Title: "Reflex"
Author: Kristen999
Spoilers: None Set Season 2
Summary: Some moments will be frozen in time. Flash Fic CSI Challenge. Prompt: First Time. Write about any 'first time' of your choosing.
A/N: 808 words...wow. I can write something short?
The blood is warm, gushing out like a pump through a hole that has torn flesh apart and pools under the body it just escaped from. It is bright red, meaning an artery was hit. This would account for the sheer amount that is soaking the wet grass. Some of the spray has stained his crisp white shirt, splatter on the darker fabric of his vest. A few sticky drops drip down his clammy face. Nick can feel the heaviness of his gun slip through his fingers, the heat penetrating his sweaty palm.
It sort of thuds into the earth, as he stands there frozen. Men and women running around. The sounds are muted, everything acting in slow motion, like some filmstrip.
"Nick?"
He doesn't look up, or even acknowledges his name. The voice sounds like it's miles away, or under water. A hand on his shoulder and a slight nudge to get his legs that have turned to jelly into moving.
"I think he's in shock."
Another voice, tight, laced with worry and concern. Except as he's being ushered away, he can't seem to tear his eyes off the cold, dying ones of the person he just shot. His mouth has gone dry, like desert sand. He shivers now, goose flesh all over his arms. Nick swallows, but nothing seems to form in his throat. No words, no questions that are nagging in a mind that has just shut down from a short circuit.
"Nick? Nick, look at me."
He hears the command and looks up at the eyes of Jim Brass. He blinks and everything sort of fast forwards like a DVD movie and then time zaps back into normal speed. Now he's sitting on the concrete sidewalk, in front of cookie cutter suburban townhouse. When had he gone from standing to flat on his ass?
Jim grabs his shoulder, giving it a slight shake. "It's going to be all right."
"Yeah." He mutters so softly, that Nick is not sure if anyone else heard it.
Jim is now squatting next to him, eyes staring and studying. The older man glances around at all the chaos around him and locks eyes with someone in the distance. "Get this man a jacket!" He hollers, sending some poor smuck of a beat cop scrambling.
"You didn't have a choice, Nicky. You listening to me?"
Nick squints into the serious expression of the Captain. He feel the weight of his words, nodding.
Nick takes the first real deep breath, pushing all the air out his lungs, teeth chattering in the night. A young cop runs over, heavy LAPD coat in hand. The Captain grabs it and drapes it over Nick's shivering body.
Jim wrestles with the zipper, trying to get the garment to provide...anything...warmth, comfort...something for the disillusioned man.
Instead Nick's eyes are glued straight ahead, at the medical worker's pronouncing. Bright red blood. Nick got the suspect right in the chest, no way he'd miss that close.
He's nodding his head at whatever words of comfort are being said. By-standers and cops, all rushing around, but it's just white noise.
Numb. His brain is stuck in first gear, his fingers feel like rubber, and his reflexes are duller than a butter knife at some fast food joint. He can hear some voice saying he's fine, then Nick holds his head in his hands when he realizes it's his own.
Falling down hurts, but its not as scary as the free fall before hand. As he slowly feels the cold night air crush him, a strong arm pulls him close, the warmth of crushing flesh, sweat, and old fabric. Nick buries his face into a shoulder. His cheeks are moist from letting go of the cork pushed so tightly within. Two set of hands knead that awful tight spot between his shoulder blades, somehow massaging through all the layers of cotton.
His body sags, losing all control, desperate hands clutch along a rumpled overcoat. Mumbling mixes with tears, and spittle. From releasing this moment and so many deeply buried others.
His body tingles as feeling returns to his arms and legs, the bear hugging him never letting go. The odd audible static becomes more tangible and he hears "It's going to be okay, kid." Over and over again.
No one else walks over. No need for further comment. A strong hand strokes his hair, followed by low muttering in a soothing voice. Nick allows his eyes to close, unaware of Jim Brass's steely glare at anyone who dares to approach.
There will be reports to fill out later. An open and shut case, with a speedy investigation, followed by counseling. All standards for an officer involved shooting. But for the moment, this moment... it all has to sink in. To become reality, and form another facet of an enduring personality.
For a few brief seconds, Nick allows to be comforted by the only person that can enter his guarded world.
Fini-