November 22nd

Danny stood at the base of the staircase, waiting for his sons to come down from their rooms. Finally he heard the light feet of Sean and Jack, then they appeared. Both were wearing suits today, their ties hanging loosely, waiting to be done by their father.

"Come here", Danny said, trying to keep his calm. His fingers were not shaking when he bound his son's ties and ruffled their hair lovingly. Jack stayed close to him for a few more minutes and Sean didn't really want to leave his side either. How clingy they'd become, since... since Jamie had died. Danny made himself complete his thoughts. Denial wouldn't make it any less true. He'd lost his younger siblings, except for Erin. His sister didn't blame him, but everybody had to know that it was his fault. His, only his fault, his mistake for not listening, his mistake to invite the boy over to the lake house for the weekend, his choice to send him on the road alone where a broken tire had ended his days. His shame.

"Danny? We need to go", Linda said, a hand reassuringly on his back. He gripped his wife tightly and together they got into the car and drove in silence. Sean was playing with the toy soldier his uncle had gotten him for Christmas while Jack stared through the window with empty eyes. What had he done? What had it done to his kids to loose their uncle? Would it ever be okay again? No, some things just did not heal. Grimly, he eyed the destruction he'd created. At church, he saw the assembled members of his family, his friends, colleagues and old companions. Everyone was wearing black or dark gray, even the children.

"Sorry for your loss. Jamie was a good boy", his old teacher said when Danny came to stand next to his father. Frank Reagan maintained the air of authority around him, although his knuckles were white from balling his fists too tightly. Henry, on the other hand, was openly and silently crying, as were Erin and Nikki. His niece had taken the news the worst, shutting down completely for days. A fortnight later she was nothing but a shadow of herself and barely said five words a day. Danny hugged her fiercely and said something meaningless and soothing, then the priest began his lecture. It was a nice speech about forgiveness, heaven and how the souls lived on, but Danny couldn't concentrate. All he could think about was the report from the forensics lab. He hadn't been supposed to read it, had had to pull a few strings to get the pieces of paper he'd never forget.

His brother's death had been ruled an accident. Something had broken his tire while he was driving at full speed, catapulting the car from the lane where it collided with a massive tree. The front window had been shattered, the side compressed and the fuel tank ripped open. A fire had broken out and if his brother had survived the initial crash, the flames had squashed all hope of survival. In the end the corpse had been burned so badly that they had to use dental records to identify him, but it was without a doubt Jamie. They had even found remains of his police badge and blood on the splinters. He was dead. Irretrievably, inevitably, inalterably dead.

"Jamie", Danny whispered, his eyes watering. He blinked rapidly, taking deep and calming breaths. It didn't really help, but he made it through the rest of the service without breaking down. Afterward, the family stood around the grave for a long time, until Jack was shuddering so much that Linda and Erin herded the boys inside. Henry, Frank and Nikki stayed longer, keeping him company in the pouring rain. Nikki held an umbrella above his head until she finally went inside to join the others. Then the water made its way down his cheeks, concealing the salty additions that were noe falling freely. The hands he'd clasped in front of his expensive coat shook, yet Danny did not move for a long time. His feet were glued to the ground, his mind repeating the words over and over in his head. Here lies Jamison Reagan. Son, Uncle and Brother. Danny didn't want to close his eyes, afraid his brother would come to haunt him, but he didn't want to keep looking at the gravestone either. Nevertheless, leaving was not an option, he had one last thing to say to his kid brother. Slowly, he reached out and touched the wet stone. Ice-cold, unmoving, dead. Not alive and full of energy like Jamie had been. Not like he should still be.

"I'm sorry. God, Jamie, I'm so sorry. I should have asked what was wrong that day. I should have made you tell me, should have kept you with me. I should have been looking out for you! Hell, it should have been me on the road, not you! Not you, never you." His voice broke at the last words and he sobbed. Just for a moment he let himself go, then his defenses popped back up and he gathered what was left of him and put it back together like a robot with a vital piece missing. By the time he reached his wife and kids, he had regained his composure. Sean crept onto his lap as soon as Danny sat down, seeking warmth and comfort. Of course Danny didn't mind, he closed his arms around his boy, drawing as much strength as he could and waited patiently for his youngest to say something.

