Anywhere But Here
by
Kel
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership whatsoever to CSI or anything related to it, and I make no profit from this piece of fiction.
Author's Note: This fic takes place following the events of the episode Stalker. I only saw it for the first time a little while back, just in case anyone was wondering why I'm still on it. This isn't really how I think Nick would have felt at the time, but more of what he could have felt.
At that moment, I wished I was someone else. It's not something I've never wished before, but I was feeling it. It's the strongest desire I know.
To be someone else. To not have been there. For someone else to have gone through what I had; to have gone on, blissfully ignorant of the whole thing.
I wished I was a complete jerk; that I was utterly unlikeable. If no one could stand to be around me, then surely Nigel Crane couldn't have stood to live in my attic, with me as the only thing resembling company. I couldn't have been his addiction, his obsession.
I wished I was shy; closed off. By his own admission, Nigel's obsession began with a conversation. He felt like he knew me . . . because I told him.
I even wished I had been her. It's over for her, but years from now, I'll probably still wake up in the middle of the night with her blood on my hands and his eyes staring down at me through a hole in my ceiling. It'll never be over for me.
It's easy to dream; to play Anywhere But Here. Anyone But Me. It's not exactly a healthy dream; it doesn't help me get over anything. Just get away. In a way, the dream makes the reality. By dreaming of being someone else, I can forget, just for a moment, what it is to be me.
But Grissom. Grissom . . .
He says it was never about me.
He says it was about need. Maslow's hierarchy. Crane's insanity. It's all the same thing.
Because it all boils down to one fact:
It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter where I am, what I am, or who I am. Here or anywhere but, me or anyone else.
Someone will wake up in the middle of countless nights in a cold sweat, biting back screams. Someone will inspect the ceiling of every house they enter. Someone will check their attic routinely for unwanted guests.
Someone will shudder every time they catch a look that lingers too long.
And that someone will always be me.
End.
