A Night in the Spire, Part 2

"...Will you come with me?" Those words echoed in Detective Lance Blaire's head. It was spinning from processing Rose Sharpe's ultimatum... join her with a new life or stay and fight crime in Spire. He didn't know what to do. She was still on his lap, staring at him sympathetically yet anxiously. Blaire had no response.

Rose got off of his lap, and walked for the door, placing his Glock-19 and phone on the kitchen counter. "...I'm sorry to bring this up now, of all times. I thought it would be right, but I think you need some time to think. Take all of it that you need. You know where to find me, Lance.

"Also... you were saying something about my real name. It's Carter. Luna Carter. …I'll be seeing you, Lance." Luna left the apartment, closing the door behind her. Blaire just sat in the chair, pondering. 'What a beautiful name,' he thought.

Blaire didn't get a wink of sleep that night. He just sat in his chair, nearly catatonic, just thinking. The big case he was working on just moved to the back of his mind, as all he could think about was the choice Luna had given him. Occasionally, he drank some of the wine Luna had broke into.

The next day, Blaire called off from work, feigning illness. He said he would have the case done by tomorrow. He already solved it to distract himself, and would turn it in the next day when he was able. Blaire didn't trust computers either, as anyone with a brain could hack into them, he thought.

When he finally got up from his chair, the first thing Blaire saw was his late uncle's violin. The beautiful, ivory and ebony instrument with silver strings. They gleamed in the translucent sunlight blocked by the thick winter clouds. He suddenly felt compelled to visit his uncle's headstone. He saw his phone and pistol on the counter, and went to store both of them on him. His phone had a pink sticky note on it with a phone number. Luna must have left it on there.

Blaire left his apartment, took his cane, coat, and hat, then left to visit Spire's cemetery. On the way, he kept thinking about Luna's proposal. He was still torn between running away and keeping a promise to the dead. Spire was snowing. It was beautiful, yet gray, as always.

It took him around thirty minutes to limp to the cemetery. Then when he found it, Blaire simply stared at his uncle's headstone. It read:

"Grayson Blaire. 1957 - 1994. 'Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.' | John 15:13."

Blaire sat down on the snowy grass, and gently set his cane aside to his right. He stared at the Bible verse, and read it over once. Then twice. "Hey, Uncle Gray, it's me again. I'm sorry that I haven't visited you. But the violin you gave me is still in perfect condition. Work's just been so busy, and I haven't found the time to stop by."

He was greeted with nothing but silence. A moment passed of silence. And then another. Then Blaire interrupted the calm.

"Uncle... what should I do...?"

There was no answer.

Blaire sat there for hours on end, just staring at the headstone. It didn't talk, and neither did he. His stomach growled and his lips were dry, but he didn't pay notice. He just sat there. And stared. Part of him felt like Luna was watching him. But he didn't look back.

After the street light turned on, Blaire painfully got up. He had just started to get comfy. It took him another thirty minutes or so to limp back to his apartment. He had a quick snack and drink of water, brushed his teeth, and fell into bed.

Blaire woke up feeling five years younger. In a different room. A man sat on the left side of the bed. It was his uncle. He turned his head to look at Blaire, and softly smiled. "U-Uncle Gray...?"

His uncle said, "I missed you, Blaire. Let's talk for a bit."

They spent what felt like hours catching up about some of Blaire's most challenging, bizarre, and odd cases. Then they talked about heaven.

"What's it like up there in heaven?" His uncle's soft smile faded only a tiny bit. "It's beautiful, really. It's just a beautiful, eternal sky, stretching as far as you can see. The grass is green, the flowers are plentiful, and it's full of other kind souls." Blaire knew he was just trying to make him feel better, but didn't press further.

"Did your death hurt?" he asked.

His uncle's smile completely faded. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words. "...You were twelve when it happened. In school. My friends and I were walking down the street when we were mugged. I tried to protect them, but I only felt the sting of the bullet for a moment. Then nothing. Just a warm sensation. And I woke up in my bed.

