They couldn't go to Sidney's house, once they had arrived in Monterey and picked up the rental car Gale had arranged for them. It was an active crime scene, and although Sidney wasn't considered a suspect, nor was she considered to be at risk with Meryl Bailey dead on scene, there was still evidence being collected and reports being processed by the assigned investigators. They found that out as soon as they arrived to find her entire house blockaded off with crime scene tape and police vehicles, and when both Sidney and Gale were physically stopped from attempting to enter.
Gale was certain from the wild, challenging look that came over Sidney that the other woman would have forced her way in the house, no matter the consequences she might receive for doing so, had the officers not been quick to inform her that her family's bodies were no longer inside for her to see. That was what she had wanted to get to, the only thing driving her forward, and Gale watched her shoulders slump with dejection at this news before she managed to lift her chin and muster the energy to ask where they had been taken. It was likely only because of her reputation combined with Gale's- for Gale had made sure to make it plain exactly who she was and the connections she had to the media, should they piss them off or fuck things up- that they gave Sidney the information and address to the assigned coroner's office where the Prescotts had been taken.
There was some talk from some of the officers about questioning Sidney (and probably Gale too, having been present when Sidney received her video messages from Meryl Bailey and being the one to call the police), but Gale had shut that down firmly and immediately. The murderer was dead, the victims would be no less deader any time soon, and Sidney was in no mental or emotional space to have to do one thing beyond what she herself felt needed. And when the issue was pressed, she made it known quickly that this was how it was staying- Sidney and Gale would call them to provide answers, rather than the other way around.
"You have all the fucking information you need, including, I'm sure, Bailey's phone with every message she sent Sidney accessible to you on it," she snapped. "Put your skills to use and piece it all together without her until she's good and ready to let you re-traumatize her."
Maybe because she had a point, maybe because Sidney was so obviously out of it with grief, or because Gale was still moving stiffly with obvious injuries, they let it go and didn't insist on access to Sidney at that time. Or maybe, they just knew better than to mess with Gale Weathers.
Sidney didn't say anything to Gale when she spoke with the officers, nor as they walked back to their rental and settled back inside for the drive to the coroner's office. But for the first time that Gale could recall since Sidney first received the terrible message of her family's fate, Sidney did reach out briefly to Gale, lightly resting a hand on her uninjured shoulder. To Gale, it read as a silent thanks, and it was the first sign of Sidney's resilience, of the faintest possible hope for her and from her.
They encountered further resistance at the corner's office initially from the staff there; although Sidney and Gale provided their identification and explained Sidney's desire to see the bodies of her families, they were reluctant to allow her to witness them without them having been tended to.
"It's not the way you'll want to see or remember them," one man tried to say to Sidney, clearly unfamiliar with the specifics of the case. "The bodies have already been identified, I would strongly encourage you to wait to view them until we've been able to care for them, ma'am."
Gale opened her mouth, more than ready to challenge yet another person holding Sidney back from what she needed to do, but this time Sidney herself was ready. She met the man's eyes steadily, her voice low but fierce as she responded.
"I already witnessed them die, and it's forever burned into my brain how it happened, how they called out for me, and how I failed to protect them. I know how they look. Rest assured, I will never forget. I want to see them all the same, and I will do whatever I have to so I can tell my babies everything I need to say."
There was a sheen of challenge in her gaze and a determined lift of her chin that made it obvious how strongly Sidney meant each word, the full intent she had of carrying them out. Between this and the presence of Gale Weathers beside her, backing her word, she was allowed back into the morgue, where the bodies of her husband and children lay on separate metal gurneys, covered by sheets. Seeing them, Gale was stricken again by how very small Sidney's children had been, how little space their forms took up under each sheet. They had been so damn young, little more than babies, and tears stung her eyes before she gritted her teeth, refocusing on Sidney to keep them held back.
