2137
The scene outside San Cristobal was one Waits never wanted to see again. Empty hospital beds and wheelchairs, some turned over, and some covered with blood. Some had corpses in them. It turned his stomach in a way he had never felt before.
Where was Morley? He was usually out here. Maybe he was inside, sheltered with Lingard, waiting. Hoping that was the case, Waits tried to look away from the dead bodies and blood and horror. He didn't want to imagine what exactly had happened when Sinclair and his goons raided the place.
Jav and Raine were silent, equally horrified. "What . . . happened?" Raine whispered.
"Sinclair," Waits replied. "Lingard told me he and his thugs came here to steal meds from the patients here."
"Doesn't surprise me," Jav said. He was quiet for another moment. "We used to be in his group."
"Five of us fled, claiming we were going to get supplies. We couldn't stay with them if they weren't going to cooperate with the Marshals," Raine added. "If rescue comes, how would we find out?"
"That, and we were nearly punished for trying to help someone not in Sinclair's group." Jav gestured to Raine. "Well, he was the one doing the helping. I guess the only reason they let us live as long as we did was because we've both got medical training."
"How the fuck you managed to desert him without getting shot, I'll never know," Waits said.
"Luck, I guess."
Waits entered the hospital to find it was at its most dark and quiet. He was tempted to call out for Lingard, but was afraid that would attract some unwanted attention. So he headed right for her office, Jav and Raine behind him. He glanced back at them. "You two go find Doctor Morley."
"You yourself no one should be going alone," Raine whispered.
"I'm ordering you two to go find him. Just do as I say."
Without another word, the two headed down another hallway. Part of Waits regretted making that order, but something was telling him needed to be by himself when he found Lingard.
His heart sank when he entered her office to find no one. Where could she possibly be? He looked in her locker and under her desk, again finding nothing. "Honey?" he said. Panic swelled in his chest.
Leaving her office, Waits found himself taking in short, quick breaths. He wouldn't calm down until he found her. Panic gripped his body like a vice-
"Waits!" Raine called.
Whirling around, Waits spotted the younger man standing at the end of a hallway. "What?"
"We . . . found Morley."
Following Raine down the hall, Waits saw Jav standing outside a room, face pale. "Oh, no . . ." Waits breathed. He stood next to Jav, finally seeing what was making the latter so pale.
Morley was lying on his back, part of his intestines spilling from a deep wound on the left side of his belly. Yet, that wasn't the worst part. Waits's eyes moved up to Morley's head, and he nearly fell to his knees at seeing the doctor's face had been completely torn away. "Morley, no." Waits choked. "Jesus, no . . ." Tears rolled down his face. "This . . . This isn't happening."
Raine touched Waits's shoulder. His grip tightened when Waits sank to the floor, shivering and sobbing.
"There's no way that's Morley," Waits stammered. "No . . ."
But it was. He recognized the uniform, the hair, everything that was left. Waits squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at Morley's desecrated corpse anymore. That wasn't the Morley he wanted in his memory. Morley had been so full of life, upbeat. He was sweet to everyone. Just a joy to be around, even if he was a little quirky at times. He had been a friend. Close enough to where Waits wanted to trust him to be his best man at his wedding.
"I never told you how much I appreciated you, did I?" Waits moaned, face hot and wet with tears streaming down. "You did so much and asked for nothing in return. Goddammit, buddy, this isn't how you should've left this world."
He sat for a few long minutes, Raine's arm around his shoulder, holding him reassuringly.
"We should go," Raine said, softly. "We can still find Lingard."
Waits needed help standing. He didn't want to leave Morley's body, but knew there was no way they could transport it back to the Bureau without a body bag. Grief and sorrow tore at Waits's heart and soul when he walked away. He tried to refocus, tried to stay hopeful for Lingard.
They searched every open room they came across, not seeing any sign of Lingard. As he started to lose hope, he heard two screams, one human, one not.
