The end has finally come. I hope that you have enjoyed following Jay and Liam around as they lived their lives. It has been a great learning experience for me and I hope that each story I complete is better than the last. I do appreciate all of you that have been reading and grateful for the reviews.

What follows was not the original ending, but after hearing the song Willow Tree March by the Paper Kites, my mind just followed another path. This is a short chapter and I will upload the much longer original ending momentarily. If this one leaves you unsettled, I recommend that you dive right into the next offering.

The beginning of both options is the exact same, so don't begin to read the second ending and believe it is the same one. After the first page or so it will diverge into a completely different direction.

At the end of the second ending I will make a proposition to you all and I hope you give it some consideration.

P.S. I am already working on a few bonus chapters that just didn't fit into the body of the story.

Because What You Do Matters

Liam cleared his throat, as he looked out into the auditorium. The audience was slowly filling and he noticed that Ellie, Mandy, and Mandy's new boyfriend Rick, were in the front row, but his dad wasn't. He hopped down and walked over to them. "I'm going last so maybe—maybe everybody will be here."

"I'm sure they will be. But if not, we'll both be recording it." Ellie said looking over at Mandy who had her phone in her lap.

"You know everyone is trying to get here," Mandy encouraged. "You're going to do great!"

Liam nodded and went back up the stage steps and behind the curtain where his teacher breathed a sigh of relief at his reappearance. She had him go further backstage and wait for his turn to read his essay.

The assignment had been to write about sharing. To discourage cheating, the student was only allowed to work on it during school hours. Each grade from fifth to eighth chose the top two essay's submitted and those students were reading their essay tonight at an assembly. Then the essays would be entered into a citywide competition. Liam's was one of those chosen. He had worked so hard on his offering, taking his study time to etch out each paragraph, erase it and start all over again. He was constantly poring over the dictionary and the thesaurus until he found just the right word. And his efforts had produced something worthy of a ribbon and an assembly appearance.

Once it was his turn, Liam only focused on getting the words out in a slow and steady pace. The lights didn't allow him to see much of the audience and for that he was grateful. He cleared his throat and began.

Sharing. We all have different ideas of what we share and how we share it. Some people love to share while others don't. For me I guess it depends what I have to share, because some things are harder to share than others.

I don't have any brothers or sisters, so I don't have to share a room or my stuff or clothes. But I do have to share something. And he is the hardest thing ever for me to share. It's hard, because it's not like sharing a piece of pie, or pizza or something that can be cut up like a loaf of bread.

Most kids just have to share their parent with their other parent or with their siblings, but I have to share my father with the whole city of Chicago. I hate that I have to. I would worry every day that he would get hurt or worse. He's been shot, more than once. He's come home beat up and bruised. He's come home with anger and pain in his eyes. I have to share him with violence and victims. I have to share him with loss and devastation and even occasionally with victory. He has to share so much of his soul and by doing so I have to lose a part of him to the city we both love. But sometimes I would just feel so empty when I was home without him or like now, when once again he isn't here. Sharing is hard and caring is hard. But because my dad does care, I have to share him. But even though it is hard, I do it because I have to.

I know that the world is bigger than just me and just him. It is as big as this room and bigger. It is as big as the street and bigger. It is as big as the city and bigger. And it is full of people, some good, some bad. My dad is one of the good ones and he has to step up to show that goodness still exists. That there are people that will let go of themselves and the ones that they love to help others, to help the greater good.

My mom used to always ask what are you meant for? What are we meant for? What are we meant to do with our lives and why should we do it. Why do they do it? The first responder's get up everyday and fight for what is right. Why? Because it matters. They sacrifice their time working late. Why? Because it matters. They miss those they love. Why? Because it matters. They stay strong when everyone around them falters. Why? Because it matters. They endure pain, fear, discomfort and the unknown. Why? Because it matters. They try and fix what's broken. Why? Because it matters. They risk their lives. They lose their lives. They give until they have nothing left to share. Why? Because it matters. I share my dad. Because it matters. Because what I do matters. Because what he does matters. Because what we all do matters. Because it was what we were meant for.

