A/N: The viewpoint is difficult to define, since it seems to jump around, but you should have no trouble following along.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or ideas created by Anthony Zuiker, Carol Mendelsohn and Ann Donahue. I borrowed them for the entertainment and amusement of my audience.
SUMMARY: He was dressed completely in white, but was far from being an angel of mercy.
SPOILERS: Heroes (2x23)
GENRE: Drama
RATING: PG-13
DATE COMPLETED: February 1, 2011
::~*~::
Do you think that on a person's last day to live, they go thru that day with a sense of foreboding, as if they know something bad is going to happen, but can't put a finger on it? I know I did. If I had known with absolute certainty that my life was measured in minutes and hours, would I have done anything different?
No.
::~*~::
I woke up this morning, a sense of uneasiness enveloping me, but I brushed it off. I was tailing a rapist, so naturally my instincts tended towards defense and self-preservation, with that constant worry that today would be the day he caught me. Each day started with that worry and each night came with it unrealized. You see why I didn't change my routine. It had started like any other day.
::~*~::
I had eaten my Special K for breakfast. It's amazing how the most mundane things will fill your mind in the last moments. I distinctly remember how sweet those strawberries were that I had cut up and added to my cereal. I also remember that that was the first time I ever drank the leftover milk from the bottom of the bowl, sweetened by the berries. It's crazy, right? I was fighting for my life, gasping for breath, and Special K and strawberries were filling my thoughts.
I remember feeling the need to hurry. I knew exactly where he was working today, but if I delayed too long, he might strike again and I couldn't have that on my conscience, especially since this whole investigative angle I was working was being done to prevent him from ever hurting another woman again.
Like he hurt Regina.
::~*~::
He was good. He hadn't done anything in the weeks since I started following him, investigating him. I knew I was better, though. I knew that I had gotten so entrenched in his mind that he actually complained to his attorney about being followed by cops! I suppose I should have been worried that I wasn't keeping my distance as well as I should, but sometimes suspects need to be dogged. It had worked for me before. When I heard that news through the grapevine, I actually started hoping that he would mess up, because I was positive it wouldn't take Mac long to put two and two together and realize that I was running my own investigation. It was only a matter of time before he started beating down my door.
Like I said, though, he was good and he wasn't going to do anything while the merest hint of surveillance was limiting his movements. I could wait. The benefit of police academy training. I was schooled in the art of patience, though history had sometimes proven that I could get as impatient as the next cop. I couldn't afford to screw this one up, though. He had gotten away once before and I was determined to bring him down, once and for all.
::~*~::
I was standing just around the corner, my eyes focused solely on him, when it happened. I had gotten in the habit of keeping my phone out with Stella's number ready to dial, should he decide to make his move, but for whatever reason, I slipped out of habit this one day. I don't know if it really would have made a difference if I had managed to reach Stella, but now I'll never know.
I watched him moving things around in the back of his van and I wondered what he was doing. My CSI background was screaming that he was acting out of character but I figured that after all these weeks, he was hunting prey again and he was definitely about ready to pounce. I should have realized then that my phone was not in my hand, but I was so focused on what he was doing, looking for any indication of who his target was, that all else was shoved out of my mind.
I saw her leave the building and his eyes followed her. I almost wanted to run across the street and gouge his eyes out. How dare he look at her with such filth running through his mind! Even then, I knew that he was making plans about what to do with her when he got her cornered. How wrong I was...
::~*~::
She came down the steps, and turned to walk up the street, her blonde curls bouncing along her back. I felt exhilarated as I watched him turn to follow her and it only made sense to follow him. She turned down an alleyway that bordered one side of her building and I silently cursed her. Was she trying to make this as easy as possible for him? As I was running across the busy street to the other side, I finally remembered my phone and I pulled it out of my pocket, trying to keep one eye on him and the other on the names scrolling down my phone. It had been too difficult to do both actions at once, so I kept my phone in hand, but turned my attention to the wide alleyway I had just turned into in order to catch him. Along one side were the huge construction tarps and scaffolding covering the outside of the building that was being renovated, the other side had dumpsters and lots of construction building materials. The only thing out of place was a black Cadillac, which I found odd as it was parked so near the renovated building. Wasn't the owner afraid of it being damaged?
::~*~::
He grabbed me from behind. It was so stupid! My heart had been thrashing against my chest, in an attempt to warn me, but all I cared about was catching him and sending him to prison for a very long time.
My phone flew out of my grip and I saw it slide under the nearest dumpster. His right hand clamped down over my mouth as his left arm snaked around my waist, holding my arms tight against my body. The hand covering my mouth smelled strongly of paint thinner and I could feel the fumes start to affect my senses and cloud my mind. If I hadn't been in such a life-threatening situation, I might have laughed. He was on his way to knocking me out and he wasn't even trying!
My instinctual police training remained at the fore even though my mind was slowly filling with fog. I kicked backwards. I elbowed him in the ribs. I even tried to smash my head backwards into his, but he seemed to expect, and successfully deflect, every one of my attacks. I struggled even harder, but my strength was rapidly failing. He forced me forward towards the black Cadillac.
