by Pandora Pine
“Ronan, you need to figure out a way to make this work for Mark,” Father O’Callaghan said.
“Why is this coming down on my shoulders?” Ronan asked angrily.
“We’re old friends...” Frank tilted his head.
“Jesus Christ, Father,” Fitzgibbon stepped in. “That’s one hell of a Catholic guilt trip your laying on him. As Ronan’s captain, I can’t allow him to put his detective’s shield and his pension on the line here.” Kevin turned to Ronan. “Look at him, Father. He’s still recovering from three gunshot wounds to the chest that nearly killed him. I’d say he’s got five minutes of battery life left in him before he runs down completely.”
Ronan rolled his blue eyes, but didn’t contradict his boss either.
“Tennyson,” Bertha Craig whispered urgently. “Get to the bathroom, now. Keep Tony here.”
“Why?” he whispered.
“The gun’s missing.” She pointed to the dresser where Tony had left his sidearm minutes ago.
Tennyson followed her hand and saw that the gun was gone. “Is he planning to use it.” Tennyson had no idea what he was supposed to do here.
Bertha nodded. “I’m going to him now, just in case he needs a friendly face to meet him on the other side.”
“Jesus, Bertha, is he going to...?” Ten couldn’t bear to say the words out loud.
Bertha kept silent eye contact with Ten and disappeared.
Tennyson felt a dead calm come over him. He grabbed Fitzgibbon’s arm and pulled the captain closer. “Bertha Craig just told me Mark has Tony’s gun in the bathroom with him. Keep Tony here. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but Bertha’s ready to greet him if things go that way.”
Kevin’s eyes widened. He stayed silent but nodded.
Tennyson slipped away from the group. Ronan, Frank, and Tony were still arguing about the best thing to do about Mark. Ten had a feeling it wasn’t going to matter.
“Mark?” Ten called, lightly knocking on the door.
“Go away, Tennyson. I have to do this!” Mark’s voice sounded calm and in control.
Ten had a feeling that was what he was going to say. “Tell me why you think that.”
“You heard the priest. This is never going to end. Jacobson is never going to leave me alone. He’s either going to possess me until he kills me or he’s going to keep taking me over and killing other people using my body to do it. It stops here. It stops today.” There was conviction in the young man’s voice.
“Mark, think about this. Your father is here. Don’t do this to him. Don’t make him remember you like this, please.” Ten was flying by the seat of his pants here. He had no idea if he was saying the right thing or if he was pushing Mark closer to pulling the trigger.
“I left a note. It’s on the legal pad. I love him. I love my Mom too. They gave me so much love, but it wasn’t enough.” Mark was crying now.
“Please, Mark. There’s another way out of this. Let us help you figure it out.” Ten rested his hand against the locked bathroom door. He wished he could get inside the room to comfort the boy, but knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“Are your friends waiting for me?” Mark asked through hitching breaths. “B-Bertha? Is she waiting for me?”
Ten was torn. Did he tell the boy that Bertha was in the room with him?
“Tell him Ten! For the love of Jesus! Ease his pain. You know he’s right. This isn’t going to end well either way. This is the only way his soul can rest in peace.” Bertha was shouting.
“Yes, Bertha is with you. She’s in the bathroom now. She’ll be waiting for you on the other side.” Tears were streaking down Tennyson’s face. His heart was shattered into a million pieces.
“Jesus, fuck, Tennyson, no!” Tony shouted. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Ten turned to see Tony struggling against Fitzgibbon who had the distraught man in a choke hold. Fitzgibbon had a determined look on his face.
“Suicide is a sin!” Tony shouted. “It’s a mortal sin! My son will burn in hell for an eternity.” Tony kept fighting against Kevin, who wasn’t showing any signs of tiring.
“No, he won’t,” Tennyson said. This wasn’t the time for a theology debate. He’d spoken to dozens of suicide victims over the course of his career and none of them were burning in hell.
Ronan came up to the door. He wrapped an arm around Tennyson. “Is he really going to be all right on the other side if he does this?”
Ten nodded.
“I trust you, Ten.” Ronan pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “We’re here for you, Mark. We love you so much. Please don’t do this.”