"Lingard!" Waits shouted. He rounded a corner to see the creature on top of a desk, towering over Lingard. Suddenly, he could only hear his own heartbeat when he saw the creature's pierced through Lingard's torso. He opened his mouth to scream. He knew sound was coming out, but he couldn't hear it. He could feel something tearing through his chest, like he was feeling Lingard's pain with her . . .
Next to him, Raine was lighting a Molotov cocktail. Rage boiling in his stomach, Waits grabbed the bottle from Raine, hurling it at the alien. The fireball exploded near the creature. Screeching, it withdrew its tail from Lingard, and dashed off.
Waits collapsed next to her, holding her in his arms despite the blood. God, there was so much blood . . . "Honey?" Waits breathed. "Stay with me, OK?" He kissed her forehead.
"I can't . . ." Lingard said. "Waits-"
"No. You're gonna make it. I'm not gonna let you die."
Lingard swallowed. Her breath was uneven, and blood was running from the sides of her mouth. "Jethro. Sweetie. There's . . . nothing you can do. I'm sorry."
"No, please." Waits pressed her forehead against his. "I love you." He took a breath, kissing her again. "I love you. I shoulda told you a long time ago. Dammit, I'm such a moron."
Lingard managed a smile. "No, sweetie, you're not. I love you, too."
"I don't want to leave you. I can't," Waits sobbed. "We were gonna . . . W-We were gonna get married. I-I'm never gonna find . . . someone else." He hugged her tighter. "Please, don't give up."
"Can you listen to me for a minute? I don't want you giving up." Lingard's eyes filled with tears.
Seeing her cry just made more tears come for him. "There are so many 'I love yous' that I never said. You . . . I-I never thought I'd . . . find someone who was able to put up with my shit, a-and love me in the process. Just . . . somehow, I knew when you kissed me, two years ago, after I brought you to your apartment. Remember?"
She nodded. "I'll always remember that. I dreamt about it. I . . . even dreamt about you making the same gesture. That was when I knew. And even though you didn't say it, I knew you loved me. You're not perfect, but I wouldn't trade you for perfect."
That brought a small and weak smile to Waits's face.
"Getting to wake up next to you every morning was the best feeling in the world. If . . . If I'm going to go to sleep now, I'd rather have it be with you."
"Honey, you're not . . . you're not gonna wake up, though."
"I know." Lingard took Waits's hand. "Just stay. That's all I ask. Jethro."
"Why're you calling me by my first name?"
"Weren't we going to do that when we got to Gateway?"
"Well, yeah, but . . . I . . ." Waits paused, and then gave up. "Kalea. I told you it was such a pretty name. Wish I started using it sooner, earlier."
She kept smiling at him. It pained Waits to see she was starting to lose strength, then she reached up to pull the brim of his cap. "You know, that became my way of silently telling you that I love you?"
"I did know. Somehow." Waits took Lingard's hand, holding it as tight as he could. "I . . . H-How am I gonna wake up every morning without you? I can't go find someone else. That'd be like cheating."
"Jethro, when you leave Sevastopol, all I want is for you to be happy. If you meet another woman who makes you happy, and if you make her happy, then you have my blessing to be with her and love her. You have so much love to give."
"OK. If . . . If that's what you want, honey." Waits tried to swallow past more tears. Lingard's breath was becoming shallow, and her heartbeat was becoming weak. "I'm not ready."
She squeezed his hand, trying to smile. "I'm seeing the mean son-of-a-bitch at his most sensitive."
"Yes. Yes, you are." Waits kissed her forehead. "I love you." He took a deep breath. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too."
Waits held her close, still holding her hand and nuzzling her forehead. His whole body was aching. His heart was breaking. It was such a slow, painful break. "Kalea?" he whispered. "I . . . H-How am I gonna move on?"
He got no answer. Her eyes were closed, and her grip on his hand had relaxed. Waits couldn't doubt that she was gone. He was flooded with sadness. His chest felt like it was being crushed by an invisible force. The break in his heart deepened and expanded until it split in half. Touching her forehead with his again, he breathed, "I love you."
