Title: Post Scene to "A Hero's Rest"
Author: Lynne Facella
Email: [email protected]
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of John Wells and Edward Allen Bernero. I wish they were mine but unfortunately they're not.
Summary: Ty's thoughts after the death of a fellow officer.
Notes: This is an old episode, but I saw it on A&E a few nights back and just felt the need to write a little something about it.
******
Hero: A person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life.
******
I rolled over onto my side and glanced at the brightly lit numbers on the digital display of the alarm clock...3:23 AM. I'd been in bed for hours, but as tired as I felt, I found that sleep was completely elusive to me tonight. I just couldn't get the events of the last few days out of my head...couldn't stop thinking about why things happened the way they did...
Just a few short days ago Greg Richardson had been alive. He'd kissed his wife and son goodbye and went off to work just like any other day. Except for Greg it hadn't been just any other day. It had been the last day of his life. There had been so much blood...too much blood. I'd held his hand and tried to comfort him, telling him that everything would be okay. He'd known that it wasn't true though. The look in his eyes had said it all...desperately gasping for each of his last breaths, wanting his wife to know that he loved her. Yet when his wife had asked me if I'd been there and she was so obviously devastated by what had happened, I made the split second decision to lie. In that moment, I decided it was better for her to think that Greg had been unconscious, that he hadn't even known what hit him. I just thought it would be easier for her that way. It was a decision I probably had no right to even make, but it was what I had done and I'd have to live with it now. It was obvious Greg loved his family. I'd seen the picture of his wife and son he had worn in his hat. One gunshot...one life ended...a family torn apart.
Life is a funny thing. Every day you make choices...decisions that affect your own life and the lives of others. Some decisions seem meaningless at the time. A person wakes up late for work and decides to skip breakfast in order to save time, but then later on ends up fainting on the subway. A careless driver cuts you off on the highway...you can decide to ignore it or ride on the tail of his car possibly causing an accident. A whacko just gets up one day and decides to ride around on a bicycle shooting at cops. What made him do it? Did he have a personal grudge against the police department? Had someone he cared about been put in jail or killed by a police officer? Did he just hate the uniform? Had he gotten a speeding ticket, which ended up sending him over the edge? So many questions...so few answers. Not that it really mattered. The plain truth was that the shootings were senseless and wrong. They just shouldn't have happened.
The more I tried to clear my head of the thoughts running through it, the more my mind kept going. I was never going to get any sleep at this rate. I shoved the comforter away from my body and got out of bed, then slowly walked out towards the kitchen. Maybe tea would help. It certainly couldn't hurt. I poured some water into the kettle and put it on the stove to wait for it to boil, then sat down at the kitchen table and started to think about Greg once again. There were some things I just couldn't get out of my head. It bothered me that I didn't even remember Greg's name when we first got to the scene of the shooting. I hadn't remembered his wife, Mary Jane, either, but they had both remembered me. I knew it didn't mean anything, but even so, I just couldn't help but feel guilty about it.
More troublesome though was the one thing I did remember...the day at the police academy when I had hung back to help Greg and another officer through the mile and a half run. You had to do it in 12 minutes or you couldn't graduate. "Go, go, go!" I'd shouted endlessly, running beside them, encouraging them, telling them not to give up, that I knew they could do it. They had done it. Mary Jane said Greg had never forgotten it...and now he was dead, his wife a widow, his son, fatherless. I knew in my heart that it wasn't my fault, but there was this little part of me that couldn't help wondering what Greg would have been doing if he hadn't passed the test that day. Maybe he would have found an even more fulfilling job...a safe job. Instead of lying under the ground in a cemetery, he'd be home in bed with his wife right now.
