Based on spoilers from 9.01 when they play basketball to remember a fallen friend. Shortest one-shot I've ever written, but it's my personal remembrance of Jesse Cardoza. Short, sweet and random. ;) BTW: I'm a football gal, this sport isn't my forte so sorry if it's a bit sketchy at times.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the title of this fic (that belongs to James "Jim" Carroll).
"We spend most of our time and energy in a kind of horizontal thinking. We move along the surface of things... but there are times when we stop. We sit sill. We lose ourselves in a pile of leaves or its memory. We listen and breezes from a whole other world begin to whisper."
-James Carroll
Hard to imagine how only twenty-four hours ago the world seemed balanced, measured equally with its doses of good as well evil. Then everything slips and falls; unfortunately, in this case, it isn't a figurative phrase. Only one thing could turn such a delicate balance into a lithic situation, something that has no heart, no soul, barely even a mind that could be human…the mind of a psychopathic killer.
He had taken a perfectly good team and broke it within the course of a few hours. The day should have ended with them going to a nearby restaurant or bar where they would have a drink at the end of the day, as was routine. Instead it ended at a basketball court, but not for a genial match, rather for a memorial service in CSI fashion, all because of a felon with no sense of emotion.
The last few months had been rough on all of the team. Horatio's son, who he hadn't had the privilege of knowing for more than a few years, was now gone into a realm of danger. Calleigh and Eric hadn't had the easiest months; issues of trust and questions of remaining whole had arisen. Ryan had found himself in the place of almost losing his job, again, due to Stetler's greed and selfishness. Natalia had spent the last few months with difficulty with her hearing and fear because of the explosion months back. Walter and Frank counted themselves lucky for not having as much misfortune as their colleagues, but they had been hurt seeing the rest of them diving and swimming through hell.
But this loss was just the icing on a very vexatious cake, losing a man they had grown to call a friend. The life of Jesse Cardoza had been lost, a dedicated cop and a decent human being had vanished from their world.
But now they all entered the old basketball court, Horatio opening the metal gate and holding it open for the rest of the team, all of who had grim expressions on their faces.
Their sneakered feet, most had changed from their work attire to shorts and tank tops, stepped onto the cracked blacktop of the beaten down quad. The lines were fading at half-court and free throw, only fragments of the stringed nets remained and graffiti was sprayed on the backboards. Most anyone else who walked here would probably have found it a ruined court and walked away. They, however, knew that Jesse liked coming here to shoot a few hoops every now and then; Walter had even said Jesse had "beat his ass" a few times at this very spot. That was why they had come, this was their personal eulogy to a great man and a great friend; besides, they knew Jesse would rather be remembered here than at a place where they would be wearing black and reminiscing about old times.
"Let's play ball," Walter declared, clapping the orange ball he had brought with him on its side.
They didn't pick team members in the traditional high school way in which one would be captain and call a person up one at a time to make them a member of their team. Instead, they simultaneously went to either side of the half court line. Horatio, Calleigh, Eric and Frank made up one side, Ryan, Natalia and Walter taking up the other side.
"You outnumber us," Ryan pointed out, faking a glare.
"Walter is tall enough to make up for two," Eric shrugged with a smirk at Walter.
"Exactly, so be prepared for a crushing defeat," Walter warned.
Despite the lighthearted comments of competition that could have been amusing, they ache in their hearts remained, loss has that effect and never truly goes. The members of the team that had been there when Speedle died still had the scar of his death on their souls; the mark of Jesse's death now laid right by it. The newer members who had never met Speed had had their own losses from people at old jobs to family members' deaths, so this pain wasn't a stranger to them.
The ball was tossed in the air and the game began.
NBA rules became a myth on this court, this wasn't just basketball anymore. This wasn't about winning or losing, they didn't even bother keeping score, but about friendship and the silent promise they would stick together. Standing from the outside looking in, someone could have guessed the last year had been a challenge of sticking together and that person could have said the team was falling apart. But if the team was falling apart, why were they here honoring a friend? Why would Natalia "accidentally" throw the ball out of bounds to give the other team a shot? Why would Frank "stumble" when he was close to stealing the ball from Walter? Why would Calleigh "get the sun in her eyes" when about to shoot a three-pointer, giving her side an advantage? Simple answer, they were a team; passed that…they were a family. Families had their challenging moments, especially a family of a large size, and maybe this passed year wasn't the greatest, but it was time for things to change.
Maybe, if things changed, Jesse's death wouldn't be in vain.
The sound of Nikes hitting the blacktop harmonized with the sound of the butyl rubber bouncing on the ground. As they played the CSIs learned something about the rest of their team: they had some talent in this sport. Though they weren't quite at Michael Jordan or Lisa Leslie level in the game, they were able to bring some of their own skill and personality from their jobs into the game.
Horatio, who astounded the others by having proficient skills on the court, was an amazing point guard for the team.
Ryan was fast, being able to retrieve the ball from just about everybody on the opposing side.
Frank could rebound with the best of them, saving the ball from being lost many a time.
Calleigh was able to shoot, earning a fair amount of free throw points.
Eric could guard the fastest of players, Ryan making the joke "that's why everyone on the defense wanted you to be their forensic expert."
Natalia could dribble, barely getting called for traveling with the ball due to this.
Walter was without a doubt the best center out of the seven of them, his height and many practices with Jesse proven to pay off.
They all laughed at themselves, dribbling, shooting and rebounding until the sunset and it was too dark to see. Only when darkness settle did everyone take a moment of silence to mourn, having just played the game Jesse would never play again. They either whispered their own prayers or thought about his memory, knowing work tomorrow was going to be a challenge with this feeling hanging over them.
At last they said their goodnights, traveling their separate ways.
Horatio watched as they drove away, their taillights disappearing in the distance. He closed the gate behind him, an intense sense of loss still flooding through him. No matter how many times Horatio counted his blessings that he had only lost one member of his team when he could have lost them all, he still felt the same sensation of grief.
He took in a final glance at the court, removing his sunglasses, having no real need for them now that the sun had vanished. The court was now empty, but minutes ago it had been filled with smiles, laughs, teasing and a mild pain that wouldn't be gone for sometime, he was sure.
Horatio reached into his pocket and pulled out the badge that had been Jesse's. Horatio grinned at it and ran his thumb over the gold shield. He gently placed the badge by the fence, Jesse's personal wooden cross.
"Welcome home CSI: Cardoza," Horatio whispered.
