A/N: Oy-friggin-vey! I can't even begin to explain how this took me forever & a day to write! I have my own issues with the whole revered father with complex relationship dying thing, so that was likely part of my problem. Luckily, I've a husband who told me, I just had to get in there and write it & not just for the sake of the story but also as my own catharsis. So here it is & I'm thrilled to hand it over on this my B-Day! YAY! Cheesy

Disclaimer (casual): I totally don't own Jericho or any characters from the show. This is just my toybox & the only things I own are my own original characters.

Disclaimer (formal): Jericho, all characters & canon fictional locations therein and associated trademarks are the sole intellectual property of CBS Paramount Television, CBS Studios, Inc., Junction Entertainment & Fixed Mark Prod. This work is not intended to infringe on the copyrights or trademarks held, but is solely a work of fan fiction and for diversion and amusement, not for profit

Title: Afterburn (Chapter 11/?)

Chapter 11: Requiem

Johnston Green's wake at Bailey's Tavern would be remembered by many for years to come as one of the finest attended ever by a good many people, his eldest son however wouldn't recollect much at all. His memories would be weighed down by the mantle of whiskey and grief. Forever fuzzy around the edges and the clear center as biting as a series of paper cuts doused with alcohol.

Jake had spent much of his time sitting in a booth unsure of whether or not he was hiding or waiting. He didn't know exactly what from or what for either way but he couldn't seem to get himself to get up and engage anyone just the same. He noticed his mother across the room talking to people who'd come to pay their respects. She exuded the same strength that people had come to associate with being quintessentially her but he could see underneath to her grief. Even now she was the Mayor's wife, the First Lady of Jericho and was taking care of other people during what should have been solely her mourning period.

He thought back to that morning at home and how she'd flitted from place to place completely on task as if the possibility of standing still was a criminal act. She'd gone on a cleaning campaign in anticipation of people coming by and he'd helped. He'd noticed as he went along that the industry wasn't at all necessary and it was about the activity and he understood. Had he been able to sit still and bear it, he'd have mentioned it to her. But he couldn't and he didn't so they busied themselves in a flurry of activity until it was time to go on to the next thing.

When they'd finally arrived at Bailey's a good number of people were already there. It'd only been a few days since the war with New Bern and things in town were still very far from normal. The addition of the increasingly present military was reason enough to think so but the physical reminders of the destruction rendered by the mortars also remained. That so many people had made the effort to show their respects while grappling with their own grief and fallen loved ones was what astounded Jake the most. He'd gone to a fair number of funerals just like everyone else over the course of days but he'd rarely been able to feel anything other than his own pain of loss. He'd made a concerted effort to remember the names of all of the dead and injured but at the end of the day his thoughts always returned to his father. His words of comfort and condolence to others felt hollow in his mouth. His heart was laden down and his pain held sole ownership.

"Jake" Eric said as he came up behind him at the bar.

"Hey" Jake replied after he'd turned toward him.

The brothers embraced briefly and looked over at their mother.

"How is she?" Eric asked as he noticed Gray approach her.

"Just like you'd expect her to be. She won't talk about it really" Jake said and turned back to the bar.

Eric responded with only a nod and focused on his brother again, "I took care of all the church stuff for the service."

"That's good."

"Well, what about trying to contact the family in..."

"I took care of it. It's done."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That Major... Beck... gave families who'd needed to, access to the military's radio to try and contact their extended family. So I did and it's done. Don't be so surprised" Jake explained and looked down at his glass.

"I'm not. I just thought... I don't know what I thought but it doesn't matter. I'm glad you handled it. If there's anything else you need me to do, just let me know."

"I think we've thought of everything. You okay?" Jake asked almost nonchalantly barely glancing at his brother.

"Yeah. You?" Eric asked and looked across the room.

Jake nodded and they both fell momentarily silent as Jake sipped his drink and Eric moved to grab a bottle and a glass.

Eric poured his drink without really thinking about it. It didn't matter what it was. Anything would suffice in the moment to take his mind off of the current state of things. He looked around the room and noticed Mary talking with Mrs. Anderson. He couldn't help but compare the current First Lady of Jericho to his mother and in his eyes she fell woefully short but so did her husband in comparison to his father. He knew that he was most likely being somewhat unfair but he didn't really care. Mary caught his eye and he gave her a small smile that she returned. The worried look underlying that she'd been carrying since he'd returned from New Bern had remained though.

Jake noticed the look exchanged between the two and asked, "You two still good?"

'Of course. Why wouldn't we be?" Eric asked turning his attention back to his brother.

