Dusk was setting across the snowy skyline of New York as last minute Christmas shoppers were struggling to get home along the crowded streets. It was an incredibly cold night and people were bundled with scarves, toques and layers of clothing under thick woolen jackets -- all thinking with the same determination of getting home and sitting in front of their fireplaces with hot cocoa and listening to holiday tunes. Nobody really noticed the girl walking into Central Park; perhaps their minds were elsewhere, mentally checking their lists to make sure they'd bought for everyone. She had no packages in her arms, telling of her adventures up and down the city, and she wore no toque or scarf, just a charcoal gray wool jacket that was much too big for her.
She was beautiful. Her curly, almost waist-length dark brown hair blowing wildly in the icy wind, her light blue eyes staring straight ahead with a ferocious determination and her full lips pursed with thought. She had a story to tell, this beautiful package-less girl. But she wasn't the kind to tell a stranger about it. She had only begun to heal and it was hope that brought her back to the city. The city she had not stepped foot in, in almost 14 years. Hope that the pain inside of her would finally dissipate and fade away. That maybe the nightmares and flashbacks would disappear and that she may have one night of peaceful slumber. The hope that maybe her demons would finally let her go.
Maybe not.
She pushed forward through the shadows, ignoring the pessimistic voices in her head, her breath making patterns in the night air. She was almost there now. She was so close to an answer.
Evie, you know this will not help you. You're looking for an answer that isn't there. Your porcelain skin is too cracked – to damaged; there is not enough grout to fill your holes. You are beyond repair, my puppet.
"Shut up", she spat and began to walk quicker. She concentrated on her echoing steps. Counting them.
One, two, three, four, five …
Doing this will not bring her back. Come with us, my puppet, you know we can show you a better life. We used to have such fun.
Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve …
This will not make us disappear. We are always around, flying with the wind. We will always find you.
She broke into a run, her hair flying behind her as she closed the gap between her and the enormous structure ahead.
Evie –
"Shut up!" she screamed, slamming her hands over her ears.
And the voice was gone for the time being.
Didn't matter.
It always came back.
She walked slowly, cautiously, still with her hands planted firmly over her ears, towards the edge of the fountain. It was only when the leather toe of her heeled boot touched the marble edge, did she take her hands down and rest them at her side.
She did not want to come here. Every single step she took when she got off the plane from Vegas she told herself, "You have to do this. Do this for yourself. You can. You can. Keep going – keep moving."
But all she really wanted to do was run.
But she was here now and she was going to try even if it did nothing.
She promised Grissom and Sara.
And Evie Dupont kept what little promises she made.