A/N: Written for the Talk CSI FCG Critique By Challenge Project number 3. This one started out being a lot of fun for me to write and then somewhere in the middle of the project I kinda lost it. I think I found it again though. This may not be what I expected or what anyone did from the challenge but I'm still pretty happy with the result.

Please review and let me know what you think.

-LLK

To Rise Above and Beat It.

Dark brown eyes lifted slowly off the couch when the sounds of keys started jingling on the other side of the door knob. Watching with an eerie alertness there was no preventing the shaking sensation that overcame him every time someone got ready to walk through the door. As a guttural cry started to creep up through his vocal cords he leapt from the couch and ran to hide behind the table in the other room, eyes never leaving the brass colored knob. All of the attempts at bravery were for naught this time, cowardice had overcome him once more. Perhaps next time he would be able to boldly wait from his perch on the couch and watch without fear.

It was a game he played with himself. Try to be brave. Try to wait. Try to watch the master come home. How many seconds could he last without hiding after he heard the first telltale signs that he wouldn't be alone for much longer? Sometimes he made it until the large white front door had already begun to open. Other times the sound of a car engine pulling into the drive way would send him careening into the other room, trembling in fear. Still, he hadn't ever made it all the way until his living companion had come into the house.

Maybe someday he would.

He couldn't suppress a high pitched whimper as he saw him come through the door, strong arms dropping his kit in its familiar resting place between the tv and the wall. Holding back any more audible sounds he watched the rest of the routine that the human, who was called Nick, seemed to follow every time he came home from work. First shucking the hat he'd recently taken to wearing as the days grew warmer, Nick dropped it on the corner of the couch. Then slowly he began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a tight-fit white undershirt.

As he began to unbutton his cuffs he seemed to have become reminded that he no longer lived alone. A gentle smile spread over his face and then morphed into something of a more solemn look as he noticed short brown hairs on the couch. Nick ran a hand over the couch lightly grazing the impression that still sat there as a sign that the couch had been in use. With a gentle gesture he patted the spot gently. It couldn't be clear if it was out of affection or desire to tidy the now imperfect area. The unmistakable feeling of muscles tensing resulted when he watched the man slowly start looking around the room for any signs of life.

Finally their eyes met. The freezing trance only lasted a matter of seconds before it became clear that all attempts at hiding would be for naught. All of the security of loneliness was lost and now phase two of their daily tango was about to begin. He cringed in fear while the other walked slowly and deliberately into the kitchen, passing him as he went, and began filling a bowl with water. Soon he was going to speak.

"Come have some water," he said as he lowered the bowl to the floor. "It's okay, c'mon."

Nothing happened.

The man sat slowly on the floor, his back pressing against the front of a cabinet. He used an arm to push the bowl as far away from him as he could reach and just sat there. Still crouching and hidden in fear the dog noticed the deep red scars that shone on the man's arm as he pushed the bowl away and his sleeve slid up. He felt something akin to a pang of guilt as he focused on the marks he'd made on one of the first days of their comradeship.

"Buck," the man's voice called gently. "C'mon out now, it's just me. Nothin to be afraid of."

Still, he didn't move.

"I'm not gonna hurt you bud, you know that," the man said, a thick southern accent slowly overcoming him. Almost out of nowhere a bowl of food appeared in his hand. Pushing it near the water he added, "eat somethin so I can take ya for a walk and then get to bed. Shift was a killer."

The food reminded him how hungry he was. How long it seemed like it had been since he'd eaten. Though Nick sat near the food he wasn't a bad human. He was actually the best human Buck had ever grown to know, the only one that had ever been kind. Though they had not yet gotten to the point where Nick could pet him at will didn't mean that their relationship hadn't come far. The fact that day after day it took food to coerce him out of hiding didn't mean that he wasn't slowly starting to understand that this human was there to help him. Having come from where he did though, these things took time. Nick thankfully understood that and never pushed him to do something he wasn't ready for.

Slowly he moved forward.