"If there is a God and he loves us, then why does he keep doing this to our family? Have we done something wrong?", Sean wanted to know, his face pleading for an answer. Children weren't supposed to ask these things, Danny thought and tried his best to explain.

"No, of course not. None of this was your fault, kid. You hear me? Stop worrying about it", Danny said forcefully, waiting until Sean slowly nodded. Then he continued, struggling to find the right words.

"Everybody has to leave this world at some place, that's the natural order of things. And as hard as it is for the ones left behind, it is not meant as a punishment, nor a test. God took Uncle Jamie because … because he loved him. And he loves you too, Sean, don't doubt that. He gave us time with Jamie and lots of memories together. So when you think of him, don't be sad. Smile for every moment you two had together. Remember that time in the park when you tripped and accidentally threw the ice cream at him?" Danny sighed inwardly when Sean only smiled thinly at that.

"Yeah..."

"Or the time you made him join Nikki in the karaoke bar?"

"That was awful. And kind of funny."

"Or when you went to the library and he had to flirt shamelessly with the assistant so she would let you lend more books?"

"He complained all week about that, although she wasn't even that ugly!"

"Or when he taught you how to cheat at cards?" Now Sean grinned, moving a little more animatedly until he remembered what had brought on the conversation. Then the light in his eyes dimmed again.

"I think I get it now, Dad. Thanks."

"No problem. You can always talk to me about anything, okay? Never forget that, kid."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Uncle Jamie really gone?"

"Yes, but he's at a better place now, Sean. Believe me."

"A better place?", an unknown voice repeated in front of his monitor. He'd been watching the funeral intently and had even witnessed Danny's breakdown. At that moment, he'd smiled. The first time he'd seem the detective on his knees had been the moment he'd found the crashed car - filmed and recorded by seven cameras that showed every angle of the sweet sadness the Reagan had displayed.

"Trying to comfort your boys, are we, Danno?", he asked, shaking his head. Soon the Reagans would be in an even worse nightmare. He was getting impatient, tapping his fingers on the desk in front of his computers. Several monitors filled the space, some hung on the wall of the little room.

"Boring. They're healing. Even the girl", he said gloomily, wishing Nikki would throw more tantrums. They'd been interesting, as had been her inability to confide in her mother or her friends. But now the teenager stood arm in arm with Erin Reagan, Frank watching them from the doorway. Slowly, agonizingly, things were returning to normal.

"But not for long", the man said, grinning again. He opened the top shelf of his drawer and took out a photograph, which was exactly twelve days old. It was picturing the car crash, a close-up of an unconscious face lying on a steering wheel, blood and pieces of broken glass visible. Quite a pretty sight, actually. Without haste, the man turned the photograph around and wrote something on the backside, considered it for a moment and then added another sentence. Not entirely satisfied, he bit his lip, adjusted his glasses and thought for a while. Then the unpleasant smile returned to his mouth. Placing the photograph on the table, he tapped a combination on his keyboard, opening another live video stream.

"A better place indeed", he murmured as he turned on the light in the small cell without windows. The boy on the bed cringed and put his hands above his eyes, blinded after days of darkness. He hadn't been given a change of clothes, therefore one could still admire the dried blood on the thin gray shirt his victim was wearing. What an exhilarating sight! Immediately his mood lightened and his voice sounded pleased when he pushed the button for the microphone.

"Good evening, dear guest. How are we feeling?" To his delight, the fight had not left those blue eyes that were scowling directly at the camera and not bothering to answer.

"Would be boring otherwise", he murmured, pushed another button and nodded when he saw the disbelief on his captive's face as soon as a certain scene that was presented to him on a huge TV. His bloody fingers reached out, but were stopped by the bars around the equipment. The boy took a shaky breath, then he schooled his features in blandness.

"What is this supposed to prove, coward? Too scared to come in here yourself?" Childish, maybe, but the anger behind the inventive taunts was as obvious as it was entertaining. The man in front of the monitor smiled and pushed the button that activated the microphone.

"We'll see each other soon enough. And in the meantime, I thought you might like to witness your own funeral, Jamison Reagan!"