Over My Head
By Ninth Lady
A/N: Posted on LJ for a fic challenge. Does not mention Season 8 and is obviously Snickers. Please read, review, and enjoy! Thanks!
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The air was cool and the Vegas lights outshining the stars I logically knew were hanging in the sky above me. I blinked a bit before looking up at the sky. It was overcast, or perhaps it was just the smog – I could never been too sure. The sky did not bother me too much, or at least I wished I could say that honestly.
My childhood had been filled with stars, big dreams, and ambition; happy, well at least for a while. Those days truly were few, and the horrors I am constantly bombarded with seem to diminish those precious memories further. Sometimes if I'm at the desert for a case, I see more stars than I thought possible, refreshing the few peaceful childhood memories, reassuring me that life hasn't always been so bleak.
If anything, every case simply reminds me of the difficult childhood that some cruel Fate deemed as my own. Domestic violence, rape, murder… Constant reminders that not only is the past real, it is still very much alive within me. Seeing happy children with loving parents; smiling, adoring couples; pregnant women with their hands resting on their full stomachs; teenagers eagerly looking forward to their futures – all causing the normally dull ache in my heart to become a sharp pain I cannot ignore. I could have been any of those people, but I am not. Instead I am a miserable, workaholic, shut-in who works overtime anytime it is presented to her.
One star caught my attention. It blinked a little, struggling to be seen among the billions of other stars. It blinked once more before fading out, leaving me feeling oddly sad. I kept the feeling to myself, hoping that it would pass before I was forced to return to the lab to continue processing the evidence that had been collected from a triple homicide the night before.
Instead, the feeling grew from a mere pang of sadness to a body-enveloping sensation of grief. My slender body began to shake uncontrollably and I wrapped my arms around myself, willing the world to stop turning so I could give into the simultaneous desire to both cry for days and scream at the top of my lungs.
"I hate you…" I whispered to myself, my voice unsurprisingly hoarse and giving away the tears that were filling my eyes. "I wish you all would leave me alone!" No longer a whisper, my voice trembling as tears spilled down my face.
Sobs wracked my body, growing louder and more violent as the seconds passed. Embarrassing as it was, secretly I was thankful for the solitude I had right now, allowing the only witness to my emotional outburst to be the stars and cold, neon lights.
Memories flooded my mind, leaving me feeling overly exposed and unlike the woman I was, but the little girl who had watched her mother kill her father after he had broken my arm in a drunken fit of violence. The scene replayed in my mind for the millionth time since the incident had occurred all those years ago, often the subject of sleep-depriving nightmares and emotional outbursts during cases.
I had been on the floor, where my father had thrown me angrily, yelling and cursing at me for all the failures in his life that I had somehow caused through my miserable existence. Tears had stained my face, and I sat there clutching my broken arm, whimpering in pain and wondering how I could crawl back into my room on the arm without screaming and drawing more negative attention to myself.
My mother walked in cautiously, closing the door as quietly as the broken lock and handle would allow, herself not wanting to become the next victim. Seeing me on the floor, I remember how her fair complexion had turned sheet white as she saw me on the floor, stifling sobs and holding my broken arm as still as I could. She knelt down beside me, gently touching my forehead with her lips, whispering "I love you…" before she arose, a look on her face as cold as granite and determined to put an end to the misery. My father had been lying on the couch, in an alcohol induced stupor.
My frail mother walked over to him, pulling a gun out of her tattered purse. When the cold barrel touched his forehead, my father's eyes fluttered open, his confused look locking with my mother's determined one. "I'll see you in hell," was all she said before she pulled the trigger.
I was pulled out of my memory when I screamed with my childhood self, still traumatized years later by the memory of a hole being blown through his skull. I did not even realize when I began to wail loudly, unable to hold back the pain witnessing such an act had burdened me with. I knew why she had killed him, another battered housewife unable to take it anymore, finally breaking when she saw the damage her child had incurred from her husband's drunken wrath. It still killed me though. After the shooting she had become a shell of her former self, existing in the psych ward, but not there anymore. It had been the last time she had ever told me that she loved me, which made it even more painful, knowing that act had been done out of her love for me and her desire for me to live a better life.
If only things could have turned out better.
By now, I was only the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, crying and sobbing unashamed of the way I looked.
I didn't even hear the door open behind me, or realize that I had been gone longer than my break allowed for.
Strong arms wrapped around me, easily picking me up and holding me to muscular chest. I threw my arms around the stranger's neck, finally getting a whiff of their cologne. "Nicky," I sobbed, clutching him tighter. "Nicky, Nicky, Nicky… Why? Why? Why did they all leave me?" His arms held me tighter and he placed a loving kiss on the top of my head.
"I'm here for you Darlin'. Don't ever forget that."
I nodded into the crook of his neck, crying harder and harder. My body began to feel lighter as the grief began to lessen slightly. Sniffling a little I murmured into his chest. "I love you Nicky."
I felt him smile into my hair as he kissed it again. "I love you too Sara, I love you too."