Closure

She thought it odd that he was the first to die. After all she was the one who was reckless and brash. She was always the first into the fray, the first to speak out, the first to throw a punch. He always warned her to be more cautious. He always took the time to plan out the next move. He was her mentor, her conscience, her grounding rod. So why was he the one that they were lowering into the damp earth?

She jumped as the first shots rang out. The image of him rushing into the room blindly filled her head. The second shot rang clearly and she could see him crumple to the ground clutching his chest. As the final shot rang through the cool autumn air she was lost in the silence, the memory of firing on the suspect, and falling beside him, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. She couldn't let him go. He had to be okay. He was the closest thing she had to a family. 

Why? Why couldn't she have been the first to enter the room? She glanced across at his widow, wishing there was something she could say. If she could trade places with him, if she could be the one in the casket, if there was anyway that He could be returned to his grieving family. She silently cursed God for taking him. For letting her live.

As the people began to move back to their cars she stood, watching as they filled in the gaping earth over his final resting place.
"Don't be so hard on yourself. This is how he would have wanted to go. In the line of duty, protecting the people he cared about." She was surprised by the sudden voice beside her. His widow was standing there, offering her a tissue. "He saw you as a daughter. I know he is satisfied with the choice he made. We are all going back to our house, the church has provided a lunch and I would love for you to come. We are family now, as far as I am concerned. We should remember his life in joy, not mourn his death in darkness."

"Thank you, Sarah, But I think I will stay here a little longer." She smiled through the pain. She wanted to embrace her, offer comfort, but she knew is she did, she would break down.

Sarah nodded and turned to walk away, pausing for a moment. and glancing back. "Vivian, I don't blame you. I know him, and I know what happened. This was in no way your fault. Please don't blame yourself. Whenever you are ready, my home is open to you. After all, we only have each other now."

Vivian looked at her surprised.

"He never told you, did he?" Sarah walked back to stand before her. "I was like you, many years ago. I know, it's hard to imagine that, seeing me here now all wrinkled and old, sounding almost american. But I was like you once. We met when he was a soldier in the war. I was desperate, alone, and doing whatever I could to survive. I'm sure you can imagine what that means. And what American did not want a French girl? He saved me, he brought me here. He gave me a second chance. I left it all behind, my name, my past, everything. Because of him I was able to start over. He was the one who saved me. Take your time, but I will leave a light on for you, dear, whenever you are ready to come home I'll be waiting."

Vivian pulled her cigarette case out with trembling hands and struggled to light her cigarette is the frigged wind. She sat down beside him, watching as the covered the casket, one shovel full at a time. Sarah was right. He had saved her. She was fifteen when they had met, orphaned and alone. Running small goods for the local gangs. Picking pockets and stealing food to survive. Sleeping wherever she could find shelter. She made a mistake one day, got cocky and was caught. She thought it would earn her respect if she could show the bosses she had the skill to pick from a copper. She tried to pick from him. He decided that day she would be his 'project' and like a stray he began caring for her little by little. It started small, bringing her food, buying her a coat. But it grew, and she came to trust him more and more, he found her a job shining shoes, boys work, but that was how she liked it. Later he helper her into a small apartment, even fronting her the money for a months rent. And Sarah, Sarah and been beside him every step of the way. Helping her to furnish the apartment. Taking her to get cloths that actually fit. Teaching her to cook.

Then He had brought her into the force, When women were considered to be inferior he fought for her, even taking her on as his partner so that she wasn't stuck directing traffic. He had been there for nearly ten years caring for her, teaching her. Sarah was right. He had saved her. If it hadn't have been for him she would be dead in a gutter. Or be the bed warmer of a mob boss. He had been her way out.

"How, Jackson, How can I ever repay you?" She whispered.

"Well, miss, as I couldn't help but hear what you ladies spoke of, I think he would want you to continue the circle. He saved you, now be everything he taught you to be, Save the world one lost soul at a time. I know I'm not but a humble grave digger, but, miss, I believe that is what Mr. William Jackson would have wanted."

She looked up startled. As she had recalled there had only been one man shoveling the cold earth. One man. So who was this standing before her, shovel in hand?

"You seem surprised, Vi. You have seen me many times before. Now put that stinking piece of crap out and go home to your mother. Sarah will need you tonight."

Vivian stumbled to her feet in shock. The voice, the face beneath the cap. It was Jackson! 

How, how could he be standing there, when she had just seen his casket buried! She glanced over, but when she looked back he was gone.

"You could have at least let me say good bye. Tell you that I did love you as a father. Tell you thank you." She shouted at the stone that bore his name.

"Miss?" The lonely grave digger looked surprised by her sudden outbursts. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, turning away. Perhaps this was too much for her. She was starting to see things.

"Miss, if it makes any difference I believe he can hear you."

She started back towards the gates, she had been here too long. Still, whether it was him, or it was a hallucination caused by her grief in losing the closest thing she had known to a father, she had found closure.