They were left in privacy, but it still took several seconds before Sidney's legs seemed to remember how to work. Gale watched, dry mouthed, stricken with the poignant horror of what she was witnessing as one by one, Sidney went to each body, tenderly uncovering them just enough to reveal their faces. One at a time, Sidney lingered over her husband and each of her three daughters, touching their faces, stroking their tangled hair, and kissing each of their heads as tears streamed down her face and her shoulders heaved with nearly silent sobs.
"I'm sorry," she repeated to each of them, over and over. "I'm so sorry, baby. I love you. I love you so much, I'm so sorry."
There was nothing Gale could do for her, nothing but stand witness to the expression of Sidney's love and grief for each of her children and her husband. She watched, nails digging into her palms, tears hot in the surface of her eyes as Sidney expressed her love and sorrow for each of them. Gale watched and was filled with admiration at the other woman's strength- she was far stronger and better than Gale herself was or ever would be. She had never been able to look at Dewey's body after his murder, not even just his face. It had felt too crushingly final, too terrible. Her own mind painted images of the brutality of his death- after all, she had seen him close to it many times before and needed little help filling in the details of the blood, the shock, and the pain. She owned the box of his ashes now, just as Sidney now owned his sister Tatum's, and she never, ever took the box out of its resting place on her closet shelf. She couldn't stand to look at it and know it was all that was left of the man Dewey had been.
Sidney finished her time with each of her family members with the same almost ritualistic gestures. She combed their hair as smooth as she could make it, giving a final kiss to their foreheads, and then gently pulled the sheet up around their shoulders, as though tucking them in for a final time. To each child and her husband she whispered a final verbalization of her love for them before finally drawing back without a word and walking out of the room, her shoulders sagging, her face mottled and eyes puffy with her anguish. Gale followed as quickly as she could manage behind her, not wanting her out of her sight for even a moment in this state. Sidney may be strong, the strongest person she had ever known, but even her strength could be pushed beyond any reasonable point to make her close to breaking in a way that could have drastically permanent results.
Sidney wouldn't let Gale touch her as they continued to walk out of the building, nor did she let her when they re-entered the car or made their way inside the police station for their official statements. She didn't cry when she spoke, her voice flat, dead, and almost too dry to be understood at times. Gale found herself growing somewhat emotional when she gave her statement, twice having to stop, clear her throat, and stop herself from crying. Only then did Sidney show any sign of life, and it was slight- she let her shoulder come into contact with Gale's, just enough for her to feel its faint pressure against her. It was enough to ground her, to spur her on, and she knew it was all Sidney could give and so appreciated it that much more.
There was so much more left to be done by the time the two of them had finished with the police. They would have to arrange for the house to be cleaned once it was cleared as a crime scene, the broken windows and doors repaired. Sidney would have to make the decision as to whether to sell the house- and Gale couldn't imagine her possibly choosing to stay in a home full of memories of her dead family in every crack and crevice, the home where they should have been safe. If she did sell the house, that too would need to be arranged, Sidney would need to search for and purchase a new home, decide what location to do this in. She would have the painful task of going through Mark and the children's belongings, deciding what to keep and what to discard- a task Gale herself had endured after Dewey's death, for there was no one left in his life but her to do it for him. Even before all of this, Sidney would have the terrible task of deciding for burial or cremation for each, of arranging a funeral and memorial service if she chose, and if she chose for burial, selecting coffins and headstones, burial clothing and hair styles. It was overwhelming for Gale to consider, and she knew that Sidney must not be anywhere near ready to begin even with the first of these daunting steps of the future.
Eventually, all of this would have to be done. But today was not the day; Sidney had suffered more than enough in facing Mark and her children, in grieving them face to face. Instead the two of them booked a hotel room about ten minutes away from the Monterey house, and though it wasn't even yet dark outside, settled in for the evening. Gale never even considered getting separate rooms. For as long as Sidney would allow it, she had no intention of leaving her alone.
