Title: On a Bed of Angels
Author: A. Beautiful. Disaster
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Nick leaned against the door frame releasing a heavy sigh from deep with in his chest. He felt her hand gently rest on his shoulder, a warm comfort. "Please, Don't let her be dead"
Disclamer: sadly i don't own any part of CSI.
Thank you to everyone for their glowing reviews! ^_^ Remember I love feedback. Sorry, this took a little longer then I expected and chapter 3 should be out by tomorrow.
*Remember this is my first CSI fic. I may / probably have the characters totally off.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Nick Stokes squinted through the thin line of dust on his windshield. He wouldn't be damned if every light in his house was on. He sighed and shrugged of that funny feeling that tugged at his spine. Like cool, skeleton fingers tracing unseen patterns down his back. He shivered slightly as he pocketed his keys and reached for a crumbled brown bag and a paper tray with two steaming hot cups of coffee. Holding the creased brown bag ,that smelled faintly of jell donuts, under his arm and balancing the coffee in his right hand, Nick managed to get out of his car with out tripping on his own feet. Shutting the door with his leg, he made his way up the path towards his house, cheerfully whistling a tune between his lips. He reached the door, fished his keys from his pockets and slipped them into the key hole. With a grunt, the door clicked open and he managed inside with out spilling a drop of coffee.
The echo of the door shutting behind him unnerved him more then he would of liked to admit. His brow furrowed with confusion, the house was as silent as death. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Something was wrong and he couldn't shake away the feeling. His skin prickled as if he had been touched by the dead. Something was out of place. It just wasn't right. Where the hell was she?
"Lilly?" He called out, his voice echoing of the white walls. Silence. He set down the coffee and donuts by the door but didn't even bother to kick off his shoes. He moved quickly towards the stairs and watched his shadow dance on the wall, mocking him.
"Lilly?" He yelled much more loudly this time and the amount worry in his voice shocked even him. The hall upstairs was shrouded in shadows and only the dim glow of light from the spare room, which Lilly had moved it to, spilled out into the hall. He jogged up the stairs, his heart beating with in his chest. Perhaps she was asleep? He assured himself she was sound asleep in her bed. Sound asleep and safe from harm. He reached her door way and ducked his head in to find only a ruffled blue blanket that laid on the bed. No Lilly Stokes.
"Lilly!?" He raced down the stairs, his foot steps muffled on the carpet. He hit the tile and his shoes echoed loudly. He winced at the empty sound. Where the hell was she? "Lillian!" he shouted and all that answered him was his own voice. He jogged towards the kitchen calling out to his niece and skidded to a dead stop. Blood. He stepped back from the blood splatter of the white tile floor. His mouth dropped open and he shook his head in disbelief. He could not take his eyes away from it. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Lilly.
"No." He whispered as he wondered past the blood, his steps slow and dazed. This couldn't be real. He tore his gaze away from the blood and glanced around the empty kitchen. What the hell had happened here? The back door was wide open and the cool Las Vegas night air blew into Nick's home. He shivered and slowly walked over towards the door, reaching for the handle. His hand rested on the cool copper knob. The lock had been forced open.
He let out a small cry of anger as he closed the door with all of his strength. The sound of shattering glass filled his ears as the force caused the window to break into a thousand pieces, each shimmering in the moon- light. Sighing, he brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and tried to rub away the head-ache that was starting to form.
"I have no where to go." Lily Stokes stood in the doorway of Nick's home. Her long rich brown hair was drawn back in a pony tail that laid across her shoulder. Her brown eyes sparkled with tears and he watched as her face contorted. She was about to cry. Nick scooped up his niece and hugged her tightly, his strong arms wrapping protectively around her small body. She felt like a porcelain doll in his grasp. He was afraid to hold her but much to frightened to let her go. "Keep me safe uncle Nick." She instructed, smiling through her tears. "Keep me safe."
Her words echoed through his mind and he pulled him self from these thoughts. Shaking his head violently, to rid his memory of her pleas of safety uttered only a few hours before. It was an easy task. Keep her safe. Keep her from harm. Keep her from dying . Nick willed himself away from these taunting thoughts and searched for his phone. He stepped merely a foot before he heard it crunch beneath his black boot. Shattered in pieces, it laid scattered on the floor before him. With a wordless sound of anger he kicked the phone as hard as he could and watch as it skidded across the floor, stopping only when it collided with the dishwasher. Without another word he reached for his cell.
