Chapter Five: No Closure
This wasn't happening, it wasn't. He hadn't just lost his nephew to a car accident the same day as his nephew finally got his license and turned sixteen. Alanna keened into his chest, her cries bringing her Animagus form to mind as Greg struggled to lift her into the back seat of Eddie's SUV. Distantly, it dawned on him that he didn't have a car anymore, but that paled in comparison to the thumping agony of grief, shock, and denial.
Eddie spoke quietly to the fire captain, whose name Greg had forgotten, his stance taut and upset, anger fairly vibrating in the air. Greg didn't dare turn his 'team sense' on…Eddie's anger and the cheerful emotions of his teammates, prepping a party that would never happen would overwhelm his already tattered and battered negotiator mask. It seemed to take forever to lift Alanna into her seat and pull the seat belt across her chest…his vision kept blurring and Alanna kept clinging to him, her plaintive keens dying into softer cries. And the stubborn buckle refused to latch; his vision grew blurrier and blurrier the longer it took.
"Greg, stay with her," Eddie ordered quietly from right behind him. "Don't worry about the seat belts…I won't let anything happen."
Numb and grieving, Greg didn't argue; Ed had to go around to the other side and pull Alanna to the center of the seat, but then Greg was able to get up next to her and cradle her close. The SUV started, backing up and pulling away, but Greg's entire world had compressed down to his niece and the empty hole where his nephew should have been.
Ed broke the news to the rest of the team; Greg couldn't…he couldn't…tell them that his nephew was dead…that his entire world had just fallen to pieces with no way out…that it was done, over. Alanna was still keening, if too softly for anyone else to hear, and Greg wished he could join her, but he pushed his own tears down, even as they filled his eyes.
He had to be strong, after all, had to support her through all of this…when it was done, when it was over, he could fall apart, but until then, he had to stay the course, had to keep his mask intact. No matter what it cost him.
He should have known better, of course. His team wasn't about to let him rip himself to pieces by burying his pain and grief. Wordy carried Alanna to a different room and Ed stayed with his boss as the rest of the team dispersed, aware that their team leader had the best chance of getting through to their grieving, but stubbornly stoic boss.
"Come on, Greg," Ed began, his voice level, but breaking under the surface. "You can't do this to yourself. You can't."
He didn't look at his team leader. "What are you talking about, Eddie?" A lie, he knew perfectly well what Ed was talking about.
"Don't bury this, Greg," Ed snapped. "Let it out…scream, cry, something."
"I can't; Alanna needs me." It was as simple as that.
A frustrated hiss. "And she not going to have you if you don't let some of this out, Greg. You're going to end up halfway down a bottle and she's going to be all alone." A pause, but Greg didn't respond. "And that'll be your fault that she's alone," Ed goaded. Greg's jaw twitched, but he still didn't respond. "Just like it's your fault that her brother is…"
Greg's fist crashed against Ed's jaw and the Sergeant took down one of his best friends with an anguished roar of pain and outrage. The two men locked and went down together, slamming onto the floor; Ed rolled just a bit to cushion the blow. On the ground, Greg's control broke and he felt the sobs wrench free. Once they started, he couldn't have stopped even if his life depended on it. Ed grabbed him in a hug, pushing both of them upright enough that Greg's head and chest were supported. Grief, pain, and denial rolled off the Sergeant…it wasn't happening, couldn't be real…but it was; it was.
In the background, he was aware of Eddie, hanging onto him, supporting his boss the only way he could. A memory of Ed, struggling to get through to Danny Rangford, ran through Greg's head and he knew that Ed was fighting with all he had to keep that from happening again, from facing another suicidal friend. But, in the depths of his own pain and anguish, his heart refused to understand anything more than the fact that his nephew was gone and nothing was right anymore.
