This was written for the Anniversary: One Year Later challenge on the SaveColby community over on LiveJournal.
This is unbeta'd and I don't own Colby or any of the NUMB3RS crew. I know, I know, you might just faint from the surprise.
Interrogation
Even after all these months he still couldn't walk into interrogation without having a mini-flashback. Every time he pushed open the door to interrogate a suspect or retrieve one of his teammates, his mind skipped back to when he had been the one on the wrong side of that table. When it had been he that Don had been pulling answers from. When he was the one that David and Megan watched confess from behind the glass mirror to observation.
It wasn't a stop and zone out for a few seconds kind of flashback. It wasn't even a blink and a little hitch in his stride kind of flashback. It was just… memories. Painful memories, but just memories. They stayed in his head; he worked hard to keep them there. To keep anyone from noticing that he was still so affected by something as simple as an interrogation room. Some days he thought that the room had a greater impact on his psyche than that of the suspects that he was supposed to be interrogating.
His mind just jumped ever so briefly back to Don's accusing looks and words, David's tear filled eyes and shouted accusations, Megan's quite, pain filled and decidedly rhetorical question as she walked backwards from the room, staring at him with an expression of deep betrayal and a touch of defeat. He could remember as clearly as though it were yesterday the anguish in their eyes at the realization that he had been lying to them for two years.
He never managed to escape the haunting memories, but within seconds of entering interrogation he had managed to push them firmly to the back of him mind. They only converged on him when he entered, no matter how much he tried to fortify his mind against them before he entered. Each time he hoped that this would be the time that they didn't appear, but it never was. They were always there. Always.
This, he thought, was his punishment. He couldn't go about his day, his job, without remembering the terrible things that he had done and the pain that he had caused those closest to him. He was being held hostage by his guilt. Doomed to never forget his sins.
It was, perhaps, what he deserved. After all, he had taken a wrecking ball to so many lives. Michal Kirkland had given his life to protect him, to try and maintain his cover. The dead guards on the prison transport. Dwayne had died to save him when, really, he didn't deserve any such kindness from him. From anyone.
He hadn't deserved the spectacular effort that his team- those whom had been betrayed most by him- had made to find him. David had saved him. He hadn't deserved that, either.
And now, every time he had to do something as simple as interrogate a suspect he was reminded of how much had been given to him that he didn't deserve. He hoped, prayed that eventually, with time, the pain that the memories brought with them would lessen, but he wasn't holding his breath for that one. It had been a year and the memories still felt like a knife piercing his heart. Or maybe it was a syringe that just felt like a knife.
