All in a Day
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Nothing specific, set mid third season.
A/N: Each chapter is told from a different point of view. I owe enormous thanks to M and J who are two wonderful beta readers. Also, I'd like to tank everyone who has reviewed this story and provided constructive criticism.
The heat was getting to me, but knowing what was at stake pushed me to keep going. Sara had spotted what appeared to be the trigger positioned on the roof of the building.
"We found the explosives", the ATF guy told me as he saw me running towards him. "Good, we found what appeared to be the trigger. West edge of the rooftop"
The guy transmitted the information to his officers. I checked my watch, minutes left to go.
"We're all clear, the bomb's been disabled." The ATF agent with the headset announced.
A wave of relief washed over me. We had done it. The bomb wasn't going to go off the fire that Charlotte May had prophesied wasn't going to burn. We had won. I was just about to finally relax. I looked around wanting to say something to Sara. What, I don't remember. There were ATF agents, a cluster of employees in the distance, but no Sara in sight.
Where the hell was she? I had been afraid she might do something stupid, wanting to prove to herself that she wasn't a failure after all. She felt that she needed to make up so to speak for failing to act during the hostage situation. I tried to recall where I'd last seen her. We'd checked out the rooftop, had spotted the trigger. She'd been right next to me then. I'd gone back to joining the ATF guy. I'd been focused on the bomb, not on Sara. She'd turned in the direction of the parking lot. That was where I'd seen her last. The police and the ATF were busy clearing the building. I walked over to the parking lot. If I wanted to know what Sara had seen, I had to retrace her steps. Where could she have gone, our cars? Unlikely. Charlotte May's car? Could be. There was a DB which we hadn't had the time to process yet. She might have gone over there to take a look. The victim was sitting in the driver's seat, head slumped backwards.
He was a young man, not older than twenty-five. Thin, not very tall. He wasn't wearing any shirt. Squarely in his chest was a large caliber gunshot wound. Blood from the wound had stained his pants and the seat. Because of the heat the body was already starting to give off the familiar smell of decomposing flesh. I took a closer look. His hair looked odd. It had been spiked up with gel, but looked oddly flattened. Maybe he'd been wearing a cap of sorts.
That's how Charlotte May got access. She knew her way around since she worked there. She either tricked the driver into letting her into the car or forced him at gunpoint. She forces him to take off his shirt, shoots him, and then takes his cap and shirt to get access to the building. Dressed like this, it was possible to mistake her for a man. But a shot would be audible, dampener maybe? She was dressed as an employee -a driver specifically. That meant she could very well be standing along with the other personnel that had been evacuated. I pulled out the cell to call Brass. Was that what Sara had discovered? I scanned the parking lot, maybe ten cars in total. All were either company cars or modest looking employee cars, all except one -a polished sliver BMW. Not your typical employee vehicle. I pulled out the papers I had taken with me when Brass and I had left CSI for Kevin Stein's house. I hastily sorted through them. There it was the print-out of the DMV record. Yes, the license plate matched, it was Kevin Stein's car. They weren't inside the building then. Kevin Stein would have talked to the police probably. Where else could she be. I doubted that she'd left. The car was still there, besides, she would have wanted to be around at the time of the explosion.
The small building housing the porter -nobody would check there. She had a good view of everything that was going on with the help of the video cameras.
Charlotte May stood, gun in hand. On the floor was the crumpled form of a middle aged man. He was alive, but blood was seeping from his upper right arm. It looked like he had been shot. Presumably, it was Kevin Stein, judging by the picture of him that I had seen earlier. No child in sight. Sara was standing opposite of Charlotte, unarmed. Charlotte May's gun was aimed right at her.
I don't understand exactly what pushed Sara so far. I didn't realize what she was doing until later, but in my estimation she probably felt bad about not being able to stop Greg from being killed or get her and Grissom out of the hospital when they were the hostages of the cultists. I know all that and still cannot really understand why. The situation was beyond her control and she had nothing to feel guilty about. Nobody expected that, except for herself. Sara is one of those people who set higher expectations for themselves than those around them. Sometimes that's good. Sara is the one willing to go the extra mile to prove a case. She will spend hours after shift on that. But there she was going too far. It was not just endangering her career but also her life. I felt a sting of guilt for not having foreseen this. While I had been afraid that she might do something stupid I had never thought that she would actually go after Charlotte May unarmed and alone. Did she need to prove it to herself that badly? When I stepped into the small building, all I saw was Sara, unarmed standing opposite Charlotte May, who was holding what looked like a forty-five caliber with a silencer.
