Author's Note: I gave Officer Hollis from Dispo Day a first name. Wasn't mentioned in the episode (at least I don't think so); came up with one instead.
And I so lied earlier…one problem I have is that I don't plan stories, they are always WIPs and seem to just write themselves. I'm just the fingers clicking the keys. So while I had thought this chapter would be Dispo Day only, I had some loose ends to tie up. :::Author runs and hides::: It's gonna be one more chapter. :::Gives best 'I-feel-so-guilty' looks and peeks out to see readers with rotten fruit::: I'm sorry!
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Ancillae
Chapter Nine: Here the Frailest Leaves of Me
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"I don't know about that, Lieutenant." Juni tells Horatio, as my eyes slit open. Both are feet from the edge of my bed; both think I'm still slumbering in the orange-red light of the new day that has dawned. I'm obviously not.
He sighs, "I'm hesitant about it too, but he needs a weapon in case there's a problem."
And by problem, he means there could be an ambush. Since Ray Caine's death, he's always worried when we dispo, which I doubt anyone could blame him for. He's lost those he's loved, like me, and I know in my heart he just does not want to lose one more.
The therapist nods, "Understandable, and I know he isn't trying to kill himself. He's, at the core, a cutter and won't deviate from that. I'm just still afraid of what could possibly happen if he should become as fearful as he did when you first attempted to care for him."
"That's why the person who'll be driving the truck, Officer Hollis, I think will be a good choice, because they went through the academy with each other. I'm hoping that if he's got someone he knows with him, Speed will be alright."
I blink and stir, stretch my arms, that way they won't know I was listening in on the conversation. I want my gun back, though not to kill myself – to remind me that the boss has protected my job for me and there is a place for me to go to when this is all over.
Megan leans over from behind me to kiss my temple, "Nice try. I knew you were awake." She whispers just loud enough for me to hear.
Of course you did, because you always know. Know everything and nothing. And you're always here now. And you're really not going to leave, right? I want to tell her that, but I refrain.
Instead, sleepily, "Oh, but you love me, don't you, Meg?"
Guilt is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
"With all my heart. Forever, Timmy." She answers, and stands back looking a little world-weary, as though she has not yet slept or eaten.
"Go eat." I instruct.
Her eyes crinkle and the corner of her mouth tugs up, "No problem." She's off and I realize she must've interpreted that statement to mean go get something to eat. I really should start being more specific.
Exasperated, Juni Pared turns to me and says, "You have group therapy at nine. Please participate today. The more you do so, the sooner I can fathom letting you out of my sight." It's a soft spoken statement that I know pleases my boss.
I glance at the clock, finding it's eight-oh-four, "Whatever you say, Oh-She-Who-Controls-My-Life."
H smiles, as does the woman before she exits, leaving the two of us alone. He moves closer, grips my bedrail, "Gabbie wanted me to tell you that she's almost ready."
"Tell her I said good."
He's clueless. Curious considering his innate skill from the years of searching for the barely perceptible evidence at crime scenes, but then again – no father, as doting as he is, would want to waste any time thinking that their child would be hurting themselves. It's not something that's possible in their world.
The expression on his face tells me as much, so I wave my hand in a 'you'll-find-out-soon-enough' gesture. Which he obeys, lays his elbows on my bed such as Juni did before and soothes his conscious while continuing to speak. Whether he's trying to talk to me or the blanket is questionable.
"Megan slept at my house last night. She hasn't been able to find an apartment."
"Then tell her to go to mine. My rent's paid up for the next two months." I shrug, then look away, "So…um…Pat Hollis?"
He grins, prosaic, "Sneaky." It's remarked quietly with a slight shake of his head, "Yes, Pat Hollis will be driving the truck."
I nod. I like Pat; he's quiet but kind and his wife is a sweetheart. His love for relaying stories about his kids is fantastical. I think I know more about little son Michael and his baby girl Kayla than I know about myself.
My best friend returns with steaming scrambled eggs and orange juice. Speaks not one word as she watches me chew my way through the meal.
"Meg?"
