A/N: See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Un-beta'd.
Chapter 7: Gypsy
Rick startles awake, sweating and hoarse from his nightmare. Glancing at his clock, he groans: it is only two a.m. in the morning. This is only God-knows-how-many-it's-been nights in a row – his overactive imagination can't help but picture the horrors of his friend's last moments. He slumps backwards, his mind going places he's tried to avoid – yet he knows now how useless it is to avoid pain. His life has held nothing but pain in the last while.
He pulls on a pair of socks, and trudges out to the kitchen. Making himself a hot cup of cocoa, he stares blankly at the sheet in front of him. For once in his life, the words feel hollow to him. It is as if once these words are spoken, Johanna will truly be dead; that it'll be true that he'll never see her again, never hear her correct his work, or welcome him into her home for dinner. Jim took him aside the other week, asking him to speak, and he hadn't understood why: certainly, they had been good friends, but only for a brief period of time; a year, maybe two.
But he says yes anyway.
And now he doesn't know if he can actually go through with it – he's no stranger to the spotlight, but this, this is different; he doesn't want to sound callous, nor is he willing to overcommit emotionally today, not if Alexis is going to be a wreck.
He's going to be a wreck regardless, he thinks. And hopefully, Alexis won't know or understand enough to fall to pieces today.
He sits awake until it's time for the funeral. He dresses Alexis carefully, and makes sure she has food in her stomach, though he doesn't have any himself. His mother even comes down downstairs on time, and the mood, once they sit down at the kitchen table, is decidedly somber and tersely silent, unsettling.
He pats his pockets for his notes one last time, before taking Alexis's hand and nodding at his mother to get the door behind them. It closes with a firm finality.
Walking into the foyer of the funeral home, he and his family are greeted by Jim, who is red-eyed and clutching at a handkerchief as if his life is dependent upon it. Martha is uninhibited; she draws Jim into a hug, and the poor man visibly crumples, his body wracked with sobs, probably not for the first time today.
Pulling himself together, he manages a watery smile of gratefulness at Martha, and Rick too, pulls him into a hug – a brief one, but a hug nonetheless. Alexis, ever shy, hides behind her father, not knowing what to do with this not entirely unfamiliar version of her Uncle Jim.
They sit quietly in the chapel, listening to the muffled sobs around them. Rick himself is not immune; he too has tears coursing down his face. Looking down at his daughter, he has never been so thankful for her – he squeezes her in a gentle hug, and she snuggles into him.
Jim and Kate walk into the chapel, and take seats in the front. Rick notes Kate, though red-eyed, is not crying, though her body language suggests she is only trying to be strong, avoiding public display of her emotions.
Abruptly, he feels a surge of sympathy; however badly Alexis has reacted to Kate's withdrawal from her life, his heart cannot help but hurt along with hers. Though in different circumstances, he knows full well how to miss a parent – and how much more painful for her, having had full set of experiences with Johanna, only to be entirely torn from her mother by evil. At least he's never know his father.
Several people go up to speak, and Rick is surprised how many of her former clients are in the crowd, and how attached they are – were – to her, though he should not have expected less. And then there are her friends, from all different walks of life – Johanna may have been from the upper class, but it is clear that she did not discriminate based on class, or race, for that matter.
Suddenly, the words he has written down are inadequate – he wants better than the trite words he has agonized over the past weeks.
And then, it is his turn.
He unwraps his daughter from around him, giving his mother a look – she nods, and scoots over closer to Alexis – before finally walking to the front.
In his head, he chants, it's not about you, it's not about you -
He clears his throat. And again. An uneasy chuckle runs through the crowd, though he can see Kate glaring at him. Don't look at her, don't look at her...
He looks down at his notes, and he shoves them back into his pocket. He doesn't need them.
"I was privileged to have met Johanna Beckett last year, and though I've only known her for a year, her loss has left a Johanna-sized hole, one each one of you have."
He can see heads bobbing; emboldened, he continues, "Johanna was extraordinary. The day we met was the day Kate was coming home, and my daughter Alexis collided into her, at Alexis's favourite park, and as I found out soon enough – had been Kate's favourite, as a child." He can see smiles in the crowd, and Jim puts his arm around his daughter, and Kate is visibly fighting tears. "She then proceeded to buy us ice cream, and for herself, she bought candy cane ice cream – because it wasn't ever 'too early for Christmas'."
He flashes a wry grin and there are more nods, and some laughter. Rick shrugs. "You can't say she wasn't spontaneous."
He waits for the laughter to subside before continuing. "And in her work, she was a crusader – the work she did to make our legal system more fair, to wipe away any injustice so that our city could be a better place. I'm sure many of you can testify to this.
"But in spite of her busy schedule, she made time for me and my family as we struggled through hard times. She took us in," he nods at Jim, "She made us family, for which I am forever grateful."
He pauses again, and is surprised by the number of people in the crowd to whom his words have struck a chord.
"It was her heart that impressed me, above all. And, Johanna, I look to you as an inspiration." He gazes at the closed casket next to him, and he feels tears threatening to come out again. "May we be inspired by her to continue to look for justice in places filled with darkness. May we bring hope and love to the hopeless and the unloved, as she did. And may we never forget her, keeping her alive through her memory, close to our hearts."
Awkwardly, with tears running unashamedly, he steps down. He quickly embraces Jim before taking his seat.
His mother squeezes his hand. "You did good, kiddo."
The rest of the afternoon is a blur. His heart tears apart at the sight of his friend completely broken as he speaks about his wife, and he vaguely remembers thinking – badly, for which he chides himself – that Kate might have a heart after all. But what he does notice is the leaving of several well-dressed men at the back of the chapel, after Kate had spoken. He files it under odd, and gives it no further thought.
xxxxxxxx
Everyone is gone, barring the Castles and Becketts - they stand in the bitter March winter, gazing at Johanna's tombstone. No one wants to leave, despite angry clouds overhead threatening to blizzard.
And then he hears it: a keen wail eerily cutting through the silence - Kate, sobbing in her father's arms, entirely slumped over.
Then a second voice joins in, much higher in pitch. Alexis.
The two voices intertwine, weaving a tapestry of raw, angry sorrow. Rick looks over at Jim as they each hold their daughters in their arms, as Martha envelopes all of them together, their breaths creating a puff cloud on the winter air.
Rick sends his daughter and mother home, and before too long, he bundles the Becketts into a cab and ride with them home. He makes sure they are all right before he departs, and he leaves a note on the kitchen table.
Jim,
If you need anything, just call. Rick
A/N: My apologies for going so long without an update. I've actually been sitting on this chapter for two weeks. Oops? Next chapter might take a little longer, but we're slowly moving out of angst and into mystery/crime/adventure mode. And don't worry, we'll see more of Kate next chapter. This chapter was unbeta'd because I figured you people waited long enough. Let me know how you feel about this chapter and where you think this is going! Cheers, Ce'Nelenia