::~*~::
I couldn't believe it! How was there such a busy street only feet away and yet no one seemed to have noticed my distress? The perils of living in New York, I suppose. As he forced me ever closer to the Cadillac, close enough for him to pull the door open, I had this distinct feeling that if he got me into that car, I wouldn't be leaving it alive. That seemed to have fueled the adrenaline to flood my entire body and I quickly dug my heels into the asphalt, as much as it would allow me, and pushed backwards with all of my might. I don't think he expected it and so he let go in order to regain his balance. It surprised me as much as it did him and by the time I realized that I was free and had taken a couple of steps towards freedom, he had grabbed me by my hair and yanked as hard as he could, ripping me off of my feet. As I slumped, dazed, to the ground, he then hauled me to my feet by pulling on my hair and wrapped his arms around my chest, trapping my arms. I had tasted freedom for only a few seconds, but it had tasted so sweet, as sweet as those strawberries. I wanted to feel it again, I wanted to drown myself in it, knowing it was the best feeling in the world.
::~*~::
He shoved me thru the driver's door and across the bench-style front seat, but I wasn't giving up yet. Some small part of me, a part that was growing smaller by the second, refused to give in. I could still fight him off. The adrenaline was still there, fueling my desire. He tried to climb in on top of me, but I lashed out with my leg and kicked him hard enough to propel him back out the door, but his hand clamped down on the door and he managed to stay on his feet. It was with that simple action that I knew I was done. I had fought as hard as I could, but I knew, there in the end, it had only fueled his anger and I was going to pay the price. I could see the murder in his eyes as he climbed in the driver's door, gripping my legs so tightly that I could barely move them until he was hovering over me. The smell of paint and sweat was so strong, I wanted to vomit, but I couldn't.
::~*~::
I was so young, with so much life ahead of me. How did I go from having years before me to only seconds? How did I fall so obligingly into his trap? I know now that it was never about the blonde. It was always about me. He had caught me, but he hadn't let on. He strung me along, for God only knows how long, before he pounced. And I...I walked into it so blindly. There had been so many signs, so many warnings. They had all been bright and apparent, but I had been so narrow-minded. I had been so intent on only a small part of the picture that I hadn't stepped back to see the whole picture, the one that would have flashed neon lights around the edges, warning me that my life was strictly measured by the choices I made today. Why was hindsight always 20/20?
::~*~::
It's said that when you're close to death, your entire life flashes before your eyes. I can testify to its truthfulness. Every memory I had suddenly flashed through my mind. I knew that in a physical sense, I was still fighting him, striking out with my hands as fiercely as I could, but these memories that had become detached from the depths of my being played in front of my eyes like a movie, but I could still see him behind them. Everything seemed to wind down into slow motion. I saw myself up to bat on an inner-city baseball team, the hard hat slipping forward over my eyes as the ball was pitched... Then I was learning to ride a fire-engine red bike with no training wheels, my dad holding onto the seat and my mom snapping pictures in the background... My first kiss with Brandon Treno on my doorstep, while my dad was hollering through the front window while he pounded on the glass... My first failed chemistry quiz only weeks after I decided I wanted to be a CSI when I finished school... The day I received the call from Mac telling me I started work in a week... The day Mac fired me for even considering tampering with evidence to send a rapist to prison...
The recent memories of Danny, Stella, Mac, Sheldon, and Don surfacing in my mind suddenly empowered me with the strength to do what I knew I had to do. I had to make sure they had all the answers to all the questions. I had to give them what they needed in order to finish what I started. Despite the fact that I had already started giving up on my job, a small part of me felt bitter towards Mac for being the one to fire me. Regardless, I trusted him to take what I was going to give him and use it to its fullest advantage in court.
::~*~::
I couldn't tell then whether he was getting stronger or I was getting weaker, but my punches were starting to miss their target. He was moving in on the offensive now, not needing to defend himself quite as diligently as before, and I shrank away from his pounding fists. I drew back into the seat so much that he overextended and fell forward, plastering the side of his face against the window. I reached up and pressed him hard against the passenger side window. I didn't know what I had hoped to accomplish, only that some small fragment of DNA might find its way from his face to the window. All they needed was enough. Not much, just enough.
He pushed himself away from the window and began beating me again. I felt a cracking in my chest and suddenly the very act of breathing became incredibly more difficult. As I gasped for breath, he leaned over me, close enough for me to smell his breath, his hands seeking my throat. His arm was so close, the paint thinner odor starting to become masked by sweat. One of those many memories that had been circling my consciousness came to the front and, with the memory spurring me on, I seized the flesh of his arm in my teeth and bit down hard. I saw his mouth open in a cry of pain, but the sound seemed to have come from a great distance away. He pulled back his fist and slammed it into the side of my head, turning my face away. I blinked back tears of indescribable pain as I saw the armrest swimming in front of my vision. Taking advantage of possibly the only chance I was going to get, I bit down hard on the plastic covered foam.
I then felt a snap in my left arm as he twisted my body back towards him. A wave of pain hit me, but it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. In fact, breathing wasn't as difficult as I knew it should be with at least one broken rib. All the pain was slowly draining out of my body.
::~*~::
Was this what it felt like to die? Did the pain drain away, leaving you doubtful it was ever there to begin with? The edges of my vision were darkening and the blows to my head felt like little more than snow falling gently down from the heavens. I remember my last conscious thought was about who would be processing my crime scene. It was something I would never have thought I would be considering before. Then darkness completely overtook me and all pain ceased at once.