The choice was simple. He crossed the street, pulled open the side door, and entered a quiet hallway. Soft conversations echoed through the walkway as he slowly made his way forward. When he reached the end of the dark hallway, he found himself on the side of the welcoming atrium. The familiar faces of his fellow agents were to his left, surrounding the front doors. A quick scan into the room to his right revealed no one he recognized—only Jason’s family and a line of mourners waiting to offer their thoughts before kneeling in front of the coffin. Walt slipped through the atrium and into the room. He saw large bouquets of flowers surrounding the casket. The receiving line was against the far wall and he took a spot at the end, slowly shuffling his way to the front of the room. Walt kept his eyes down. His left arm was draped across his chest and supporting his right elbow, his palm over his cheek and mouth. If any of his friends recognized him, no one said a word. He crept along for ten minutes as he slowly edged closer to the casket.

“You made it,” came a voice from behind him.

Walt turned to see that Jim Oliver had taken a place in line behind him.

“Yeah,” was all Walt said.

“The guys outside said they were waiting to see you.”

Walt nodded. “I made a stealth approach through the side door. I don’t want to take any of the attention away from Jason’s family.”

“Understood. But maybe say hi on your way out? It would be good for the crew to see that you’re back on your feet.”

“Will do, boss.”

Together they made their way to the front of the room. Walt swallowed hard as he came closer to the casket, seeing his partner’s face in profile. He’d always hated the waxy appearance of dead people in caskets. His childhood, it seemed, was riddled with moments of kneeling in front of sturdy, mahogany caskets that held elderly relatives. He was supposed to say a prayer as he knelt in front of the caskets, his parents had told him, but all Walt had ever been able to do was stare in confusion at the thick makeup smeared across the dead person’s face. This childhood quirk had carried into his adult life, and as Walt approached Jason’s family he wondered if they were pleased with the way he looked, lying stiff and unmoving in the casket, or if he was as unrecognizable to them as he was to Walt.

“You know Jason’s family?” Jim asked.

Walt shook his head. “No,” he said just as the couple in front of him finished talking and moved on to the casket.

An older couple were the first family members in the receiving line. Walt reached out his hand and offered his best smile.

“Walt Jenkins.”