Based on a True Story (Nyx) -FIN-

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Bobby had been fourteen years older than Gregory, and grew up in Limerick. Greg had only met him a few times as a kid and really remembered very little about him besides his father had smoked all the time without stopping, and Greg'd hated it. He'd died in a car crash, the result of a drunk driver, and while it was a shame and Gregory felt terribly for his family, he wasn't personally saddened by the loss of someone he hadn't even known he now - well, had - lived in the same state as. Nevertheless, he barely had to consider before he decided going down to Syracuse to pay his respects was the only thing for it. He didn't like to be morbid, really he didn't, but he'd enjoyed, just in the tiniest bit, the funerals he'd gone to since America, because he saw so many people he knew there (which was honestly rare). They gave him the chance to see the family he was too cowardly to contact otherwise. It was pretty selfish of him, but as long as he never told anyone, he had decided it was a little bit okay.

He rented a car and drove the four and a half hours down to the little city, using the car ride to his advantage and listening to the audio of a book he'd been meaning to read for a while. It went by quickly; Gregory might be pretty bad at driving, but he could do it if he had to. The funeral home was neat, kept, and Gregory looked around as he walked through the parking lot to the entrance, shamelessly curious to see if he knew anyone. He didn't, not yet, which wasn't surprising, but he was still hopeful.

When he got in line, Gregory wasn't surprised to see the line was depressingly long, nearly out the doorway with the number of people there. That was the problem with Irish families: everyone had a million kids and then all those kids had their own kids and friends and families and you ended up having about a thousand people go to one funeral or wedding or whatever family event it was, even if you didn't know eighty percent of the people there. He stood in line patiently, simply enjoying being in the presence of other people (the atmosphere of the room as thankfully not that tense, in funeral terms), and was quite comfortable in a dark button down and tie.

He strained his ears for Irish accents, found a few, but really didn't know any of the faces that they led him to well enough apart from 'He was at my mother's aunt's second-cousin's wedding' or something along those lines. While he was a patient man, standing and doing basically nothing did get dull rather quickly, and Gregory found himself staring at the back of woman in front of him. She had pretty blonde hair and wasn't that much shorter than him. She looked quite young. Gregory had easily put her off as a stranger - how many blonde people did he know anyway? Not many - until she turned to the side, looking at something, and Gregory recognized her face.

Siobhan Shaw. Gregory had been cousins with her mother, and as kids she, her future husband and Gregory had lived in the same neighborhood, and been close friends and classmates. He had met their daughter, Siobhan, when he was twenty-three, and the death of his friend and her mother, however tragic, had been just the right thing to get Gregory out of his 'Christ I just got divorced what the hell do I do now' mindset. He'd stayed at their place for a few days, comforting her father, helping around the house a bit and, most of all, letting the girl read to him. She'd been quite lovely. Eight years later, he'd met her again, at her father's funeral, and that meeting had been a lot more tragic than anything. After all, Chase's death had left a group of orphans in his wake, and Siobhan had seemed too caught up in taking care of her younger siblings than sad for herself. Gregory had worried about her, and left her his number if she ever needed help. However she had never called, and Gregory had enough drama of his own so that the poor girl had soon moved to the back of his mind.

This might be the first time Gregory had seen Siobhan in over ten years, but he still recognized her easily; her face may have matured, and she was taller, but she still looked just the same. It was all Gregory could do not to smile quite inappropriately in the presence of an open casket, but he couldn't help the small grin that escaped anyway. He realized she probably wouldn't recognize him, since it had been so long and she had been a child the times they had meet, but an optimistic part of him hoped she did, just a little bit.

He tapped her wrist gently to get her attention and asked, "Excuse me, miss? You're Siobhan, aren't you?" He was sure she was, but he knew it would be rude to just announce that he knew who she was completely confidently. 

[SIOBHAN "NYX" SHAW]

Irish funerals were events all unto themselves. Because the families were so large, and friends were treasured, it felt like one should have been paying admission just to enter the mass crowd of people. It was always like that, even when the person who died had been desperately poor and away from family, even away from the old country. Funerals brought people together when someone was taken from the world, as if nature was balancing life out.

