Invisible Death

EMMA

It would be three hours before the Helix could pick us up. One hour for Jesse to get the craft ready for flight, two hours full speed to Cascade. After that, another two hours cross country back home where another crises waited for us. A grand total of five hours of emotional hell.

Donna had been dear for few people, but those who had enjoyed her trust and friendship had cared deeply for her. Those I met at Cascade PD's Major Crime Unit spoke highly of her skills as a victim expert. Donna had had the uncanny ability to make victims come to terms with whatever they had gone through and help the police in the solution of crimes committed against them. Donna also had the ability to offer comfort to the bereaved, to cheer up the desperate. That's what made her so special, such a skilled psychologist, who could talk potential suicides out of doing themselves in, make people crazed with grief let go of their emotions and really mourn their losses. That's what made her such a fine hostage negotiator, especially when dealing with situations where the perpetrator, as the police called criminals, had been swept by circumstances more than by his own actions.

Of her old friends and relations from Cascade, Blair was hurting the most. His pain was searing, red and hot. Blair is the kind of person who doesn't bottle things up. A consequence of his upbringing, probably, son that he is, like me, of a flower child, ex-hippie, who believes in being yourself, in being true to your feelings. This is good. It means he will heal in time. And he has Jim's help. There was one not used to display his emotions, Jim, but his simple presence, the solidity he provided, would help Blair overcome his loss and, in time, move on.

Adam, on the other hand, worried me. After a lifetime of work, very little in the way of family or emotional support that I knew of, not to mention two extremely unsuccessful intimate relationships, he had found a spring of clear, cold and soothing water in Donna. Her luminosity, her tranquility had been so new and refreshing to him, he had drowned in her mere existence. She was a lake to his river, a breeze to his hurricane. She had been moonlight to his inner storm. Donna, with her softness, loyalty... with her earth qualities, had provided a safe haven to Adam. She had taken up part of the burden he carried every moment of every hour of every day he lived. With her great sense of ethics, her conscience, she had made him share the guilt that threatened to crush him. She had attached herself to him and helped him shoulder his load. She justified and defended him, not only to others, but to himself, and, for that, he was grateful. Donna had softened Adam. She had loosened his self-control, so he could be more human, more of a man, less of a leader.

Now, he worried me. His grief was white, cold as dry ice and just as burning. I feel him hardening again. I feel him steeling himself in such a way that he will most certainly break down. I feel him locking up his pain and I fear it will eventually burst, explode. I fear the collapse that will certainly come if he doesn't allow himself to grieve and mourn his dead love will irrevocably destroy him.

We arrive at Donna's converted warehouse condo late in the evening to pick up Adam's overnighter, after pulling all the information we could from that walking piece of human crap with mental tweezers. Adam has copies of the keys. The place is dark, but he doesn't turn the overhead lights on. It is an ample living room, but he walks to the side table without hesitation, without bumping into anything and turns the lamp on. We have over two hours to wait till the Helix hovers over the building and we can jump on board.

I see Adam walking around the place like a zombie. He doesn't talk, he hardly ever blinks. He takes off his favorite black leather coat. There's something he and Donna had in common, both of them loved black leather coats. Now, he heads for the kitchen without looking around, his eyes never wander to the portraits and snapshots that grace the desks and tables around the living room. I see all familiar faces: Shal, myself, Bren and Jesse. Cat is there, Rev is there. There is a whole series of pictures Donna took of Angela in flight, while Donna was floating in the air herself. There are pictures of Blair and Jim, and one group shot of the whole Major Crime Unit team where they look like the cast of a TV cop show. Oddly enough, there isn't one single picture of Adam and Donna together. Well, Adam being Adam, he would never step in front of a camera if he could possibly avoid it. I know he, now, regrets it. One particular picture catches my eye: Donna sitting by the tall windows of this very apartment, the light pouring from the outside. She is totally relaxed, in jeans and peasant blouse with flaring sleeves, her mane of black hair loose and cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders. Blair took the picture when they were still together, and it is so absolutely Donna...

The emotional spill hits me like a freight train. I brace myself. The sound of glass breaking will surely come, the bottle of scotch, Adam's poison of choice, as Brennan puts it, will shatter against the wall in a matter of seconds. Am I precog? No. I'm a telempath, the emotions of others live in my heart. It makes us know the people we live with very well. Ah, there it is. Now I can go to the kitchen myself and pull Adam out of there.

He is leaning against the sink, pressing his hands against his temples and breathing hard. Scotch is dripping down the wall, pooling on the floor tiles. When I touch his arm, he takes a deep breathe, let go of his temples, blinks and looks at me. Then, without a word, he leaves the kitchen.

I try to clean up the mess, but Adam's pain is so piercing it hurts me, it shrinks my heart in my chest. It won't do, I can't take that much. I have to do something or I'll be reduced to a nervous wreck.

I leave the kitchen and set out to find him. Ofcourse, he is in Donna's closet, looking around and touching her clothes. Hejust touches everything with the tip of his fingers, the jeans, the skirts andblouses, the golden hay basket overflowing with Indian beads and baubles. Fromthe door, I see him pull the white gold chain with the diamond-studded featherout of his shirt. It is now hanging from his neck, together with Donna'scommring. Absent mindedly, he caresses the pieces of jewelry. Donna's scent isheavy in the closet, pure lavender. Without realizing I'm there, Adam slowlyturns around. That's when I hit him with a mind blast. I try to make it asgentle as possible. He glazes over and I lead him by the hand to Donna's bed. Imake him sit down. I take off his belt and shoes and make him lay on thepillows. Until the Helix arrives, Adam will sleep. And then, maybe, just maybeI can grieve. Maybe I can reach in and seek my own pain. Maybe I can cry my owntears for my lost friend."