Tomorrow, Chapter 2
an add-on to White Lies
By Glistening Sun
She is not a coroner, but she is familiar with death. She remembers the death of her father five years ago just before she took over Major Crimes. She remembers the pallor of his skin, the marble-like feel of his hands when she took them in hers. There is no mistaking the signs. Andy is dead. Her boisterous, stubborn, loving Lieutenant is dead. The man she has come to love more than she ever thought possible is lying across from her, warmth replaced by cold.
She looks at him, the open eyes that no longer see and still are focussed on her. She is the last thing he ever saw in this life: not her face, not her love, but her turned back, her cold shoulder.
His hand is lying motionless on the sheets, the blue veins more visible now. She could trace every one of them with her eyes closed. Her mind understands long before the same understanding dawns on her heart: his hand is lying in the same place it dropped when she shrugged it off during the night. A shiver runs down her spine when she realises that he must have reached for her in his dying moments. And she turned him away; too selfish, too absorbed in her own worries to notice his ultimate struggle.
'Lord, how can I ever find forgiveness,' a small voice in her head asks.
Andy doesn't respond. He is still now, resting quietly. His eyes are open, but they no longer see. She wonders what he must have felt during the last minutes and seconds. Did he know he was dying? Was he angry with her? Did he want to ask her for help?
Of course he did! Why else would he have reached out for her? She shrugged off the hand of a dying man, a man who loved her so dearly – and she turned him away in his final hour of need. She left him to face death alone.
The thoughts flitter through her mind, first one, then another. There are so many that they overwhelm her. Every single one is like the slap of a whip, like the grasp of an icy hand around hers.
'How can I ever live with that guilt? What am I going to do? I should call the doctor. I should call Nicole. I should call Fr. Angelo. I left Andy alone in his dying moment. How can I ever live with that knowledge? How can I ever live without him?' The thoughts keep swirling through her head and it takes her long moment to realise the pained sound she hears is her own voice.
Those warm brown eyes remained fixed on her, never blinking, never looking away and another hoarse cry of pain fills the room. Disoriented she grasps for the phone on her bedside table. The lamp falls onto the carpet with a soft sound. She flees the bed, desperate the get away from the site of her sin, of her selfishness and barely manages to stand up before her whole words caves in. Reaching for Andy to steady herself has become second nature but when she feels his cold hand another scream breaks from her body and her world goes black.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
It's the regular sound of a clock that pulls her back into a reality she doesn't know how to face. She let Andy die alone. Right next to her and as alone as if she had been miles away. She let him die knowing her distance was hurting him. God, how could she have been so self-absorbed? How could she not have known he was fighting for his life?
By the time she has gathered herself enough to sit up the sun has risen and is illuminating Andy's figure on the bed. The memory of last weekend when they were lying there, in that very same spot, basking in the sun and making plans, hits her unprepared.
"Oh Lord, what shall I do?" her voice echoes back in the quiet room and the words of her childhood come back to her 'Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger.'
Andy won't come back and she'll never have to chance to ask his forgiveness. And the weight of that sin is already crushing her heart.