15th of June

Robert deserves better than he got, both from life and from us. On one hand, I know full well that he'd prefer it this way, that we all keep working to catch the monster behind all of this, that we don't waste unnecessary time wallowing, and on the other hand he was a good man, and he deserves more than hastily wiped tears shed on a coffee break.

His lack of presence creates a ghost with all of us. It manifests differently from person to person. Karl speaks even less than before, replacing some of his rare sentences with hand gestures or simply not replying. Catherine does her best to keep going as usual, but her formerly bright smile is now forced and leaves her face looking somewhat gray. Her posture has changed too, she tilts slightly like there's still a weight on her shoulder where Robert used to rest his hand, and I have noticed her staring off into nothingness and then jerk back to reality as if electrocuted. John becomes more closed off, working none stop till the job's done, and then taking on the next thing. I think Lindsay has it worst though, after what happened with Michelle she's spiraling through self-blame into self-loathing. As for me, I keep thinking back to the first conversation I had with him. 

"You stuck around and took care of the students before fleeing the scene. You should give yourself more credit."

So I go back to my old role. None of them are particularly pleased with me when I go around the table collecting their files and replacing them with plates, John is the only one to verbally protest though. Karl, in one of his rare moments of not practicing for his role as the little mermaid, tells him to "shut up" and reaches for the potatoes.

They don't grow fonder, though perhaps more accepting, of my attempts to mother them. I don't mind, I'm used to being the practical one. I just wish I knew what else might help them.

The first day we came back to Karl's apartment we found papers scattered all over and the furniture overturned. Karl was sitting on the side of an overturned armchair with his head in his hands. He didn't say a word, just indicated at John to help him lift the table back up. I don't know how he managed to overturn it in the first place, it's thick oak. There's now a record of domestic disturbance in his file.

I wish more than anything I could fix it all, just give them their lives back, make it as if this year never happened, or that I could just make their favorite dish and the pain would go away as I did with Liv.

I throw the shawl over my shoulders. John puts his coat over his arm and holds the door open for me. The others are waiting outside in a car so we can all go together. It is quiet. I have nothing to say to take away the pain, the anger, so I join in the silence.

Robert's parents and grandfather greet us at the church. They shake hands with each of us, and we all take turns to tell them we're sorry for their loss. Mrs. Porter pulls Catherine in for a hug and holds her for a minute before letting go. Catherine wipes a tear from her cheek and Karl hands her a handkerchief.

We split up and take two benches, Karl and John sitting at their assigned seats so they can help carry the coffin. A few people come over to greet Catherine and the others, some of them introduce themselves to me as well, but most that come in just take their seats. A lot of somewhat familiar faces show up too. Agents I've passed at the office. I only know Agent Johnson and Agent Freeman by name.

The preacher starts the service and we all listen to the stories about Robert. He lived with his grandfather most of his childhood since his father was in the army. There's an anecdote in there about how his grandfather had to calm down his parents after they saw his report card. We hear about his involvement in the FBI baseball team and his dedication to his family and friends. The preacher tells us a thousand things I never knew. I knew nothing about him, I only just met him a few months ago, and I've never seen him outside of work - apart from Catherine's birthday, and somehow I imagine that's not how it usually is.

The beautiful words of Chris Rupp ends the ceremony: 'I see you're worried, afraid of what's next; You hope there's a plan, how could this be best; Don't fear for me, I'm not afraid of the rain; Just getting things ready, 'til we're together again.

I'm moving on to a road less traveled; I'm moving on to a place where I can rest; Don't worry for me it's time to go; Being called home to a place I know; Now I'm moving on.

My life has been special, more precious than words; Good times and bad times, love and the hurt; I'm proud of who I am, and the path that I've led; I have no regrets, it's been worth it in the end.

My only wish, that you live your life full; Don't mourn for me, go and celebrate it all; I had all that anyone could ever ask for; So thanks for the memories, I'll be waiting for more.'

Karl and John join Robert's father, grandfather, cousin and childhood friend and the coffin is carried out.

Two hours later the green pasture, serving as the final resting place for so many no longer troubled with the banalities of human life, is emptying. Only the team and the closest family is still there. I pull a thorn of one of the roses in the bouquet in my hands and close my fist around it. I step forward and place the flowers and the card on the grave.

I have nothing original to say to you, no fancy words to sum up anything. I can just count on others who have said it before me and said it better.

'A wise man once told me: "Family don't end in blood." But it doesn't start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family's there for you, for the good, bad, all of it. They've got your back, even when it hurts. That's family.'

I've never had that before. Thank you.

I walk a little away, not enough that someone has to follow me, just enough to give the people who actually knew him the space to say goodbye without me hovering. Mrs. Jones told me Zoe's buried here somewhere too. I find her grave and kneel down in front of it.

"I can't see you, Father," I mutter to the ground. "I wish I could. I wish I could still look at the world and see you, see your hands at work. My heart knows you're there, my heart knows that changing times don't change you, but my eyes can see nothing but destruction in this world anymore. Father, we need you." A speck of water lands on the back of my folded hands. "We can't do this on our own. Please show me you still care." Another tear follows the first one. Am I fooling myself?

"Everything alright?" John comes up behind me.

"You tell me."

"No, it's not," he says plainly. "I don't know if it ever will be."