A/N: The author of this work does not in any way profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s). CSI:Crime Scene Investigation is the property of CBS
This story was written for the Eighth Nick Fic Song Challenge and was inspired by the song Angel written and performed by Sarah McLachlan.
Comments/Reviews adored!
This One Moment
Ellie paced her hotel room, restless and wary. She didn't even know why she'd come. Instinct had kicked in when she heard her father had been shot and before she knew it she was getting off the bus in Vegas. She hated Vegas, hated everything it stood for and everything that had gone wrong in her life there. She hated the very air surrounding her, oppressive and thick.
With a frustrated sigh Ellie dug through her handbag, thrown on the lumpy bed in a fit of anger when she'd first opened the door to see the cold, dark hotel room. Dirty windows, threadbare blanket and carpet that reeked of smoke.
"Gil Grissom, you're a jerk," she muttered to herself. It was his fault she was here, instead of at her father's house like she wasn't good enough to darken the door. Like hell she wasn't good enough. "Bastard," she muttered again for good measure. It felt good, cursing that smug, smirking asshole who called himself her father's friend.
Still cursing under her breath Ellie grabbed a small plastic bag from a zippered pocket then stormed into the bathroom. Hands shaking she tapped out a small line of white powder on the countertop. She was about to lean over, rolled up dollar bill in one hand when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.
She paused, face twisting into an expression of hate. Leaning closer she stared into her own eyes. Boring brown eyes sitting in a round fat face framed by limp mousy hair.
"You're disgusting," she whispered to the face in the mirror. Like a mantra she said it without thinking, hating her reflection and refusing to acknowledge she hated her own soul. Her body she could abuse, and use and throw away. Her soul….Ellie shook her head away from the thought.
Gil Grissom was right. This hotel room, dirty and cheap, was all she deserved. Dirty rooms and grimy bills clutched in sweaty hands as man after man came to her, used her and walked away. She snorted with derision. Like the room she was dirty, and cheap too.
"Don't deserve any better," she mumbled, narrowing her eyes at her own reflection. Why couldn't her father see her for what she really was? She closed her eyes as the image of his hand came to her, outstretched and beckoning her. A wave of anger coursed through her and she straightened, eyes glittering.
She tapped the dollar bill hard against the counter then leaned down, exhaling sharply so she could inhale that straight, white line.
A loud knock came at the door, startling her so she snorted out, blowing the powder across the counter.
"Shit," she cursed, trying to brush the powder back into a neat line.
Another knock came, loud and insistent.
"Fuck it," Ellie decided she'd have to get rid of the idiot beating her door down. The residue on the counter looked enough like baby powder, if anyone bothered to look. Still, she shut the bathroom door before yanking open the hotel room door.
"What?" Ellie snapped.
"Hi to you too," A stranger stood, fist raised as he was about to knock again.
"Look I already paid and I'm flat broke now. You're wasting your time," Ellie huffed, tense and belligerent.
"Ellie?" The man's hand dropped to his side.
Ellie's eyes immediately turned wary. "Who's asking?"
"I'm Nick. Nick Stokes. I work with your dad."
"Yeah. So?" Ellie ran a hand through her hair, rolling her eyes.
"So your dad's waking up. Grissom thought you might like to be there." Nick jabbed his thumb over his shoulder towards the hallway.
Ellie shrugged. "Well Mr. Grissom thought wrong." She wasn't about to tell Nick that she'd already seen her dad awake. Why Gil Grissom thought she'd want to come back she didn't know.
"Look Ellie, I know you're havin' a hard time…"
"You don't know anything," Ellie interrupted.
"I know your dad wants to see ya," Nick said gently.
When Ellie didn't respond Nick stepped past her and into the room, shutting the door behind him. Ellie stiffened.
"I don't need a babysitter," she snapped.
Nick shrugged. "That's not why I'm here," he looked around the room with disgust. The windows were so dirty the sunlight barely shone through.
"Alright, so you passed on the message. Good boy. Now get out." Ellie dismissed him and grabbed for her handbag, pretending to look for something and trying to ignore her visitor.
