Work Text:
Most days, Eddie felt as though she was about as capable of reading her husband’s mind as was humanly possible. Jamie was and always had been an open book to her, his thoughts and motives easy puzzles to solve. There were times, though, when trying to understand him was about as simple as attempting to communicate with a brick wall.
The Wilson Ortega case bothered Jamie for a lot of reasons; she knew at least that much. His father’s friend had killed his wife out of mercy, and Eddie knew there was a part of Jamie that felt as if arresting him for that would just worsen the punishment Ortega was already forcing upon himself. But there was another part – a much bigger part – aware of the fact that there was nothing that could justify what the retired special agent had done, not even a show of mercy. It was always that part of her husband, the righteous and good-hearted part, that won out in the end.
Because she knew how both Jamie and his father – and all the Reagans, really – worked, she wasn’t all that surprised to learn Wilson Ortega had been arrested for criminally negligent homicide. She went home after her shift with a pretty good idea as to what mood her husband would be in. When she walked through the door of their new apartment, however, she was taken by surprise.
“Hey,” she greeted, a surprised and amused lilt in her tone as she hung her purse on a hook by the door.
Jamie glanced away from his project with a slight smile. “Hey. How was work?”
Eddie sank onto the floor next to him with a quiet sigh. “Oh, you know, it was work. McNichols didn’t look like she wanted to kill me more than half a dozen times today, though, so I guess that’s progress. I’ve chosen to take what I can get.”
“Probably a good choice,” Jamie replied distractedly, most of his focus on what he was doing.
Eddie winced as the hammer came dangerously close to her husband’s thumb. “Please be careful. I’m not in the mood to load you and a cooler full of your fingers into the car tonight.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Jamie assured her with an amused smirk.
“Yeah, well, you never know. Why are you doing this now, anyway?” she asked curiously. “I thought we were going to put the bookshelf together this weekend, when we’re both miraculously off.”
Jamie shrugged. “It’s not a problem. Plus, it’ll give us more time to paint on Saturday.”
“Yeah, I guess it will,” Eddie agreed slowly.
Jamie glanced over, exhaling deeply when he caught sight of the knowing glint in her eyes. “My dad came by earlier,” he explained, setting the hammer down for the time being. “We talked about the Ortega case some. He, uh, he brought up my mom. What it was really like at the end.”
“Oh,” Eddie murmured, unsure of what else to say.
“Yeah. He mentioned it was hard for him, too, watching the love of his life just…” He trailed off, unable to continue. “And he was right. I’ve never had to watch someone I love suffer in that way for that long, and I hope I’ll never have to, God willing, but…” He shrugged once more. “It put some things in perspective. I’ve never been in the position where that was a choice I’d have to make, you know…”
“You wouldn’t do it,” Eddie told him, nothing but absolute certainty in her tone. “And I’d never ask you to. I can’t pretend to know what was going on in Mrs. Ortega’s head in those final moments, and, maybe for her, it was the only choice she felt was left. I don’t know what she was going through, and so I’ll never judge her for her choice, but Jamie, I know with absolute certainty I couldn’t do that to you. Or to myself, for that matter. I’d fight until the end, or else I’d feel like I hadn’t fought at all.” She reached for his hand, loosely intertwining their fingers. “It was kind,” she murmured gently. “And it was merciful. But neither of those things change the fact that it was a crime. And you cannot feel guilty for putting away a criminal, no matter how good-intentioned he was. You did the right thing.”
“I know,” Jamie replied just as quietly. “Doesn’t make me feel much better, though.”
“I know it doesn’t. I love you, though, which means I’m always going to say it anyway.” She scooted a bit closer, then leaned her head on his shoulder. “So,” she sighed, staring at the remaining unassembled pieces of their bookshelf. “What next?”