The transit ride back to the habitation towers was silent, aside from Waits's sobbing. He couldn't bottle up his emotions anymore. Jav and Raine sat across from him, not saying a word. They glanced at each other occasionally, looking worried, unsure of how to help Waits. Then again, they were all grieving someone. Jav and Raine were still in shock over Diaz and the other members of their former group. And Waits . . .
Lissa. Sterling. Morley. Now Lingard.
The people closest to him. Gone. He couldn't believe it.
He felt like he just came out of a boxing ring after letting his opponent beat on him. His body felt bruised and spent. He knew his heart was bruised. And broken. Broken into so many pieces. He was staring at the pieces, not knowing how to put them back together. The edges were jagged and splintered. Some were big, some were small. He couldn't remember where they were originally.
Waits felt a surge of pain from deep within his chest when his thoughts turned to Lingard. He looked down at the floor, vision blurring with tears. Memories flashed across his mind, starting with their meeting in the hallway outside their apartments. Neither of them expected to be seeing each other again. And again. And again. Of all the things they could have bonded over, it was their loneliness and feelings that no one else understood their dedication to their jobs. The more time they spent with each other, the more they realized how much they liked each other.
Waits tried reliving the night they confessed that they had feelings for each other. It was an ungodly hour. Neither of them could sleep because of all that was on their mind. When they both confessed, it was the happiest Waits had been in his life. That happiness should have been present when he held his newborn nephew, but it wasn't. It had been sucked away by the fights he had with his brother-in-law. There was none of that while he was with Lingard. She recognized his flaws, sure, but didn't put him down over it. Hell, she liked his brutal honesty, having been lied to and deceived for most of her life.
He couldn't believe he wasn't going to have anymore tender little moments with her. She was the piece of his heart he couldn't find, and that he wasn't getting back. He wanted to hug her, but he couldn't. That hurt, and he never imagined it would hurt so much.
Although he had taken Lingard's ID tags with her picture, Waits couldn't bear to look at it at the moment. His mind and heart weren't ready, because he knew that if he looked, he would start to cry. He felt like telling someone he missed her wouldn't convey how much pain he was in. It never would. Crying perhaps would convey it. He thought back to when he was coping with trauma from his experience on LV-112, how he couldn't bring himself to cry in front of anyone, how he didn't want to tell anyone what was going on in his mind, how he wanted so badly to cry out for help.
He was crying now, he realized.
The transit ride was surprisingly smooth. There were no sudden stops. Just luck, Waits guessed. It stopped at the habitation towers, and Jav and Raine stood up first. Raine looked at Waits, and said, "Would you like a hand?"
"I can get up myself," Waits muttered. "I'm not that old."
Raine didn't respond, but he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Waits was still with them as they headed to the elevator.
In the elevator, no words were spoken, much like the transit ride. Waits was in the corner, remembering how Lingard would lean against him whenever he took her back to her apartment. She would almost always fall asleep, and he told her not to lean on him because it made him sleepy, too. Eventually, there was a point where Waits didn't mind if she leaned on him, because he would hug her and keep her warm and close as they rode up to the apartments. Sometimes, Waits dozed off, and the ping of the elevator arriving on their floor would wake them both up. That was typically when they would decide to just pick his or her apartment and go to sleep.
He was pulled from his memories when the elevator doors opened, and the three walked out toward the Bureau. Waits wasn't sure how to present himself to his remaining Marshals, and the survivors now living there. Part of him felt like a failure.
Waits entered the Bureau, every part of his body feeling heavy. His grief was written all over his face. Sighing, he gestured for Jav and Raine to join the other survivors, then walked into his office, not saying a word to anyone.
There were things to do, but Waits didn't feel motivated to do anything. They were important things to do, but something heavy in his brain was keeping him from doing them. He felt lost, alone, and immensely tired.
Everyone out in the main room has lost friends and loved ones. Why should you sit around and mope while they can't? Waits felt his throat close. I don't know how much pain they're in. They could just be keeping it all in, while I can't keep it in anymore.