“I shot you, Ronan!” Mark cried.
“I forgive you.” Ronan’s voice held no room for doubt. He meant every word.
“I killed those boys. Jacobson made me do it, but I killed them!” Mark yelled.
“Ask Jesus to forgive you and he will. Ask him to forgive all of your sins.” Ronan turned to Frank. “Forgive him Father. Absolve him.”
The priest’s eyes widened. “Ronan you know I can’t...”
“Do it!” Ronan and Tony shouted at once.
“Last rites too, Father.” Fitzgibbon said.
Father O’Callaghan paled, but started reciting the prayers.
Tennyson stood back and opened his gift wide, reaching out to Mark through the closed bathroom door. He could sense his underlying fear, but beyond that was a greater sense of peace.
“By the Faculty which the Apostolic See has given me, I grant you a plenary indulgence for the remission of all your sins, and I bless you. In the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen,” Father O’Callaghan finished.
“Amen,” everyone chorused.
“Tell Mom and my brothers how much I love them.” Mark’s voice sounded stronger now.
“I will.” Tony agreed.
“I love you, Dad. I love you so much,” Mark said. He’d stopped crying and his voice sounded stronger.
“I love you too, son. You are my son. Don’t you ever forget that!” Tony cried, his voice cracking.
“I won’t.” Mark’s voice was barely audible. “Goodbye.” There was a silent pause.
A single gunshot rang out.
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later...
Ronan was feeling stronger today than he had in any day since he’d been shot. He’d been released for good from the hospital a week ago and last night was the first night he’d spent in his own bed. For the two weeks he’d been home, he’d been camped out on the living room sofa with Dixie as his constant companion.
Tennyson, not wanting to be separated from him, had borrowed Truman’s air mattress and slept on the living room floor. Truman had used the mattress himself when Carson had come home from his time in the hospital after he’d been shot.
He bit his lip to keep from laughing over the thought that way too many of them had been shot within the last year. The thought occurred to him that life was too short not to laugh.
“Hey, you okay?” Tennyson asked from behind him.
Ronan jumped a bit and spun around. Ten was standing behind him holding Dixie. “Hello there my little love muffin. Hello to you too, Ten.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows.
“Oh, so now you’re a comedian. I’m glad to see that in addition to the gigantic hospital bill, the doctor also gave you a funny bone.”
“I’ve always been funny, you’re just now coming to appreciate my particular brand of humor.” Ronan frowned. “I was just thinking how all of us need to stop getting shot and when I went to laugh out loud, I stopped myself at the last minute.”
Ten pressed a kiss to Ronan’s lips. Dixie tried to join in. The laugh that Ronan had been trying to hold in broke free. Tennyson joined in with him.
Concern lit Ten’s dark eyes. “Ronan, I know these last two weeks have been sad as hell, but today is meant to be a celebration.”
Ronan nodded and tugged Tennyson closer. The last two weeks had been hell, period. After the gunsho
t had stopped echoing in the tiny hotel room, Fitzgibbon had broken down the bathroom door, while Ronan had called 9-1-1. As he’d thought, there was nothing that could be done for Mark. Father O’Callaghan said a last prayer for the boy’s soul and left before police and EMTs arrived.
They’d all decided that their story would be that Tony had called Fitzgibbon to apprehend his son, the fugitive, and things got out of hand with Mark locking himself in the bathroom and taking his own life. It was the truth, after all. There were just a lot of details omitted from the middle of the account.
Once the Essex County Medical Examiner had taken Mark’s body away and the Peabody Police had their questions satisfactorily answered, Fitzgibbon had taken Ten and Ronan back to the hospital. Ten had spent the night with Ronan curled up with him in his hospital bed.
In the days that followed there had been a tearful visit from Carlie Abruzzi. Tennyson had been able to let her speak to her son and say her own private goodbye. It hadn’t been easy for any of them, but at the end of it, Carlie had thanked Tennyson for being there for Mark and making sure that he wasn’t alone when he crossed over.
Ronan had also made one more appeal to his doctors to be sprung from the hospital, this time so he could attend Mark’s funeral. There hadn’t been a dry eye in St. Christopher’s Catholic Church.
