I often find myself looking at his desk, catching my tongue as I go to say his name. It still hurts that he's gone, even though it's been almost a year. Fin's finally settled in with Keifer, though it took him a good while before he could. It was like when Logan couldn't get along with Briscoe for a while after Cerreta was shot. Logan still keeps in touch with Cerreta, I think, and Greevey's wife, too.
I remember when he caught Sarah Logan's case and when she was killed...I offered him some time off, but he denied it, saying, thanks, but I don't think I need it. That was one that shook him up. The other one was when he got the confession out of that little girl's mother and when I told him he'd done a good job, he didn't say anything, just walked by. At her funeral, I finally understood why and I could take a guess as to what happened on the roof when Olivia went after him. He told her. And I'm glad he did.
He always was so guarded, hardly letting in as to his past. I remember talking with him during a case we had with a piano teacher molesting his students. He volunteered to watch all those tapes, knowing full well what it would be like. But he knew that Elliot couldn't, Olivia couldn't and Jeffries couldn't. He selflessly did it, saving his colleagues the extreme heartache he knew it would cause them.
I remember him telling me he didn't need "this." Saying he'd do a better job of quitting this time around. What he said was true. Homicide was easier. You don't have to deal with live victims, just photographs of broken bodies. It was easier back when I was in Homicide. You didn't get attached.
The other day, I was working in my office, only a couple of others working still. Getting up to refill my coffee cup, I saw him. Standing in my doorway, as if waiting for orders. I stopped in my tracks, my mouth opening a little at the shock of seeing him. I didn't get it, and then I understood. Speaking aloud, I asked, to one in particular, "This isn't like the whole Christmas Carol thing, is it?"
He laughed, but I couldn't hear him. Waving his arm, he indicated that I go through the door. I did so and when I reached the coffee pot, he was standing behind me. I stood for a moment, looking at him and watched as he pointed at one of his desk drawers and then gave one of his reassuring smiles before turning and walking out the squad room doors as someone came in, though no one seemed to notice him save I.
Smiling, I promised myself to check that desk drawer first thing tomorrow morning. As I walked back to my office, I felt firmly reassured by his presence, the small smile he had given me. He was still watching out for us and it pleased me that even in death, he was doing a job he had never failed to do in life. Being an angel.