"No reason. Just asking."

"Well don't" Eric said a hint of defense in his voice and then, "Where's Emily?"

"I don't know" he replied absently.

"I'm not surprised"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing" Eric replied.

He'd no wish to engage his brother in a conversation of reminiscence at the moment nor did he really care to advise him of anything. So many moments seemed to turn in revolution around Jake that Eric felt he'd likely choke on the words had he even attempted to take on the task. This time wasn't about Jake, it was about their father and the loss of him. Eric was sure it was a thing from which he would likely never fully recover and he also wasn't in much of a sharing mood either.

"Just leave it" he said finally almost under his breath and realized that his brother hadn't heard him.

Eric picked up his glass and made his way across the room toward their mother leaving his brother alone at the bar contemplating his drink. SInce his return from New Bern and their father's death he'd been feeling less patient of Jake.

The day of the funeral was almost a complete blur for Jake. Later, he wouldn't remember the hymns or the homily but he would remember the weight of the coffin when he, Eric, Stanley & Gray served as pallbearers and bore his father out of the church. He'd remember the feel of the wood of the coffin and how his hands felt against the grain along with the scent of it. The wood and the varnish reminded him of what he was doing for a moment before the feel of the cool brass of a handle distracted him with another sensory experience. As the handle warmed in his hand the feel of it faded as soon as all the bearers shifted the weight to their shoulders to exit the church. Jake inclined his head toward the coffin slightly as he stared ahead. He still didn't want to believe the truth and its finality.

At the internment he and Eric stood on either side of their mother. The day had begun cool and overcast but had warmed considerably. Jake only heard parts of what was being said around him. Even with the sun shining he felt almost entirely cold. He looked down at his hand feeling warmth and took note that he was holding his mother's hand. He couldn't remember if he'd taken her hand or she his or when but he knew he didn't want to let go. He squeezed her hand in support and to remind himself that this was all actually happening as she leaned in closer to him.

Eric kept his eyes on fixed on an imaginary spot far off in the distance. He couldn't look at the coffin. The closest he'd come was the floral arrangement that adorned the top and even then he'd thought that it seemed out of place. The delicate flowers above, the soft turned earth below meant to contain a force as solid as Johnston Green. It was unfathomable and painfully real at the same time. He'd attempted over the days since his father's death to come to terms with it but all he'd arrived at were the numerous relationships he'd lost. He'd lost a father, a mentor, a colleague and friend and he wasn't sure if he was supposed to deal with the losses at cumulatively or one at a time. It was something he normally would have asked his father but now, there was no one to consult.

Eventually the group of mourners broke up and departed. As they did so, Gail felt a sense of relief. She'd felt all day that the services were more for the benefit of others than for herself. She didn't begrudge them but had she had her way. it'd have been an almost entirely solitary event. When she let go of Jake's hand and stepped forward for the last time she could not find it in herself to bid her husband farewell. She thought back to months before and the beginnings of their plans for traveling together. The September attacks came and robbed them of those plans and was the catalyst to the chain of events that eventually took Johnston's life. It was almost unbelievable to her and she couldn't help feeling all the more aggrieved, even as she remained self contained. She knew that their friends and family needed to see her hold it together, so she had. She knew their sons were doing their best to bear up for her and she couldn't bring herself to let go completely. Not because she didn't need to but because she was quite sure they couldn't cope with it. That everyone was trying so hard to be strong for each other was comforting in its own way to her. She knew there wasn't consolation enough to dull the pain of this loss and she knew that a part of her would never get over the loss of the man she'd loved and shared her life with. In her heart she'd have had it no other way.

Jake had stayed behind longer than anyone else at the cemetery. Emily had been good enough to accompany Gail back to the house and Mary had coaxed Eric along as well. Jake stayed long enough to see them begin to lower the coffin into the ground and as they did he felt an overwhelming desire to leave. Everything was over. His father was really dead and life was going on without him. Jake's problem was he didn't know quite how to rejoin that life or if he wanted to be bothered with it entirely at all. As he turned to leave he silently promised his father that he'd make it all right and be sure that what had happened wouldn't go unpunished. Constantino had a date that though he wasn't aware was most important and certain to be kept in Jake's mind. He'd pay for the loss and the pain he'd caused. He'd die the theft of Johnston Green.

When he arrived home he was somewhat saddened but not at all surprised that the house was full of people. His mother was being her ever gracious self comforting others, which alone made him want to ask everyone to leave. He hung back and watched not wanting to engage anyone. He noticed Emily from where he was standing. She and Mary were doing very good jobs as hostess and tending to everyone while Eric was seated in a far corner of the room not really engaging anyone and looking at nothing in particular.

