Disclaimer: I do not own The Night Shift.

Note: Oh thanks for letting me know they did mention her. I ended up watching S4 on my laptop which doesn't have great sound quality so I must have missed those conversations! Regardless, carrying on... ah funerals.. not my best things to write about.

Chapter 7


The funeral was held early Saturday morning, just after sunrise. It was still chilly, with a slight wind passing through. He had picked out a nice casket for her, something she would have liked - or maybe would have considered a little too much for someone like her - and Scott had even pitched in to help cover the costs. Although the two of them had barely spoke, the old anger and hostility between them had been snuffed out like a spark. Now all that remained was a quiet, sad unease, and a sense of familiarity in the feelings they shared. TC had only been able to look at her body once. She had been recovered fairly quickly, by hikers who had seen a woman jump off a bridge on a nature hike. Her backpack had been full of rocks to weigh her down, and the thought angered him as much as the anger itself made him ashamed. She had not wanted to be found. Did she want them to think she was out there somewhere, never answering their calls, never showing up forever? It wouldn't change the outcome, but at least the knowledge of her death brought closure that her disappearance would never have brought.

And a whole range of emotions that TC wasn't ready to deal with. Among the grief and the confusion and the sense of betrayal that she would leave him was the anger at her and himself. It was normal, people would say, but it didn't feel normal. It felt downright awful, and sometimes he would sit there and be furious with her that she never told him anything. That she never told him she was depressed or suicidal, that she was thinking about taking her own life. And above that, angry with himself, because he hadn't even seen it coming. He was her brother. He should have seen it, known something was wrong, but he hadn't. He had gone off to Syria, got himself hurt, come home and essentially ignored her.

The bitterness was enough to make his throat tight, and he blinked several times to clear the feeling in his eyes. He was standing still, lined up with the rest of the onlookers, gazing at the casket as it was slowly lowered into the ground. He could feel a knot in his chest, and resisted having to cough to clear it, not wanting to make a sound in the otherwise quiet air. Many of his colleagues had come, and he was glad for that. None of them really liked Annie for many reasons, but they still came to show their support for him and Scott.

He heard the soft thump as the casket hit the ground, the finality of her death suddenly breaking through. As if she wasn't actually dead until lowered into the grave, ready for the earth to be piled on top. He swallowed hard, trying to keep still even as the tension was rising in him again.

Jordan pressed closer, sensing the internal struggle, and he forced himself to calm down. There would be time later, in private, in his home away from prying eyes and people watching to deal with it. Here was the place for solemn, quiet respect. For acknowledging the departure of a loved one, to pay the final respects if need be. They had already done the visiting ceremony beforehand, in which he had seen her body, pale in death, skin still pasty despite the effort of the undertaker from the water. He had forced himself to visit as it had been expected, knowing he didn't want the last memory of his sister to be of her in death.

It made him sick to think she had thrown herself from a bridge and drowned. And he would never really know why. He could only guess, only try his best to understand what had happened to make her jump, and even then he would never have the full story.

He couldn't bring himself to watch as the the earth was being poured over the casket, burying away the woman his brother had loved forever. He turned, hoping his eyes weren't glistening as noticeably as he felt they were, and began to wander away. He hated funerals. The finality of it. The callousness of someone's body being buried under the earth in a cold, airless container. Everything they once had been now gone forever. Sure, she hadn't been the most likable person. She had stolen from him and from his friends, caused more trouble than most other people could do combined. She lied and played herself to be a good person and then took off whenever she was close to being found out. But she was his sister. There was a part of her that hadn't been the person everyone had seen. That she was a caring person who was able to talk to people and connect to them. How she had helped him when he needed it.

As he listened to the earth pouring into the grave behind him, he wandered quietly down the rows of graves, some fresh, some old. He struggled to bring himself to look at the one right next to hers, the one he had tried not to visit too frequently because of the memories it gave him. Thaddeus "Thad" Callahan. With the eyes of his friends on his back he forced himself to walk away. It was all too much to deal with.

He stood by the car, not really wanting to go inside just yet. Jordan and Topher had caught up to him, probably having walked off right after he had. Behind, the funeral itself was breaking up as people began to leave.