"Ellie," Nick said quietly.
Ellie ignored him. Nick stepped closer and tried again. Speaking to Ellie's back while she bent over her bag.
"Ellie, I know you're hurtin'. But don't you think this could be a second chance? For you and your dad? I know he's been waitin' for ya. I know he still loves ya."
As Nick spoke something inside Ellie stretched, like an elastic band her nerves were worn thin. She wanted to break. Wanted to scream and cry and let out the anger that lived inside her. She wanted to be that innocent little girl her father missed so much. She wanted…she wanted her daddy.
Her breath came out in a gasp as she tried not to cry. She couldn't break, couldn't weep in front of this stranger who would probably run to tell her father all about it. She wasn't that innocent girl anymore and she never would be.
"Just let it go Ellie," Nick urged.
She took another gasping breath, willing the tears not to fall. Willing herself to believe there was no way her father could love her. Not after everything she'd done.
"He's waitin' for ya," Nick continued. Slowly, carefully he raised his hand and touched her elbow.
Ellie turned, slowly. Staring at the floor she didn't want to face the pity in Nick's eyes. "He's really gonna be ok?" She whispered.
"He'll be fine," Nick answered.
The tightness in her chest was back. She wanted to believe she could make it up to her father. Make up for all she lacked. Make up for her mistakes. Make him proud. Suddenly and without knowing why, she flung herself into Nick's arms. For one moment Nick stood motionless, shocked until his arms wrapped around Ellie.
He stood holding her while she trembled, fighting against the tears, against herself. She hadn't been aware of how tense she was until this moment. Closing her eyes she pressed her lips to Nick's neck. Needing the distraction and fumbling for some kind of comfort while she warred with herself.
"Ellie," Nick warned.
She didn't hear him. Her hands drifted down his back, caressing the hard muscle under his t-shirt, skimming over his tight ass before drifting to slide her fingers across the waistband of his jeans. His stomach was flat and she felt him clench, drawing in a deep breath.
"Ellie stop," Nick's voice was firm.
Ellie didn't stop. Her lips moved against his neck, her hands started fumbling at his belt. Nick grabbed her hands and shoved her away.
"No. I don't sleep with pros…" Nick started, snapping.
Ellie stepped back, her eyes cold and hard. All trace of vulnerability and warmth was gone. A bitter and angry woman stood in her place.
"Not good enough for you?" She nearly spit the words. "All I wanted was a bit of comfort. I guess you're right. I don't even deserve that."
Nick couldn't hide his exasperation. "That's not what I meant," he said. "C'mon, let's just forget this whole thing and go see your dad. Ok?" He stretched out his hand.
For one long moment Ellie stared at Nick's outstretched hand, strong and unwavering. Not like her father's hand, pathetically weak. She raised her eyes to meet Nick's, hating the pity she saw there.
"Get out," she spat.
"Ellie," Nick implored.
Ellie strode to the door, yanking it open.
Nick dropped his hand and sighed then walked to the open door. Brushing past Ellie he stopped.
"I'm sorry, Ellie. Please. Don't use this against your dad."
Ellie rolled her eyes. "Aren't you gone yet?"
Nick sighed and left the room, his heart sinking at the obvious anger the young woman was holding on to. No amount of regret would take back his words. He could only hope she wouldn't hold it against him, or worse, against Jim.
Ellie slammed the door shut and raced for the bathroom and the drug she had left inside. The storm of anger and self-loathing rose with a fury inside her, twisting and churning. She was desperate for the release that came with the rush, the comfort that came from the high.
Quickly she tapped the strewn powder back into a tight line, grabbed the rolled up bill and snorted fast. Breathing deep she shook her head and sniffed hard. Rubbing her nose with her finger she sniffed again.
There was no one to pull her from the wreckage of her life. The wreckage she had made of it. There would be no second chance for her.
Stumbling to the bed Ellie lay back, arms flung wide like an angel flying, soaring. She could see her father's outstretched hand, beckoning. Closing her eyes she drifted on the high, allowing the memory to seep from her veins until it was gone, burning away the sadness until only her anger remained.