

Smiling through tears, I softly kissed the picture, and whispered, "Happy birthday, Patrick."

I then grabbed my coat and left the precinct, wondering if he was watching me laugh at myself as I thought about how much I still loved him.