Mary Jane had asked me to serve as a pallbearer at the funeral. Sully said it was an honor and I knew that he was right, but, God, it was a hard thing to do. I'd tried so hard to emotionally distance myself from what was going on around me. I didn't want to witness the grief of Greg's wife, now left to raise a young son on her own. I hadn't been able to do it though. I had gotten caught up in it, just like I knew I would. When Greg's little boy had returned my salute I'd honestly thought I was going to totally lose it. He was just so young...too young to even fully comprehend what he had lost. Memories of another funeral...another young boy sitting by his mother's side as the haunting sound of Taps was played came flooding back. I hadn't known either. All I knew then was that I'd lost my father and I missed him. I hadn't understood how many times it would come back to me over the years...times when the loss of my dad was especially felt... the first time I'd gone on a date, my senior prom, college graduation, when the Giants won the Superbowl...special times I wished I could have shared with my father. Sully knew. When I felt his hand on my shoulder at the cemetery, I knew that he understood what I was going through, that he was likely going through it as well. That was what happened when someone was laid to rest. It brought back the memories of all the others who had gone before them.
The whistling of the kettle interrupted my thoughts. I quickly got up and poured the hot water into the mug then absently stirred the tea with a spoon. Sully's words from when we first got back to the precinct after the shooting were rattling around in my head. "Do me a favor? If anything ever happens to me, don't let some guy get up there and say how I'm a hero because I gave my life for the city of New York. It wouldn't be my choice. I don't come to work to give my life for anything."
Greg was now a hero. My dad had been a hero as well. The job we had was filled with inherent danger. We risked our lives on a daily basis, but I knew what Sully said was true for me as well. I was willing to give my life in the line of duty if I had to, but it wouldn't be my choice. I guessed it wasn't really anyone's choice though. I knew it hadn't been my dad's choice and I was sure it hadn't been Greg's. A person didn't just decide to die a hero - it just happened.
My heart went out to Greg and Mary Jane's son. If he was anything like me, his dad would have been a hero no matter what he did, but now it was official. Greg and I hadn't been close in life, but now, after what had happened, I felt a kinship with him and with his family. After my dad had died, Sully had come by our house every so often. He had taken me to ball games or movies or just to grab a bite to eat. It might not have seemed like a big deal to him, but it had meant the world to me. It was something I could do now for Greg's kid. I could help him the way Sully had helped me.
It was the least I could do for the son of a hero.
Author: Lynne Facella
Email: [email protected]
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of John Wells and Edward Allen Bernero. I wish they were mine but unfortunately they're not.
Summary: Ty's thoughts after the death of a fellow officer.
Notes: This is an old episode, but I saw it on A&E a few nights back and just felt the need to write a little something about it.
******
Hero: A person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life.
******
I rolled over onto my side and glanced at the brightly lit numbers on the digital display of the alarm clock...3:23 AM. I'd been in bed for hours, but as tired as I felt, I found that sleep was completely elusive to me tonight. I just couldn't get the events of the last few days out of my head...couldn't stop thinking about why things happened the way they did...
Just a few short days ago Greg Richardson had been alive. He'd kissed his wife and son goodbye and went off to work just like any other day. Except for Greg it hadn't been just any other day. It had been the last day of his life. There had been so much blood...too much blood. I'd held his hand and tried to comfort him, telling him that everything would be okay. He'd known that it wasn't true though. The look in his eyes had said it all...desperately gasping for each of his last breaths, wanting his wife to know that he loved her. Yet when his wife had asked me if I'd been there and she was so obviously devastated by what had happened, I made the split second decision to lie. In that moment, I decided it was better for her to think that Greg had been unconscious, that he hadn't even known what hit him. I just thought it would be easier for her that way. It was a decision I probably had no right to even make, but it was what I had done and I'd have to live with it now. It was obvious Greg loved his family. I'd seen the picture of his wife and son he had worn in his hat. One gunshot...one life ended...a family torn apart.
Life is a funny thing. Every day you make choices...decisions that affect your own life and the lives of others. Some decisions seem meaningless at the time. A person wakes up late for work and decides to skip breakfast in order to save time, but then later on ends up fainting on the subway. A careless driver cuts you off on the highway...you can decide to ignore it or ride on the tail of his car possibly causing an accident. A whacko just gets up one day and decides to ride around on a bicycle shooting at cops. What made him do it? Did he have a personal grudge against the police department? Had someone he cared about been put in jail or killed by a police officer? Did he just hate the uniform? Had he gotten a speeding ticket, which ended up sending him over the edge? So many questions...so few answers. Not that it really mattered. The plain truth was that the shootings were senseless and wrong. They just shouldn't have happened.
