Prompt set 5-1. Black
Lucas glanced around the tiny chapel. He was amused by the division - UK on one side, with a handful of MI5 officers, US on the other. There were a few CIA agents he recognised, and some people who looked enough like her to qualify as family. It was as if the aisle represented the Atlantic, and never the two coasts shall meet.
Instead of blue, it was a sea of black. Suits, hats, dresses - all black for the funeral of Sarah Caulfield. He watched silently from the back as the reverend talked about how wonderful Sarah was in her life, how many lives she’d touched. Lucas wanted to burst out laughing. How many people had she taken in? Friends, family, lovers? All believing that she was something precious, something special - something she wasn’t.
He couldn’t help himself. He clapped his hands, a slow beat, cutting through the sudden silence that fell. The vicar glared at him. Who was this person who dared to interrupt. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Harry, who had gone pale, with Ruth sitting beside him.
“She’s good,” he heard himself saying as he slowly walked forward. “No, really. Even now you believe that you could do no wrong, that she deserves her place in heaven. Sweet, innocent little Sarah, wrongfully murdered before her time.”
“Lucas,” Harry had stood up and walked towards his protégé, and spoke in a low voice. “Leave it.”
“Harry...”
“Lucas. Look around you.”
He did so. People were staring at him, their disdain for the man interrupting the service obvious. A memory of a conversation he’d had with his father came floating back at him, when he’d asked a question about one of the village’s less pleasant older women, who Lucas had had several runs in with, who had died. “Remember, son. It doesn’t matter what they were like in life. In death, everyone is the same. God sees all, and he judges accordingly.” He slowly walked away from where he was, heading back to his seat, memories threatening to overwhelm him...
Lucas gasped as he sat up suddenly, waking himself from his dream. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, getting his thoughts in order. He reached for his phone from the bedside cabinet, dialling a number. “This is Simon Weber, checking on the condition of Louisa Redfern,” he said when it was answered.
He thought that he recognised the name of the nurse that answered. “Still no change I’m afraid, sir,” she said. “We will ring when there is.”
“Thank you.” In the silence that followed Lucas thought about the past week, waiting for news about Ros. So badly injured after the bomb, they had all spent time at the hospital, just sitting there... waiting.
He swung his legs out of bed, glancing at the dark suit hung up, waiting for him to change into it.
He hated funerals.
Lucas North
Spooks
Word Count: 487
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