Due to the circumstances of his death, Mark should not have had a Catholic funeral. He also should not have been buried in consecrated ground, but thanks to Ronan’s power of persuasion and a little Catholic guilt trip of his own, Father O’Callaghan had relented.
“Dad! I want one of these popcorn machines!” Greeley yelled as he ran in through the sliding glass door. “Whoa! Sorry, guys.” He stopped short when he saw Tennyson and Ronan hugging each other.
It had been a bit of an adjustment, but Ronan was getting used to having Kevin and Greeley living with them. The move was only temporary, at least until Kevin could find a house in Salem that suited the two of them. By “suited” he had a feeling Fitzgibbon meant was on the same street as their house.
“Greeley, no shouting in the house.” Fitzgibbon rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. “But since the damage is done, what were you yelling about?”
“The popcorn maker. Truman showed me how to use it. It looks just like something you’d see at an old timey carnival.” Greeley’s green eyes glowed with happiness.
“We’re gonna need a bigger house with all of these things you want us to get.” Kevin slapped a hand on his son’s shoulder before turning to Tennyson and Ronan. “Hello, Princess.” Kevin scooped Dixie out of Tennyson’s arms. The puppy started licking him instantly. “Uncle Kevin missed you. Yes, he did. He did.”
“You were outside for ten minutes.” Ronan rolled his eyes. “Is everything all set?”
Kevin nodded. “Yes, and all the guests are here. Even Father O’Callaghan came. Is your speech ready?” Kevin asked Ronan.
Ronan nodded, patting the ass of his jeans to make sure it was still there. He’d been up until the early hours of the morning trying to find the right words to pay tribute to a young man who was gone far too soon. Tennyson finally had to come and pull him away from the dining room table and tuck him into bed. No one had heard the speech yet. “No time like the present, I guess.” Ronan rocked back on his heels.
“You’re gonna do great, Uncle Ronan.” Greeley patted his shoulder.
Ronan hoped the teenager’s faith in him was justified. He was a cop, not a poet. Words weren’t his thing, but he hoped that for one day, they would be.
Fitzgibbon and Greeley went out through the sliding glass door ahead of Ronan and Tennyson. Ronan hadn’t been a part of setting the backyard up for the party, so this was the first time he was seeing it. What he saw took his breath away.
At the back of the small yard was a white bedsheet that had been strung up like a movie screen. In front of it were rows of lawn chairs, which were filled with Mark’s friends and loved ones. The lawn chair in the front held the urn with the portion of Mark’s ashes that Tony and Carlie had kept for themselves. To the left side of the lawn chairs was the concession area. The portable popcorn machine sat next to a table that had popcorn boxes, movie theatre sized boxes of candy and coolers full of soda and water. Lastly, the table held a guestbook and remembrance cards with Mark’s picture on them.
“Wow!” Ronan whispered. He could feel his throat closing up and tears stinging the back of his eyes.
“You ready for this?” Tennyson asked. “If not, I can read your speech.” His brown eyes glittered under the porch light in the coming dusk.
Ronan shook his head. He was ready to give his speech, what he wasn’t ready for was the wave of emotion threatening to pull him under. He threaded his hand with Ten’s and tugged him around toward the front of the movie screen and their assembled guests.
“Hi everyone.” Ronan waved with his free hand. He looked out over all of their friends who’d made it here today. All of the Abruzzis, Carson, Truman and their babies, who were dozing together in a nearby portable crib, along with Laurel, Cole and Cassie’s baby were there. Lyric Vaughn, along with her wife and daughter were in the third row. In the back row was Broughan Beals who was sitting next to Vann Hoffman and Madam Aurora. Fitzgibbon was sitting in the middle row with Jace Lincoln and Greeley. Next to Greeley was his purple-haired date, whose name, Ronan had found out last night, was Devon. Ronan had no doubt there were others here tonight that only Tennyson could see. “I’d like to welcome you all to Mark Abruzzi’s celebration of life.” As he started to speak, pictures of Mark started to play on the big screen behind them. Ronan turned to Tennyson. “Is our guest of honor here?”