In the hotel room, Sidney sank down onto one of the double beds, shoulders slumped, and stared at the wall beside her without seeming to focus on it or anything in the room around her. She hadn't drank anything without prompting from Gale throughout the day, nor gone to the restroom, and she had eaten nothing since the night before. Gale's gentle suggestions earlier had been met with silence, and she hadn't forced the issue. She knew all too well how sickening even the thought of food could be while in deep emotional pain; it wasn't for nothing that she had lost even more weight after Dewey's death than she had after their divorce.
Gale too had no appetite, no desire to do anything except try with everything she had to ease Sidney's anguish. But she had never been a person who was good at providing comfort, as much as she sometimes wanted to, and so the best she could do was sit across from Sidney on the bed beside hers, trying to get her to meet her gaze.
"Sid," she said softly. "Do you want to take a shower? It might help a little."
She was thinking of how she had felt with Dewey's blood on her hands, how she had wanted to scrub her skin until every layer that had once been in contact with his life force had been removed. How much harder could it be for Sidney, to have the cold feel of four dead loved ones lingering on her skin?
But Sidney shook her head mutely, not letting her eyes even briefly meet Gale's. Gale supposed it was a positive that the other woman had responded to her at all. It felt so wrong to her, so terribly unnatural and unnerving to see Sidney Prescott reduced to a near catatonic state, and she felt helpless in witness to it, unable to think of anything she could do to help.
But she tried. She had to at least keep trying.
"Why don't you try to sleep?" she said quietly. "I'll sit with you. I'll wake you up if you need."
Sidney's eyes drifted up then, finally locking with her own, and Gale swallowed, hating the dark desolation she saw in their depths. The other woman's voice was dry and lifeless when she responded.
"I don't ever want to sleep again."
She said nothing further in explanation, but Gale could guess what she was thinking- the last time she had slept, her family had been murdered. How could she ever let herself rest, give herself even that temporary respite from her new reality?
Gale understood, but that didn't mean she would accept it. Instead she stood with a wince at the pull in her stitched side, coming to stand over Sidney with her hands firm against Sidney's shoulders. When Sidney neither fought her nor attempted to pull away, Gale slowly eased her down onto the bed, grateful when Sidney let her continue to manipulate her, her body limp and pliable perhaps with exhaustion as much as grief. Gale removed her shoes, then took the blanket off of her own bed to cover Sidney, not wanting her to have to move any more than absolutely necessary. Sitting down on the bed beside her, Gale took Sidney's limp hand between both of hers.
"You don't have to sleep then. Just rest your eyes."
Even as she heard herself speaking she was reminded painfully of Dewey; it was something he had often said to her when Gale protested going to bed, caught up in the middle of work or anxious after nightmares. She had known each time he said it that he was humoring her, that he and she both knew that "resting her eyes" would eventually result in sleep- and yet every time, Gale had done as he instructed, never quite able to explain to herself why, except because it was Dewey who had asked.
Fuck, she missed that about him. That, and so much more. What would he think now, hearing Gale using his own words against another?
Gale didn't try to push Sidney any more than that, simply sitting beside her and holding her hand as Sidney lay motionless, grateful when the woman eventually did close her eyes. Only when she heard the change in her breathing to be certain that Sidney was asleep did Gale dare to run a gentle hand over her hair, not so much for Sidney's sake of comfort, but for her own.
Gale hadn't realized that she herself had dozed off, her head lulling forward towards her chest, until she heard the first sharp cries of Sidney's screams. Then she could feel the sharp pain up her side and shoulder as Sidney, her hand still in Gale's, jerked her harshly, fighting or pushing back against the force in her dream. Releasing her with a ragged inhalation, Gale took her by both shoulders and held on, grimly determined even as Sidney's body bucked and fresh pain rocked through her at the pressure she exerted.
"Shhh, Sid, shhh," she said, her voice just loud enough to be audible over Sidney's voice, firm enough to penetrate whatever she was facing. "Shhh. Wake up, Sid, it's me, I'm here. Shhh."
