Author : montag
Disclaimer : These characters do not belong to me. Please, leave me alone.
Author's Note : Spoilers "A Little Murder" re: Catherine's attack. It's PG-13 because of the language. Well, I warned you. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.
Shell of Empty Thoughts
You always see it happening. It can happen to anyone, anywhere, anytime with its own element of surprise that always catches you off guard. Always. No matter how alert you are, it always catches you off guard. Believe me, it does.
"Yeah - Oh, hey, Warrick - Uh, yeah. Some kind of home invasion gone bad - Don't run any lights - I'll just process till the coroner gets here - Cool."
However, as much as you see it happening, you never imagine it could happen to you. Ah, now here's where the element of surprise comes in, grabs you, and shakes you until you realize it's not a dream gone sour. Even then, you can't accept it to be real, and you balance yourself there, somewhere in between the truth and fantasy of the situation.
Slowly your euphoria fades into the back of your mind, and reality hits you like a bucket of ice water. You stand there, drenched in a mixture of panic and terror, fully comprehending that you are no longer safe.
"He must have gotten out the back window."
Your life flashes before your eyes. No, not your past. Not the things you have lived through and seen, but the present and the future - what you have and what you see; what you would have had and what you would have seen - if it weren't for...this.
And you think: damn.
I know I did.
"Were you the first officer on the scene? When you clear a place, you clear it! You understand?!"
"Sir, I'm sorry."
"We lost a CSI two years ago because of the same mistake!"
And everything goes cloudy. At the moment, it seems like an eternity, but afterward it feels like a matter of a few insignificant seconds. Funny, how your mind works like that. It taunts you.
You forget things you wish you could remember; and remember things you wish to God you could forget.
"Warrick, ease up. My fault. I sent him out."
You don't completely feel anything until it's over. And all emotions flood and overwhelm you until you think you're about to drown. Everything bears down on you, crushing you against the harsh reality that you can't refuse as much as you want to.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm all right. Don't touch me. I'm evidence."
People get protective on you, when all you really want is to forget it ever happened. But they won't let you. As much as you want to move on, they hold you steady at your place. They keep bringing it up, asking if you're okay. And shit, you can't say anything because you know they're just looking out for you; they're just concerned. That's all.
"Hey, hand me a swab, would you?"
"You know I could do that for you."
"Like it'd hurt any less."
They don't understand. They keep closing in on you with their fucking questions, their anxieties, their pity. Sympathy can be intrusive. But they keep pressing, forcing through the barriers you try so hard to hold up just so you can breathe.
"One ends up killing the other."
"And almost Catherine. That had to be scary, huh?"
"I didn't have time to be scared, David."
And you can't help but deny the fact that you were scared shitless. But there's always that one person that you admit it to, only because if you held it inside yourself any longer, you would self destruct. There's always that one person.
"Cath, you all right? Don't let him get to you like that."
"I...was scared....And I still am....Don't tell anyone, okay?"
And you're released from your self-imprisonment. The downside, there's always a downside. For this, well, you become vulnerable, so vulnerable that sometimes you just want to disappear back into your own euphoria where you were safe. And in truth, you were safe, but completely ignorant of the outside dangers that always threatened to sway you. It always does. Always. You just have to know when.
"Listen, Catherine. Me and Warrick can handle this."
"I'm going in."
"Well, the guy assaulted you. You don't have to put yourself through this, you know."
But you never do. The element of surprise - it surprises you. And you realize it's not only you yourself in Danger's lair, but everyone. It could happen to anyone. Your boss, your coworker, your spouse, your best friend, your neighbor, your...child, the epitome of your life. It attacks everything you've ever known and ever learned to love.
"If I don't, I'll be scared of the next guy and the one after that."
"So, I - uh, heard what happened."
"Yeah? Well, congratulations. You must be quite proud. Though I must inform you, you're not the first."
"Are you...okay?"
Shit. I swear if one more person - "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"I wish you would stop asking me that."
"I'm just concerned. It's not everyday you get attacked. Where was War - "
"It wasn't Warrick's fault."
"I know that."
"Then, don't use that tone of voice."
"What tone of - "
"He feels horrible enough on his own."
"He shouldn't. Like you said, it wasn't his fault. And you're right; it wasn't."
"The whole thing with Holly a few years - "
"Right."
"And then, there was Nick."
"Yeah."
"The last thing he needs is to think himself a curse."
"But I just wish you had - "
"Notified you?"
"Yeah."
"And let you keep me away from the crime scene? Yeah...right...."
"I would have strapped you to a chair."
"I know."
And all that you can't leak out, you unleash on yourself for fear that if you released it to the people around you, they wouldn't understand. They would take it the wrong fucking way like everything else.
"Catherine, talk to me."
"How strange to hear those words from you."
"Just tell me how you feel."
"Leave me alone."
"I can't. You look so tortured."
"You don't exactly look like Rhett Butler yourself."
"Catherine..."
"What the hell do you want from me?"
"Just talk to me. You never shut me out before. Why would you do it when you need to let it out the most?"
"Please, just leave me alone."
"No. Tell me what's wrong."
"You want to know what's wrong?"
"Yes."
"You work your whole life at this job. You believe you give the victim all your attention because they deserve it. You believe you provide their families with closure, peace of mind, the truth. You work every case believing that justice is somewhere out there, and you just have to find it and it will make everything okay. But as much as you empathize with them, you never once imagine that one day, you'd be...the victim."
But like everything, important or insignificant, you learn to move on. You're compelled to live another day because every day begins whether you're ready for it or not, whether you want the sun to rise or not. And like every situation, you always come away with something; your new and ancient wounds heal, you restore your soul and at last, prepare to take on Death once again.
"Truly nothing is to be expected but the unexpected."
