Bury the Past

Disclaimer: Don't own Victorious

A/N:

Chapter 17 (Face the Past)

The area had an obscene metallic smell that filled Trina with an unsettled feeling. As she followed the uniformed man in front of her, she felt a strange swishing in her gut. Her heart was beating so fast like she'd never felt and every fiber of her body was pulsing with a sense of nervousness.

The guard set her down in front of a countertop with a glass window in front of her. When she looked through to the other side, she saw the door to the other room open. A lump formed in her throat as she saw a man in an orange jumpsuit being guided into the room.

This man had a bald head and pale blue eyes that were framed by off-color spotting. His hands hung loosely at his waist, his fingers tangled like loose vines or an elder cursed by arthritis. His once muscular frame had depleted after nearly two decades, giving him the appearance of a man who had eaten very little.

The man sat on the other side of the window and waited as the guard reached for the black receiver on his end. Trina felt a rush of nausea and tried to swallow it down. Her trembling hand lifted the receiver on her end and she brought it to her ears.

"They said I had a visitor," the man stated with a plain voice that sent slivers of terror through her. "I haven't had a visitor in ages." He tilted his head and groaned softly. "I'm sorry I can't see you, so you'll have to identify yourself for me."

For years she wished something would have happened to these two men, but those were only angered thoughts. Now she pitied him, and felt a strain of guilt because her sister was involved in what happened to him-something that would have been her worst nightmare.

"Trina," she replied in a shaky tone, "David Vega's daughter…" The man's brow wrinkled and his lips fell into a frown. "You remember my dad? You remember me? Do you have any idea what pain you caused that night?" She didn't want to cause trouble. Merely she wanted to find out why he had done what he had.

The man tensed and his eyes squinted. "I do remember you. I haven't gotten you out of my head for the last two decades almost." She jerked her head back and raised her eyebrows. "I wish I could see you, but I've been blinded for a few years now."

"I know…I know about that." She bowed her head and shut her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault."

"I don't know about that."

"It isn't. Listen…you needn't apologize." The man took a deep breath and pushed his hands forward on the counter. "The bones in my hands were shattered and I couldn't afford surgery. I can't hold this phone, you understand, but I know I've earned this punishment."

Trina couldn't muster the hatred anymore, as much as she wanted to. "It's been eighteen years. What you did to me still affects me, every day. I-I wanted you to know that."

Wallace bowed his head, his face tensed and his lips separated an inch. "I know." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't know if there's anything I could say that would be consolation enough." She was holding her breath, trembling from the mix of emotions creating a storm within her. "What happened that night…I was doing what Ned said, mainly, but I know…I know it wasn't right. You were-how old?"

"Twelve. I was twelve."

"So young." He opened his eyes partially and looked up. She could see the mist forming in them, and was uncertain what to make of this strange gesture. "Sorry means so little, I know." She could see he regretted what took place-and it was of little comfort. Still, she needed to know he regretted what he did. "I can't give you excuses or reasonings, I can only say what happened that night was wrong and I'm sorry. I wish I had been in a better place that night."

Tears welled up in her eyes and she could feel her heart stopping for a moment. Her breath caught in her throat and she raised her hand over her mouth, gasping softly as the memory played out in her head. "Why? Why were you even able to do that? That night, to a little girl? Why? I-I don't understand."

"Do you want excuses? Will any reason I give be good enough for you?"

"Just help me understand." Her chest ached and she coughed out the breath she had been holding. "Please. That's all." Wallace nodded his head and waited as the officer adjusted the phone.

"We were angry, we wanted revenge. I followed, not really caring about what he ordered me to do. Killing that older couple, beating you, I just distanced myself. I made myself not care about how it would affect anyone-all I cared about was inflicting as much pain on your father as possible."

It hurt to hear the words, but for the first time in her life she truly understood. This man was following orders, and following his own lust for revenge. The ironic twist of fate led to her sister causing his broken state. "I see. You didn't even think about long term."

"No. If I could take anything back at all, it would be that night…If I could have told Ned I wasn't going to do that, I would have." Wallace breathed in slow and raised his wrist to his chin. "The problem is, the past can't be changed."

"It can't be."

"What do you do now?"

"I'm a Deputy for the Sheriff's office a couple hours from here." Wallace smiled and nodded once. "I'm married now, with a husband that cares the world for me."

"It sounds like you've made a good life for yourself."

"I've done the best I can."