As soon as he was close enough Buck had his face buried in the food, swallowing it in gulps before he even had the chance to chew. He knew, because the human had admitted it to him more than once, that he was kept a little hungry while Nick was away so that this ritual would happen the way it was supposed to. It was a way of insuring that they had at least a little interaction with each other before the day ended.

Every day they would do the same things. Every day it took Nick sitting on the floor in the kitchen with a bowl of food and water at arm's length to get them in the same room together. Every day it took Nick distracting him with food before Buck would even let him clip the leash to his collar so they could go for a walk. Today, however, was the first day that Buck didn't involuntarily snarl when Nick's hand grazed his ear after the leash had been clipped. It was stranger than fiction, the feeling he had as the man's hand gently massaged behind his ear, his head, his neck. Afraid that he liked it a little too much Buck grunted and shook Nick's hand off. Every other attempt to pet past his head was met by a low growl.

One step at a time.

Buck ate in that fashion, standing every muscle tensed, slowly chewing as he paused every now and then to warn the man that he was going just a bit too far. The meal passed slowly but by the end he was feeling a bit more courageous. He let Nick pick the bowls up without cowering. He let him drag a hand over his head, even let him pat his crown, without wanting to run. He was slowly learning what it meant to trust a human.

That was something he'd never done before, trust a human. Nick was the first one that had ever seen him as more than a killer. Nick was the first one that had ever stopped and tried to be kind to him. Who had ever taken a real effort to do things slowly and the way he wanted. Buck was eager for their walk around the block as he tugged a little on the leash, knowing it was coming next. Nick was the first human that hadn't punished him when he tugged. Nick always met his eager tugs with a grin and a happy voice. The other humans in his life had all either cowered away from him in fear or more commonly had used him as a machine for destruction. Making bets and starving him for days on end in an effort to force him to annihilate the competition. He'd never liked being a fighting dog. He did what he had to so that he could survive. With Nick his triumphs were never followed by the rustling sound that paper money made when it passed between hands. Instead they were met by kind speech and occasionally a piece of bacon.

Buck liked that.

"Whoa boy," Nick said gently. "I'm comin but you gotta let me get that door open before you pull so hard. It has to be open before we go outside."

Buck stopped scratching at the door and pulling on the leash. He moved as far away from Nick as the leash would allow and crouched down as he watched the man move past him and open the door. As soon as it was open, however, Buck quickly snaked his way outside and to the end of the leash's capacity. It wasn't that he was trying to make his escape, it was just that he didn't know how else to behave. It always took him a few minutes to remember what it was Nick who had taught him about being a normal dog on a walk. After a few frustrated commands Buck remembered just because the leash let him go six feet didn't mean he should take seven. He eased back a bit so that he was using the full capacity of the leash but it wasn't taught with his effort. Slowly, in a more relaxed fashion, they started to make their way around the block.

The four months that he'd been living with Nick were the only times he had ever been taken for walks. In his former life he was left to defecate wherever it was that he'd been forgotten and it would be sprayed up with a hose, eventually, sometimes with him still inside. Nick actually taking the time out of his day, every day, to bring him food and to go on walks with him seemed unusual at best. People just didn't do that for his breed.

There were many differences from the life that Nick seemed to be trying to live with him and the life that he had formerly led. In his former life there were two classes of dogs. The pit bulls and everything else. The pit bulls were the fighters, there for making their owners money. The others were more like chew toys on which the pits would sharpen their teeth. He hated memories of the former life. He was not a monster and having been forced to live as one was the most shameful experience of his life.

But somehow he had escaped that life.

It had happened like a whirlwind. One night he had fallen asleep just as any other, in the back of his cage to avoid the water he'd accidentally spilled which had at that point turned to ice. He remembered bunching himself as small as he could in the corner of his cage to be warmed by his own body heat. When he woke up it was strange. There were unfamiliar sounds all around him, and soon he saw several men in uniforms burst in to the small building that held all of their cages. Things happened so fast and the others were being taken but he didn't know where. Finally when a form of plastic noose was wrapped around his neck and he was pulled from the cage he didn't protest. He was too shocked to do anything but comply.

