Partners In Crime: Watch Them Break

Chapter 12: Grave

"DNA doesn't make a family."
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The store was crowded, as usual. Beth struggled to get to the cash register, and put her items on the counter. The cashier gave a quick look over her things - Baby formula, flowers, milk, and two bottles of whiskey. He looked up at her inquisitively, before scanning the items, and putting them in a paper bag.

Beth thanked the man, walking out of the store. Yet she didn't take her usual route home. She took a detour, to a place that she should have went to a lot more frequently. The air was crisp and cool, the leaves just starting to turn red and orange and yellow. It was beautiful, yet that wasn't what Beth concentrated on. She had the bushel of lilies in the crook of her arm, a bottle of whiskey in her free hand, and a sad smile on her face. She knew exactly how to get where she was going.
The cemetery wasn't good enough for a man of James' worth. He deserved a coffin made of gold. One with it's own built in Wi-Fi and heating systems. He didn't deserve to be buried in a plain coffin, with a plain grave, with a plain headstone. Yet anything more expensive would have told everyone that someone was paying for Moriarty's services. They'd find her. Ship her away to some prison in the middle of nowhere. She couldn't do that to Eliza. She looked down at the grave, gingerly placing down the flowers. They looked unusual, such pretty flowers in such a terrible place. She thought of Eliza, and how she looked so much like James. The same big brown eyes, the same nose, the same smile. He would have loved her so much. Showered her with affection. Pampered her with anything she wanted.

Beth took out one of the bottles of whiskey, opening it and taking a drink. She didn't want to get drunk. No, just a little tipsy. Enough to forget and calm down.

"You know that isn't good for you, right?" A voice from behind her said.

She turned around. The man was tall, with black hair and deep, Bambi brown eyes. His smile was calm, his suit neat. For a second, he looked like James.

"You're James' brother, aren't you?"

He chuckled, taking the alcohol from her hand, "That I am. I'm Isaac."

"Beth."

"I know your name. The few times I talked to James over the years, you're all he would talk about." Isaac looked down at the headstone, "You we're good to him."

Beth nodded, "I tried, I guess."

"So, what was your job? I mean, in that organization of his." Isaac then took a drink himself, before pouring the rest on the grave.

"Thief, mostly. I can't do it anymore, though."

"Why not?"

"My hips. They got too big, I guess. Can't fit into spaces as small as I used to."

Isaac squinted at her, looking her over. "You had a baby. Changed your body a bit."

Beth ignored him. "So what are you? I always imagined you as a criminal. But looking at you now..."

"Not a criminal. No, I'm a doctor at Sherinnford's. The psychiatric facility."

Beth laughed, "It's ironic. One brother takes lives, the other saves them."

"I always thought the same," Isaac looked up from the grave, studying her face, "Do me a favor, Beth. Go home. Hug your kid. Do I have a niece, or a nephew?"

"Niece. Eliza."

He nodded, "I'm going to have to meet her sometime."

With that, Isaac said goodbye, and walked to his car. Beth looked at the other bottle of whiskey. She was going to give it to Moran originally, but decided otherwise. He didn't need a reminder of everything they lost.

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Beth slept surprisingly well that night. She slept on the couch, Eliza in her arms, Moran watching whatever he wanted. They had eaten a nice dinner, and laughed. Some nights, Beth would have nightmares, and Moran would have to hold her until she calmed down. It should have been James helping her. Yet it was time to try and forget about all that. They were like a family, now. Moran was the closest to a father Eliza would ever have.