Cho
Abbott thinks that I don't see him watching me. That's fine. I'd rather not have the "how are you doing?" conversation now.
He knows what I'm going through. He's had agents under his command die. What good would it do to compare notes?
He'd like to spare me. To make the call to the next of kin. To give me some space before the other investigative team moves in. But I know what I need. Focusing on the work keeps me from sinking. Emotions like grief, pity, anger, guilt, they can drag you under. Sap your energy. Make it hard to think straight. I need to think about my duty, my actions now. I can't fix the past.
Of course, that doesn't stop me from reviewing it. Obsessively. I tell myself that I can learn from it, avoid similar mistakes in the future. But the thing is, I don't see any mistakes. Everything I did was according to protocol. To the best of my knowledge, her actions were exemplary, as well. We did our job. We followed safety precautions. We protected the civilians. Took every reasonable step to be safe ourselves. There were no legitimate, reasonable, honorable steps that would have changed the outcome.
I did the best that I knew how. We both did. And it still ended with Vega's death.
It is a leadership lesson that I wish I could have learned some other way. But maybe there is no easy way to learn this one. I would have said that I already knew that death is part of the job.
Knowing it and feeling it are two different things.
But even beyond the loss, the feeling of responsibility and guilt (even though I know fault cannot be laid here) something nags at me. Something that I know I must deal with. Something that could have a profound influence over my leadership role. My whole life, even. It's hard to put it into words. I should examine it more closely. But I keep putting it off.
I'd rather remember her as she was that morning. Something had changed for her. She was less guarded, more playful. Teasing me. At the time, it was annoying. Like a pesky younger sibling, or a tag-along puppy. But it was solid and soothing in a way, too. Like when Rigsby finally got comfortable with our working relationship, figured out what our partnership was about. Maybe that was it. Vega was finally sure of me. Sure of herself.
Damn. This isn't helping me stay cool, either. That or there's something in my eyes.
Usually I don't let emotions get the better of me. But sometimes its just too much to hold in. Like when I was with her at the end. What she said.
"Did I mess up?"
I get that. It made perfect sense to me, why she asked that. If it had been me...
If only it could have been me...
I knew what she needed to hear. And it was true, too. Vega had the makings of a fine agent. Tough, no nonsense, fierce and firm. She followed the rules, except when bending them made sense. She was loyal and compassionate. She would have been like Lisbon, like Van Pelt. She already was, but for the years of experience.
So I tried to tell her. I tried to show her. She deserved to see that I was proud of her, that it wasn't her fault, that working with her was good. That she had made a difference. It came out stilted. My face distorted with grief. I wish that I could have done better than that. Given the circumstances, though, I wasn't strong enough.
I guess it was to be expected.
Here it is. The lesson I've been searching for. And running from. Here's where I messed up. Here's what I need to do better next time:
She shouldn't have had to ask. She should have already known how glad I was to work with her. I should have told her. Even made the effort to show it with my face. That doesn't come easy to me. I resist showing my personal reactions. It won't help morale, though, if my team doesn't know how much I value them. Abbott is good at that, but he won't be here much longer.
Jane.
Jane can help me figure out when and how to do it. How to get comfortable with nonverbal affirmation. Make it more natural. So that the people I work with never have to wonder if they matter to me. If they're doing their jobs well. If I care.
I'll make time to ask him about it. After the funeral.
It make my team more effective.
It will save me more regrets.