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CHAPTER FIVE - WARRICK

As soon as Grissom told them to leave, Warrick was gone. He went out to the parking lot, not wanting to get caught in some kind of meaningless conversation in the hallway.

He got in to the car and turned the key in the ignition. The car sputtered and shook, then died away just as quickly. He groaned and pounded his fists against the steering wheel. He tried once more, and this time the car caught and stayed alive. He wondered if it would hold until he got home. Maybe he'd get someone to look at it later. Or maybe not.

He eased the car out of the employee parking lot. He noticed Catherine walking over to her own vehicle and smiled a little. She would be heading home to Lindsey, and Warrick wished that he could say the same thing. It was no secret that he had a thing for Catherine.

As stupid as that may be.

He turned the radio on to some nameless rap song. He bobbed his head to the tune a little and smiled. It was probably about killing a girlfriend and doing dope, but it didn't matter. It was supposed to be artistic, and it's not like it was a confession of murder.

He knew where he was going. It had been a while since he had had anything to drink, and it was time to remedy that. He pulled into the convenience store and sighed. He shut the car off carefully, hoping that it would start again when he returned. He knew that Nick would give him a ride if he asked, but he didn't want to talk to the Texan right now. He was too easy-going and trusting. Warrick didn't want to ruin his innocence a little bit more.

He went in and bought a case of beer. He left quickly and hopped back into the car. There was nothing left for him there. No hidden answers tucked away behind the next case of beer or bag of potato chips.

He started the car again and just drove, not entirely sure why he was heading in the direction that the car was currently aimed. He understood soon, though he still didn't know what he intended to gain from this journey.

Warrick stopped the car outside Catherine's place. He didn't see her vehicle, but maybe she parked it in the garage. He walked up to the door and knocked, but there was only silence in the house that lay before him. A car drove slowly down the street and he turned to look at it. It was a Denali, like Catherine's, but it continued on past the house, gliding through the sea of cars lining the narrow street.

He sighed and headed back to his car, a little drag in his step now.

It took no time to arrive at home. He left the beer in the car and walked in. There was a tape of the game in his VCR and bags of junk food in the cupboard. But Warrick didn't want to be alone today.

He picked up the phone. He didn't want to call, but there wasn't anything else he could do. He dialed Nick's number and listened as the answering machine picked up. "Hey Nick, it's me. Just wanted to see if you were interested in catching the game with me. I know it's on tape and all, but it'd still be cool to just chill. Well, just stop by if you get this before it gets too late."

Warrick wandered around the house, picking up items that had been discarded and forgotten. It had been a while since he had really been there, in a sense aside from physical, and the last thing he wanted was a mess when he may have company over. It was an old-fashioned thing, but his grandmother had raised him to be a good person, and a good person kept a clean home.

When he was finished, he sat on the couch and stared at the blank television screen. It had been over an hour, and Nick still wasn't there. He sighed and picked up his keys, heading back out the door. He needed to get away.

I can't be here anymore. I have to... I just have to go.

He thought about leaving Nick a note, but decided against it.

He's probably not coming anyway.

Warrick finally stopped the car in front of the youth center in his old neighborhood. The pavement was cracking and weeds pushed their way to freedom and into the sunlight. A glance at the basketball court showed dozens of sparkling needles, and it didn't take a trace test to tell him that they were covered in residual amounts of heroin. He walked toward the building and heard a crunch. Looking down, he saw hundreds of tiny glimmers coating the ground beside his work boot. He had stepped on one

Graffiti covered the building. Gang tags curved their way around corners, staining the happy daffodil color that had once given the building a sense of comfort and belonging. Warrick went back to the car and grabbed a beer. He twisted the top off and flicked the cap onto the passenger seat. He drank it down in a few fast gulps, then tossed the bottle in to join the cap. He took another, flicked the cap, and began walking.

He saw the sign hanging from the door and wanted to do something. He wanted to scream or break something, but there was nothing he could do. That was always the story. Nothing left to do.

It's all my fault. All those kids are back on the streets doing drugs and getting killed, and it's all because I made a stupid mistake.

Grissom had told him that he wouldn't be the one to pay for it, and it was true. These kids were paying for it, and there was nothing he could do.

Warrick looked at the bottle, as if seeing it for the first time. He gritted his teeth and held back the scream that played in his throat. He needed to do something. Anything to release this tension.

He threw the bottle against the side of the building and watched the sun sparkle in the tinted glass.

This isn't how it's supposed to be.

He would deal with the anger, but not today.

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I'm tired of life

I'm tired of backstabbing ass snakes with friendly grins

I'm tired of committing so many sins

Tired of always giving in when this bottle of Henny wins

Tired of never having any ends

-Eminem -'If I Had...' -