Tennyson nodded. “Mark’s standing right next to me.”
There were a few gasps from their friends. Tennyson had been in contact with Mark on the third day after his death. Mark had joked that he and Jesus had that in common. After all, JC had gotten back in touch with his friends and family on the third day too, he’d joked.
Tennyson turned back from the images playing on the screen. “Mark wants to thank everyone for coming tonight. He especially wants his parents to know that he’s okay. Rob Jacobson isn’t with him on the other side. He’s free.”
“Oh, thank you, Jesus,” Tony said. Keegan rested his head on his father’s shoulder.
Tennyson nodded. “Mark says that Bertha Craig and Ronan’s mother Erin, were both waiting for him when he passed.” Ten laughed and swiped at a rogue tear. “They hugged him sore, is what Mark’s saying.”
“I believe it,” Carson laughed.
“Me too,” Ronan agreed. “Mom was a little lady but she’d break your ribs if you let her hold on long enough.”
“I know there’s been a lot of concern about the way Mark passed.” Ten paused, looking up at Ronan.
They’d talked about how Tennyson would bring this up. Either way they sliced it, it wasn’t easy to talk about suicide. Ronan gave their joined hands a squeeze.
“I’m well aware about what the Bible says about suicide, but I can also tell you all about the reality of it too. Mark isn’t burning in hell. He isn’t suffering eternal damnation. He’s whole and at peace. Bertha and Erin are with him. He’s safe and happy and surrounded by love. He misses you all so much, especially Jefferson, Keegan, and Brody. Mark sends his love to Tony and Carlie. He says he hears you both talking to him all the time. He knows Ronan forgives him, but he also wants Truman and Greeley to know how sorry he is for hurting them too.”
“You’re forgiven, Mark,” Greeley said easily. “Rest in peace.”
Truman nodded. “Same goes for me. Give my mother-in-law a hug for me.”
“Mark says, ‘Done!’” Tennyson grinned. “Ronan and I would like to thank you all for coming here today to celebrate Mark’s life with us. Ronan has a few words he’d like to say.” Ten kissed their joined hands and moved to pull away.
“Oh, no you don’t, Nostradamus. I’m not gonna be able to get through this without you
by my side.” Ronan cleared his throat and pulled his speech out of his pocket with his free hand. “Mark Hanks-Abruzzi didn’t have the best start in life, but what he lacked in luck, he made up for with his beautiful soul. He never gave up on the idea of finding true love. Even after he’d been forced to sell the most precious thing he had, Mark still believed that his Prince Charming was out there waiting to find him.” This was definitely harder than he thought. Ronan shook his head.
“You’re doing great,” Ten whispered, pressing a kiss to Ronan’s temple.
“Even when evil tried to conquer his spirit, he fought with all the love in his heart to win.” Ronan lost it. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
Tennyson pulled his fiancé into his arms, rocking him gently.
“I’ve got it, Uncle Ronan,” Greeley said gently. “Evil didn’t defeat Mark Abruzzi, it only made him stronger. Mark is watching all of us today with pride, knowing that it’s our love for him that brought us all here today to celebrate his life. We love you, Mark. We always have and we always will. I know we’ll meet again, but until then, I know you’ll be watching over us and you’ll be forever in our hearts.”
Everyone stood up to applaud, while Greeley wrapped his arms around Tennyson and Ronan.
Fitzgibbon stepped up to the screen. “Now, for everyone’s viewing pleasure, we’d like to present Mark’s favorite movie, Pretty Woman. Help yourself to popcorn and other snacks and don’t forget to sign the guestbook and grab a memory card. Oh, and if anyone needs a free hug, I’m available.” Fitzgibbon held his arms wide open. Greeley took his father up on his invitation.
Tennyson dragged Ronan away from the screen as the movie began to play. “You doing okay?”
Ronan shook his head no. “I’ve been a cop for thirteen years now, Ten. I’ve seen some awful things, but I think this is the worst thing ever. Watching one of my best friends bury his teenage son…” He stopped talking. Ronan simply didn’t have the words to continue.
“I haven’t wanted to say anything with the pain being so raw, but it was his time to go, Ronan,” Tennyson whispered.