The Fourth Chair
By: Susan Olivia
Chapter 2
"All argument is against it, but all belief is for it."-Samuel Johnson
Frank felt a small hand being placed into his. He opened his eyes to the squad room. He looked down to see a small girl looking up at him smiling.
"Are you Tim Bayliss' partner?"
Frank nodded mechanically. This was unbelievable. He had seen pictures, pictures that lacked the light, the spark he saw in this girl. "Adena?"
The girl's look went pensive for a moment before she said, "Can you tell him I'm okay?"
Frank nodded once again. The response seemed to satisfy the little girl who smiled and skipped off. All Frank could do was stare at her until she rounded a corner and disappeared. He had to be dreaming. It had to be another little girl who just happened to look like Adena Watson.
"Frank!"
Frank looked to his right, startled. Gee came storming out of his office like a water buffalo and rushed up to Frank.
Frank opened his mouth to ask Gee about Adena, about the little girl, he corrected himself mentally. At least with Gee there was a familiar face. And then Frank remembered the shooting. "I heard you were awake. Umm, should you be out of the hospital so soon? Shouldn't you be resting?"
Gee shrugged and smiled enigmatically. "I feel fine. Couldn't be better. C'mon. I've got some people you'll want to see again."
Gee led Frank into the squad kitchen. Frank stopped suddenly when he saw who was seated at the table. Gee took a seat.
"Hi Frank," said Steve with a smile. "We've got a seat for you." Steve indicated the empty fourth chair with his hand.
"Frank," Beau said with an acknowledgment nod.
"I do not believe this," said Frank in full blown denial at what his eyes were telling him. "I'm not dead."
"Frank...," said Gee sympathetically.
"No I'm not dead! This is all just a figment of my imagination!" said Frank, his voice getting louder.
"Frank, you're just going to have to accept this," said Steve as he took a sip of coffee.
"What about Mary and the kids? Who'll watch after them?" said Frank as his thoughts turning despairingly back to his family.
"It's like how I felt about leaving Beth and the kids. But you've done all you can, Frank. It's not like you had a choice in leaving them. You can do nothing more now. You have to let it go. What will be will be," said Beau taking a drag of his cigarette.
"How did I even....?" But then it all came rushing back to Frank. Tim. The struggle for the gun. The gun going off. "I can't believe the son of a bitch shot me."
The other three exchanged glances. They didn't want to encourage Frank to keep thinking about his life as it was but curiosity got the better of them.
"Who shot you, Frank?" asked Steve as he started to deal Frank into their card game.
"Tim," said Frank quietly and yet his voice was full of emotion.
"Tim? Tim Bayliss? Sensitive Tim Bayliss? Your own partner shot you?" asked Beau increduosly. In fact they were all floored by this news.
"He didn't mean to. He was trying to kill himself. I was trying to take the gun away from him. It went off accidentally," explained Frank.
"You sacrificed yourself for your friend and partner. There's nothing more heroic, Frank," said Gee.
Frank looked at Gee, Steve, and Beau. He really looked at them. And then he realized that he was in the same room with three people he thought he would never get a chance to speak to again. Tim was right-he would always be a cop. Even in death he couldn't escape that cold hard fact. As much as he tried to be a loner and to keep everyone at a distance, these detective-dead and alive-were as much his family as Mary and the kids.
"We, Tim and I, we found your killer, Gee. We caught him and brought him in," said Frank.
Gee just grinned. "I knew you would. As soon as Michael told me you were back working with Tim, I knew everything would be okay. You were all good murder police."
"That's the thing about you, Frank," began Beau, "as much as we joked and harassed you about your anti-social, stuck up behavior, the truth is you're a great detective. You change the names from red to black. You're a natural at this job, just like Crossetti here, and Howie and Bolander. If there's anyone we would want to work on our homicide, it's you Frank. You solved Gee's murder and you solved mine. They wouldn't have gone down if not for you."
It was the highest compliment one homicide detective could give to another and so even Frank with all his bluster could not helped but be touched by it.
"And being in full dress uniform for my funeral was, well it was kind of you," said Steve unsure of how to express his gratitude.
Frank slumped into the vacant chair at the table and looked at the three again. Well it was an interesting way to spend eternity, he thought.
"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" asked Steve trying to help Frank feel better.
Frank opened his mouth to say that he couldn't because of the stroke when he realized that he was dead and that it didn't matter anymore. Frank's face broke into a smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. "Yeah, sure, I'll have a cup."
Steve smiled and got up from the table. As he was walking over to the coffee pot, Frank asked, "So did you finally find out who shot Lincoln?"
Steve opened his mouth to reply as he was pouring the coffee, but before he could say anything, the metal supporting Frank's chair buckled and broke underneath of him sending Frank crashing to the floor.
Beau, Steve, and Gee moved over to help him when they realized that Frank was starting to disappear.
"Hey wait!" said Frank when he realized that he could barely see the three anymore.
"Another time," said Steve with a smile.
"Take care of yourself, Frank," said Gee.
"See ya, Frank." Beau's voice was the last thing Frank heard.