The more I tried to clear my head of the thoughts running through it, the more my mind kept going. I was never going to get any sleep at this rate. I shoved the comforter away from my body and got out of bed, then slowly walked out towards the kitchen. Maybe tea would help. It certainly couldn't hurt. I poured some water into the kettle and put it on the stove to wait for it to boil, then sat down at the kitchen table and started to think about Greg once again. There were some things I just couldn't get out of my head. It bothered me that I didn't even remember Greg's name when we first got to the scene of the shooting. I hadn't remembered his wife, Mary Jane, either, but they had both remembered me. I knew it didn't mean anything, but even so, I just couldn't help but feel guilty about it.
More troublesome though was the one thing I did remember...the day at the police academy when I had hung back to help Greg and another officer through the mile and a half run. You had to do it in 12 minutes or you couldn't graduate. "Go, go, go!" I'd shouted endlessly, running beside them, encouraging them, telling them not to give up, that I knew they could do it. They had done it. Mary Jane said Greg had never forgotten it...and now he was dead, his wife a widow, his son, fatherless. I knew in my heart that it wasn't my fault, but there was this little part of me that couldn't help wondering what Greg would have been doing if he hadn't passed the test that day. Maybe he would have found an even more fulfilling job...a safe job. Instead of lying under the ground in a cemetery, he'd be home in bed with his wife right now.
Mary Jane had asked me to serve as a pallbearer at the funeral. Sully said it was an honor and I knew that he was right, but, God, it was a hard thing to do. I'd tried so hard to emotionally distance myself from what was going on around me. I didn't want to witness the grief of Greg's wife, now left to raise a young son on her own. I hadn't been able to do it though. I had gotten caught up in it, just like I knew I would. When Greg's little boy had returned my salute I'd honestly thought I was going to totally lose it. He was just so young...too young to even fully comprehend what he had lost. Memories of another funeral...another young boy sitting by his mother's side as the haunting sound of Taps was played came flooding back. I hadn't known either. All I knew then was that I'd lost my father and I missed him. I hadn't understood how many times it would come back to me over the years...times when the loss of my dad was especially felt... the first time I'd gone on a date, my senior prom, college graduation, when the Giants won the Superbowl...special times I wished I could have shared with my father. Sully knew. When I felt his hand on my shoulder at the cemetery, I knew that he understood what I was going through, that he was likely going through it as well. That was what happened when someone was laid to rest. It brought back the memories of all the others who had gone before them.
The whistling of the kettle interrupted my thoughts. I quickly got up and poured the hot water into the mug then absently stirred the tea with a spoon. Sully's words from when we first got back to the precinct after the shooting were rattling around in my head. "Do me a favor? If anything ever happens to me, don't let some guy get up there and say how I'm a hero because I gave my life for the city of New York. It wouldn't be my choice. I don't come to work to give my life for anything."
Greg was now a hero. My dad had been a hero as well. The job we had was filled with inherent danger. We risked our lives on a daily basis, but I knew what Sully said was true for me as well. I was willing to give my life in the line of duty if I had to, but it wouldn't be my choice. I guessed it wasn't really anyone's choice though. I knew it hadn't been my dad's choice and I was sure it hadn't been Greg's. A person didn't just decide to die a hero - it just happened.
My heart went out to Greg and Mary Jane's son. If he was anything like me, his dad would have been a hero no matter what he did, but now it was official. Greg and I hadn't been close in life, but now, after what had happened, I felt a kinship with him and with his family. After my dad had died, Sully had come by our house every so often. He had taken me to ball games or movies or just to grab a bite to eat. It might not have seemed like a big deal to him, but it had meant the world to me. It was something I could do now for Greg's kid. I could help him the way Sully had helped me.
It was the least I could do for the son of a hero.