That was the moment I realized when I died. The world up there was all mine to explore, but I had left the one I loved back down here. Words can't explain how badly I felt when I had to leave you, Lance. Even now, I can't express how terrible I still feel… I miss you, Lance."

Lance shot up from his sheets and held his uncle in a long hug. Biting back tears behind closed eyes, Blaire asked the same question he asked his uncle's headstone. "Uncle Gray... what should I do...?"

Still holding him in the hug, his uncle said, "...I never wanted you to fight against a current stronger than you could swim. I learned, too, at a young age, that crime will always be here. We aren't a perfect species, but that what really makes us human. And I want you to know that you deserve the happy ending I never had. Take the leap, Lance.

...Happiness should be fought for. And you've been facing an uphill battle for twenty years. You've earned your joy."

Blaire opened his eyes, and he was staring up at his apartment ceiling. He knew what he was going to do. He went to work, presenting the evidence for the big case he was working on, then began to assemble evidence to bring down his best friend, Clark Morgan, and more than half of his corrupt coworkers.

And after a month of connecting the dots on more than twenty-seven people, Morgan included, Blaire submitted the complete reports on them to his higher-ups he absolutely knew weren't fallen. And at the bottom of the pile was his two-weeks notice.

Within a day, all twenty-seven officers were arrested in the middle of the station. When it was his turn, Morgan stared at Blaire with enmity when the cuffs were placed behind his back. Blaire simply looked at his former friend with pity. After an hour, he started to limp home.

It was a week since the arrests at the station. Blaire was shopping at his local grocery store. Plenty of people gave him stares, since the news went public the hour after the arrests. But he didn't pay attention. He was simply there to buy some groceries.

Blaire realized he hadn't called Luna yet. 'Well,' he thought, 'I'll have something to do when I get home.' On the small television before the register, the news was playing.

"This just in: four inmates have broken out of Spire Prison: Max Trell, Lucy Morrow, Victor Maladove, and Clark Morgan."

At the mention of the final name, Blaire dropped his groceries on the floor, and began to run back to his apartment. His disfigured right foot was throbbing in pain. But he didn't notice. This was the first time Blaire had ever ran.

Blaire bolted through the streets of Spire, taking no notice to the excessive vapor leaving his mouth from the cold. He turned in an alley to take a shortcut. But the pain in his foot was too much. He leaned against the wall, gritting his teeth for a moment. After a minute, he turned around and prepared to get to his apartment.

Before he could run back on his way, he heard the hammer of a Glock-19 click about thirty feet away from him. Blaire turned around. Clark Morgan was behind the gun.

Wordlessly, the two shared a glance. They were friends once. Now, bitter enemies. Blaire looked at him silently, solemnly, accepting that he wouldn't get the happy ending his uncle had wished him. His would just come from the hands of just another dirty crook.

Morgan smiled, his orange prison uniform hidden behind a tattered brown trench coat. "A week ago, Lance, it felt like you put a bullet in my gut during your betrayal. Now we can share the same pain... brother. Say hello to Uncle Gray for me." Blaire just dropped his cane and smiled softly in return. "I didn't betray you, brother. You betrayed yourself the moment you fell-"

Then Morgan fired the gun.

The shot echoed throughout the alleyway, lighting it up with an orange glow for but a moment. As Blaire began to fall, his uncle was right. The shot to his stomach only hurt for a moment. Then he felt warm among the newly red snow. And with a thud, Blaire fell to the ground.

Before his vision went completely black and tunneled, he heard another gunshot from Morgan. But he didn't feel any pain. Then a new, muffled gunshot. It sounded just like a Walther P99.

Two more muffled shots from the Walther were fired. And he heard a body hit the wall, and an exclamation of pain from Morgan. Before he closed his eyes, he heard a familiar voice.

"LANCE!"

It was Luna.

Blaire completely closed his eyes, letting the warm, quiet rapture of the darkness take him. The last thing he heard was a quick riff from a violin. Then all was black.