Fic: Lost Cause, Epilogue (Numb3rs, Don / Martin)
Title: Lost Cause, Epilogue
Pair: Don Eppes / Martin Fridegord
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Feedback: Always Welcome
NUMB3RS Main List
Chapter 1/2
Chapter 2/2
Several beads of sweat rolled down Don’s neck and wet his collar. He had known it would be a warm day, but the black suit made him feel like a barbeque chicken. He looked around, but everyone else seemed to be cool, calm and collected. A bit too calm to be natural.
He let his eyes wonder in the crow that circled the coffin. Martin’s parents were standing next to the pastor, who was reading the ceremony. His mother was calmer than she had been the day before, hanging on to her husband’s arm and focusing on every word. The glazed eyes and the vacant stare made it obvious she was more than a bit medicated.
Next to them were two of Joanna’s friends from her wandering years. They had arrived to the cemetery uninvited, but no one wanted to make a fuss. Their colourful shirts, ripped jeans and rather large tattoos made them stand out in the crowd like a pair of Harlequins in a nunnery.
The two siblings Don hadn’t met the previous evening, were standing side by side. Neither one of them had brought their children or husband. Both women kept their expressions sombre and sorrowful, but their body language told another story. They seemed uncomfortable and awkward, rather than grieving.
He heard a little sniff and looked to his left. Joanna’s boy was standing between Martin and Catherine, both adults holding one hand. Catherine was one of the few who actually had actually cried and the redness of her eyes was becoming more and more noticeable every time she rubbed them with her gloved hands. Don’s eyes focused on Martin. The man’s face was unreadable and he hadn’t removed his dark glasses. He was dressed in a black suit with a black dress shirt and a gray silk tie, immaculate from head to toe, but Don was beginning to get worried. Blocking everything out was not Martin’s normal way to deal with things.
Don leaned closer and whispered in his ear.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll be okay as soon as we get away from here.” Martin’s voice sounded scratchy. “I hate cemeteries.”
“Is that all?”
“I’ll be okay.” He placed his hadn’t on top of Don’s and gave it a reassuring little squeeze. “Just stay there.”
The pastor finished and the pallbearers approached the coffin. They positioned themselves around the coffin and lifted it off the temporary catafalque. They attached the white ropes to the handles around the casket and slowly lowered it to the grave.
The sniffling became louder and Don turned to look at Tommy. The boy had let go of Catherine’s hand and was now grasping Martin’s jacket. Don could see the man`s jaw shaking slightly. Martin picked up the boy and manoeuvred the little boy so he could wrapped his arms around Martin’s neck. Don was close enough to hear what the snivelling boy said.
“Grandma says I’m too old to be picked up.” The last few words became a wet little sob.
“That’s because grandma has a bad back.” Martin whispered back. His free hand hovered in the air for few seconds, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Then he placed it on the kid’s back and started rubbing soothing circles through the boy’s wrinkled white shirt.
Don ignored the pastors encouragement for everyone to join the last funeral hymn, and kept his eyes on Martin. The man’s head was tilted down and his mouth had turned into a tight line, holding on to the last pieces of his self-control. Then a single tear rolled down from under his dark glasses. Then another. His head shook as he breathed deeply and let the tears come.