Title: The Changing of the Guard
Author: Extremity
Subject Matter: CSI New York
Type: One-shot.
Summary: He left for a road trip to the nation's capital to pay tribute to the ones he's lost. She followed him because it was what a friend was supposed to do. M&S friendship.
Notes: First fic for this show. This was written a while ago, as in: before the most recent season started. Just letting you all know.
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The showers fell in a gentle mist across the city, and gray clouds seemed to suck the lively color from the once bustling scene. Rain clung to the windows of the empty apartment, stubborn like fleas, glistening like diamonds. The sun seemed reluctant to show itself in the breaks of the stormy sky, only briefly gracing New York with its warm gaze. But the glimpse of hope was only that. The moment ended as soon as it began, plunging all into a sense of either irritation or gloominess.
Though it was early, and the weary city had yet to awaken, some of its dedicated patrons were already at work. He was not one of them. He'd found himself awake in the fledging morning hours as the rain drizzled nonstop. He was tired of the hopeless feeling that had settled deep into the inner workings of his soul. So he left, calling in sick for the first time in years, it seemed. When he found himself driving away from the place he'd called home for over a decade, he only knew where he was going subconsciously. Emotions, powerful as they were, had finally reached their peak in his tormented mind. He needed to think.
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She had lost track of time and was huddled in her office, blinds shut, crochet blanket draped over her narrow shoulders. The only sound in the glass room was that of a writing utensil scratching furiously on paper and the soft sighs of a tired woman's breath. She'd been awake since the preceding morning. Tying up the last loose ends of the case had consumed her previous workday, and the resulting paperwork had led to her pulling an all-nighter with her clipboard and ball point pen. It was monotonous and demeaning, but it had to be done.
A soft knock broke the relative silence, before her door cracked open. A grizzled-looking lab tech poked his head through the gap in the doorway, as if unsure about being welcome. She could tell that the young man hadn't seen his own bed in over twenty-four hours either. A brief smile graced his bearded face, before almost immediately shifting to a worried frown.
"Big Mac's not coming in today, Stella."
"I'm sure he's just sick, Adam," she commented, her eyes glued back on the work resting on her lap. Her hand dropped the pen on the desk with a small clatter. Fingers found their way to her face, gently massaging her brow and temples.
"That's what I thought. Danny said he called in sick, but he called me to tell me to test some DNA for an old case. Said Danny'd know what to do with the results."
"And? He's right. Run the DNA and get the results to Danny. He's a good enough detective to handle himself on his own today," her voice was tired, showing hints of annoyance.
"Yeah, I know."
"Then what's the problem Adam?" This time her impatience made itself clear to the man in the lab coat.
"He didn't sound sick when he called, just… listless almost?" His eyebrows were knit together in concern. As if someone had flipped a switch in a dark room, Stella's head snapped up. The date displayed on the digital clock on the wall confirmed her suspicions. A sympathetic frown slipped onto her countenance, a sorry sigh sliding roughly from her lungs.
"Oh, Mac," she whispered, quiet enough for the tech to not hear. She stood, the blanket falling across the chair behind her. Wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, she placed the clipboard on the seat she'd just vacated. Grabbing her coat from its hook, she tied its strap around her waist before moving to leave.
"Is everything okay?" her coworker queried, pushing the door open for her.
"We'll see. I'm leaving. It's Saturday and supposed to be my day off anyways," she murmured, finally feeling the effects of her lack of rest. A yawn forced its way out of her, and her hand found it's way to the bridge of her nose.
A ping, seeming loud in the silent workplace, signaled the arrival of the elevator. When the door opened, she shuffled inside and pressed the button next to the letter 'L'. Immediately leaning all her weight on the wall, she watched as the numbers slowly counted down.
Thirty four, thirty three, thirty two…
Her eyes drifted shut and her head fell back against the faux-wood paneling. She thought she could almost feel his heart break, despite the distance between them. His name floated through her thoughts once, and a sad expression blanketed her features. When the metal before her finally slid open once more, she wearily pushed herself from the wall, heels clicking on the marble floor as she strode from the building.
Not realizing just how young the morning was, the wall of crisp, almost frigid air shocked any remainders of drowsiness from her system. Her mission became clear, nearly immediately. She looked up at the clouds, but only as long as she could with the droplets assaulting her face. She knew that somewhere out there, he was in dire need of a friend.
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A cold, marble bench overlooked a somber yet idyllic scene. Gorgeous rolling hills and aging twisted trees were intertwined with a sinewy morning fog. The rain fell much lighter here, or perhaps it was simply the moisture of the mist that was beginning to coat his solemn face. The verdure scene before him would have been perfect, had it not been for the hundreds of small white stones arranged in perfect rows and columns. The immensity of this place and the implications of the lives and loves lost were almost enough to break him.
Still, he stoned himself against the reality of the cemetery and stared forward at two plots, one empty and one occupied. A yellow tulip grasped in his cold hands waited for its owner to ready himself for its delivery. It wasn't her favorite and he knew it, but he had to bring something, anything, just to let her know he hadn't forgotten. That he'd never forget.
A clock tower's bell rang out across the cemetery, five, six, seven times. The sound, eerie and moving, brought his elbows to his knees and his head into his now empty hands. The delicate flower fell abandoned to the pitted pavement. His breath caught in his throat as he choked on the air and emotions that warred in his lungs.
He vaguely wondered why he came here again. This happened every time.
As he tried to regain his composure, he heard the soft clicks of a woman's heels from the path to his left. A slender woman, bundled up and bearing a small bouquet of blooms, was making her was up the gently slope. He felt for her, knowing the pain of losing a loved one. His eye returned to the ground, giving the woman privacy enough to tend to her mourning. He was ever so slightly curious when she came to a stop before him and laid her flowers on the grave that he'd been contemplating for the past hour. She continued to kneel and sweep his tulip from the concrete, placing it next to her own gift of remembrance.
A hand fell to his shoulder as the woman rested on the bench alongside him. The two sat in silence, the woman comforting her distraught partner, the man seeking solace in his friend's heart. Two souls, bearing identical scars, found a silent moment to acknowledge their hardships and overcome them. Together.
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Afterthoughts: The setting was intended to be Arlington National Cemetery. For those that haven't seen it, it's a pretty sobering experience. This was experimentation in a more vague style than I normally write in (hence the lack of names). Drop a review and let me know if it worked?