Marble
Notes: CSI/NYPD Blue crossover. Part of the Friends Indeed universe
The pale January sun is high in an equally pale blue sky, meaning that the bare branches of the trees in the graveyard cast shadowy patterns across the white snow. It's freezing cold, and Tony would like nothing more than to be inside, where it's warm, but he knows that this is where he has to be, so he pulls the collar of his coat up slightly to ward off the chill, jamming his gloved hands in his pockets, and waits.
In front of him stands a woman some nine years his junior, her back to him, cold and still as marble. She's appropriately dressed for the weather, warm coat, hat, scarf and gloves bespeaking her pedigree as someone who's just survived four hard Boston winters. He's got to know her very well in the last few months, talking to her on the phone once a week at least, but she's not talking now, at least not to him.
Instead, she's staring down at the cold marble slab in front of her, the black stone gleaming in the hazy sunlight, her brother's name shining out in gold script. That stone was the cause of many phone battles for the two of them, with him insisting that she couldn't afford to pay for it outright - he was a college student once, he remembers the financial poverty all too well - and since he was the one who helped her pick it out, made sure that it was installed properly, he went ahead and got the company to bill him for it. He told her that she could pay him back later, but it had taken several long conversations, each with high decibel levels, for her to agree to it, and only then when he reminded her that it was a done deal. It is, even if he says so himself, a handsome gravestone, and today is her first time seeing it, her whole reason for this trip.
He'd seen the strain on her face when he'd picked her up at JFK, noticed that she appeared to have lost weight since he'd seen her last, and she certainly hadn't been the livewire that he'd come to know through their phone conversations. She'd grown paler, though he wouldn't have thought that possible at first, when they got back to his place, when she saw that Angela was nowhere to be seen, and he lied to her, told her that Angie was out of town, visiting friends. He didn't tell her the truth, that his wife's absences were becoming more and more frequent, lasting longer and longer each time, nor did he voice the fear to her that one day, he was going to be on the receiving end of the same phone call that he'd once shared with her.
He jumps when he hears her voice, and it takes a second for him to realise that she's not talking to him. Instead, the angry, bitter voice is directed at the gravestone, at the person who lies beneath, and he knows that this is private, that he shouldn't be hearing this. He should step back, he knows that, but he stays where he is, just in case she needs him.
"This sucks Mike," she says. "This really, really sucks… I shouldn't be standing here like this… and I am so beyond pissed at you right now. You told me you were fine, you told me that you were cutting down, that you weren't using so much…"
Tony closes his eyes, the words sounding familiar to him, words that he's heard Angela used time and time again. He's pretty sure that once upon a time, he heard Mike use them as well, feels the familiar pang of guilt rising up in his throat. After all, he's a narcotics cop, he should have been able to help Mike, he should be able to help Angela.
Instead, all he can do is help Sara.
"You lied to me Mike, over and over, and I should have known that… I should have been there, I should have been able to help you…"
Sara's voice is getting shakier and shakier, and Tony takes a step forwards, because he's pretty sure that she's inches away from losing control. It strikes him suddenly that he's never seen her break down before; he's seen her cry, there's been the occasional sob, but she's always pulled herself back together quickly. Somehow, he doesn't think that that's going to happen this time.
"I wish I'd done more…" Sara continues. "I'm sorry Mike… I'm so sorry… "
By the time she says that, Tony's beside her, and he can see the tears that are rolling down her cheeks, can see the myriad puffs of air that are appearing in front of her as a result of her rapid breaths. He can see the tremble of her shoulders, the movement of her throat as she swallows hard, trying to keep back her tears, and she must see him out of the corner of her eye, because she turns to look at him, and the pain in her eyes is more than he's ever seen.
"It's ok Sara," he whispers, and her wide eyes look back at him. He curses himself for not coming up with any other words to make her feel better, though he's not so sure that there are any words that are quite that powerful.
Then he realises that there are no words, so he doesn't even try. Instead, when she looks away from him, pressing a hand to her lips, bending over slightly to try to keep in a sob, he reaches out for her, pulls her to him, wrapping her in his arms. He expects resistance, but finds none, and she buries her head in his shoulder, slipping her arms around his waist, holding him tightly. He rests his head on top of hers as she shakes in his arms, her sobs echoing in the silent graveyard.
He's never seen her like this before, marble crumbling into sand, one grain at a time, and he feels utterly helpless. He's not sure what to do, so he does the only thing he can - he holds on to her, and doesn't let her go.