By Citizen Nancy

He found himself in the old neighborhood again. He hadn't been there for years it felt like. His job and other distractions kept him from going back as much as he liked to. So much had changed, but as he looked at the neighborhood stores as he rode by in the taxi he reminded himself that he too had changed over the years. With the job he had, District Attorney, it was hard not change. Every case he encountered by himself or with the people he worked with in the district attorney's office often left its mark on him. On his mind, on his soul.
He rolled the widow down slightly, as it was very warm. Today of all days he decided he had to see her. The ride would be very long but it would give him a chance to think. He had been with the district attorneys office till this year when it became time for him to retire. To take a break. Part of him was glad for this release, at this point in his life he felt like he had seen it all. Another part of him was sad because he was leaving old friends at work behind. Jack McCoy, Abbie Carmichael. There were also people from the offices he would miss that were no longer there including Claire Kincaid who had died far, far before her time. People he probably wouldn't see anymore outside of working in those stuff offices day after day. He would miss it, for sure, but there was also something he missed more. Now he would have time to see her more often now that he was retired.
"We're here mac." The taxi driver's rough voice awoke Adam Schiff from his reverie. He nodded and slowly got out of the cab. He didn't move as quickly as he used to. Years ago he would have been able to walk this distance. Now he couldn't even drive. He approached the driver and held out money.
"There is more for you if you wait ten minutes. I will be back," he said.
The driver, who looked like he had less passengers than he had cups of hot coffee looked at Adam with interest. "You got it. Take all the time you want."
Adam walked away from the cab. He decided to keep to the ten minutes he told the cab driver. Heaven knows what would make he suddenly decide to leave him here with no way to get back home. Besides, no one would leave someone next to a cemetery. It was the cemetery that was his true destination. The reason he was there was obvious to Adam, he was there to visit his beloved deceased wife. She has been gone for some time, but Adam could never find the time to bring him down to see her. Wasn't able? Or was that he couldn't go down there? Bea had had a stroke and barely hung on due to the machines that now ruled her hospital room. Adam could not bear to have her live a life attached to a machine so he had the plug pulled on her. He wanted her to have peace, and this was the only way he thought she would have it. He missed her terribly. For the first few months after it happened there were moments in the day where he felt he couldn't breathe and that he would soon join her in the paradise of the great beyond. It didn't happen though. He lived to see another day. Another day, another lawsuit, another complicated case to work through even though none of that mattered in the great scheme of things. Every time someone was put away by Jack McCoy, it seemed like another felon would come and take his place at the defense table in the courtroom. It had been so long since Adam had sat inside a courtroom. He missed that too to an extent. Proving that the unjust had done wrong and why they should be locked away, perhaps forever.
Forever was the only thing on Adam's mind now. It had been forever since he last saw her. He still could see her face as she lie in the hospital bed after she slowly let go of the remaining shreds of her life. At peace, in a better place. In a warmer climate. In heaven, where no one could ever be unhappy and you would always be loved.
Adam approached the grave with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He always wanted to bring some but he never knew what type to pick. He called on old acquaintance Abbie Carmichael for some feminine influence on this decision. Even though to other people, it wouldn't matter what you place there, some women know when you have the right flowers or not. It was part of their mystique, part of what a man loved about a woman. It was what he loved about her. He looked down at the stone. It was intricately decorated, a very beautiful decision surrounding Beas name, and her date of birth and death. He looked the stone for a moment or so with tears fighting to get out of his eyes. He didn't cry though. Even though no one, except possibly the cab driver could see him cry, he didn't want to.
"All those times," he said aloud. "All those times I thought I would lose you, I didn't. Whether it was the long hours or the nights I spent away from you, I knew I would never lose you," he said solemnly. "I knew you would always be there for me. With the lights on and the fire burning. You would always be there for me," he said. "I never thought I could lose you till the day I discovered that I could lose you. I could lose you and there was not a single damned thing I could do about it. I lost you, and I could not bring you back," he said. He knelt down and placed the flowers in the center of the grave. He pointed the flowers up towards the stone, as if in some silent sort of salute to her. "I lost you, but not for long," he said. "They say when you let something go and it comes back to you, it's yours forever," he said. "I will come back to you someday. It will happen," he promised. "And it will be like never a day had passed since you left me. Nothing will have changed, and you will be as beautiful as ever. I will be there forever, no lawyers, no lawsuits will ever take my time away from you ever again."
Adam laid a single hand on the grave and looked down for a minute, a silent prayer. "Nothing lost stays lost forever," he said softly as he got up. "I'll be back. You can count on it. You can really count on it."
He brushed the dirt off his pants with his hands. He could feel himself getting tired. He had been getting tired more often than he used to. He wasn't as young as he used to either. He turned and walked toward the cab. He slowly approached it. As he moved to open the door the cabby popped out of his side and opened it for him. The youth, oh to have that kind of energy again.
"Thank you," he muttered as he got in. The door was closed for him by the cabby. "Take me back where you picked me up. I need to rest a bit."
The cabby nodded and pulled into traffic. Soon they were on the way home. He had come to see her, like he wanted to, and remembered some wonderful times with her while he was there. He could slip back into those memories with her anytime he wanted to. He could do it now. Adam Schiff sat back and watched the world go by as he started to reminisce about his time with his wife. The ride home would be more pleasant than the ride out to the cemetery. He would be certain of that.


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