"That's all any of us can do." A timid smile graced her and she shut her eyes, letting a tear roll down the side of her face. "What we did to you, there's nothing I can say to make it right. It was horrible, but it sounds like you've done the best you can to move past it. I wish I hadn't done that to you, I don't know the words to say…"

In her heart, she forgave him. As difficult as it was, she couldn't hold it against him any longer. "It's not okay what you did." Her fingers trembled and she choked out her words as Wallace frowned. "It will never be okay what you did." He nodded and she placed a hand over her stomach. "But I forgive you."

His eyebrows shot up and his jaw fell agape. "I'm sorry?" He shook his head slowly and furrowed his brow. "You forgive me?"

"Yes." Forgiveness wasn't saying that it was okay when someone wronged someone, but that she wasn't going to let it rule her any longer. She needed to live her life, and wasn't going to let the past haunt her anymore. "I forgive you."

Wallace's eyes grew large and he began to shake. Trina's voice grew course and trembled. "I don't want to hold onto that pain anymore. I don't want to let it keep me from living my life. I can't. I won't."

"I don't know what to say. I-I'm thankful and glad you're able to move forward. I know also, as much as I want to put all the blame on Ned, I can't. I'm just as responsible for my own actions."

"I've had to live with those actions." A wrinkle popped up between her eyebrows and she leaned forward, holding back the pain that made her want to lose control. "Those actions tore us apart. Destroyed my entire family. They treated me like I'd done something wrong, ignored me and belittled me. Me. Your victim. I could never have a normal childhood after that. You aren't the same person when you go through something like that."

Wallace bowed his head and breathed slow, listening as she continued. "My dad became distant, sister too young to understand I wasn't trying to take attention away from my grandparents being murdered. I left my entire family behind because they didn't accept me, and now I come back to find they've been murdered." Her breathing trembled and the man's eyebrows shot up. "Once again, it's just my dad and myself…left to witness and piece together everything."

She steeled herself. The skin around her lips and eyes tensed and her hands closed tight. "But I'm stronger now. I tried to keep everything dead and buried, but I can't. Knowing that, I realize that while it will always affect me-it can't control me. It can't stop me. You and Ned can't hurt me anymore, can't hurt my dad. We're stronger now than we've ever been."

"I'm glad."

"It won't hold me back anymore." She took a deep breath and studied him close. He was hunched over, shaking like a leaf. Sweat was sliding down the side of his head. "What happened to you was wrong as well."

"I deserved what happened to me."

"Nobody deserves something like that. I didn't deserve what you had done, but you didn't deserve what happened to you."

Streaks stained his cheeks where tears had fallen, and his mouth turned up into a tiny smile. "Thank you. I wish I could see, but I don't have to see how much you've overcome. Take that to heart, don't let the things you face in life hold you back…"

"Yeah. I won't." She looked down and slid a hand across her abdomen, sighing heavily. "I'll live. Survive." She raised her head and smiled back. "And I won't be afraid of what is behind me. Goodbye Wallace."

"Goodbye, and best of luck to you in life."

"Thank you," she replied shakily. After hanging up the phone, she watched as the guard walked Wallace away. Trina leaned forward, burying her head into her hands and crying silently for a moment. She slid her hands down, brushing away her tears and pushing her hair back. "God…"

Not long after, she went to the cemetery where her father was walking around. They met up in the left quadrant, walking down a path framed by flowers and overgrown grass. "You know," David began, "Many of the people buried here are victims that I've had to find justice for." Trina nodded slowly as David whisked his hand out to the side, pointing at a nearby grave. "Professor Todd Salome, killed in 2000 by one of his students."

She turned her head and locked her hands behind her back. David brushed his nose with his thumb, scoffing as he shook his head. "Then there's Wilma Prowler, stabbed twenty times in 2002 by her husband's ex-wife."

He cracked his neck to the right and looked down at a faded grave. "Or the very first homicide I ever worked on. Christmas 1989, Jonathan Greyson." Trina caught a tearful gleam in David's eyes as his mouth turned to a deep frown. They stared at the grave and she caught her breath in her throat. "Just fourteen years old, he wanted to be a football star, and all he wanted for Christmas was to have a signed jersey of 49ers quarterbacks Joe Montana and Steve Young."

"How did he die?"

"Shot in the back by his mother." Trina closed her eyes, wincing at the visual. "His parents were going through a rough time and the father was building a strong enough case that the woman was afraid he'd be able to take their son away. Not without saying, Jonathan wanted to be with his father-that was his hero."