She sighs and chews her lip, a sure sign that she's worried, "Your mom…she, uh…well…" Slowly her lips form words and I hear them, sharp and true, "She decided that she needed to go home. Jude and I went to H's house, so he's still here, but your mom's in New York."
Who called it? Who fucking called it?
I knew it was only a matter of time and my once-disintegrating hatred reappears in force.
My features must darken or I flinched or something, as now the brunette is leaning into my line-of-sight, "What?" I implore.
"You're upset." She shrinks back.
Well, duh. "Only because people didn't listen to me when I said she would leave once it was convenient. And my dad's gonna get involved when she tells him what's happened."
I know she's going to ask about what my father's intentions will become upon his discovery of the Miami goings-on, yet she's blocked from doing so. Juni's reappeared and she's got that look in her eyes that tells me we're going to have a little chat before I'm taken down to group.
Both of my friends go, taking the ever-present Markinsen with them, and I cozy into the pillows. Readying myself for the coming conversation, which I know will be draining on her and on me. The topic is obvious to me because I am already well-aware of her hesitation to allow me to be released.
"Okay. I'm going to be straightforward. I know you overheard the discussion I was having with Horatio this morning, so you know that I'm worried about your weapon being returned to you."
"Yeah."
She squints, "Would you like to defend your boss' decision?" She offers, and I smile at her choice of words – because I do it on a daily basis at work. Where the higher ups are getting tired of him and his style, always ignoring that the redhead gets the job done.
"Let's see…if I get my gun back, you're going to be reluctant to allow me to escape this place of philosophical misdeeds. If I don't get my gun back, H is not letting me in that truck." I release my features from the sour glare I had held, "I think I'm gonna go with you being upset."
"So you see no problem with the fact that you'll be fresh out of here and will be handed a potential dangerous item that your therapist disapproves of." She theorizes…and sadly, it is quite the truth.
"Nope. 's good."
Huffing, shrugging, then sighing, the woman sits back into Chris' vacated chair. She rubs her forehead with one hand and brushes her fingers through her hair, "I really don't think you should have a firearm, Tim. And that's the recommendation I'm going to give to Horatio. I doubt that you are ready to have it returned to you."
Anger rising, rising. So I stay quiet because I know the minute I open my mouth, I'll start screaming and I want to leave this place and never come return so I'm going to have to suck it up for now. Pretend I'm agreeing on some level.
"Come on." She eventually stands after studying me for a solid few minutes, "Group starts in a few minutes and I'd rather you weren't late."
"Fuck group. I'm here voluntarily. I want out." I declare, using that one little phrase.
She tenses, "Tim…"
"I committed myself to this hellhole!" It's screamed and I shouldn't have done that.
Meg has rushed into the room with Drew and Horatio right behind her; my boss stares at me, "If you think I'll let you anywhere near CSI if you leave now, you're mistaken."
"Then fucking fire me, alright! I'm tired of this place." I declare and start to heave out of the comfortable, mushy bed, but H's strong hands grab me to hold me in place. Struggling, I manage to kick him in the shin and punch his chest. Though he doesn't even lessen his iron grip.
I stop fighting, and relax my tightened muscles, tired.
"No, because I know you need that job as much as you need people who will care about you. So go to the group therapy for now and stay a little longer. Maybe I can get you out the morning before." He tells me with my head on his chest, that goddamn gold necklace pressing into my forehead and definitely leaving an imprint.
The thought occurs to me that I could turn all this attention away from me at this moment with a few words.
Yet I can't. I won't hurt Gabbie; betray her so I can be alone and drive them away. No. She deserves to have time to gather her wits so she will not end up chained in a ward with people looking to drug her left and right. She's too bright and too…Gabriella for that.
So I shift to my feet and balance my weight better, "Why the fuck do you have to know everything?"
"Same reason Megan wanted to train you to be a CSI – I notice." He replies, releases me, and pats my shoulder.
There's an opening right there for me to interject. Perhaps H should know. I mean it is his child and if it were Blaise, I'd have wanted to know… Still. I can't. I can't do that now. No, I can wait to tell the details until she's ready to face the raw facts of what we have done to ourselves. "I am never coming back here ever again once I'm out."