Author: A. Beautiful. Disaster
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Nick leaned against the door frame releasing a heavy sigh from deep with in his chest. He felt her hand gently rest on his shoulder, a warm comfort. "Please, Don't let her be dead"
Disclamer: sadly i don't own any part of CSI.
Thank you to everyone for their glowing reviews! ^_^ Remember I love feedback. Sorry, this took a little longer then I expected and chapter 3 should be out by tomorrow.
*Remember this is my first CSI fic. I may / probably have the characters totally off.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Nick Stokes squinted through the thin line of dust on his windshield. He wouldn't be damned if every light in his house was on. He sighed and shrugged of that funny feeling that tugged at his spine. Like cool, skeleton fingers tracing unseen patterns down his back. He shivered slightly as he pocketed his keys and reached for a crumbled brown bag and a paper tray with two steaming hot cups of coffee. Holding the creased brown bag ,that smelled faintly of jell donuts, under his arm and balancing the coffee in his right hand, Nick managed to get out of his car with out tripping on his own feet. Shutting the door with his leg, he made his way up the path towards his house, cheerfully whistling a tune between his lips. He reached the door, fished his keys from his pockets and slipped them into the key hole. With a grunt, the door clicked open and he managed inside with out spilling a drop of coffee.
The echo of the door shutting behind him unnerved him more then he would of liked to admit. His brow furrowed with confusion, the house was as silent as death. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Something was wrong and he couldn't shake away the feeling. His skin prickled as if he had been touched by the dead. Something was out of place. It just wasn't right. Where the hell was she?
"Lilly?" He called out, his voice echoing of the white walls. Silence. He set down the coffee and donuts by the door but didn't even bother to kick off his shoes. He moved quickly towards the stairs and watched his shadow dance on the wall, mocking him.
"Lilly?" He yelled much more loudly this time and the amount worry in his voice shocked even him. The hall upstairs was shrouded in shadows and only the dim glow of light from the spare room, which Lilly had moved it to, spilled out into the hall. He jogged up the stairs, his heart beating with in his chest. Perhaps she was asleep? He assured himself she was sound asleep in her bed. Sound asleep and safe from harm. He reached her door way and ducked his head in to find only a ruffled blue blanket that laid on the bed. No Lilly Stokes.
"Lilly!?" He raced down the stairs, his foot steps muffled on the carpet. He hit the tile and his shoes echoed loudly. He winced at the empty sound. Where the hell was she? "Lillian!" he shouted and all that answered him was his own voice. He jogged towards the kitchen calling out to his niece and skidded to a dead stop. Blood. He stepped back from the blood splatter of the white tile floor. His mouth dropped open and he shook his head in disbelief. He could not take his eyes away from it. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Lilly.
"No." He whispered as he wondered past the blood, his steps slow and dazed. This couldn't be real. He tore his gaze away from the blood and glanced around the empty kitchen. What the hell had happened here? The back door was wide open and the cool Las Vegas night air blew into Nick's home. He shivered and slowly walked over towards the door, reaching for the handle. His hand rested on the cool copper knob. The lock had been forced open.
He let out a small cry of anger as he closed the door with all of his strength. The sound of shattering glass filled his ears as the force caused the window to break into a thousand pieces, each shimmering in the moon- light. Sighing, he brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and tried to rub away the head-ache that was starting to form.
"I have no where to go." Lily Stokes stood in the doorway of Nick's home. Her long rich brown hair was drawn back in a pony tail that laid across her shoulder. Her brown eyes sparkled with tears and he watched as her face contorted. She was about to cry. Nick scooped up his niece and hugged her tightly, his strong arms wrapping protectively around her small body. She felt like a porcelain doll in his grasp. He was afraid to hold her but much to frightened to let her go. "Keep me safe uncle Nick." She instructed, smiling through her tears. "Keep me safe."
Her words echoed through his mind and he pulled him self from these thoughts. Shaking his head violently, to rid his memory of her pleas of safety uttered only a few hours before. It was an easy task. Keep her safe. Keep her from harm. Keep her from dying . Nick willed himself away from these taunting thoughts and searched for his phone. He stepped merely a foot before he heard it crunch beneath his black boot. Shattered in pieces, it laid scattered on the floor before him. With a wordless sound of anger he kicked the phone as hard as he could and watch as it skidded across the floor, stopping only when it collided with the dishwasher. Without another word he reached for his cell.