--- Alice James ---
[The End]
Disclaimer : These characters do not belong to me. Please, leave me alone.
Author's Note : Spoilers "A Little Murder" re: Catherine's attack. It's PG-13 because of the language. Well, I warned you. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.
Shell of Empty Thoughts
You always see it happening. It can happen to anyone, anywhere, anytime with its own element of surprise that always catches you off guard. Always. No matter how alert you are, it always catches you off guard. Believe me, it does.
"Yeah - Oh, hey, Warrick - Uh, yeah. Some kind of home invasion gone bad - Don't run any lights - I'll just process till the coroner gets here - Cool."
However, as much as you see it happening, you never imagine it could happen to you. Ah, now here's where the element of surprise comes in, grabs you, and shakes you until you realize it's not a dream gone sour. Even then, you can't accept it to be real, and you balance yourself there, somewhere in between the truth and fantasy of the situation.
Slowly your euphoria fades into the back of your mind, and reality hits you like a bucket of ice water. You stand there, drenched in a mixture of panic and terror, fully comprehending that you are no longer safe.
"He must have gotten out the back window."
Your life flashes before your eyes. No, not your past. Not the things you have lived through and seen, but the present and the future - what you have and what you see; what you would have had and what you would have seen - if it weren't for...this.
And you think: damn.
I know I did.
"Were you the first officer on the scene? When you clear a place, you clear it! You understand?!"
"Sir, I'm sorry."
"We lost a CSI two years ago because of the same mistake!"
And everything goes cloudy. At the moment, it seems like an eternity, but afterward it feels like a matter of a few insignificant seconds. Funny, how your mind works like that. It taunts you.
You forget things you wish you could remember; and remember things you wish to God you could forget.
"Warrick, ease up. My fault. I sent him out."
You don't completely feel anything until it's over. And all emotions flood and overwhelm you until you think you're about to drown. Everything bears down on you, crushing you against the harsh reality that you can't refuse as much as you want to.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm all right. Don't touch me. I'm evidence."
People get protective on you, when all you really want is to forget it ever happened. But they won't let you. As much as you want to move on, they hold you steady at your place. They keep bringing it up, asking if you're okay. And shit, you can't say anything because you know they're just looking out for you; they're just concerned. That's all.
"Hey, hand me a swab, would you?"
"You know I could do that for you."
"Like it'd hurt any less."
They don't understand. They keep closing in on you with their fucking questions, their anxieties, their pity. Sympathy can be intrusive. But they keep pressing, forcing through the barriers you try so hard to hold up just so you can breathe.
"One ends up killing the other."
"And almost Catherine. That had to be scary, huh?"
"I didn't have time to be scared, David."
And you can't help but deny the fact that you were scared shitless. But there's always that one person that you admit it to, only because if you held it inside yourself any longer, you would self destruct. There's always that one person.
"Cath, you all right? Don't let him get to you like that."
"I...was scared....And I still am....Don't tell anyone, okay?"
And you're released from your self-imprisonment. The downside, there's always a downside. For this, well, you become vulnerable, so vulnerable that sometimes you just want to disappear back into your own euphoria where you were safe. And in truth, you were safe, but completely ignorant of the outside dangers that always threatened to sway you. It always does. Always. You just have to know when.
"Listen, Catherine. Me and Warrick can handle this."
"I'm going in."
"Well, the guy assaulted you. You don't have to put yourself through this, you know."
But you never do. The element of surprise - it surprises you. And you realize it's not only you yourself in Danger's lair, but everyone. It could happen to anyone. Your boss, your coworker, your spouse, your best friend, your neighbor, your...child, the epitome of your life. It attacks everything you've ever known and ever learned to love.
"If I don't, I'll be scared of the next guy and the one after that."
"So, I - uh, heard what happened."
"Yeah? Well, congratulations. You must be quite proud. Though I must inform you, you're not the first."
"Are you...okay?"
Shit. I swear if one more person - "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"I wish you would stop asking me that."
"I'm just concerned. It's not everyday you get attacked. Where was War - "
"It wasn't Warrick's fault."
"I know that."
"Then, don't use that tone of voice."
"What tone of - "
"He feels horrible enough on his own."
"He shouldn't. Like you said, it wasn't his fault. And you're right; it wasn't."
"The whole thing with Holly a few years - "
"Right."
"And then, there was Nick."
"Yeah."
"The last thing he needs is to think himself a curse."
"But I just wish you had - "
"Notified you?"
"Yeah."
"And let you keep me away from the crime scene? Yeah...right...."
"I would have strapped you to a chair."
"I know."
And all that you can't leak out, you unleash on yourself for fear that if you released it to the people around you, they wouldn't understand. They would take it the wrong fucking way like everything else.
"Catherine, talk to me."
"How strange to hear those words from you."
"Just tell me how you feel."
"Leave me alone."
"I can't. You look so tortured."
"You don't exactly look like Rhett Butler yourself."
"Catherine..."
"What the hell do you want from me?"
"Just talk to me. You never shut me out before. Why would you do it when you need to let it out the most?"
"Please, just leave me alone."
"No. Tell me what's wrong."
"You want to know what's wrong?"
"Yes."
"You work your whole life at this job. You believe you give the victim all your attention because they deserve it. You believe you provide their families with closure, peace of mind, the truth. You work every case believing that justice is somewhere out there, and you just have to find it and it will make everything okay. But as much as you empathize with them, you never once imagine that one day, you'd be...the victim."
But like everything, important or insignificant, you learn to move on. You're compelled to live another day because every day begins whether you're ready for it or not, whether you want the sun to rise or not. And like every situation, you always come away with something; your new and ancient wounds heal, you restore your soul and at last, prepare to take on Death once again.
"Truly nothing is to be expected but the unexpected."
--- Alice James ---
[The End]