Joshua pressed it into his hands. “See? Not everything is lost.”
They went through the motions—clothes, pajamas, a photo of them at Ross Castle, their shoes, wallets, journals, glasses, Joshua’s inhalers—each item announced to Nash for the record. Shannon kept to one side, silent except for the steady, procedural rhythm: “Item logged. Ready for the next.”
Gradually, exhaustion seeped into every movement, and Joshua stumbled to Colin’s side, a garment bag containing their suits draped over his arm. “Is this enough for now?” he asked, voice rough and on the verge of tears.
Colin shook his head, eyes drifting to where a final beloved item hung, waiting. “I want my dress uniform,” he murmured. “I may need it.”
He reached for the plastic-encased bundle, hands trembling as he slid it out of the closet. The uniform inside looked untouched—protected by the sealed plastic, colors crisp, buttons gleaming faintly beneath the sheen. For a moment, he juststared at it, feeling both grief and pride war within him. He’d worn this uniform to receive the Medal of Valor conferred by both campus and city police. He’d worn it the day he retired.He let out a quavering breath, blinking fast.
He didn’t trust himself to speak, but Joshua’s hand found his shoulder, steady and warm. “It looks untouched, my love.”
Colin lifted the uniform before Shannon’s eyes. “Log this too, OK, Shan?”
Shannon stood a little straighter, his own eyes bright with tears. He had seen Colin in those dress blues when the city honored him, when the department celebrated him. Seeing them pulled from a smoke-scarred closet made the moment feel sacred. “Got it, Colin,” he murmured, his voice catching.
Nash helped them carry their few bags back down the stairs, every item a small act of defiance against all that they’d lost.
Joshua moved through the kitchen on autopilot, scanning for anything salvageable. The porch door was still closed—untouched by the blast—and when he pushed it open, the hinges creaked in the sudden quiet.
And there it was.
Colin's leather jacket hung on the hook by the door, right where he'd left it that morning. Joshua's breath caught. He lifted it carefully, half-expecting it to disintegrate in his hands, but the leather was solid, real. It smelled faintly like smoke—but the jacket itself was perfect. No burns, no tears. Just Colin's worn, beloved jacket that had been with him for fifteen years.
Joshua pressed his face against it for just a second, breathing in the smoke and the leather and the ghost of Colin's cologne underneath. His chest ached.
He carried it back through the ruined kitchen as if holding something sacred.
Colin looked up when Joshua appeared in the kitchen doorway, his eyes fastened on the jacket. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Found it on the porch," Joshua said quietly, holding it out.
Colin took it with his bandaged hands, carefully, almost reverently. He didn't put it on—but held it against his chest, his fingers curling into the leather as his eyes slowly filled.
This jacket had been with him through stakeouts and off-duty nights, through their early dates, through a thousand ordinary moments that suddenly felt impossibly precious.
Joshua's hand found his shoulder. "It's still yours, my love. It’s still you. Smells a bit of smoke, but we can fix that.”
They left the wreckage behind, carrying what they could, their lives now defined by this precious handful of soot-covered items and their battered memories. Esther and Norm were waiting, ready to drive them back to what was, for now, their home.
At David’s house,both he and Nate rushed to help them carry their salvaged items from the car. David had spread a couple of trash bags by the door and now held an empty one open. “Just toss anything that’s filthy in here—we’ll get a cleaning service to deal with it.”
Colin peeled the plastic from his dress uniform, relieved to see it mostly untouched, then tossed the plastic outside. He dropped all of his soot-stained clothing and shoes into the bag without a word.
Joshua wiped his glasses on his sleeve, grimaced, and set them on the entry table, black smudges left behind.“Goddammit!” he croaked out, his voice thin with frustration and pain.
“Josh, it’ll be ok,” Nate soothed. “This is all fixable.”
David laid a hand on Colin’s arm. “Lenny called for you. Asked if you’d phone him.”
Colin felt his stomach sink, but nodded. His hand drifted toward his pocket before stopping mid-motion. He husked out a bitter breath.Right. No phone.It had been confiscated.
“Hey,” David murmured, holding out his phone to Colin. “First item on our to-do list: new phones.”
“With none of our data on them,” Joshua muttered.
Colin walked outside, David’s phone clutched in his hand, laying a comforting hand on Joshua’s arm as he passed..
Lenny answered on the first ring. His tone was low, and an unshed edge of grief colored his voice. “Got something to ask you, buddy.”
