CHAPTER 5: FUNERAL
"Rey?"
"Mm?" he slowly woke up. Deborah was sitting on the bed.
"Rey, you said you wanted me to wake you up right after dinner so you could put the girls to bed. Did you get enough sleep?"
"Yeah," he slowly sat up, blinking the sleep away and yawning. Yeah, he'd had enough sleep. Enough to be able to face his family, anyway.
He got up, bracing himself to put his daughters to bed. Happy little kids, you'd think it would be easy to face them, but it really wasn't, not when you were swimming in guilt. Not when you found it hard to meet their trusting eyes and smile back at them.
"So what did you do today?" Rey asked the girls as they started to put their toys into bins.
"We went to the pool and you know what? I can swim all the way across an' I only took one breath!" Olivia told him, gap-toothed smile wide.
"Wow, that's pretty good."
"Yeah I can do it too, Daddy!" chipped in Serena.
"No way, you hadda take three breaths," Olivia contradicted her.
"Did not!" Serena was indignant.
"Did so!"
"Did not!"
"Hey, hey, hey, how about next time you go swimming, I'll go with you and you can show me, deal?" he told Serena, defusing the squabble. Serena was going through the fantasy-lying stage, where kids lie because they still haven't figured out the firm distinction between what's true and what they wish was true. There was no point confronting her on it. In fact, he kind of wished he were still at that stage. Wouldn't that be nice? I wish I hadn't broken my vows. Therefore, I didn't.
"Deal!" Serena shook his hand solemnly.
"Deah!! Deah!!" Isabel said, eager to take part in the 'Deal' ritual as always, even though she had no idea what it meant. He shook her hand too.
"OK, we're done here, go brush your teeth," he told the two older girls. "Isabel, can you bring me a diaper? Bring Daddy a diaper, sweetie," he pointed to the drawers where they kept the diapers. "Under there, no, not there, the next one over. Good girl!" he took the diaper from her and lifted her onto the table.
It was rather comforting to have certain rituals to fall back on, certain things that were always done just so. Tidy up the toys, brush teeth, change diaper, pj's, story, sleepy night night kisses for everyone. You could do it automatically. You could know that no matter what else was going on in the outside world or in your head, this would turn out right. Three little girls would go to sleep peacefully, secure in their little world. You could at least do that for them, no matter what you had done wrong the day before.
ooo000ooo
After the girls were finally in bed, he came downstairs to the living room, where Deborah was tidying up.
"How did it go with the Lieutenant this afternoon?" she asked, going straight to the point. He sighed and sat down, indicating the space beside him on the couch. As she sank down beside him, he organized his thoughts.
"You're staying partnered with him." Deborah began for him. He looked at her, a little startled, then realized it really wasn't that big a leap. He would've told her right away if he wasn't.
"Yes."
"Rey..."
"He's gonna contact his PBA rep and set up a meeting with Van Buren. He's probably gonna be on some kind of probation. Van Buren told him he was on thin ice."
"No kidding."
"I'm supposed to keep an eye on him, let her know if anything happens."
"You're supposed to be his guardian?" she asked skeptically.
"Something like that."
"That's not your job."
"I don't have a problem with it."
"You shouldn't have to do that for your own partner."
"He helped me out a lot when I was just starting out in Homicide," he reminded her.
"That's different. Everybody goes through that. And it's part of the job, helping to train new detectives. This is... you shouldn't have to do this, keep an eye on an alcoholic."
"Recovering alcoholic," he corrected her automatically. Two days ago he wouldn't have made that distinction.
"Not so recovered, obviously," she shot back.
He sighed. "Deborah... he really won't go back to drinking," he tried to reassure her.
"You can't be sure."
"No," he admitted. "But you can't really be sure of anybody. Another partner might not drink but they might freeze in a dangerous situation. Or they could be on the take."
Silence.
"I trust him," he told her gently. A lot more than I trust myself at this point in my life, he reflected. Lennie at least had experience screwing up and then picking up the pieces. Deborah looked away.
"OK," she sighed. For a moment he was a little nonplussed.
"OK?" he repeated uncertainly.
"OK. You're not the only one who can do some thinking, you know. I thought about it while you were sleeping and I guess if you can forgive him and try to trust him, I can too. To err is human, to forgive divine and all that." She sighed again and drew his arm around herself, nestling into his shoulder. He rested his head on hers. "I'm not happy about it though," she warned him.
"I know."
"I worry about you."
"I know." As if he could ever forget.
"If he drinks again, you have to promise to get a new partner."
"I will."
They were silent for a few minutes.
"Was it really that awful?" her voice was soft.
"What?"
"The execution."
