Summary A ficlet (or just plain old short story) about Natalie Davis and what she is thinking about after she abducts Sara. This is from her point of view. Spoilers for Season 7 are included so please, you have been warned. GSR.
Disclaimer I did not create nor do I own the characters nor anything to do with CSI. I am merely a fan.
BreakingShe should be awake soon.
I have to hurry. The Fentanyl that I gave her will be wearing off at anytime now.
I may have even given her a little too much, but she was fighting me and she wouldn't shut up.
I had to do something.
All of the questions. She wouldn't stop asking questions.
Questions, questions, questions.
"Why are you doing this?"
She doesn't get it. She should know why.
"What have I done?"
What has she done? She is special to Gil Grissom, she is his special girl. She is as important to him as – was – Ernie is – was- to me.
"You don't have to do this."
I have to make her understand. I have to make them understand.
Gil Grissom has forced me to do this. Everything that happens today is his fault. I tried to tell her that, but she still didn't get it. No one ever seems to get it.
"You don't know him. Grissom would never hurt anyone on purpose. He didn't kill Ernie. Ernie killed himself."
That is when I hit her with a second shot of Fentanyl.
Bitch.
Her Grissom killed my Ernie.
Grissom.
Grissssssom.
I don't even like how that sounds.
As I look back at her tied up in the backseat, all I can think of is she is tougher than she looks and that I am glad that she has finally shut up.
When we get to the canyon where I placed the overturned, wrecked Mustang, I park the car and come around to get her out. She is still out cold, so I am not too worried about her fighting back.
I put my hands under her arms and lock my hands behind her head as I drag her out of the backseat of Trevor's car. Her boots thud as her legs slide off of the seat and hit the doorframe
Thunk.
Thunk.
Her heels are making perfect perpendicular lines as I drag her though the dirt.
Ugh. She is a lot heavier than she looks.
It is nice and quiet here in the canyon, only the sounds are of the wind and an occasional howl of a lone coyote cut through the darkness. Ernie would have liked it.
As I am dragging her, I stop for a second to catch my breath and look up at the stars.
Ernie used to tell me stories about each of the constellations, none of which I can seem to remember right now though. I just know that I loved the time he shared with me.
I miss him.
A lot.
I miss him so much that it feels like I am being stabbed in the chest with each and every breath. It is like when I lived in Kansas living with my "brother" Raymond on his farm during the wintertime. You would take a breath and the cold air would pierce through your lung. Every time that you tried to suck air in it would be forced right back from the frosty pain.
Gil Grissom is going to feel the same way.
Soon.
I am taking away his special girl.
Good.
I should have parked closer to the Mustang. This is taking too long.
When I get her near the Mustang that I have to jacked up with a hydraulic air pump that Trevor helped me set up, I have to finagle her in to place. I want her to be in the drivers seat with her arm sticking out. When I drop the car on her arm, it won't kill her. It may eventually, but if it does, it is not my fault.
He will have enough time to save her.
Just like someone could have saved me.
As I start to lower the car, she is waking up.
"Natalie?"
I just look at her, trying to see in her what he sees.
"Natalie!"
I still don't see it.
"What are you doing?"
She still doesn't get it. I thought she was a CSI. She must not be very smart.
As the car continues to lower, I wait until I hear her arm break from the weight of the car before I walk away.
Now we are even.
Thanks for reading!
