Disclaimer: CSI and its related characters belong to CBS, Alliance Atlantis, and the show's creators; no copyright infringement is intended.
Thanks goes out to Beaujolais, for the advice and encouragement!
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Never Too Far Away
What a long night, and it's only the beginning. The humidity has settled in around them like a warm and smothering blanket, after a few hours of unexpected rainfall, and the streets seem to glisten as the water evaporates into the still air. Jim Brass and his new partner Mickey Doyle sit across the street in a dark unmarked car, they volunteered to sit on a residence of a reported drug dealer, who is thought to have killed two men over a drug dispute. They've been watching the run down apartment building for two hours, noting the people entering and leaving. Yet, still no sign of their suspect.
It must be around midnight when Jim decides to step out of the vehicle for an emergency, while Doyle objects. Jim shows him one of his often used trademark glares and he backs down. Giving him a few instructions, Jim motions for him to keep that radio close in case the suspect appears.
Doyle smirks, he's pulled stakeout duty before, he knows the drill, "What's the matter, Jim? I'm not exactly new to this gig, you know."
"Yeah well neither am I, however, I did read the Captain's report. Don't screw this one up okay," Jim says over his shoulder, and steps out of the car, "keep them baby blue eyes of yours peeled."
"Aw Jim, don't bring that up again . . ."
Smacking the roof of the sedan Jim turns and briskly walks down the sidewalk to a small diner, which, to his relief is still open for business.
He isn't there for a late-night cup of coffee, though, Doyle could certainly use the pick me up if their stakeout is to last for much longer. Stepping into the eatery he squints at the bothersome fluorescent lights overhead, he looks around and spots the waitress at the end of the counter and flashes her a smile. With a nod he goes right past her to the men's room located near the back, while massaging the nape of his neck. He hasn't been feeling well for close to two days already, but tonight his body is screaming at him to realize that.
------
Rolling over in bed earlier this evening, Jim felt the chill permeating the length of his back, which was the first sign that he wasn't getting any better. As usual Nancy was gone, so that left him to take Ellie to a friend's house. While he rolled back over and closed his eyes, Ellie had sauntered into the room and a shadow fell across his face, Jim opened one eye to see her standing there with her hands on her hips. He groaned and sheepishly smiled at her, and she reached out to touch his cheek, quickly assessing his condition, "You're sick." He groaned again, and told her that he'd be out in a few minutes and she left the room in a huff. He drove her to her friend's house in silence and returned home to his bed for some more rest.
------
Now, here he is, hunched over the wash basin in a public restroom splashing water on his face. He looks and feels miserable, shuddering as a chill courses through his body, he walks out of the men's room and leans on a nearby wall for support. He hasn't eaten since the start of his shift, and isn't exactly hungry, with his eyes closed he jumps when someone touches his forearm. He turns and is face to face with the beautiful blond waitress.
"Hey mister, are you all right?"
"Yeah, I think so." Jim swallows dryly, and blinks several times to focus on her face.
Then all hell breaks loose, his radio crackles to life, he politely but brusquely excuses himself and sprints out of the diner. Doyle is speaking too fast and Jim has no idea what he's talking about. He picks up his pace again when he hears Doyle say that the car has been made, and the suspect is approaching it. He's still a few yards away and squints upon observing that his partner is telling the truth, he radios back and tells him to stay calm. A flash of chrome reflects off the underside of their suspect's jacket, and Jim rushes over to meet him halfway.
Jim trains his weapon on him, "Freeze!"
"I knew it, cops. How long have you two been watching my place?"
"I said freeze! The piece, take it out nice and slow, drop it on the ground then kick it away."
"Listen. I'm no cop killer. But, you ain't giving me much of a choice."
Doyle steps out of the vehicle with his gun drawn, "My partner told you to do something, so you better do it."
"All right I ain't a gambling man, I give up."
Their suspect does as he's told, and settles face-down on the street, with his hands behind his head.
Doyle cuffs him, pats him down and retrieves all the items in his pockets, then sits him down on the curb, "Got a positive ID, Jim."
"Good. I'd say your luck just ran out, Garcia." Jim glances over to their suspect.
"I ain't talking to you without my lawyer present."
"If I had a nickel for every time I heard that." Jim rolls his eyes with chagrin.
