Ballad of the Pitiful
by Skylar
"We need your brute manpower."
"What?"
"Your brute manpower."
"What?"
"Your brute manpower."
He frowned and didn't have time to ask once again. She turned around and walked out of the break room, leaving Eric behind trying to decipher the meaning of her short cameo. He looked around, wondering if maybe she'd been talking to someone else, someone he hadn't seen when he walked into the room five minutes ago but no, he was all alone, and therefore her cryptic message had been intended for him.
Suspiciously, Eric finally rose, both out of curiosity and because whenever Calleigh came up to him and asked him for something, he crumbled like a sugar cube for her. Pathetic, he knew, but he couldn't remember how to live any other way where she was concerned. So he walked into the hallway and after searching for her a while (he really should've ignored her and gone back to finish his lunch but again--pathetic) and finally found her and Valera standing outside the men's room.
Frowning, his curiosity piqued.
He walked over and Calleigh stood aside as Valera pressed her ear to the bathroom door. Something told Eric this wasn't going to be too pleasing for him.
"What's going on?"
"Ryan's sick," Valera informed him.
"I'm not sick!" a voice came from inside the bathroom.
"He's sick," Valera insisted, "and he won't come out of there."
Eric shook his head. "And..."
"And we need your brute manpower," Calleigh said.
He looked at her, and she had that little smile on her face that told him she expected to be amused very soon. Eric finally realized what was happening and groaned, throwing his head back.
"Nooooo!"
"Come on, Eric!" Valera cried pleadingly, "he could die in there!"
"Then why are you talking to me and not the janitor?" Eric told her. "Or Alexx, for that matter. Making the proper arrangements. Anything!"
Valera frowned and stood up to him. "If he dies in there you're gonna feel so sorry!"
"I'm not dying! I'm not sick; go away!" Ryan shouted.
Valera huffed and glued herself to the door again. "Ryan, you come out here right now!"
"No!"
"Ryan!"
"Go away!"
"Do you want me to call your mother? Do you want me to call your mother? That's it, I'm calling your mother," Valera shouted belligerently. She reached for her cell phone and flipped it open, looking through all the names in the directory, and then sighed loudly and leaned into the door, "What's your mother's phone number?!"
"I'm not falling for that one again," Ryan replied.
Valera sighed, giving the door a frown before she turned to Eric. Though she looked pissed, he could also appreciate a few lines of worry on her face. They quickly became more pronounced as she realized he was her only hope.
Eric inserted his hands in his pocket. "Frankly, getting his mother involved would at least provide me with 90 of this day's entertainment," he told her.
"Eric," Calleigh finally said, showing him what could resemble a pleading look if this were any other person other than Calleigh.
He sighed and looked down. Pathetic. So utterly pathetic. He wanted to jump out a window because a man so pathetic didn't deserve the privilege of life. And then she put her hand on his arm and that was his complete undoing. He rolled his eyes and pushed the door to the bathroom open, thinking pathetic and looking for Ryan.
Crouching in front of each stall, he finally found the CSI on the far end, sitting on the floor and hugging the toilet for dear life. Eric grimaced -- thankfully the toilet was flushed -- and sat next to him. Moments passed as they both tried not to address each other, and finally Eric looked over.
"How's it going?"
"I'm not sick," Ryan said unhappily, his eyes bulgy and his skin pale.
"Okay," Eric said, "but Valera's pretty worried, so why don't we walk out so you can show her you're not sick and I can go back to eating my lunch?"
Ryan frowned. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm sick!" Ryan hissed. Suddenly his face turned green and he groaned, and Eric looked away as Ryan threw up again. Gross, gross, gross, so fucking gross, he thought, but thankfully Ryan flushed the toilet quickly and cleaned his mouth using a traveling oral hygiene kit. It was almost amusing.
Almost.
"Come on, man, let's go," Eric said, standing up.
"I can't," Ryan said.
"Why not?"
"You'll all laugh at me."
"We already laugh at you," Eric told him. He waited a while, but Ryan didn't move, merely sat there looking miserable. He sighed. "So what's the plan? You're just gonna stay here until it goes away?"
"Yes," Ryan said stubbornly.
"All night and possibly all day tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Even though it may get worse?" Eric said. "Even though it might be some sort of bacteria that's currently eating away at your stomach? You don't care, as long as nobody laughs at you?"