ALTERNATE ENDING

"Reading that essay was the hardest thing I had ever done. I kept looking for you, but you weren't there—I even pretended that you were—that I ran out into the audience after I was done—that I jumped into your arms and you caught me. I would always pretend you were there when you weren't—and you never were. I wrote that essay, like everything was still normal. The present tense.

"I did my best every single day to make you proud—I guess I did okay. I never got arrested, did drugs or drink—much. I kept my grades up and here I am off to college. I am sorry about leaving town, but I need to leave the city—at least for now. Don't worry though, Chicago will always be my home—besides you're here—you'll always be here. I could never leave you.

"I tried so hard Dad—so damn hard. Every day—the struggles—the impossible mountains that I had to climb. I've told you about so many—about how I would pretend that you were with me, all the things that I went through—I pictured you there just so I could get through it. But now I'll be on my own. I'll be back and I'll come visit you. I promise." Liam finished as he stood up and brushed the grass and dirt from his pants. He put his hand on top of the tombstone and let it rest there for a moment as Will looked on, dealing with his own emotions. He then went back down to his knees and leaned in and kissed the picture that had been embedded in Jay's headstone, it was the last one taken of father and son together, one week before Angela Nelson's bullet had caused irreparable damage that Jay couldn't recover from. "I love you Dad. Oh, I almost forgot—I brought this," he said pulling a matchbox car from his pocket. "You always had this one in your desk for me to play with when I would visit you at the district. I think it's time for you to have it now." He said as he put at the base of the granite monument.

"You're sure?" Will asked as he walked over.

"Yeah. It's time," Liam said. Will nodded and pulled his nephew close as they both looked at Jay's final memorial. " Can I have a few more minutes?"

"Of course. I'll meet you at the car," Will said, taking one last look at his brother's final resting place.

Liam stood and stared at the picture that held so many memories. He recalled putting his hand through the glass window at the hospital when he had heard that Jay hadn't survived. He had missed his dad so much, that he hadn't lied when he said he pretended Jay was with him all those years. He had even fantasized about going undercover to be closer to his memory. His fantasies of creating Jay included events that he had with every member of the team as it had been Kevin with him at the restaurant when the offender came in to rob the place. Kevin had protected him and shot the man after stowing Liam under the table. It had been Kim who helped him create something new with the plate that Liam had smashed and then smashed again after Jay had died. It had been Adam that took him to the Hancock building and the tilt windows. Will had fought off his date to get back to his nephew by the morning. Hank who had repeatedly punched Shane that night when they went to check on Michelle after taking Liam to an evening at the planetarium. Hailey, who took him to the library and Will that read with him. But in each situation, Liam had willed himself to believe it was Jay each and every time. He had done it to keep his memory alive, he had done it to keep himself sane, to keep himself in the present. The sessions with Dr. Charles had been to help him cope with his loss, the pain often coming in nearly unbearable waves. The other sessions had been for Will, to help cope with his loss and newfound responsibility. The relentless anxiety that he would never be a good enough replacement for his lost brother.

But the team had rallied around Liam, just as Adam had said they would. Weeks, months, years went by, but never did they turn away from the young Halstead. They kept him close and pulled him even closer when he would begin to pull away, spiral—missing his father from the very center of his soul. The crushing weight of his loss threatening to turn him to dust. They were there for sporting events, trips, museums, school activities and driving lessons. It had been their arms he jumped into when he had pitched a perfect game a month go. It had been their hugs of congratulations when he was accepted to his first choice of colleges. It had been the team—team Halstead who had all chaperoned the recent Senior Prom. It had been the same team who had clapped loudly when Liam graduated from High School. And it would be the very same team that would clap and cheer when he crossed the stage in four more years as they would one more time when he graduated from the Police Academy. It had taken a village, and in the end, that village had done an amazing job; one Jay would be pretty damn proud of. It was almost as if it was what they were meant for.

Soundtrack: Paper Kites Willow Tree March

Stand by Me Ki Theory

Hell or High water Billy Raffoul

Now that you feel you've been punched in the gut and perhaps fought off a tear or two...read the next ending, maybe it will help ease this loss.