That Was Me
By Adalanta
Disclaimer: All of the characters portrayed in this story are the property of Third Watch and NBC.
Author's Notes: I watched the episode "A Hero's Rest" for the first time last night and got inspired. This is the first time I've ever written a story from a first person point of view, so I'm kinda nervous about it. Anyway, there will be four parts to this story, each chapter is a different person's thoughts on what happened. For those of you who missed the show, a man was going around and shooting cops randomly, seriously injuring one and killing another. It's an enthralling episode, full of tension, emotion, and great acting.
Oh, yeah. Please, take a second and let me know what you think by leaving a review or sending me an email at adalanta14@yahoo.com. Thanks!
Part One: Ty
That was me.
That boy sitting there, staring with vacant eyes at his father's casket - that was me.
For a few seconds, I actually found myself seeing Craig's funeral from two different sets of eyes: those of an adult police officer and those of a small child. The difference was astounding. Adult vs. Child. Understanding vs. Ignorance. Knowledge vs. Naiveté.
Looking at that child, I wished more than anything that I could take away what had happened to him and all that would happen to him. The years without a father. An empty void in the heart that cannot be filled. And worst of all, the loss of memory. Yeah, that's the hardest thing - forgetting what your father was like - how he smiled, what he smelled like, how hard he hugged, the feel of his hand touching your cheek. Nothing but memories that fade with time until all that is left are images from pictures that hang on the wall. No real emotional attachment, just images.
When my father died, I was a little older than Craig's boy, maybe by two or three years. That doesn't sound like much but each year - each day - gave me a few more precious memories of my father. I could still remember him after a few years, but this boy - he won't remember him for long. He's too young.
And maybe that's best.
Maybe it's better to loose someone like that when you're too young to remember what you've lost. I'm sure that his mother will tell him all about his father as he grows up, but it won't be the same. I can only hope that Craig doesn't have as many skeletons in his closet as my own father did. God, if that's true…
No! From the little I knew of him, Craig seemed like an honest guy. Kind, friendly, willing to push himself to do better, to make the cut. Of course, that's what I used to think my father was like until I became a cop myself. Then, I found out things that none of my father's friends - not even Sully - could get up the courage to tell me. Things that hurt worse than his death. I don't know. Sometimes I wonder who my father really was. Oh, I know what he looked like from all of the photographs, but what did he think? How did he feel? How did he justify all of the things that he did?
I'll never know him.
But I do know what that child will think every single morning when he wakes up. If I could only see him one more time…If I could just talk to him for a few more minutes…
It's been over ten years, and I still find myself thinking that. I look at that child, and I know what he's going through, what he will go through. The tears that stream down my cheeks are not only for Craig, who died on duty, not only for his son, who will never know his father, but also for me, who must continue to live. I look at that child and think…
That was me.