A New York City Cemetery, Dusk…
New York City. A place full of the most extraordinary people. Heroes, villains, singers, dancers, and even the occasional Naked Singing Cowboy. Upon first glance, most people might believe that the realms of entertainment were the sites most beloved. That that was where the denizens of the city were truly at home. Broadway, Times Square, hell, even the Statue of Liberty. Those were the places that most outsiders figured the 'jaded' New Yorkers considered their 'claim to fame'.
But, that was a complete farse. Though they were proud of these local gems, they weren't the areas that most New Yorkers spoke of with glowing pride.
It was in the graveyards that most found their honor.
These were the places that housed the treasured heroes of the past. The men and women who busted their asses to make this city the place it was today.
Sadly, since 9/11, it was also in these places that you could find most of the most heroic people to ever been born in this city. The crowning jewels were in the ground here, being mourned by their loved ones, and, on some occasions, people that these men and women had never known in life.
There, in one of these places, three men stood around a single marble monument.
Each of these men were remarkably different, and each of these men were startled to discover the presence of the other two. They were all certain that they would've had the moment to themselves.
The first man stood in front of the monument with a look of almost fury on his face. He had sharp, angular features, and had an almost regal manner about him- though he didn't see it. Something about this man demanded to be looked at. Though, God help you if you stared too long; his temper was extraordinarily short.
The second man was Hispanic. His was tall, and somewhat gangly in appearance. Though he was in his forties now, his gaze seemed almost innocent. He was a very empathetic man. He, unlike the first man, had complete composure over his emotions. He stood over the monument with his head bowed, a somber expression on his youthful face.
The third man was African-American. He had also had quite the temper in him too, but after a bust that ended with him taking a bullet- he had surprisingly mellowed a bit. Though he had a somewhat bulky build, he could easily run down the fastest of bad guys. He stood over the stone with an almost nonchalant smirk on his handsome face. Of the three men standing there, he had appeared to be handling this the best. He was annoyed as all hell, but you can't deny fate.
After discovering each other's presence, the trio had simply stood over the grave, unable to say a word to the man buried here. The tension was thick enough to drown in.
The regal man, who was of thickly Irish descent, cracked first. "Goddamn you!" he snarled to the stone. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?"
Then he froze. He seemed stunned that those words had come from his lips. He blushed faintly, and looked away.
The second man spoke quietly to the third. He used a hushed tone, born out of respect for the person lying beneath their feet. "How long did you know him?"
The third: "Not long."
Things were quiet again for a long moment.
The first man spoke again. "You know, he was a hell of a guy." He muttered sadly.
"And one hell of a cop, too." Said the third man.
The second then spoke in a normal tone. "He could be a real bastard, but I think I liked that about him."
The others smiled.
Things were silent once more.
Though they didn't know it, they were all thinking about the same thing: what they had learned from this man...
Mike Logan had been the man's first partner in the precinct. Though Mike had initially bristled at the thought of working with someone new, he grew to secretly think of the older man as a sort of uncle, though he'd never admit it. He had respected him, and hoped to one day end up with someone who he could be a role model to.
Rey Curtis had been a conservative family man when he had been paired with the older gentleman. He had been all about family values, and gentle coaxing. The older man had taught him that the world did not revolve around his ideals alone.
It was the older gentleman's wit that had captivated Ed Green. He had especially liked that the man wouldn't let him refer to him as 'Old Spice' when they first met. That was the first time in his life that he hadn't been thought of as 'charming'. He hoped to emulate that 'don't-take-shit-from-nobody' attitude someday.
Before they each returned to the comfort of their everyday lives, they each placed a hand on the gravestone as the sunlight sparkled off of it.
In Memoriam: Det. Leonard W. Briscoe
Beloved Father, and Friend.
Died: 2005
Author's Notes: Thanks for reading this. I thought Briscoe was the coolest and I hope I paid ample tribute!