He wasn't sure how long it was before the sobs stopped, before the tears dried up, but when they had, he registered that he and Ed weren't alone. Everyone except Wordy and Alanna was there, but none of them looked angry at him for attacking Eddie. Spike had even managed to get right by his boss and team leader, one hand resting on Greg's arm; though the bomb tech's eyes were suspiciously shiny, his expression was steady, supporting. Vaguely, Greg wondered when he'd started rubbing off on his teammates so much that they could mirror his own favorite expressions back at him.
"We got you, Sarge," Jules whispered, tears in her own eyes, slipping down her cheeks. "You just hold on…we're going to get through this." Over her shoulder, Sam nodded, his face rigid, the tears forced back just like Greg's had been, but then, both Sam and Ed disliked being vulnerable in front of others, even their own teammates. And right now, Greg felt like a hypocrite for even noticing that Sam was being stoic…and drained; he had nothing left to give right now, nothing at all.
Greg swallowed hard, a lump in his throat…in his chest. "I don't know if I can do this without him," he managed. New tears stung his eyes; this was worse than the day he'd come home to find his family gone…at least then he'd known they were still alive, even if they'd never come back. His nephew never would; he was gone, gone forever.
Ed's grip tightened, Spike flinched, and Lou knelt so he could look his boss in the eye. "One day at a time, Sarge," he coached. "We're right here and we won't let you fall."
Their usual acknowledgement wouldn't come, so Greg just nodded, helpless pain and loss burning bright in brown eyes.
He wanted to see the body…he ignored everything his team tried to tell him…about how bad it would be, about how his nightmares would be haunted for years by the sight…he needed to see Lance, to say good-bye, to scream and rail and everything else. In the immediate moment, nothing else mattered anymore…he'd take memories ten times worse if it meant he could see his nephew one last time. And even that hurt, stabbed at him with a sense of utter finality…last time.
For the first time, he regretted that day the teens had been brought to his doorstep…if not for him…if not for his life and his team…Lance would still be alive…he'd still be alive. Grief swamped everything else, keeping him from remembering what Silnok had told him once…that without him, the kids would have gone to a Death Eater. That without him, they probably wouldn't have survived long enough to see the end of the summer when they'd lost their parents.
Still numb and struggling to put one foot in front of the other, he entered the morgue, his blank eyes and frozen expression saying almost everything for him. Ed had insisted on coming as well, but all of them had refused to let Alanna come…she was too young to see this, she should have the memory of her brother, still alive and carefree. Not the nightmare Greg was about to willingly inflict on himself.
Ed spoke for his boss, his voice taut with his own sorrow and grief. "We're here to identify Lance Calvin."
Identify. It sounded so cold and so impersonal…as if Lance hadn't been a living, breathing human being…as if he'd been an object of some kind. But Greg was too lost in his grief to muster much outrage. His 'team sense', left off since he'd gotten the call, thrummed its own sorrow for the lost; he forced it down, not wanting any part of it ever again. It had too many memories of his nephew attached, memories of his nephew trying to teach him how to handle the Animagus traits he'd been saddled with after the case with Agent Semple.
The assistant frowned, checking his computer. "The two car fire, right?"
"That's right," Ed grated out.
Silence hung, broken only by the click of mouse and keyboard. Finally, the man shook his head. "They didn't find any bodies in those two cars."
What? Greg froze, saw Eddie freeze as well. His voice came out, raspy and broken. "Does that mean my nephew is…still alive?" Awful, horrid hope clenched at him and he grabbed the counter to keep himself on his feet.
Regret and sympathy shone in the assistant's eyes and he shook his head. "Between the witness statements and the temperatures the fire reached, the coroner has chosen to issue a death certificate, regardless of the lack of a body."
"Why?" Ed demanded sharply. "If there's no body…"
A sigh. "The fire reached temperatures high enough to cremate a body. Now, I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you." He read farther down. "If you have any further questions, Sergeant Parker, you'll have to reach out to a Detective Logan at the 27th Precinct. He's been assigned your nephew's case."