He had spent the next few days in another cage, this time constantly cowering near the back out of fear, where the uniformed men would bring him regular meals and keep his cage clean. They had even supplied him with some sort of rubber thing that made squeaking noises when he touched it. He hated the noise it made but somehow he knew that it was there because he was supposed to like it. The place he had been taken to where the uniformed men ran things was warm though and Buck had fallen asleep every night without shivering.

One day a few weeks after he'd gone to live where the uniformed men took care of him Buck had been awoken from his nap by the sound of voices. "You're doing a really good thing here Mr. Stokes, these animals don't normally get a second chance."

"We had a case a couple of weeks back where we uncovered a whole dog fighting operation. All of the animals had to be terminated." He heard a new voice admit. "I've lost some sleep over the fact that they all had to live and die that way."

"It is a tragedy," the uniformed man said in return. "You do know that these dogs need a lot of time and patience. They're not golden retrievers."

"I know," the new voice stated. "I'm willing to take as much time as it needs. I'm not expecting instant gratification here."

"If you're okay with this taking a real long time I think I might know just who you should meet," the uniformed figure said. The men came into view as he gestured toward Buck. "This guy right here. Goes by Buck. He's a real sweet guy underneath it all, I just know. It'll take you some time to bring it out of him though."

As they turned around the block and the edges of their yard started to come into view ahead of them Buck remembered the four hour car ride that had first brought him there. He also remembered how within hours of first entering Nick's home he had bitten him. It wasn't a puppy bite either, he'd done real damage. All Nick had done was bandage his hand and apologize to him for pushing him too far too fast. He sought no retribution. Now months later Buck was starting to know what that meant. As they crossed the yard towards the front door Buck tugged again.

This time he was happy to be home.

Though he had admitted that he liked it where he lived there were still things he had to work through and so when the leash was un-clipped from his collar Buck ran for the other end of the house. He was crouched tucked behind a trophy display case at the end of the hall way and stayed there while he watched his living companion prepare for bed. From that spot Buck could see into almost any room in the house and had taken to calling it his domain when Nick was at home. The man had even found a way to move the trophy cabinet away from the wall some and had tucked a cushion and a blanket in behind it so that he would be more comfortable, though Buck wasn't sure he remembered when that had happened.

He watched as Nick vanished into the bathroom that adjoined his bedroom for a moment and then returned, right hand glistening with a few drops of water. As Nick moved around the room grabbing the things he needed Buck became aware of the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Nick grabbed a complete outfit from his closet and folded it neatly, laying it on his dresser. Buck knew that he left it there in case he was called in during the night. Then grabbing a pair of boxers and some basketball shorts he disappeared back into the bathroom. A moment after he saw the door click closed and Buck became aware of the sound of a radio playing.

Me and all my friends
We're all misunderstood
They say we stand for nothing and
There's no way we ever could...

The sounds coming from the other room lulled him and he began feeling the weight of his eyelids. He let them droop. Lowering his head on his paws he felt fine letting himself fall asleep. No matter how far he still had to go to be the kind of dog he knew Nick wanted him to be, he knew that he'd already come a long way. He was no longer misunderstood and he was starting to realize that he did stand for something, whatever it was.

Sometimes he hated the involuntary peaks of fear that sent him shuddering into a corner whenever he realized that he was in the house with a human. Obviously they weren't all bad. Nick was proof to the contrary, they may be few and far between but good humans did in fact exist. As Buck slowly drifted to sleep he realized that his problems lay in the fact that he was still getting to know Nick. As much as he wanted to trust him it seemed like things always changed. People always got angry, eventually, and they always punished you mercilessly.

But something told him Nick just wasn't like that.

-End

A/N 2: Lyrics and title taken from John Mayer's "Waiting On the World to Change."