Jake noticed his father's chair and Gray sitting in it. He didn't think long and crossed the room purposefully.

"This is my father's chair" he said as he stood behind Gray.

People nearest who took notice were Emily, Mary, Mrs. Anderson and Jimmy.

"I'm sorry, Jake... I didn't know..." Gray explained apologetically as he rose.

"Now you do" was Jake's only reply as he turned and walked out of the room and headed for the kitchen.

As he entered he exhaled deeply and tried to relax. But it was all for naught. He couldn't breathe and felt an overwhelming need to leave. He slipped out the back door quickly and down the back stairs to the backyard. He couldn't be there any longer and as he quickened his pace he untied his tie and discarded it on his way out of the yard. He began blindly walking down the street while unbuttoning his shirt collar trying to figure out what he was going to do and how things had gotten so out of hand. The darkening clouded sky matched his mood but he took no note as he continued on.

He cut across the park and noticed Sean and Bonnie sitting on the bleachers near the baseball diamond talking. Sean's arm was still in a sling, the result of a gunshot he'd sustained during the fight with New Bern. It made his signing stilted but it didn't seem to be affecting communication between the couple. Jake looked away and continued on. The sight of the two reminded him of his own feelings of isolation. He shrugged off the thought as he reached the exit of the park. The constantly blowing breezes were strengthening but that was of little consequence to Jake as he strode on down Kenton Lane. The longer he walked the more the suffocating feeling he'd had subsided. It was the same feeling he'd had the day of the attacks when he was leaving town. It seemed like a lifetime ago and he couldn't quite fathom how he'd arrived where he had.

Rain began to fall fulfilling a day long promise and Jake took note and stopped walking. He looked up at the sky and knew the storm had not only arrived but it was also going to a serious one. He looked around and realized that he was standing in front of Heather's house. He didn't know why he was there or why his feet brought him there and his mind decided to engage him in the conspiracy when he'd arrived. The sight of her home momentarily took his breath away as he remembered that the thing he'd forgot that day was that she was gone too. She was gone and no more able to come back than his father. He leaned back slightly and sighed with the thought as the rainfall increased.

He walked up the gravel driveway toward her house and missed hearing her steps alongside. He went up the steps to her door and found it locked but quickly found a key beneath a heavy terracotta flowerpot on her patio, unlocked the door and went inside. Once inside he looked around almost afraid to breathe for fear that everything would disintegrate like ash in the air. He felt and heard the wind blowing through the window and noticed some of the panes were broken. He supposed it was the result of the mortar attacks as he moved closer to inspect the damage. The pains quivered and threatened to break as the wind howled and the rain swirled outside. Jake frowned at the idea that Heather's home would become any more destroyed. He couldn't stand the thought. He wanted it sealed and preserved forever for many reasons. Because the scent of her was still there and even if the physical her was no more her spirit should inhabit those walls for as long as possible. Without the ability to bury her, he thought her home should be her memorial. As sacred a place as the cemeteries that now held his father and grandfather along with those who fell in the conflict with New Bern.

Jake took off his jacket and tossed it on a chair as he headed toward the kitchen and out the back door. As the rain poured he crossed her backyard to the shed in hopes he'd find exactly what he needed. When he did, he smiled and thought that he should have known it would be so because he could count on Heather to have planned and been prepared for any number of contingencies. He said a silent thanks to her wherever she was as he grabbed plywood, nails and a hammer and ran back to the house. Once inside, he boarded up the front windows with a speed and skill he'd forgotten he had for such things. He recalled in passing lessons from his father and grandfather teaching he and Eric the skills. He hammered the last sheet blindly into place and realized finally that he'd finished though he didn't want to be. Everything kept ending and he'd no control over any of it. The things he'd had right in front of him dissolved away, the things he'd held had fallen away and the only things that remained were emptiness and anger and those he couldn't share with anyone else. He sat down and leaned back on her sofa and noticed the hammer in his hand. He turned over the chintz handled hammer and thought that it seemed like her. Handy and practical with an unexpected girly edge. He laughed bitterly and dropped it on the floor as his eye caught sight of the picture he's seen before of she and Emily. Suddenly he felt like an intruder and that he shouldn't be there. An urgency to leave compelled him to do so hastily and as he walked home in the storm he wondered how to right all the wrongs and bring what he determined as just to bear on Constantino.