He thought for a moment. "No, not awful... just... it was difficult. I guess... I guess he just didn't handle it very well. And then there was the whole mess with his daughter..."
At the hospital Lennie had spoken in short bursts about his lunch with Cathy. Rey shook his head, thinking how painful it must have been for Lennie to hear the words his daughter had said to him. Having his own child hate him. Your child was supposed to look up to you, trust you, love you. How hurtful it must be to know that she didn't, that she hated and resented you instead. Especially if you knew she had every right to.
It was a good thing he hadn't told Deborah about what he'd done. Deborah would probably take off, their family would be broken, and the girls would most likely grow to hate him as Lennie's daughter hated him, and with good reason. And that would be too high a price to pay for one mistake. It would serve him right, but he couldn't take it. As hard as it was facing his children's loving eyes knowing he'd betrayed them, he supposed it would be harder to face them if they knew it too.
Deborah sighed. "I'm just glad you're not a 'recovering alcoholic' or something. I don't have to worry about you falling off the wagon over anything like that."
Rey held her closer, wishing he didn't have to lie to her. Wishing he didn't have to feel these pangs of guilt for every innocent comment Deborah threw his way that reminded him of what he'd done. Although Deborah was being unusually forgiving about Lennie's drinking... maybe if he did ever tell her... no, never mind. She might forgive him, or she might kill him or walk out on him. Much as he wanted to be honest with her, he couldn't take the chance. For her sake and the sake of the children, if not for his own.
ooo000ooo
The next morning, Lennie was still subdued. They didn't have any new cases, just following up leads from some old ones, and there was no easy joking back and forth as usual. He and Lennie just mechanically went through the motions of calling, taking notes, and looking through files.
"Lennie? You doing OK?" he asked for the third time that morning.
"Yeah."
"It's almost one o'clock. We should get ready to go to the funeral."
"Right."
"You sure you're all right?"
"Rey, cut it out. You don't do nursemaid real well," Lennie half-snapped at him tiredly.
"Sorry," Rey muttered, accepting the rebuke. He should probably back off, even though Lennie still looked like crap. He thought about how annoying it would be to have somebody looking at him worriedly like he was doing, and decided maybe he should find some excuse to just not be near Lennie at all for a while, give him some space. Maybe after the funeral he could go look up some leads in person, leave Lennie at the precinct.
Lennie closed his eyes for a moment. "No, I'm sorry. Let's go."
This was awkward. They were still unsure how to work together with things the way they were. Rey supposed they were just going to have to muddle through.
ooo000ooo
Rey and Lennie entered the Ginghampton Funeral Home close to 2pm. There were Claire's parents, and McCoy. And Van Buren, and Adam Schiff, and a bunch of other lawyers they vaguely recognized from Hogan Place. Some defense attorneys too. They went and found a seat with Van Buren.
Claire's mother still seemed to be in shock. Her stepfather looked lost, somehow smaller than he had been at the hospital. Rey felt a wave of sympathy for them. The death of a child... Rey had read somewhere that it was the one trauma from which nobody ever fully recovered. The death of a spouse, divorce, cancer, rape, serious injury... eventually most human beings were able to move on, to heal. The death of a child was the one psychological trauma from which there was no complete recovery. People went on, people survived, but they were never the same again. And from what Rey had seen of his own parents after his sister had died, it was true.
McCoy... Rey felt another wave of sympathy as he looked at McCoy. He would have thought that the last person he'd ever feel sympathy for would be McCoy, but... this had to be incredibly painful. And it must be doubly painful for him to go back to work. He'd be seeing Claire's absence everywhere. Work was where he spent most of his waking hours, and now that would be irrevocably changed. Rey wondered how McCoy would deal with it.
He wondered how he would feel if it was Deborah's funeral. Didn't even bear thinking about. She was too much a part of his life to think what it would be like without her. At least that was one benefit of keeping quiet. Guilt aside, at least his world was as intact as it could be after what he had done. Thinking of McCoy going home to an empty apartment, suddenly single, suddenly alone, he knew he should consider himself lucky.
The service was short, non-denominational, not what Rey was used to in terms of funerals but he supposed Claire wasn't religious. And a funeral should reflect the person who died. This did.
The funeral director got up at the podium. After a few brief introductory phrases, she launched into the eulogy. She spoke about having gotten to know Claire from speaking to those who were close to her. Told how they described Claire as a dedicated, idealistic young woman who took a job at the DA's office despite its relatively low pay, because she wanted to make a difference. Told how she wasn't afraid to stand up for herself or to question herself, in the pursuit of making sure that what she did was the right thing to do. How she faced life and conflict head-on.
