Jessie went downstairs. The living room was dark, but she managed to walk over to the bar without bumping into anything. Passing over the shot glasses, she picked up a pint glass and the Southern Comfort and sat down on the couch. She poured herself a little more than half the glass, drank half of it, then sat back into the cushions and let the sweet burn of the alcohol wash over her.

"I will not make our family weak." She said aloud.

Dreaming about her Grandfather was disturbing, but what he had said to her made sense. Besides John, who would never take over Patrick's business, she was the only one left with the O'Doyle name. Sure, both of Patrick's parents have relatives in Ireland and Scotland, but there was none left alive in the United States. She was it. It was up to her, now, to see that her Father's name and reputation did not die with him. Ready or not she had to move forward. She had to push everything down, lock it up and become who she was supposed to be.

"I will not make my family weak." She told herself, then finished her drink.

Straightening up, she poured herself another half glass of Southern Comfort and drank it. Feeling better, she thought about going back upstairs and waking Joey up for sex, but she didn't want to explain why she had been drinking again. She looked towards the hallway that led to where the others were sleeping and Patrick"s empty bedroom. Her Grandfather's words danced in her head.

"Move on...be stronger...step up..."

Jessie picked up the bottle of Southern Comfort, took a long drink from it, put it down and walked down the hallway towards Patrick's bedroom. She stopped in front of John's room and looked in. He was just the way she had left him, on his side, sleeping soundly. She smiled as she closed the door and continued to Patrick's room.

"I will not make my family weak," Jessie whispered as she stood in front of her Father's bedroom door.

Before she could think about it and change her mind, Jessie put her hand on the doorknob, twisted it, pushed the door open and stepped into the room. She walked slowly to the nightstand, turned on the lamp, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Sitting there, she was reminded of the morning after Sal had been murdered and she had come in to wake Patrick. Everything happened so fast after that and the time she had spent in the hospital was nothing but an emotional roller coaster. Now here she is, not even home for twenty-four hours, trying to cope with the aftermath of it all. She had no time to really process any of it, just bits and pieces.

"I miss you so much." Jessie wiped at her eyes as a sob escaped. She wasn't sure when she had started crying, but her cheeks were wet with tears and her chest was heaving. "No.," she told herself.

Jessie stood up. "Stop now." She took a deep, calming breath. "You will not make your family weak, so stop crying...stop it right now."

Taking a few more deep breaths, she walked over to Patrick's dresser and put her hands on it for support. She tried to think about something else, hoping it would help shut everything else off. An image of Patrick, from the dream she had earlier, popped up in her mind and she smiled. Since she took care of the laundry she knew exactly where it was. Bending down she opened the bottom left drawer, pulled out, what Patrick called his "lucky shirt" and held it up to examine it. It was a kelly green sweatshirt with Snoopy in a Celtics jersey, spinning a basketball on his finger on the front and P. O'Doyle written in fabric puffy paint with two small handprints on the back. Sure, the green has faded, the elastic in the cuffs and waistband are practically non-existent, the Snoopy decal is cracked and missing in some areas and the lettering and handprints on the back are cracking, but it was in good shape for being 14 years old.

"John should have this." She said aloud, smiling, as she pictured her Dad wearing it.

Jessie threw the sweatshirt over her shoulder and turned to leave, but something on the dresser caught her eye and she stopped and picked it up. Patrick's necklace. A heavy, gold rope chain with a lion pendant. Jessie could not remember a time, let alone a minute, that he wasn't wearing it. He was a Leo and her mother had bought it for him for his birthday, the first year they had lived together. She picked it up and put it on, tucking the pendant under her shirt.

"Did you take it off for Susan's wake?" She wondered aloud.

Jessie looked down at the dresser again and her stomach started to roll slowly. Her Father's rings, one a birthstone ring, and the other, a ring he had made from his and her Mother's wedding bands. Again, she had never seen him without them. Then, she saw his watch and picked it up to look at it more closely. There was a drop of blood on the face and more on the band. Then it hit her, like a slap in the face. They had taken Patrick's jewelry and watch off when he was cremated.

Her stomach churning violently, she dropped the watch and ran into the bathroom.

The Southern Comfort burned just as much coming up as it did going down. When she was done, Jessie went to the sink to get some water and rinse out her mouth. She broke out into a sweat, so she splashed water on her face to cool off, but that wasn't enough so she sat down on the floor, her back against the wall, letting the cool tiles of the floor and wall cool off her entire body. Feeling better, but not ready to go back into the bedroom, she closed her eyes and tried to regain the control she had lost.

"I will not make my family weak." She said to herself, over and over again.


John sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was a dream that woke him or a noise. He moved to the edge of the bed and turned on the lamp, then, stood up. The pain in his leg was gone and except for being a little groggy, he felt good. There was a faint glow of light coming from underneath his door and he thought maybe it was a noise that woke him. He went to his door and opened it. Looking to his right, the living room was dark, so he looked to his left. There was light coming from Patrick's room.

"Maybe Robert couldn't sleep and he's getting some things for the memorial tomorrow." He thought to himself. "Or maybe it's Jessie..." He said aloud, then walked quickly down the hall.

The door was open, just a crack, but he knocked anyway. There was no answer so he poked his head in. 'Hello?"

The bedroom was empty but he noticed the bathroom light was on, so he walked through the bedroom to the bathroom door and knocked. "Hello? Everything okay in there?"

"Yeah," Jessie answered from the other side of the door.

"Jessie? Are you okay? Can I come in"

"I'm good. Sure, c'mon in."

