Author's Note: So, the wonderful LOCI characters are not mine. But I dearly love thinking about them, and writing about them. Lucy Jones is an OC from two of my prior stories – "The Doctor Is In" and "An Adage For A Friend". If you would like to know Lucy, you might read those first.
Bobby Goren hated funerals. But there he was, at a funeral, his large frame crammed into a small pew. At least he was sitting on the end of the hard wooden bench. He had his left arm extended along the back of the pew, partly to comfort who he was with, partly for the shoulder space.
Bobby looked over at the dark wildly curly hair of the woman tucked under his arm. He would do just about anything for Lucy Jones, including coming to this funeral with her. He could feel her take a shallow ragged breath. She looked pale, tired. Her eyes looked enormous in her heart shaped face, and his heart felt heavy that she should feel so sad.
"Let us pray." The priest announced and practically everyone in the church bowed their head in silence. Bobby remained still for a moment, observing the somber faces of the mourners in the church. Though, after a few moments he inexplicably found himself praying to god, though he thought his was a selfish prayer, for he prayed for the health and happiness of the woman sitting next to him, he prayed for the safety of his partner at work, he prayed that his life maintain some semblance of stability, he prayed that he not experience any more loss. He honestly didn't know if his soul could withstand one more thing.
Then, everyone was standing, turning and shaking hands, embracing, kissing each other on the cheek. When Lucy turned into him, he held her close in his arms, she was a perfect fit, and he could feel her sniff in tears as he held her easily against him.
"I'm sorry, I, uh, just um…" Lucy started to apologize for her tears. Bobby simply wiped them away with his thumb, wondering why she would possibly feel the need to apologize for having such a generous, feeling heart.
"I think we need to file out." Bobby said, softly cutting her off, pointing out that their pew was next in leaving the church and the people they were blocking actually looked a bit restless. Lucy nodded, her hazel eyes still wet. He watched her wipe them with the back of her hand, so he reached in his pocket and handed her his handkerchief. She took it, but did not use it, she simply held it in her hand as they walked out of the church.
Bobby couldn't decide which he liked less, the funeral in the funeral home, the funeral in the church, or maybe he hated the whole grave side thing. He knew he hated the visiting the house part, the members of the family, the close friends, all milling around in someone's home eating, drinking, feeling somber, feeling sad, just feeling.
"I'm so sorry." When they were outside on the church steps, Lucy stepped forward, hugging the grieving mother tightly. The mother was nodding, as Lucy hugged her. Bobby could not hear what Lucy was saying, but the woman looked comforted, she even smiled every so slightly. Bobby thought that Lucy always knew the exact right thing to say, often times it was the unexpected thing, but it always seemed to be perfect.
Lucy stepped back toward the warmth of him. It was a cold, winter afternoon, and the biting wind brought tears even to the few dry eyes of the people headed toward their cars. Bobby reflected over his detachment. Sometimes he simply couldn't shake the cop inside of himself. He looked across the dark suits, the dark dresses, the dark scarves and coats. He looked into people's faces. This child's murder, this child's death, was unsolved. He looked over at the cars parked on the street and easily picked out two detectives from another precinct. They were working the case, they were looking for the same thing he was, some information, some clue, some lead, that would help solve the case.
He was brought back to the present by the cold feel of Lucy's slender hand as she placed it within his. She squeezed his hand slightly, to get his attention, to get him moving toward the car. The deceased was Megan Willis, her mother lived near Lucy, a neighbor of sorts. The kind of person Lucy probably smiled at, chit chatted with while getting the mail. The kind of person that Bobby probably did not notice in his world, but that Lucy always noticed and took the time to get to know.
As Bobby drove, staying in line with the funeral procession, his brain sifted through what he knew of the case. Megan Willis had been staying with her father for the weekend. Her body was found Saturday evening just before dusk. She was just 15 years old. Her father hadn't even realized anything was wrong. She had headed off to a friends house just after lunch, and wasn't supposed to be home until after dinner. She had walked the route a thousand times before. Where she was found was not part of the route. At first it appeared as if it was an accident, as if she had fallen from a retaining wall. However, further investigation of the scene revealed that there had been a struggle, and that not all of her injuries were a result of the fall.
Bobby looked over at Lucy who was looking out the window. The car was warm, outside was cold, so the window was slightly fogged. He watched her tracing a path in the condensation of the window with her finger.
"I just saw her, you know, just Thursday. She was coming in from school with her mom. Just the other day." Lucy said, she sighed heavily, and turned to look at Bobby. He knew that part of the reason Lucy felt this so deeply was that she had a nephew about the same age as Megan Willis, a nephew who probably walked to his friend's house a thousand times before. "And you think it wasn't an accident?" Lucy asked, and Bobby knew that Lucy was using the word "you" to mean NYPD.
"There are some things that are inconsistent with an accident." Bobby allowed, not wanting to talk with Lucy about what he knew of the case. They were in the car on the way to the cemetery. He could see her eyes well with tears. She shook her head and returned to looking out the window. He realized that for a long time he had been coasting, skating through life, not feeling much. But watching Lucy cry, watching her cry over the death of a child, made his gut wrench. This was not his case, but he planned to check in with Captain Ross about getting access to the details, perhaps consult with Eames a bit, then maybe talk with the detectives assigned to the case. He knew that he couldn't really help Lucy by talking about it with her, but he could help by helping to close the case.
He pulled the car to a stop, put it in park. He braced himself against the cold and got out the car, coming around to open her door.
"Thanks, thanks for this." She said softly.
"I don't mind driving you around." He smiled. "Let's just hope Captain Ross doesn't realize I moonlight as someone's driver." He said, wanting to see her smile, just a fraction. And, she did, her full lips curved into the slightest smile.
He remembered the day he had been on the phone with Lucy's office assistant, Helen. He remembered hearing Lucy's sister Laura in the background yelling at Helen to dial 911. He remembered tripping over his desk chair to get out to the car, Eames dropped what she was doing to follow close behind, without asking for explanation. Eames had sped across the city, and followed him as he rushed into Lucy's office. There was blood on her desk, her blood on her desk, too much blood on her desk. His detective's detachment in a crisis escaped him that day; the thought of something happening to Lucy had been almost too much for his brain to take. Fortunately Eames had been there, she had taken charge. Bobby barely remembered the ride with Eames to the ER, he barely remembered almost trying to shake the information out of one of the ER nurses to understand Lucy's status. But he did remember Eames voice, her tone as she advised him to get a hold of himself. And he did, he barely got a hold of himself. Lucy had experienced a seizure, and to this day it still made him sick to think about it, to think that for all of the doctors she consulted, no one had an explanation. Because of the seizure, she couldn't drive for a while. So, he gladly volunteered to drive her around.
"Don't forget your hat." Bobby gestured to the car seat where she had left her hat. She turned to retrieve it from the seat. "I'm going to check on this, I'll follow-up on this." He said, circling back around to Lucy asking him whether he thought it was an accident. With her hat now in hand she turned toward him and she placed her palm lightly against his chest. He realized that she did that sometimes, as if feeling his heart was a comfort of sorts. He was puzzled by this, that his heart should be a comfort to anyone.
"Thanks." She said, tears again in her eyes. He nodded and walked with her, following the trail of the other mourners through the cemetery.
Author's remorse?: Hopefully this is not really author's remorse, it is just an author's note to say that I felt like switching gears from first person and following Bobby around for a few chapters in something. As the title suggests (which I blatantly robbed and adapted from a fabulously funny/sweet movie), I plan to give you four funerals and a wedding. As always, reviews welcome.