"That would be a good goal." Pared nods, obviously unfazed now that I've bent once again to their will.
"Shut up, Juni!" I spit at her, before she grasps my hand and fixes me with a stare almost akin to Horatio's, "Fucking shut up! You don't know anything."
"Sorry. That isn't going to happen." The therapist tells me, "And it'll be a lot easier if you remember that no matter what you call me, no matter what you try to make me think – I know you're only trying to shove me away like you try to do with every other person you have let near. It won't work, Tim."
A headshake and then she's leading me away with the trite, worn faces staring after.
I understand the pain I'm putting them through. I do. I'm not going to pretend that I don't realize how hard Meg's fighting to keep her head above the drowning water of my emotions or that Horatio's more exhausted than I've ever seen him and that really isn't my place. I won't ignore that my brother visits wearing new clothes and they're already torn, decidedly from fighting.
I'm shoved bodily into one of the lounging rooms, where the threadbare chairs are arranged in a circle and for the most part, occupied.
"Hey, Tim." The boy from across the hall, who's name I still do not know, waves me over, "I saved you a seat."
"Thanks, man."
He smiles happily – he's here for a suicide attempt, and searches for any kind words. I always offer him something because I remember being as young as he was and wanting nothing more than falling off the face of the fucking planet.
"So I see Tim has finally decided to join us. We're happy to see you." The group therapist, Michael, is the most annoying man I have ever met. I'm absolutely sure that he's doing some sort of drug.
"It's Speed."
"We don't use street names here."
Oh, I'm gonna hit him. Square in the face. "It's my nickname, asshole. My wife gave me it." I make that come out of my mouth as I stand and prepare to allow my hand connect with jaw.
A small feminine fist closes around my forearm, "I will explain to Michael later about your name, okay? Just sit down." Juni half-orders, half-requests while I force myself to relax.
My frayed nerves ice down after a few minutes. I plop back into the chair.
The idiot looks at me with a smug smile, "Your wife? Would you like to talk about her? I notice she hasn't come to visit you."
"That's because she died ten years ago!" I snort back, with a massive bit of venom rope-laced around each syllable, "She died after she gave birth to my son who would've been, oh, nine years old today, except I buried him when he was an infant." By the end of my outburst, I'm hissing and everyone's staring at me.
He shrinks back in light of this new information.
"Never thought to ask why I was here, eh Mike? Whaddya assume? I was a druggie because of what my boss calls me?" I'm in full scathing mode, tired of these endless questions that bore into me like a drill through wood.
"What I assumed was that you were on suicide watch, but I didn't know why." The blond blood-rushes back into his training, "How about you tell me why you are here? That way I will not be able to assume anything about you in the future."
A roll of eyes. Because there's not going to be much more time spent in this mouthpiece of hell.
I could easily blow him off; Juni's left. But I want out, "I got caught cutting. I tried to jump off my balcony and Horatio got upset."
"Oh. Well. What made you feel as though you needed to hurt yourself?"
It's going to be a long session.
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Three days more and they finally decide to let me out, let me wear normal clothes that have zippers and buttons and drawstrings.
Megan drives through the streets doing the limit while enjoying the soft breeze and hazy sunlight. She had circled the hospital twice as if she's making sure that I really do want out. It appeased Horatio when she took off, headed for CSI and my apprehensive colleagues.
"They didn't come to see me." I state, recalling back to the days previous.
"Eric and Calleigh were so busy, Speed. They had to work separate cases everyday and were exhausted when I sent them home. They couldn't visit."
I nod, "How's Gab?"
"She's okay. Said something about 'next Saturday' when she left this morning for classes. Oh, and I think that I finally found a boyfriend I approve of. Although I know he's been getting into fights when he takes her out."
"He probably doesn't understand that whistling at a girl is a form of flattery here and tries to beat the crap outta whoever it does it. He is still from New York and that is not something we do there. Well, not in polite company." I shrug, leaning heavily on the door. My eyes pierce his, "I'm going to the dispo, right?"
"I promised you, didn't I?"
A question with a question. Creepy.