Bobby hadn’t been dirt poor in money or friends, and everyone was saddened to see him go. Apparently he had been a warm and kind, taken far too soon by a drunk driver. It was a terrible way to go. There were a few people who looked sad, who looked like they were stifling tears, but the majority were just somber. That was another thing about Irish funerals – the deceased may have been family, but it wasn’t always the case that you personally knew them.

That was how Siobhan Shaw had come to be at the funeral. Her mother had been a cousin of Bobby’s. That wasn’t saying much. Her mother was related to almost everyone in Ireland, or at least it felt like it. Siobhan was willing to bet she had quite a few relations milling about, but she didn’t recognise any of them. Growing up apart from the family in Canada had that effect.

So she was a bit startled when the man behind her in the viewing line tapped her wrist to get her attention and called her by name. However, he didn’t call her by her first and last name together, so she hoped he wasn’t asking because of her less than private personal life. However, the fact anyone at the funeral knew her name was surprising, for whatever the reason. It certainly got her attention. As she had decided to go alone instead of asking someone to come with her, she had expected to only have to offer the passing condolence and would otherwise be unnoticed.

Well, it looked like she was noticed.

"Excuse me, miss? You're Siobhan, aren't you?"

She turned to study the man. He was taller than she was. His hair was greying, but he had warm eyes.

“Yes, yes I am,” she replied.

He looked familiar, but if she had ever met him, it had to have been a long time ago. He was familiar, but she couldn’t put a name to the face. It was rather irksome when that happened. She hated when she couldn’t remember people.

“Do I know you? You look very familiar.”

When in doubt, ask, after all.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

“Yes, yes I am,” Siobhan said, turning, but she looked generally confused. Gregory wasn't really surprised that he wasn't recognized - it had been ten-something years after all - and managed not to look disappointed. After all, he did remember when he was a kid, one of the most annoying things to be subject to were family gatherings where people come up to you and said, 'Oh, my dear, I haven't seen you in years, since you were this tall, do you remember me?' And put their hand about a foot away from the ground. As if it were actually realistic that you would remember someone you'd seen only once or twice before you had more than short term memory.

“Do I know you? You look very familiar,"Siobhan said, and that was something, at least. He gave her a friendly smile and nodded.

"Greg Lestrade. I came to your parents' funerals," Greg said, and while it was a slightly blunt way to put it, there wasn't much of a better way to say so, because he'd really only seen her on the occasion that someone in their family had died. It was a little ironic, actually. Acted like family only when someone died. "Stayed at your house both times."

[SIOBHAN "NYX" SHAW]

The man didn't look like he was hurt by the fact she didn't remember him. He just smiled and nodded like he expected that. She hoped that wasn't the case. She honestly did hate it when she forgot people. She pride herself on knowing everyone because that made them feel valued. Everyone deserved to feel that way.

"Greg Lestrade. I came to your parents' funerals. Stayed at your house both times."

Siobhan hoped she wasn't gaping at him. Greg Lestrade. The moment she heard his name, she knew exactly who he was. Greg had come to stay with them after her mother died. She barely remembered that time, just that her father had changed. He'd stopped smiling, and even though he'd been a quiet man, he became quieter. It had upset her, so she'd spent most of her time playing games with Greg, sitting and reading to him. And when she was supposed to be sleeping, she'd seen him sit and talk with her father. Eventually, her father smiled again, but he was never the same.

Then when her father died, Greg had been back again. He'd paid attention to her, trying to coax her out of the shell she'd created for herself. She'd been so busy taking care of everyone else, she hadn't had time to feel anything about the situation. At the time, Greg had been going through troubles of his own and she had the feeling that trying to help her was helping him just a little. Together, they were avoiding and dealing with things in their own ways. He'd stayed for a while then, too, until Thomas had his feet under him as head of the family. She had promised to call him if she needed him, but...he didn't need her toubles, and now it had been over ten years since she'd seen him.

How could she have ever forgotten him?

"Gregory!" she smiled at him brightly.

And because she was who she was, she leaned forward and hugged him. Even if it had been ten years, she felt right at home as she breathed in his familiar scent. She leaned back when it felt socially appropriate and smiled at him.

"You know, we've really got to stop running into each other like this," she offered.