"On the last day of her life, Claire witnessed an execution. She went because she felt she had an obligation to do so. She had helped to convict a man, helped to bring him to the executioner's table, and she felt she had to witness for herself what her actions had helped to bring about. And this in spite of the fact that Claire didn't agree with the death penalty, that she had argued against it, that if she had had a choice that man would not have been executed," the director paused, glancing at Claire's stepfather. Rey supposed he must have told her about that. He wondered what Claire and her stepfather had talked about during their conversation.
"That was Claire. She didn't hide from anything, didn't avoid anything. She faced it, dealt with it, examined it. Socrates once said that an unexamined life is not worth living. Claire Kincaid's life was worth living. Until the very last day of her life, she was thinking about what was fair, what was right, and what her role was to ensure that the right thing happened."
As the director continued her eulogy, Rey bowed his head. Claire had spent her last day actually dealing with how she felt about the execution. He, on the other hand, had spent the same day avoiding his feelings. And now she was dead and he was alive. When she died, she had no reason to feel remorse, no reason for regrets. If he died now... he certainly couldn't say the same.
ooo000ooo
After the funeral was done, there was a small reception at the funeral home. Rey, Lennie and Van Buren moved to get coffees, speaking in hushed tones. McCoy joined them briefly.
"How are you doing, Counselor?" Van Buren asked him quietly.
"Fine, fine," he answered her a bit brusquely.
"Oh - Claire left this at the precinct," Van Buren handed him a notebook. "It probably has case notes or something."
He took it from her, staring at it. "Yes, that's her general purpose notebook. Interviews and case notes. I heard your message on her machine saying you had it. Thanks," he put it in his pocket. "Why did she come into the precinct?"
"She came in to talk to Lennie, actually, then stayed to chat. We had Chinese takeout."
Lennie glanced at her, puzzled. "Why'd she wanna talk to me?"
"I think it was probably about the execution."
Lennie nodded, looking grim. Rey looked away from the self-blame on his face. It wasn't hard to follow his train of thought. While Claire was talking to Van Buren, Lennie had been getting drunk, probably. Or maybe just thinking about getting drunk. In any case, if he'd been at the precinct he would've been there to talk to her and he wouldn't have fallen off the wagon. And she wouldn't have driven him home, and she'd still be alive.
McCoy was also looking away. "What did she say?" he asked casually.
"We talked about the system. Dealing with people's lives, knowing how much our jobs affect them. How we each cope with that." McCoy nodded. We don't cope with it very well, thought Rey. At least, the three of us didn't.
"She was having a hard time with it," Van Buren said.
"I know," McCoy said distantly.
"McCoy... if there's anything we can do..."
"Yeah. Thanks," McCoy said quietly, and excused himself. They were left standing together, not sure what to do next. Van Buren cleared her throat and turned to Lennie.
"Lennie? Did you call the PBA rep?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. How's Monday sound?"
"Fine."
"Two o'clock?" Van Buren nodded. "Just so you know... I don't, uh, I don't have a problem with what you said."
"Which part?"
"The PBA rep said I could make a case that you can't make me go to AA or check in with you, but I don't have a problem with it."
"OK."
"Just set it up however you want."
Van Buren glanced at Rey, worried like him at Lennie's uncharacteristically subdued manner. "Lennie... I'm not trying to give you a hard time. I'm not trying to belittle you," she said, more hesitantly than she ever talked to them. Van Buren was usually so firm, no-nonsense. But Lennie's downcast manner seemed to disturb her, make her unsure of herself.
"I know."
"I'm just worried about you. You're a damn good detective, I don't want to lose you to a bottle."
"I know. Thanks."
Rey cleared his throat. "Want me there too on Monday?"
"Yeah, might as well."
"OK," Rey nodded. Hopefully this time Lennie would be able to stand up for himself, although it didn't look like Van Buren was going to be too hard on him.
Van Buren excused herself and went to pay her respects to Claire's parents.
Lennie glanced at Rey. "So... did you tell Deborah we're still partnered?"
"Yeah."
"How did that go?"
"Pretty good, actually."
"She OK with it?"
"Yeah."
Lennie again got a feeling that something was wrong. He'd never seen his partner look so... distant when talking about Deborah. Maybe he'd had a fight with her.
"Did you talk to her about the execution?"
"Not much," Rey was characteristically closemouthed.
Lennie nodded. Back off. OK. He looked at his watch. "You wanna get going?"
"Yeah. Let's go pay our respects and go."
As they left, both were quiet, thinking about the funeral. Rey pulled up in front of the precinct. "Aren't you gonna park?" Lennie asked him.
"Uh, no, there's a couple leads I wanted to follow in person for the Nelligan case. You go on in, I'll be back in a couple hours."
"OK. See you later."