"You alright?" Jordan asked, her hand a gentle presence on his back.

TC sighed deeply, trying to control his breathing so he could reply normally. "Yeah. Just need to get out of here." His hands were shaking and he tried to hide them in his pockets just so they wouldn't notice. Head home and try to sleep? He didn't exactly look forward to sleeping at the moment.

"We ar going to the bar for a drink if you want to join us," Topher said, partially a question.

TC wasn't quite sure he wanted to go out, and spend this day in particular with other people. Most of him just wanted to go straight home and be alone, but he knew it would raise alarms in their minds and they probably wouldn't let him. Someone would follow him home and annoy him for the rest of the day to make sure he didn't do anything crazy. As if he ever would, the feeling of pain and betrayal in his sister's death still weighing too strong. It was like a shock that hadn't yet faded from his mind. It numbed his thoughts and slowed his mind, ultimately making him feel totally different.

Making an extreme effort to not sound completely disinterested, he replied "Sure, I'll go."

Maybe it would take his mind off of things.

It occurred to him after he sat down and ordered his drink that the last time he had gone to a bar was before he had left for Syria - the same occasion that had landed him and Drew in jail. The occasion was different, and so was he. He was not here to drink all his troubles away and sink back down into the person he had been before. He was here because his friends had asked, and was determined to only have one drink. No more. Annie's death jarred a part of him that he didn't realize was there. A logical part that saw her actions as a parallel to his own. If he continued going the way he had been he'd be joining her and Thad in the cemetery. Not from suicide - at least, he hoped that wouldn't be how he would go - but from fighting, or from drinking and getting into an accident. And he would not do that to his friends. Especially not now.

Voices droned on around him. The TV was playing a sports game that he couldn't muster any interest in. Some people were playing at the pool table, others hanging out, a few groups clustered around showing off. Jordan and Topher were talking, sitting next to him, and he barely heard the words they were saying. He stared at his glass, swirling it occasionally, too lost in his own thoughts to consider the surroundings. The surrealism of being back in a bar, this time with approving friends, at their request as opposed to his own.

To be the one not quite interested in finishing the drink as opposed to downing several. He didn't want to get drunk again. He understood at last that alcohol had never numbed the pain, it had only put it in a temporary place, where it grew in size until it burst.

"Tee are you with us?" Jordan's voice broke into his concentration, and he looked up in confusion to find that both of his friends were staring at him. They must have asked him something while he had been zoning in, and he couldn't even think about what they might have said.

"Uh yeah, sorry," he replied, swirling at his glass with disinterest. He had drank some of it, and while it was good, he was having trouble bringing himself to finish it. He remembered sitting here a year ago, with Annie, trying to stubbornly refuse a drink before he caved. And then he had taken her back to his house, only to learn she had been sneaking in drugs after she fell down the stairs. Was she suicidal back then? Was their reminiscence a hint to him that something was wrong, that she was depressed and he had simply assumed it was the alcohol? If he could go back in time would he have actually see any signs, or were they hidden behind her temperamental barrier, behind that wall of lies she had built for herself?

"We were wondering if you wanted to play a game of pool," Topher said, eyeing him with worry in his eyes.

TC didn't really want to, as he just wanted to sit there and do nothing for the rest of the day, or maybe even go home. It was only mid afternoon, but it was a weekend which is why the bar was busy. Still, he needed to have some kind of air of normalcy about him. "Sure," he lied, trying to put as much effort into the smile as he could. In his effort to pretend to be normal, he thought of something. "Someone might need to help me with the cue," he added, not sure if he had the motion in his shoulder to even hold it properly.

Realization dawned on their faces. "Oh right," Jordan said.

If he hadn't have been thinking so hard he probably wouldn't have remembered until he tried to use it. The pain was as numb as the rest of him.

As they approached an empty table a commotion caught his attention. Two men at the bar, yelling and then fighting. He watched them, emotionless, and knew if he had not had a revelation that he would have, maybe even tonight, been one of those drunk men fighting.


End chapter note: TC had an epiphany. Also some minor physical whump upcoming in the next chapter (gotta draw that stuff out you know). At this time we can say goodbye to Annie. I do hope they have her death in season 5 (please NBC, renew it for another season...). Thanks for reading!