Three funerals - one for each time they'd met. It was beginning to become a pattern. If it hadn't been a funeral, it would have been funny.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Gregory watched as Siobhan's face quickly went through an expression of recognition, surprise, and finally, excitement. She beamed at him, and said, "Gregory!" and he was quite sure that she remembered him now. What he hadn't been expecting was for her to hugged him. He had grown somewhat unaccustomed to being hugged in general since he moved to New York and away from any close family, but it wasn't unpleasant by any lengths. Siobhan was good at it, too. He hugged back lightly until she stepped back, a smile still on her face.

"You know, we've really got to stop running into each other like this," she said, and Gregory laughed out loud, despite the fact that he probably shouldn't have. Still, it was true; they had only been brought together on the occasions somebody had died.

He nodded in agreement, still smiling and said, "Yeah, we do." He noticed how much taller she was than the last time he had seen her; everything about her had matured, but she still looked somewhat childish in her excitement to see him. He supposed he would have missed her if he hadn't mostly forgotten about her in general, which was perhaps a bit cynical but true.

"You've grow up!" He exclaimed, and it wasn't in an annoying 'Wow you're so big now what grade are you in again?' tone, it was lighthearted, not surprised but impressed, really. She looked well, despite the past; he was glad. "Nice of you to come, too. You live around here now?"

[SIOBHAN "NYX" SHAW]

When Gregory laughed and nodded at her little quip, Siobhan was glad to hear it. It was out of place at a funeral, but it definitely brightened her heart to hear it.

"Yeah, we do."

She smiled again, thinking that she was going to have to bring up that they should get together sometime when there wasn’t a funeral just to shake things up.

"You've grown up!"

Siobhan couldn’t help but laugh at how he sounded. He wasn’t condescending, but instead impressed in a way. Well, what did he expect? She couldn’t be that chubby little girl forever. Life would be pretty awkward if she was.

“Yeah, I definitely have. And you! The last time I saw you, your hair was one color!” She took a moment, thinking that could be insensitive and reached up to push it back off his forehead a little. “I think it looks good this way. It has character.”

"Nice of you to come, too. You live around here now?"

“Sort of. I’ve been in New York City for the past eight years. So it was a bit of a drive to get here, but I thought my mother would have wanted me to come if I could. How about you?”

The last time she’d seen him, she remembered his marriage had been rocky and he was struggling with things, but that was a long time ago. She didn’t remember much past that. She’d been too out of it to remember a lot about that time. Things had changed for her, just as they had probably changed for him. He could be living back in Ireland for all she knew, but that seemed unlikely if he was at a funeral in New York.

She absently took a step forward as the line moved, thinking that it was going to be a long wait at this pace, but at least she would have someone to kill the time with now.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Siobhan laughed too, when he proclaimed his happiness at seeing her again, at an older age. People should congratulate each other on that more often, he thought lamely, Living is something to be proud of, isn't it? While that wasn't usually his outlook on life, it came easily at the moment, seeing someone he knew had gotten through an incredibly hard childhood and now looked wonderful, in looks and life.

“Yeah, I definitely have," Siobhan agreed cheerfully, "And you! The last time I saw you, your hair was one color!” Gregory chuckled because yes, that was entirely true, but Siobhan added a second later, sounding a tad worried that she'd offended him, “I think it looks good this way. It has character.” Gregory shook his head lightly and waved his hands in front of him a little, as a way to say, 'No, of course not, it's fine!' while he asked about her current whereabouts.

“Sort of," Siobhan said, in regards to living in Syracuse. "I’ve been in New York City for the past eight years. So it was a bit of a drive to get here, but I thought my mother would have wanted me to come if I could. How about you?”

Gregory's smile had only grown throughout this whole meeting, and it grew now, too. "I can't believe it - I live in New York City now too! Gosh, things really do work out funny sometimes, don't they?" To think that the same person's parents he'd grown up living right next to in an entirely other country now lived in the same city as him, thirty years later. "I live in Chelsea, if that's close, we should catch up sometimes, when, you know, we're not at a funeral," Greg laughed, and added, "For once."

[SIOBHAN "NYX" SHAW]

Gregory had always had a very nice smile, even when it wasn’t socially appropriate to smile. As they talked, it just kept getting wider and wider. At this rate, Siobhan wondered if he was going to get a cramp. Still, it gave her cause to smile more, too.