"No."
Eric rolled his eyes. "Were you born a complete idiot or have there been substances involved?"
Ryan finally looked up, with much difficulty. "I'm not letting you carry me out of here like a fucking damsel in distress."
"Well, I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice," Eric said, reaching over and helping Ryan on his feet, "just be glad I didn't end that sentence with a 'Sally'."
"You can't do this to me," Ryan said weakly. "I refuse."
"Okay," Eric said, letting go of him and quickly Ryan began to plummet to the floor. Eric grabbed him quickly. "Yeah, good luck with that."
"You didn't warn me, you have to warn me first," Ryan complained, but Eric bent over slightly, groaning a bit as he threw the younger CSI over his shoulder. Making sure Ryan was in place, he began to walk out.
"Man, you owe me."
"Oh, God," Ryan groaned, the room (or rather the floor) spinning as Eric made his way out of the bathroom. Valera quickly rushed over, trying to take a look at him but Eric barked at her and quickly she walked in front of them with Calleigh. Grudgingly, Ryan ignored the chorus of people humming The Bodyguard theme song as they walked out of the lab. They made it to the parking lot and thankfully Valera had found a space near the entrance, because Ryan wasn't light and Eric's shoulder wasn't too comfortable, either, and Ryan was beginning to feel another wave of nausea approaching.
Valera opened the passenger door to her car and Eric deposited Ryan there, crouching next to the car, trying to be a good friend for once. "You alright, man?"
Without a warning, Ryan's face turned green again, and perhaps not wanting to mess up Valera's car he toppled over and threw up, half of it landing on the pavement, half landing over Eric's shirt.
"Oh, fuck!" Eric exclaimed, standing up quickly and doing a few little jumps, trying to get the horrible substance off of him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"I'm sorry," Ryan said miserably, watching as Calleigh tried to help Eric and yet not wanting to touch him at the same time, it resulted in Eric jumping in place and Calleigh grimacing in equal disgust.
Valera reached for the seat belt and began to strap Ryan in rather roughly. "I told you not to eat that sandwich. But do you ever listen to me?"
"There is nothing wrong about an expression of love between a man and his pastrami sandwich," Ryan groaned as she strapped him in.
"Oh, that's fine, more than fine with me. Next time you're horny I'd love to see our butcher take care of you," Valera said angrily.
Ryan weakly pointed a finger at her. "Do not speak ill of Remus!"
"Oh, shut up," Valera snapped. She straightened him up and shut the door, turned to Eric and sweetly said her thank you before getting in the car and driving out of the parking lot.
When they were gone, Calleigh turned to him. "Are you okay?"
Eric didn't move. "There's throw up on my shirt," he said and she giggled. Actually giggled like a little girl, with her hands covering her mouth and looking at him all happy and giddy, and despite being drenched in throw up he found he actually enjoyed this moment. Pathetic.
"This is funny to you," he said indignantly.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Calleigh said, grabbing his hand and guiding him inside.
He stood in front of the sink in the break room minutes later, with Calleigh attempting to clean his shirt using a wet rag. It wasn't working too well, and she was pushing some of the vomit into the fabric and against his skin.
"This is what I get for being nice to him," Eric complained.
"It's not so bad," Calleigh said.
"It reeks," Eric said.
She smiled. "Don't be such a baby."
"I'm not a baby," he said unhappily. "You're a baby."
"Oh, be quiet," she said and he looked over, and not only was his shirt stained with puke, but also damp from the rag Calleigh was using.
He didn't ask. It really didn't occur to him to say anything. He merely took a step away from her and flung the shirt over his head, threw it in the sink and opened the faucet, letting it soak underwater. He was shirtless and it was cold, but he was sure he had an extra shirt in his locker and besides, being a guy allowed him certain liberties when it came to the rules and regulation of fashion and nudity, or semi-nudity, as it were.
He didn't think it was such a big deal. Not until he looked at Calleigh and caught her off guard possibly for the first time since he'd met her, and she was looking at his bare chest, her cheeks slightly pink and a pleasing smile hidden on her face.
Eric grinned and she looked away quickly, and as if they shared a dirty little secret together, she threw the rag at him, a little embarrassed, and gave him a knowing look before she turned around and began to walk out of there, mentally scolding herself, thinking pathetic.
The End
9/15/07