He let out his breath, more tears streaming down his face. He had never cried so much before. I never loved so hard before . . .
Lingard had told him not to give up. If that was what she wanted, he had to follow through. I won't give up, but I need to get over the pain of losing you, honey.
How long would the pain last, though? How long would the wound in his heart bleed?
Every wound stopped bleeding eventually, but Waits didn't know how long he could afford to sit around and wait for it to stop. Probably not very long, but he knew trying to force himself to work when he wasn't ready would provide crappy results.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed since returning to the Bureau, but it was long enough for people to get worried. Raine knocked on the door. "Marshal? Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Sighing, Waits replied, "Sure. Come in."
Raine entered the room, closing the door behind him. "A few of the other survivors were wondering . . . what's next. I volunteered to talk to you."
"I don't have any plans right now. I think that much is obvious."
"I-I know, but . . ." Raine sat down. "I figured it was best someone listens to you. You lost someone you love, and that's not an easy thing to get over."
Waits fell silent, another urge to cry swelling inside him. "I have to get over it. You guys can sit and grieve all you want, but I'm charge of you all, and I can't. I still have a job to do, but I don't feel like I can perform at my best right now."
"That's understandable."
Waits glanced over at Raine, unsure of what to say. He adjusted his posture. "You guys are all counting on me out there?"
Raine nodded.
"Well, this fight with the creature got more personal than I ever wanted it to be." Waits sighed. "It's not going to get itself killed if I just sit here." He paused, rubbing his face and thinking. "I want everyone who's healthy to start making foraging parties. At least two per group, and search for whatever you can. No one is to be unarmed. Everyone in your party will have a revolver, and at least one of you will have a shotgun."
He sounded tired and empty, like he didn't want to talk to anyone anymore. He gave his orders, now he wanted to be left alone. How such a simple action became so draining, he would never know.
Raine didn't leave, though. He stayed, looking down at the table before returning his gaze to Waits. He looked defeated.
"I hardly know you," Waits said. "I hardly know anyone now." He turned to face the wall. "Go tell everyone my instructions. I need to be alone."
He didn't emerge for quite some time. The foraging parties had all been formed and left the Bureau when Waits finally stepped out. At some point, he had fallen asleep, completely overwhelmed by exhaustion. The rest of the space was empty aside from four survivors and a couple of Marshals.
Waits sighed a little, still feeling tired. How long would he have to sleep before he felt fully rested again? A few days? Weeks, perhaps? He didn't know, and didn't care. It twisted his heart to know he would never wake up next to Lingard again. He lost count of how many nights they spent together after they decided to give it a go. They enjoyed it.
Waits's thoughts turned to the couple of nights where Lingard was sick, and he did his best to keep her comfortable, even when she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned before Waits wrapped both arms around her, holding her against him. She adjusted herself one more time, and finally slept.
Every bed from here on out was going to feel cold and empty. Waits remembered what Lingard said about her being OK with him finding someone else who made him as happy as she did. He wondered if he could ever find that kind of happiness again. It would take a special person to understand all he had gone through, and to understand he wasn't easy to love.
It would take a special person to persuade him to give them the key to his heavily fortified heart. Right now, his heart was locked up again. The key had gone with Lingard.
Despite knowing how dangerous it was, Waits decided he wasn't going to leave Sevastopol without Lingard's belongings. Her family had to know, and he wanted to keep things for memories. He left Ricardo in charge of the remaining survivors while he slung a shotgun over his shoulder, and checked his revolver.
When he stepped outside the Bureau, he was again bombarded with memories. Memories of people passing by the offices. Memories of locking up for the night. Memories of going out on patrol. Memories of preparing to go out with Lingard on a date. It all made his chest hurt. Sighing, he headed to the elevator. He would always remember the floor Lingard lived on, the number on her apartment door. Stuff like that would never fade.
The elevator doors closed in front of him, and he felt something crash inside him. He began to cry.
Question: How is Waits's handling of grief different or similar to Hicks in "White Noise?"