"I can't believe it - I live in New York City now too! Gosh, things really do work out funny sometimes, don't they? I live in Chelsea, if that's close, we should catch up sometime, when, you know, we're not at a funeral...For once."

Siobhan couldn’t help but laugh. Life was truly ironic.

“Well, we’re nearly neighbors – I’m up in the Upper West Side, on Central Park West,” she replied. “I have an amazing view of the park.”

When she’d agreed to marry Jamie, he’d been living down by the Financial District. He liked being close to work. He was always doing business. She’d never complained or offered an opinion on his place, seeing as how her entire apartment fit inside his three times over. So she’d been shocked when he’d asked her out for lunch only days before the wedding and took her apartment shopping around Central Park. She’d loved the area – if she lived in Manhattan, she liked the idea of having some green to look at. She’d fallen in love with the place they’d ended up in. She never knew if Jamie liked it as much as she had. He never let on about things like that because he wanted her to be happy. She would have been happy anywhere as long as he was with her.

“I can’t believe we’re close enough to walk and see each other,” she replied with a bit of a laugh. “And yet, we’ve never run into each other. How long have you been in the city?”

In a city of several million, it wasn’t hard to not run into people. Still, she thought that maybe they would have at some point, especially if they had both lived there for a long time.

“And I fully agree with you – we will have to get together when someone hasn’t died. I almost feel ghoulish for being happy at a funeral because I’ve run into you!”

She was finally beginning to understand why funerals were so important. It wasn’t because someone was dead that everyone came together, it was because they needed to feel sad together. Misery loves company, after all. So feeling cheerful ruined that idea, but she couldn’t help it. Gregory had been a wonderful person to her in the past, and he seemed just as wonderful now. She really hoped they would have some time to catch up together outside the mourning. She’d like to get to know Gregory without the weight of death around them for once.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Siobhan laughed too, and said, “Well, we’re nearly neighbors – I’m up in the Upper West Side, on Central Park West, I have an amazing view of the park.”

Gregory raised his eyebrows in surprise, because yes, that was quite close. And exciting! Apparently it seemed as if Siobhan might seem the same way. “I can’t believe we’re close enough to walk and see each other, and yet, we’ve never run into each other. How long have you been in the city?"

"Bout a year," Greg replied. And in that year, he'd had a relatively good time, considering he was across the country from his daughter. Despite his quite bad first week in the city, he'd met a lot of nice people since.

"I fully agree with you – we will have to get together when someone hasn’t died. I almost feel ghoulish for being happy at a funeral because I’ve run into you!” Siobhan exclaimed, and Gregory laughed again, though made sure not to be so loud this time, because no matter how many friendly people there were in a place, it was a funeral.

"I feel just the same," Greg said still chuckling a little. He moved forward a bit, noticing they were nearly at the line to give condolences to Bob's siblings, kids and wife. All sixteen of them. God. "Gee, I've gotta run after this," he said truthfully, as while he didn't have work, he was on call tonight, and it could be pretty awkward if he had to drive a few hours to get there. "But we really should get together sometime. Ah… look! I'll give you my number; I assume you don't have it anymore," he joked (and even if she for some strange reason did, he had a different one now anyways) and then realized he didn't actually have anything to write on. "Or, you know, you could look me up in the phone book." This was decidedly the most amusing funeral ever.

[SIOBHAN "NYX" SHAW]

Siobhan wasn’t terribly surprised that Gregory hadn’t been in the city long. She’d lived there for eight years and she’d had her face plastered on billboards, commercials, TV shows, and even her name was associated with her radio show and charities. Gregory was a sharp man – a police man. Chances were he would have seen something of hers had he been in the city longer than a year. Either way, it had been too long. They’d lost a lot of time.

"I feel just the same. Gee, I've gotta run after this."

Siobhan moved with the line, noting they were getting closer to the front. She was honestly disappointed. She knew he had a life and this wasn’t a planned meeting, but she would have liked to have spent some quality time sitting and talking with him – catching up on the years they’d missed. Also, as she’d grown older, there were things she wondered about when it came to her parents. If anyone would know, it would be Gregory – the cousin and neighbor who knew them when they were growing up. They would just have to make plans to get together later. She was not about to let him fall off the face of the planet again.

"But we really should get together sometime. Ah… look! I'll give you my number; I assume you don't have it anymore. Or, you know, you could look me up in the phone book."