"Come in and close the door behind you." She had seen me before I had a chance. I did as I was told, not wanting to risk Sara's life or my own for that matter. I wouldn't underestimate the cultists again. I knew what they were capable of. Charlotte May was ready to kill without hesitation.
"Please, Charlotte, we're trying to understand you. We've read what you wrote. It was very interesting and I would like to know more about it." Sara was trying to get through to her. Charlotte May looked determined, but that couldn't hide her fatigue. She had been on her feet at least as long as I had. Her arm was trembling slightly as she held the gun. Her control was failing. She wouldn't be able to keep this up for long. I could already tell that her attention was not fully focused.
I was careful not to say anything to keep from provoking her. I highly doubted that there was any way to reason with her. I couldn't really see how there might be a peaceful end to this. I just hoped that she would be the one going down. Normally I wouldn't think that way, but in this case I did. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not going to apologize for that either.
"It has to happen. You cannot stop me. Nobody can."
"What about your child, Charlotte, what will happen to your baby? What did the prophecy tell you?" Sara asked, her voice trembling.
"I've done this for my child. Everything. He's safe."
Then, suddenly like a flash, I saw it clearly, Charlotte May wasn't the totally brainwashed cultist for which we had taken her for all along. She was influenced by her twisted beliefs about the universe that was for sure. But unlike the other cultists at Heavenly Path she had not been under Daryl Marks spell. She had been using him and his group to exact her private revenge. She wanted revenge for her child. She was looking for someone to blame when there was no one. Kevin Stein had become her target. She had probably gotten money from him first by blackmailing him. Maybe she had threatened to tell the wife all about their affair. Kevin had paid. That was how the group had been able to buy explosives. Getting them isn't a problem in the black market, it's paying for them. Charlotte may have taken care of that. By simulating a vision and influencing Marks, she had channeled the group's doomsday belief towards Kevin Stein. She didn't believe in the fire and all the things that the cultists had believed in. Sure, she was a deranged personality, but it was clear to me that she had not been brainwashed and forced into this, she was acting on a cold blooded plan. A plan in which Daryl marks only played a secondary role. That's why his death had not left her as aimlessly as the other cultists, she had never depended on him as a spiritual leader. As I realized that, I knew that what Sara was trying to do, entering into her system of belief wasn't going to work. There was no reasoning with her. She was cornered and she knew it. Her chance for revenge on Kevin Stein and society was over. The only thing Charlotte May had left now was rage -deadly rage.
"Ms. May, I'm asking you one last time to put down the gun." Right then I really wished that someone who had more experience at this was there. I was afraid that I was saying and doing all the wrong things. This sort of confidence problem is new to me. Normally, I'm sure of myself at what I do. But I'm not a cop.
"Never," she spat out, aiming her gun. In that moment I pulled the trigger. I just did it without thinking about it. Without thinking about the life I was going to end by doing so. Charlotte May slumped back in slow motion. I can't tell whether she screamed. I didn't hear anything.
She was the first person I killed.
I had pulled the trigger just in time. A split second later, she did the same. The two gunshots exploded almost at the same time, momentarily deafening me.
There was no immediate emotional sort of impact. I didn't feel anything at all. I don't know why. Maybe I was already only working on the purely physical functioning level, after all, since I had gotten on shift last night at six p.m. just over twenty-four hours had passed and a lot had happened. Sara was on the ground. At first, I thought she had been hit by Charlotte May after all and I raced over to her.
"Sara, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I think so." She seemed dazed but mostly fine. I was immensely relieved.
Yelling and the sound of people running was approaching from outside. It was over.
Once the adrenaline wore off, it was over for me as well. The adrenaline rush that had kept me going for the past twelve plus hours was waning now. Suddenly I was too tired and too exhausted for everything, too tired to think too tired to speak. I just sat down on the floor. The sound of boots approaching got louder, then the door burst open and the tiny room filled with people. I was too tired to pay attention to any individuals. I didn't care anymore. I was mentally and physically exhausted. I had run on adrenaline alone for the past few hours and now that the immediate danger was gone, I could barely keep my eyes open. One of the agents bagged my gun, asking me whether I had injuries, which I managed to deny. Still the obligatory check-up by a paramedic followed, and then I was free to go. In no shape to drive, I was glad that Brass had arranged for a patrol car to drive me back home.
When I finally got home, I didn't have the energy to do anything. I kicked my shoes into a corner, stumbled into the bedroom and fell asleep. I haven't fallen asleep fully dressed since college.
I awoke late, feeling slightly groggy but otherwise ok. Now the harder part was starting. I hadn't had any time to think during the previous day, I had been only reacting.