Rey drove off, and decided to make a stop before going to talk to Sue Nelligan's neighbour.
ooo000ooo
Church. It was quiet, late afternoon, almost empty. Rey found a pew, crossed himself, and bowed his head.
He thought again about the funeral director's eulogy for Claire Kincaid, how Claire had dealt with her feelings. How he hadn't. It seemed pretty ridiculous now. Cowardly.
He knew now how he felt. The death penalty was a necessary evil. He'd never be able to joke about it, not after actually seeing somebody strapped down with a needle in his arm, but he'd never shy away from it either. What had happened to Mickey Scott was right. It was partly his fault that Scott had died, and there was no getting away from that responsibility. There was no getting away from the fact that, rather than being proud of having made the world a better place by taking Scott out of it, he felt responsible and wished it hadn't had to be that way. But it did have to be that way. It beat all other alternatives as a method for dealing with evil deeds like Scott's. Scott gave them no choice, and in the end, the ultimate responsibility for Mickey Scott's fate had lain with Mickey Scott himself. Rey hadn't forced him to rape and kill Adele Saunders. Nobody had.
The only choice Rey had had was to do his job, a job that he believed in, even when it resulted in a man's death. He'd made his peace a long time ago with the fact that as a cop he might some day be directly responsible for the death of a human being, a bullet from his gun ending the life of a person. This was no different. He was OK with the execution as a cop sworn to protect and to serve.
As a Catholic... he'd leafed through the Bible and Catechism a lot in the last couple of days. Mostly for guidance to cope with his infidelity, but also to deal with the death penalty. Realizing that he had to, he couldn't just run away from it forever. And there it was.
The traditional teaching of the Church does not exclude, presupposing full ascertainment of the identity and responsibility of the offender, recourse to the death penalty, when this is the only practicable way to defend the lives of human beings effectively against the aggressor.
It was the only way, in the case of Scott and others like him. He was OK with the execution as a Catholic who believed in the sanctity of life. The execution was not carried out as a means of vengeance, or out of anger, or out of greed or any other self-serving motive. It was done to protect innocent people against a monster. A monster in human form, perhaps, but a monster nonetheless. Believing in the sanctity of life sometimes meant protecting people from one who would willfully take a life.
If only he'd had the sense to do all this before he sinned. Before he betrayed his wife and his children and himself. He felt a wave of remorse. Such a huge mistake, committed to avoid doing some difficult soul-searching that he'd ended up doing in the end anyway.
The last two days had been like purgatory or something. He'd done more thinking, more praying, more grieving, than he could ever remember doing in his whole life. He felt emotionally spent, tired... punished for his sin. And he knew this was just the beginning. He was going to feel this way for a long, long time. It would eventually get better, but he knew he'd never have the same image of himself that he had before.
Maybe that was God's plan. Maybe he was too proud, too arrogant and self-righteous. He'd certainly been accused of that enough times. Maybe this was his due for thinking he was better than most of the people he dealt with. And not just criminals and other lowlifes like that, but even people like Jack McCoy and Lennie. Maybe this was God's way of making him more humble. God's punishment for his sins, not just his sin of adultery, but his sin of pride.
He thought of McCoy, going home to an empty apartment, an empty office. Realized that he was lucky, that his punishment could have been worse, that there were worse things than hurting from having betrayed the woman he loved. He could have lost her. Didn't matter that he probably deserved to lose her, it still would hurt too much to contemplate.
He thought of Lennie and realized he was lucky in another way. At least he didn't have to deal with everybody being aware that he'd screwed up. Just him, Father Morelli and God. That was plenty. He didn't know what he'd do if he was where Lennie was right now, not only dealing with his failure but dealing with the fact that everybody knew about it, everybody was going to judge him. He really wouldn't be able to face that. Hoped he'd never be called to face it, because he doubted he'd be able to cope with it with grace, as Lennie was doing.
Thank You, God. Forgive me my weakness, and thank You for not putting me where McCoy is, having lost the woman he loves. Thank You for not putting me where Lennie is, having lost his dignity, being shamed before all of us. You never give us more than we can bear, and it seems like this is more than I can bear right now, but I know it's not.
And thank You for allowing me to do my penance without hurting my family. I trust You, that this will get better, that I will be able to deal with what I did and hopefully learn from it, become a better person than I was before. I can bear the shame and the guilt, I can even bear the pain of having to lie to my wife, if that's truly Your will.
He crossed himself, stood up, and left the church.
ooo000ooo
Author's Note: The notebook and answering machine message McCoy refers to isn't canon, it's actually from Kyllikki's awesome fic, Deus Ex Machina. I liked it so much I just had to refer to it :)
If anybody wants the actual script for Aftershock, e-mail me at
ciroccoj2002 at yahoo dot com