Cold Case

Reboot

Jongin's funeral was about as impersonal as it could get. Jennie watched with clenched fists as his father, David Kim, the Mayor of Washington D.C., stepped up to the podium. Tears fell freely from her eyes as she took all of this in. Jongin would've hated this. He hadn't spoken to his father in years, ever since taking on a job as Detective—he would've thought David would've been pleased. But as ever, David kept to himself, and all Jongin wanted was some outside reciprocation.

He got none of that from David.

"I think everyone who has worked with Detective Kim will agree with me that he was a brave, generous, self-sacrificial, intelligent soul. He was gentle. He was kind." Kim took a pause from his eulogy to look around at all the young Detectives sat before him today, his eyes briefly fixing on Jennie, who'd bowed her head down, clasping her hands together, crying. "He will be missed. He is irreplaceable, and it is only of my greatest regret that he has to go this way. This is an unfair end to a fantastic and promising life. Godspeed, my dear son."

The service was far too long, and far too impersonal. Jennie decided to take solace from the open buffet, and as she reached for the samosas, she nearly bumped into someone.

"Sorry for your loss." It came out automatically, as if the lady had been trained to do it. Jennie stared at her. Doe eyes she wasn't familiar with, yet uniform that indicated they were within the same precinct. "I'm sure he was an excellent Detective."

"Who're you?" Jennie said it a little more snappishly than she'd intended. The woman was slimmer and taller than her, her blonde hair tied up for the service. Her eyes softened as she saw Jennie's angry eyes, and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

"You'll see," said the doe-eyed woman. "Again: I'm truly sorry for your loss."

Bullshit. Everyone's sorry for my fucking loss.

She swept away, leaving Jennie frozen by the samosas. She tried not to think of how inappropriately attractive she was—that was the last thing she should've been thinking of at Jongin's funeral. There was a violent clap on her right shoulder and as Jennie jumped, she cricked her head left to find Jisoo Kim's goofy face about five centimetres away from her.

"Bullshit," was all she said, loading her plate up with anything and everything. "Mayor Kim's been nothing but a prick. You ever see him contact Jongin? Never. You can kiss my sorry ass he's devastated or whatever the fuck he said."

"Do you mind?" Jennie hissed. "It's Jongin's funeral we're at."

"Didn't stop you from ogling the hot girl in uniform over there." Jisoo stuffed a cocktail sausage in her mouth, grinning through it. Jennie made a face; she could be disgusting at the best of times.

"How's your leg?" Jennie tried to make conversation, like it was normal. "Any better?"

"Still no amputation." Jisoo rubbed it subconsciously. "Your mother keeps pestering me for it but I'd rather suffer through the pain and the creams than get it chopped off. This leg's a part of me. I don't think your mother understands that."

"Do you want me to tell her, our qualified medic, that?"

"No." Jisoo popped another cocktail sausage in her mouth and walked away idly. "I'll tell her myself."

Soon, everyone filtered out—and Jennie noted with distaste that Mayor Kim was one of the first to be ushered away. Jennie waited in the soft rain until she was alone, and placed a bouquet of flowers on his grave. Kneeling down, she closed her eyes and remembered his bright smile, his optimistic outlook on life, and most of all, his bravery. He'd been solely undercover, with Jennie as his back-up in his ear. She'd only heard him be killed. But as she thought of everything he'd gone undercover for, everything he'd done to try and crack this corrupt drug distribution system, she knew his fight was not over.