My appointment at the station to give my statement concerning the shooting was only in the afternoon, so I still had time on my hands. It occurred to me that with the entire chaos that had started after Nick and Catherine had been shot, I had not spent one minute thinking about the immediate consequences. Had anyone even called someone to take care of Lindsey?
I called CSI to find out. I was told that a neighbor had been called, as she was listed on the contact information for Catherine. Relieved that this had been taken care of, I called up the neighbor to see how Lindsey was doing. Since she wasn't in school, as she wasn't feeling well, I decided to drop by.
The neighbor, the mother of one of Lindsey's school friends, was already waiting for me.
"It's very nice of you to come by. Is Catherine going to be fine? All I was told was that she was injured at work. I saw it on the news last night. They said that she had been shot."
"She's going to be alright. How is Lindsey doing?"
"Worried. I haven't told her what happened, but she knows that something is wrong."
"I was going to take her to the hospital to see her mom."
Although Lindsey was happy to see me and glad to hear that Catherine was going to be fine. I could sense that she was scared of what she was going to see. She wanted to see her mother, but was afraid of it at the same time. She didn't say but her body language was clear. Kids are not as good at masking their feelings as we adults have gotten. It's sad that we have to in order to survive.
The closer we got to Catherine's room the slower she was walking. She stopped dead a few meters from the door. I'm not terribly good with kids, but I tried my best. I got down to her eye-level.
"What about this, I go in and see if your Mom's awake? If she is, you can come see her."
Lindsey nodded.
Catherine looked pale and tired, but was awake.
"Morning, Warrick. You again?"
"Well you can't get rid of me that easily. How are you?"
"Sore and drugged, but I'll live. How's Lindsey doing?"
"Okay, but it's been hard on her. She's staying with her friend Ann's family right now. I brought her here with me, she's waiting outside. She's scared, so I told her I'd check with you first. But she wants to see you."
"Me too. Thanks Warrick. Just one thing, did you get them?"
"We got them, the bomb didn't go off." Before Catherine could ask me more questions, I told her what she would have asked next.
"Nick's going to be fine with time. But there was a hostage situation, the cultists wanted to get Marks out. Grissom, Sara and Greg happened to be there at the wrong time. Greg was shot by one of them."
Catherine said nothing, but what is there to say.
After a pause, she said.
"Thanks for telling me. Bad news is always hard."
After a well spent morning, came the afternoon which I had been dreading.
I wasn't really worried about the investigation of the shooting. It had clearly been self-defense. Still I was nervous. I needn't have worried, it all went fine. A few questions as to how it went, but nothing tricky. Nobody doubted my account of the story.
"When I entered the porter's lodge, Kevin Stein was on the floor injured, Sara Sidle was being held at gunpoint by Charlotte May. Ms. Sidle tried to persuade her to put down her gun. I gave her a last chance to put it down, but she made it clear that she was going to shoot Ms. Sidle. I had no other choice but to fire at her," I briefly told the IAB guy what had happened.
"We found that Charlotte May did in fact fire her gun. When exactly did this happen?" I had expected that.
"About the same time, I fired at her. Maybe right after it."
"That'll be all for now. We'll call you if there are any further questions. Ms. Sidle's statement confirms what you told us. The situation seems clear to me."
Relieved that it had gone that quickly and smoothly, I left.
It was when I had left the police station walking through the heat back to my car, when the bullet I had fired the day before finally hit home. It was purely emotional, not intellectual. But the very realization of having ended a life, even when it had meant saving my own life and that of Sara was… I don't know how to really describe it, painful. It was the knowledge that I had crossed a barrier, the barrier of taking a life. I never doubted that I could, but it's different when it actually comes to it. There is never a going back. I crossed that barrier and now I have to live with it.
That moment in the parking lot, it seemed impossible to me. When my emotions are flying high, I turn to self-destruction, I always have. Right there, my inner demons were waking up, urging me to do what I know I shouldn't do.
Last time I felt like this, Nick had been my safety net. He had come up to me when I had needed a friend at that gaming table. Maybe it was my turn now. I got into my car and drove to the hospital, preparing for my second visit that day. So many mistakes have been made; I didn't need to add to it.
On the whole, as far as personal consequences of this case are concerned, I'm not so sure. Everyone else, except Grissom maybe seems to have them. I don't think I really do, aside from having killed someone in self-defense. But the way I look at it, I did my best under the circumstances. Maybe that's easy for me to say, since I was probably the least personally involved of the team. I was just busy following the evidence. It isn't all skill -a lot is up to coincidence.