"You know so much about these people and their lives." It was astonishing, but not something she couldn't understand.

David raised his head and closed his hands firmly. "That's what happens. As a homicide detective, as a cop, you invest so much of your energy into the victims. They're close to your heart, you do everything you can to find justice, because sometimes you may be the only voice the victim has." He turned and looked sideways down the path they'd been walking from. "I know every person whose case I've worked on, and I could tell you everything about that case-about who they were, who their attacker was. They haunt me until I solve it."

"What were you doing here?"

"I come out to pay my respects from time to time." He turned and began walking back the way they came. Surprised, Trina followed after him. "Today was a little different."

They came upon a headstone, somewhat obscure and forgotten. On it read the name Ned Tyler. Trina opened her mouth partially and leaned her head back as a chill wind swept past her. David pushed his hands into his pockets and stared down at the grave.

"His family did everything they could to get his body buried over here. For a while I felt like he shouldn't be buried in this place. Your mother's going to be buried here, your grandparents are here, and even Ned's original victim…" David raised his right arm and pointed down a side path. "Is buried a few rows to the right of here."

He lowered his arm and stared down at the gravesite. "I was here, muddling over the questions I had no answers for. Trying to figure out what this person was thinking, when I realize he was nothing more than someone full of hot air. Hate, revenge, anger. Why should I allow that to continue to control me? I already let it take away so much."

Trina raised a hand, setting it gently on her dad's upper arm. "It's okay."

"It's not." He pulled away and started down the path. She followed in silence. "I forgave him. I'd let what happen distance me from people I care so much about, and now there's nothing left."

"You…have me, Dad." He paused, looking over his shoulder with a soft smile. She shrugged and smiled back. "I mean, I think maybe we've both been a little too focused on something we couldn't change." She rolled her head to the side and glanced out at the graves they passed. "Where do we go from here? Nowhere else but forward, I guess."

"Yeah." David blinked twice and stared at her with an arched brow. "Now what is this retirement community Martin said you and he were talking about putting me into?" Caught off guard, Trina chuckled nervously and flashed a grin.

"You've been talking to Martin?"

David grunted in reply. "I wanted to get to know the guy. He was trying to boost a retirement community and a volunteer agency for washed-up old people."

"The SST doesn't have age restrictions." David crossed his arms and he looked to her with a hum, not appearing to believe her in the slightest.

"Most of the volunteers are old, retired cops."

"Yes, but, you'd still be an active force in the community. Just think." She looked out across the field of graves and extended her arms out across them. "You've helped so many to get justice." He looked back at the graves with a sad smile and tired eyes. "Maybe it's time for you to close the books and rest. Maybe both of us can start to enjoy life again, somehow."

"Maybe…"

She dropped her arms and leaned into him, nudging him with her shoulder. "Hey. I got Gary to join the SST, you two can ride together." David let out an annoyed grunt as a smirk formed on her face. "I know Commander Chapman would just love having the two of you running all over the place together."

"Ah yes, Martin told me about that woman. To hung up on her failed career to listen to you when you were finding evidence of a string of robberies." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, she sounds like a perfect little cupcake."

"Come on."

"I don't know, Trina, I'll think about it. Let's just figure this case out first." David let out a heavy sigh and swept his hands through his greying hair. "Maybe I am getting too old for this shit."

"Maybe it's time we put the past behind us. Who knows? You may want to settle down and spend some quality time with grandkids." David jerked his head back and blinked several times.

"What?" Trina's smirk grew and she laced her hands together while walking towards the gate. "Grandkids? Do you have kids?"

"Not yet. But it will happen." She stopped at the gate and turned to face him. A solemn expression fell across her face and she took a deep breath. "We have to let it go. We have to let everything go. If we're to survive, to live, we need to let go." David approached her and glanced over his shoulder. "You've done a lot of good work, I'm sure everyone buried here if they had their say, maybe they'd say it's time to let them rest for good."

David turned his head and Trina glanced down. "Including Ned and Wallace, we can put them to rest." He breathed in his surprise at her statement. She raised her shoulders and her eyebrows twitched. "We can't go forward if we're looking back, right? If we're focusing on the rearview, we'll crash. There's an open road in front of us, Dad, maybe we should focus on that."

"There's nowhere left to run, nowhere left to go…how did you get so wise?"

"Same as you, learned from experience and learned as I went." She pushed open the gate and stepped out. "Come on, let's get out of here." He nodded gently and followed her.

Well, what are your thoughts here? Any opinions and observations?