John stepped into the bathroom, looking behind the door when he didn't see Jessie right away. He frowned when he saw her sitting on the floor. He closed the lid of the toilet and sat down.

"So...you're okay?"

Jessie nodded, then handed him Patrick's shirt. "I want you to have this."

John opened it up to get a better look when he saw the P. O'Doyle on the back he smiled. "This was Dad's."

Jessie nodded. "As you can tell by the wear and tear it was his favorite.'

" Jess, if you want-"

Jessie cut him off knowing where he was going. "It's not what you think." She told him. "It's not why I'm in here." She looked down at the floor. She couldn't look at him because she didn't want to lose her composure again and knew she would if she saw his face.

"Jess, what happened?" John asked gently.

Jessie pulled Patrick's necklace from underneath her shirt and held on to the lion pendant for several minutes before answering him.

"When I was little and was sitting with Dad, I use to take this out of his shirt and play with it...I'd hold it and move it around through my fingers...sometimes until I fell asleep. I never saw him without it...it was a part of him, ya know. I found it on his dresser with his rings and watch...there was...there was blood on his watch. I didn't put two and two together at first, but it only took a few seconds to realize why they were there...why there was blood. It all just ran through my head like a freight train..watching Lewis kill him..'

John leaned forward, took her hands in his and stood up, bringing her with him. He pulled her into a hug, holding her tight. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see that again...especially today."

Jessie felt her composure slipping, so she gently pulled away from him. "I'm okay, I'm just tired." She quickly wiped at her eyes before looking at him. "I guess I didn't get as much sleep as I needed."

John could see she was struggling, but he wasn't going to push her. "Let's go crash in my room then. C'mon, what d'ya say, wanna get outta here?"

"Yeah, okay."

They left Patrick's room and walked down the hall to John's. Jessie stopped in the doorway as John stepped in and sat on the bed.

"Maybe I should go back upstairs...with your thigh bothering you and all, you should have the bed to yourself."

"Jessie, it's fine I feel a lot better. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I just thought...wouldn't it be weird...I mean, I'm not sick and we're not in the hospital like before...I should..." Her voice trailed off as she gave up trying to explain how she felt.

John knew she wanted to stay with him. That she needed to stay with him, but she didn't want him to know it, so he let her off the hook. "I could use the company." He told her. "I'm a little nervous about the memorial tomorrow. Ya know, being FBI and being around Dad's men and friends."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." John smiled his best smile to reassure her.

Jessie smiled back. "Okay."

Jessie watched as John folded the sweatshirt she had given him and put it on the desk chair. He then sat on the edge of the bed and fluffed both pillows, before lying down on the left side. When he had settled in, she walked over and lay down next to him.

"Hey," John said, as Jessie stared up at the ceiling. He knew she was thinking too much and he wanted to distract her. "Tell me about Dad's shirt, it looks pretty old. Why was it his favorite?"

Jessie smiled and rolled on to her side to face him. "It is old. I think I was seven and T.J. was one. The handprints on the back are his."

"Really? That's awesome."

Jessie nodded. "Every year for Dad's birthday and Christmas Mom would let us pick out what we wanted to give him. When I saw that in a store window, I knew I just had to get it for him, with my Snoopy obsession and his favorite team being the Celtics, there was no question about it. I put his name on the back so it would look more like a jersey and I wanted it to be from T.J. too, so I put paint on his hands and made the handprints." Jessie half-smiled. "Mom wasn't too happy about that part because after he put his hands on the shirt, he put them everywhere else. The table, the chair, his hair, his clothes.."

John laughed. "Sounds like a good time."

"It was. Dad loved what we did. He wore it all the time...especially when he went to the track, or played poker and went fishing. When he won he'd say it was because he was wearing his lucky shirt. One time he had such a good winning streak wearing it, Sal had us make him one too."

John watched as she absently started to play with Patrick's necklace. "Ya know, if you ever want it back, I'll understand."

"I know, but I want you to have it. Not only because it was Dad's but because of T.J. You'll have something that was from him too."

He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. "Thank you."

"Will you wear it tomorrow?"

"Jess, I don't think I should. I don't want to upset anyone..."

"I'll never let anyone hurt you, John, I promise. Just like Dad protected you, I will too."

The seriousness in her tone and the look in her eyes worried him a little but he chalked it up to her state-of-mind and lack of sleep. He looked at the clock. It was almost four in the morning.

"We should try to get some sleep, it's still early and it's gonna be a long day."

"Okay," Jessie said easily, then rolled on to her stomach and wrapped her arms around her pillow. "I love you."

"I love you too, Jess."

John watched as she snuggled deeper into her pillow and closed her eyes, but after several minutes she opened them again.

"John?"

"Yeah, Jess."

"I think I miss it.."

"Miss what?"

"The bunker. I miss being in the bunker...when it was just you and me and all we had to worry about was staying alive. We didn't have time to think about anything or anyone else, ya know, it was just us. I miss that. Crazy, huh?"

"No, it's not crazy. It's gonna take time but things will get better, Jess, I promise." John put his hand on her head. He opened and closed his hand, slowly, massaging her scalp as he moved his fingers through her hair. "And hey, there will always be you and me...no matter what, got it?"

Jessie nodded under his hand. "John?" She said sleepily.

"Yeah, Jess."

"Thank you...for everything."

John leaned over, kissed her temple and smiled. "Just doing my job as a big brother."

When he was sure she was sleeping, John pulled the comforter over her and settled in himself. Closing his eyes, he wished they both would have a dreamless sleep.


to be continued...