Answers weren't going to be any easier than not seeing his nephew's body, but Greg was, under the shock and the grief and the numbness, determined to see this through. With Ed a steady presence at his back, the Sergeant walked into the 27th Precinct and asked to speak to Detective Logan.
"Sergeant Parker, right?" The speaker, coming up right behind him, was a tall man, about Sam's height, with dark brown hair that was cut short, save for a ruff that hung over his forehead. Brown eyes were both sympathetic and business-like, from within a long face and a sharp profile. The detective wore a crisp brown business suit and had just taken off what looked like an old style trenchcoat…for an instant, Greg wondered if the detective was actually an Auror before his mind caught up with him again.
"That's right," Greg confirmed.
The detective extended his hand for a brief shake, then introduced himself. "Detective Mike Logan; my partner and I caught your nephew's case. DA's looking at manslaughter charges against the driver; she was driving on a suspended license, she was still twice the legal limit when they tested her at the hospital, and she's got a long history of DUI and DWI arrests."
It hurt, stabbed at him to hear that his nephew had died at the hands of a drunk driver. His own history needled at him, taunting him with the knowledge that it was only luck that had prevented him from killing anyone else like this woman had. He was grateful when Eddie stepped in. "What about Lance's body, Detective?"
A brisk nod as the detective led the pair back to his desk. "We were surprised too, let me tell you," the detective replied. "I mean, no one saw him get out, so he had to still be in the car when it went up. First time I've ever had a coroner give me a death certificate for an accident vic without a body. Forensics came through, though. Your nephew's fingerprints are all over the trunk, which was actually pretty intact…"
"We know he was driving the car," Greg interrupted. "How do you know he was in the car when it burned if you don't have a body?"
For an instant, Detective Logan's eyes flashed at the interruption, but Greg wasn't interested in a posturing match. Then the Detective explained, so sympathetic that Greg wondered at the tone, "Forensics was able to tell how intensely the fire burned and it was hot enough inside that car to completely incinerate the body. They're still looking for any fragments that might have survived, but I'm sorry…there's not going to be a body to bury here."
No body…Greg felt that fact slam into him like a two-by-four. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists, but he forced himself to keep from lashing out. "They didn't find anything in the car?" he croaked out.
Detective Logan gravely shook his head. "I wish I could tell you differently, but I can't, Sergeant Parker. We'll keep you apprised of the manslaughter case, of course, but I don't expect forensics to come back with anything more on your car."
He choked out a thank you, then turned and walked out of the station as fast as he could, Ed right behind him. When they reached Eddie's car, Greg just stopped, unable to think beyond the fact that his nephew didn't even have a body to bury. This time, when the tears came, he couldn't force them back.
His team closed ranks around the two survivors, refusing to leave them alone for even a moment. Greg, still numb and hurting, could only cling to his niece as the two planned out the memorial service…with no body, there was little point in a traditional funeral.
When Greg's strength failed, his team was there. Wordy and Shelley forced Greg and Alanna to stay at their house, instead of the apartment that was filled with memories. Ed took to getting all the documentation in order, burying his emotions under the necessary paperwork and details. Jules planned out the service with Shelley's help, organizing the flowers and the music. Spike, Lou, and Sam handled finding a new car for their boss, although they refused to get the same make and model…there were going to be enough nightmares all 'round without deliberately making things worse. In the end, they found a nice little SUV that really just made Greg's heart ache…Lance would have loved driving the new car.
Commander Holleran took the whole of Team One off rotation, though it would only be for a few days…Team One had, unfortunately, missed enough work over the past year that even a few days off was starting to push their remaining leave time. The other SRU teams pitched in, offering up their own leave days to help the grieving team out.
But as Greg forced himself out of bed each day and comforted his grief-stricken niece as best he could, he wondered at one thing…why was there a part of his soul that refused to admit that Lance was dead?