When Sidney's eyes opened, Gale watched her shift from the world of her nightmare into sharp, vivid awareness of the nightmare of her living state, and she wondered momentarily if it would have been kinder to leave her in sleep, however horrific its unreality. As Sidney's features shivered apart, her tears taking on a softer, less immediate but far more heartbreaking quality, Gale eased herself down on the bed beside her and wrapped her in her arms, ignoring the way her injuries strained and protested the rough grasp of Sidney's hands around her back. She held her, her cheek pressed into the top of Sidney's head, and she tried not to let her realize that throughout Sidney's crying, occasional tears of her own dripped free, disappearing in the other woman's dark hair.
The moments passed of this terrible de ja vu reversed, one woman cradling the other in a hotel bed as she sobbed, raw with a pain never matched before in a lifetime full of trauma. Gale recognized its grim, skewed mirror of the year before and knew now, as Sidney must have known then, that there was nothing more that could be done for her but to hold on, to be present through each terrible moment as no one else ever could or would be. And eventually, Sidney too reached a point where she could manage words, manage the questions without answer that Gale too had eventually felt compelled to ask.
"How can I do this, Gale? How can I wake up each day and go to sleep every night to this? How do I live each day, how can I even breathe?"
She must have felt the sudden rigid set to Gale's muscles, understood the unasked question Gale needed an immediate answer to, because she sniffed hard, mucus slick in her throat as she spoke into the side of her neck rather than looking up into her face.
"I don't want to die," she said, barely above a whisper, but nevertheless, Gale's body relaxed, and she was able to resume her gentle stroking of Sidney's back. "I've never wanted that. But how could I possibly want to live now? How could I ever want that again, without them living here with me?"
So many names, so many lives cut short, each one of them a heavy weight in the relative smallness of the encompassing word, "them." Sidney's mother, Sidney's father, every person she let close enough into her life to befriend, to care for. Tatum and Randy, Hallie and Derek, her aunt and even her cousin, murderous traitor that she may have been. Dewey…and now, four more memories, four more loved ones crammed into a four letter word. Where once Mark, Tatum, Riley, and Hallie lived, only "them," and Sidney's life without them, remained.
It was an impossible question, terrible all the more because Gale could give her no answer. In all her years of research and seeking out truth, she had yet to find the answer to this one question. How did one go on, when the people that meant most to you could no longer go on at your side?
"I don't know," she admitted, the words soft but holding the heaviness of regret for the answer she was forced to give. "I don't know, Sidney. But I would die a hundred times over, if I could bring your family back to you. I would do it and be glad."
For several long minutes Gale was only aware of Sidney's heavy breaths against her, the slowing tremors passing through her a little less heavily over time. She had stopped anticipating a response when Sidney finally spoke, her voice still hardly above a rasping murmur.
"It wouldn't work out, Gale. You're my family too."
Gale's throat choked, and she had to blink several times, swallowing down the new tears Sidney's words triggered before she could answer.
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am, if that's what you want me to be."
Sidney didn't speak, but Gale felt her head dip against her, ever so slight, in a nod. Sidney's breath released against her in a long, shuddering sigh, and Gale swallowed again, letting her lips just barely brush Sidney's hair as she murmured what was left that she could think of to say.
"I don't know how to go on, Sidney. All I know is that you have to. WE have to. We go on, and somehow, we get through, because that's all we can do. And I promise, for as long as you let me, I'll be there. Every second of every day, until one of us has a better answer."
Sidney's second nod was smaller than the first, barely more than a shift of her head, but Gale felt and understood it all the same. As her tears continued to fall, slower, less steady, and her arms relaxed their tight grasp, Gale nevertheless felt a small shift in the air between them, the first minute turn towards acceptance as Sidney let herself fall, let Gale be there to catch her in the only way she knew how to.
Night became day, the world continued on, as it always had and always would in face of tragedies great and small. So too would they, for even in the ever brokenness of their worlds, each had at least one reason left to keep trying to survive.
The end
