Little Sister

It's been over a month since Leslie became fully engaged as CI for RCMP's IPOC Unit. All she had to do was make copies of invoices and financial records. After work, she followed her usual routine and did her personal errands and then she'd meet with "Victor". They would go dating and then she'd discreetly pass on the copies she'd made to him. But it was getting more and more complicated separating Victor from Joe; and working out her relationships with "them".

Joe solved this for her by being "Victor" all the time; so as far as she was involved, he was always "Victor". Joe's persona disappeared entirely. He also moved away from home and joined a group of other undercover cops in a housing situation. They were now officially a "gang".

Leslie arrived home to an empty apartment with an armful of groceries. She didn't know what caused it, but today she felt a heaviness in her heart, an undefined sadness over the loss of both her parents. It's been four years since she lost her Mum; and three since her Dad passed away. She's only ever had Spike to look after her since she was 22. Sometimes she wondered if Spike put up with her only because he made a promise to her Dad. But Big Brother always told her not to be silly, "I'd still be hanging around till you're a grandmother yourself".

When her Dad was shot in the line of duty, Spike insisted she attend grief counselling; in fact, they went together for a couple of sessions. It helped to know she wasn't alone in her grief; but she was certain she was alone in her guilt. Little did she knew, that Spike also felt guilty for not being in touched with what was happening in their lives in the lead up to his death and her Mum's demise the year before. He also made sure she continued attending even after he stopped going, "You've got to let professionals help you with post traumatic stress." When Paul Bullard, drug kingpin and crime lord had her kidnapped to force her Dad to do the unthinkable, she really thought her hours were numbered. She remembered speaking to her Dad and saying in between sobs, "I'm so sorry Daddy. I swear I didn't do anything," or something to that effect.

She opened a box of photographs. She took one out of her mother, so young, sweet and lovely. "The love of my life," Sgt McCoy used to say. She could still see them in her mind's eye hugging, teasing, and playfully holding on to each other's love handles. It used to disgust her. "Oh Mum! That's just disgusting!"

Oliver McCoy used to tell her how much she looked like her Mum, "Thank God." He told everyone, "God surely must love me because my only offspring don't look anything like me. That would have been a punishment. A living hell."

They were happy, the three of them. She grew up loved, well cared for and indulged. She was doted on by her Dad, the centre of his universe. Her world changed when her Mum became very ill. And she was ill for a very long time. Suddenly, her father was absent from her life. He was working long hours earning the money to pay for medical bills; and when he was home, he only attended to her Mum. She resented the upheaval this disease, this illness has wrought on her family life. Maybe it was her youthfulness and her immaturity, she was 17. No, being 17 wasn't an excuse, merely an explanation. She had no excuses.

Alone, afraid, confused, morose. What was she to do?

Her mother wasn't in any condition to mother her. Her father was nowhere to be found but in his police cruiser and on the streets of Toronto. But her friends were always there for her. They were there to give her comfort, advice and a high. Before too long, she was hooked on drugs and now her Dad's problems just compounded big time.

She put her mother's picture down. She dug deep into the box and pulled out a photo of her Dad and Spike, taken on the younger man's first day on the beat. Both looked happy and young. It was a picture that reflected great hope and dreams. Sgt McCoy looked proud; on the day this photo was taken, he was probably hoping to retire with honours one day having earned his ribbons and decorations for a job well done. But instead, he was disgraced. In the months leading to his death, Sgt McCoy was under investigation for "being in the pocket of Paul Bullard, drug lord and known crime boss". Twenty years of hard work and hard earned reputation down the drain. But it wasn't all lost. He retained his good cop reputation in exchange for his life. It wasn't a fair trade by any means, and it's all because of me.

Leslie blamed herself, blamed her addiction. Had I stayed on the straight and narrow, had I not been an addict, he couldn't have had to sell information to pay for my rehab. This was the repeating condemnation that played in her mind: she should have been their rock. She should have been there for both of them. Instead she was selfish and immature and stupid.

She didn't know how long she had been crying. She heard ringing, the doorbell. She quickly wiped her tears, "Coming" she said. "Who's there?"

"Tuo fratello Spike." She smiled to herself and opened the door wide. "Hey," she said welcoming her Big Brother. She may have wiped the tears but her eyes were red so he knew she wasn't right, "Come here," he took her into his arms. The very offer of comfort prompted her tear ducts to explode, and before she knew it she was sobbing.

Spike rubbed her back and said, "I can't be this ugly. There's no need to cry every time you see me." She laughed at his remark. He always had a way of making her feel less sad. He noticed the photographs on the couch, "What's this? Going down memory lane? Without me? Shame on you."

"Guess what?' Spike showed her a bag. She knew what was in it, a slice of her favourite cake in the world, chocolate mud cake. She took it from him, "Thanks."

"Care to tell me about it?" They went to the kitchen, she offered Spike water, she knew he wasn't keen to imbibe her choice of coffee. "Actually, do you have tea?" he said.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

So over afternoon tea, she told Spike of her many, many regrets. "Do you always feel like this?" She looked at him with soulful eyes, "No, it comes and goes. I think I'm still in the process of forgiving myself for what happened to my Dad. And still in the process of forgiving myself for not being there for my Mum. She must have died worrying about me. She must have died wondering what she did wrong for me to turn out the way I did."

"Hey, don't go there. You know they thought the world of you." Big Brother came over again to hug her again. She let go of a whole lot of pent up emotions. She needed it. She needed to let it go, to release it, to start feeling the pain and to deal with it.

"This CI business has made me appreciate what my Dad did and what you do. It makes me appreciate what Joe does. I just wished I had been a better human being, if not a good daughter."

Spike wiped her tears, and said something so profound even he himself couldn't believe he said it, "It's all in the past, Les. What matters most is NOW. You're in the right place, right now and you're heading to the right direction. Tomorrow will take care of itself. You're going to be fine."

Leslie contemplated that and said, "What would I do without you?"

Spike smiled and said, "You can always get a tub of ice cream."