By: Susan Olivia
Chapter 2
"All argument is against it, but all belief is for it."-Samuel Johnson
Frank felt a small hand being placed into his. He opened his eyes to the squad room. He looked down to see a small girl looking up at him smiling.
"Are you Tim Bayliss' partner?"
Frank nodded mechanically. This was unbelievable. He had seen pictures, pictures that lacked the light, the spark he saw in this girl. "Adena?"
The girl's look went pensive for a moment before she said, "Can you tell him I'm okay?"
Frank nodded once again. The response seemed to satisfy the little girl who smiled and skipped off. All Frank could do was stare at her until she rounded a corner and disappeared. He had to be dreaming. It had to be another little girl who just happened to look like Adena Watson.
"Frank!"
Frank looked to his right, startled. Gee came storming out of his office like a water buffalo and rushed up to Frank.
Frank opened his mouth to ask Gee about Adena, about the little girl, he corrected himself mentally. At least with Gee there was a familiar face. And then Frank remembered the shooting. "I heard you were awake. Umm, should you be out of the hospital so soon? Shouldn't you be resting?"
Gee shrugged and smiled enigmatically. "I feel fine. Couldn't be better. C'mon. I've got some people you'll want to see again."
Gee led Frank into the squad kitchen. Frank stopped suddenly when he saw who was seated at the table. Gee took a seat.
"Hi Frank," said Steve with a smile. "We've got a seat for you." Steve indicated the empty fourth chair with his hand.
"Frank," Beau said with an acknowledgment nod.
"I do not believe this," said Frank in full blown denial at what his eyes were telling him. "I'm not dead."
"Frank...," said Gee sympathetically.
"No I'm not dead! This is all just a figment of my imagination!" said Frank, his voice getting louder.
"Frank, you're just going to have to accept this," said Steve as he took a sip of coffee.
"What about Mary and the kids? Who'll watch after them?" said Frank as his thoughts turning despairingly back to his family.
"It's like how I felt about leaving Beth and the kids. But you've done all you can, Frank. It's not like you had a choice in leaving them. You can do nothing more now. You have to let it go. What will be will be," said Beau taking a drag of his cigarette.
"How did I even....?" But then it all came rushing back to Frank. Tim. The struggle for the gun. The gun going off. "I can't believe the son of a bitch shot me."
The other three exchanged glances. They didn't want to encourage Frank to keep thinking about his life as it was but curiosity got the better of them.
"Who shot you, Frank?" asked Steve as he started to deal Frank into their card game.
"Tim," said Frank quietly and yet his voice was full of emotion.
"Tim? Tim Bayliss? Sensitive Tim Bayliss? Your own partner shot you?" asked Beau increduosly. In fact they were all floored by this news.
"He didn't mean to. He was trying to kill himself. I was trying to take the gun away from him. It went off accidentally," explained Frank.
"You sacrificed yourself for your friend and partner. There's nothing more heroic, Frank," said Gee.
Frank looked at Gee, Steve, and Beau. He really looked at them. And then he realized that he was in the same room with three people he thought he would never get a chance to speak to again. Tim was right-he would always be a cop. Even in death he couldn't escape that cold hard fact. As much as he tried to be a loner and to keep everyone at a distance, these detective-dead and alive-were as much his family as Mary and the kids.
"We, Tim and I, we found your killer, Gee. We caught him and brought him in," said Frank.
Gee just grinned. "I knew you would. As soon as Michael told me you were back working with Tim, I knew everything would be okay. You were all good murder police."
"That's the thing about you, Frank," began Beau, "as much as we joked and harassed you about your anti-social, stuck up behavior, the truth is you're a great detective. You change the names from red to black. You're a natural at this job, just like Crossetti here, and Howie and Bolander. If there's anyone we would want to work on our homicide, it's you Frank. You solved Gee's murder and you solved mine. They wouldn't have gone down if not for you."
It was the highest compliment one homicide detective could give to another and so even Frank with all his bluster could not helped but be touched by it.
"And being in full dress uniform for my funeral was, well it was kind of you," said Steve unsure of how to express his gratitude.
Frank slumped into the vacant chair at the table and looked at the three again. Well it was an interesting way to spend eternity, he thought.
"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" asked Steve trying to help Frank feel better.
Frank opened his mouth to say that he couldn't because of the stroke when he realized that he was dead and that it didn't matter anymore. Frank's face broke into a smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. "Yeah, sure, I'll have a cup."
Steve smiled and got up from the table. As he was walking over to the coffee pot, Frank asked, "So did you finally find out who shot Lincoln?"
Steve opened his mouth to reply as he was pouring the coffee, but before he could say anything, the metal supporting Frank's chair buckled and broke underneath of him sending Frank crashing to the floor.
Beau, Steve, and Gee moved over to help him when they realized that Frank was starting to disappear.
"Hey wait!" said Frank when he realized that he could barely see the three anymore.
"Another time," said Steve with a smile.
"Take care of yourself, Frank," said Gee.
"See ya, Frank." Beau's voice was the last thing Frank heard.