Siobhan couldn’t help but laugh a little. She reached into her handbag and pulled out her wallet. Tucked in with her insurance papers was a yellowed scrap of paper. She eased it out and held it up for him to see.

“Well, I still have it, but I trust it’s changed since I last saw you,” she replied.

She had no idea why she’d kept it, but she’d never considered throwing it out. Reaching into her handbag again, she pulled out her cell phone, quickly pulling up her contacts and making a new entry.

“Here, just type your number in – that way, I won’t accidently call the wrong fifteen Greg Lestrades that are bound to be in the phone book,” she replied, holding out the phone.

Sometimes technology was a wonderful thing. This time the number wouldn’t fade as the paper yellowed in her wallet. She would actually use it this time, and not because she was in trouble. She’d been in trouble and never called, though. He hadn’t needed her grief in the past. But he could have her friendship now that she had her life figured out.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Siobhan laughed and, miraculously, pulled out an extremely old and yellowing piece of paper that had, scribbled on it, his old phone number. Gregory stared in completely and utter shock (because really who saves useless things like that for so long, let alone keeps them in their purse?) as Siobhan said, “Well, I still have it, but I trust it’s changed since I last saw you,” she replied.

Siobhan put the paper back in and Gregory forced himself to stop gawking in surprise when she tapped something into her phone and held it out to him. “Here, just type your number in – that way, I won’t accidently call the wrong fifteen Greg Lestrades that are bound to be in the phone book.

Gregory took the phone from her and nodded, squinting a little as he punched in his number. He hadn't really thought to bring his glasses, after all. Once he was done, he wasn't really sure how one was supposed to save the number on Siobhan's phone (his level of technological intelligence didn't really go past anything he needed for work) so he simply gave the device back to her.

Siobhan was now at the start of the Line-Of-Condolences, so Gregory nodded forward to her, smiling. "Well, it was amazing seeing you again, Siobhan," he said, and took her hand and kissed it lightly. "See you around."

It was somewhat of a joke; at the first funeral, Siobhan had been so young and confused, and sad, and Gregory could see she had been sick of people treating her like she didn't know what was going on, or didn't deserve full sympathy because she was a child. So Lestrade had treated her as much like an adult that was appropriate, which meant he didn't mince words with her and kissed her hand goodbye, just like the Disney movies he was pretty sure all kids her age watched. He felt Siobhan probably didn't remember that now, so maybe she thought he was just being weird, but he had done it anyways.

There as something amazing in it, the fact that a family member, and one he actually really liked, lived so close to him. It made living in New York seem a lot better, at any rate. It was a good thing, he decided, that he had to fight to stop smiling when he himself was standing in front of Bob's first sibling.

OOC: Shall you close it, then? :)

[SIOBHAN "NYX" SHAW]

Siobhan smiled softly when Gregory had to squint at the phone. Jamie did that when he needed his glasses and it was almost nice to be able to read the man in front of her. She was quick to save the number, confident that she wouldn’t lose it now that it was in her phone. She barely noticed that the line continued to shuffle along as she fiddled with it. It was Gregory taking her hand and kissing the back of it that got her attention. He used to do that to her as a child. She’d felt like a princess back then whenever he did it – like they were both pretending to be adults, even though Gregory was one. She hadn’t known until she was older what it meant to be kissed on the hand like that. She’d always felt swept off her feet when Jamie would do it. Everything seemed to be reminding her of him that day.

"Well, it was amazing seeing you again, Siobhan. See you around."

“You too, Gregory.”

She wanted to hug him and ask him to come back to the city with her so they could keep talking, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen that day. So she walked on ahead to say her respects to the line of family, Greg only steps behind her as he did the same. None of them knew her, and she knew none of them. She remembered standing where they were when Jamie died, thinking that none of them knew what she was going through, if they knew her at all. It was amazing who came out of the woodwork when a man as recognisable as Jameson Shaw passed. It had brought no comfort.

When she finally reached the grieving widow, she just grasped her hand and squeezed knowing there was nothing she could say or do to make that pain go away. She thought the other woman understood as her hand was clutched for a long moment before they parted. Siobhan walked away then, pulling out her sunglasses as she made her way to the exit.

She’d done what she’d come to do.

(Finnis