The parking lot of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab is filled with cars and Hummers; Yelena Salas and Detective Sevilla are standing outside the building itself with fake smiles. H's nephew and godson stands between them, playing with some sort of toy.
"How's ma boy?" Adele questions.
"I'm fine."
The phrase has returned. Meg's eyes widen as she departs from the vehicle and hears that phrase pop out through my chapped lips, yet she's silent. Until a wispy, "Timmy.", floats across the distance between us.
"Well, there's a surprise for you inside." Salas exclaims with content joy, "Calleigh's waiting for you in the Trace Lab."
The two women usher me through the glass doors and into the elevator, giggling all the while. Both the redhead and my best friend exchange nervous stares. And when I'm dragged into the manufactured coolness of the dim-lit room, there's a shuffle of 'shh!' passed around.
"Oh, no." I mutter.
A couple dozen people all jump out and scream surprise. There's red ribbon in Cal's hair, blue wrapping paper turned into a dunce hat-cone for Delko. Laura and Tyler are covered in neon green and neon orange silly string, while one of the other techs, Jonathan, wears a plastic table cloth with a caricature of me on the front.
"Uh, thanks, guys."
It's forced out and they know it. They have to hear the strain in my voice as I speak. They ignore it, hand me small gifts. Some are wrapped in birthday paper and some are hastily covered in newspaper or plastic bags.
"Welcome home. We missed you so much. Eric's just not as good at fibers as you." The blonde girl smiles.
"Thanks, Cal. Glad to see you muddled through."
She hugs me tight, and I let my arms go up to grab her. She whispers, "I missed you so much." There's a sniffle and I kiss that patch of skin behind her ear.
"Missed you too."
The Cuban-Russian man takes his turn, hugs me for less time but with just as much care.
"So who's idea was this?" I ask merely to break the ice before it has had a chance to form. I've grown tired of silence, weary of it because I think about the coming days and I really, really do not want to place false wonder what might never be.
"Mine." Jude smiles, walking forward, with the red-haired girl standing beside him. They're both grinning stupidly.
But it's easy to see that my dear brother's calmed down a little since I saw him yesterday and made it clear that he can't keep fighting with people. He's actually wearing clothes that are not torn, dirtied, bloodied, or destroyed by any other means. In fact, he's covered in nice dress items. A button down shirt, a pair of ill-fitting slacks, black patent shoes.
I can do no more than smile genuinely. He's too happy to tell him that I hate being put on the spot and he looks like I have always hoped he would.
"Well, hopefully this doesn't last too long. We've got to start getting ready for dispo." H cuts in, a tell all look on his features.
He's becoming more like Megan – he knows when I want something or don't want it, when I'm hungry but not saying it. It might've been disturbing before. Now it's just a little weird. And I like it more than I ever thought possible.
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*v* Cassie Jamie *v*
csimiami@cassie-jamie.com
Raven: I purposely didn't describe Lauryn Speedle because I'm not really sure what I see her looking like. I know she's definitely somewhat like Tim with the dark hair and those haunted eyes, but not much else. The dispo chapters…well as you can see from the above lines, it's starting. I'm not giving up any info on those. They may take a few days, but I sprained/fractured my ankle so I'm not going anywhere. ('Specially since I had my last day of school June 13.) Ya' know – I don't know how I come up with this stuff. My favorite way to explain what I think is a line from Empire Records: "Who knows where thoughts come from? They just appear!". And Juni's staying. She'll be in next chapter after the shoot out. Tee hee…my friend's first name is Jairus.
Trinity: :::Chases a fleeing Tim::: Get back here, you! You're mine! :::Stops and huffs air::: :-D He's free! He's free! I'm going to definitely get him a dog; if you have a name recommendation, I'm listening. And I'll get him some friends. Maybe one will be called Trin…Raven…
Aphy: I have to stop and start a lot, so I know what you mean. Lots of difficult stuff – to read and to write.
Saryn: Thank you.
Khylara: Thank you, too. That was the reaction I was going for. BTW – It took me two days to realize that you're the melmast from the Yahoo!Group. Silly author.