"Well, you ain't got nothing on me." Garcia responds, with a snort.
"No? Then what about those dead associates of yours that an honest citizen happened to trip over, while he walked through the park on his way home?"
"What the hell was he doing out there? Come on man, it must've been two in the morning when . . ."
Doyle shakes his head and looks at Jim.
"Well, that piece of info certainly narrows the TOD down." Jim walks back to the car to get on the radio, and calls for back up as well as a cruiser to take Adam Garcia back to the precinct.
After what seem like hours he and Doyle book the suspect in at the station, and hand over the interrogation to the lead investigator of the homicide case. Jim's partner makes jabbing remarks that he's looking a little pale and Jim smiles, but deep inside he's burning up. He decides to leave early, and slips out after notifying the shift commander. With nowhere to go besides home, where Nancy probably won't give a rat's ass about how he feels, though, he has a hunch that he'll be returning to an empty house anyway. Trying to keep up this charade for much longer will take its toll on him, but he wants to be there for Ellie. That's all he cares about, unless he's kicked out first. Jim knows that won't happen. He'll more than likely leave on his own.
While sitting in a cab at a traffic light, his thoughts turn to the one person he knows he can depend on, the one person who really cares . . . Annie.
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Trudging up the front path of her place, everything starts getting hazy. He doesn't know how much longer he can remain standing up, let alone awake. Another chill travels down his back when he rings the doorbell. The windows are dark, she works swing shift and he's probably being a bother. What the hell are you doing here? Jim wonders to himself and he slowly turns around, when no one moves to flick on any lights beyond the windows. The door opens when he's already some distance away down the path, and his ears pick up on a deep sigh.
"Jim Brass, have you any idea what time it is?"
Without turning, Jim says, "Yes, I'm sorry. I'll go."
"No, you came here for a reason. I don't suppose you were just in the neighborhood, either."
Jim doesn't reply, and continues to stand there with his back to her. He catches the last bits of that sentence but everything else is distorted, the headache is increasing steadily and he winces as a needle of pain arcs across the top of his head, into the back of his eye.
"Well, don't just stand there, come on in and get out of this awful heat," she gestures with her hand, then grows concerned when Jim doesn't acknowledge her. "Jimmy, are you all right?"
"That's why I came . . . I don't feel . . ." Jim turns and gets lost in a sea of dizziness. Annie rushes over to keep him from falling over, and helps him into her home.
Jim grunts and crosses his arms over his chest feeling the chill of the temperature inside, of course it's cold, everyone is trying to escape the suffocating humidity. She responds by turning up the thermostat, and she watches him from the wall noting that the color in his cheeks is almost gone.
After returning to him, she places her hand up to his forehead and exhales loudly, "Jim, you're burning up."
"Yeah, I know. I need to sit down before I fall down too."
"Sure, come into the bedroom. None of this, 'I'm sleeping on the couch business', you're sick and I don't care if you're contagious - let me take care of you." Annie reaches out to him, and once inside the bedroom she gently helps him sit down on the edge of the bed.
Rummaging through a drawer, she pulls out an extra set of pajama bottoms and places them next to him. Jim watches her through a light stupor. Annie certainly looks tempting tonight in one of his old dress shirts, though, it wouldn't be right. Through the haze he sees two of her, that being a big indication that should he initiate something it would turn out to be clumsy at best. She slowly helps him out of his clothes and tells him to crawl into bed, while she pads over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. By the time she returns, she grimaces at the sight of him under the covers, trembling and trying to keep warm.
Retrieving some cold medicine from her bathroom, Annie sits down next to him, "Here, take these, they'll help you sleep and keep your fever down."
"Thank you." Jim gulps down the water along with the medicine, and settles back under the covers.
"Are you hungry? You must be, with that fever of yours." Annie stands, but he places his hand on her forearm to keep her from leaving.
"No, I just want to go to sleep. I'm tired, and my stomach can wait," Jim responds, while burying his face in the pillow. "Come on, let's go to sleep."
Annie slides into bed next to him and begins kneading the muscles on his exposed biceps, he moans, nestling into her body. The rest of the night she holds him and provides her own body heat to keep the chill down. Jim dreams and talks in his sleep, something she's not used to but she helps him get through the night, as the fever rages through his body. For a few hours he shivers and his body tenses up, she massages his shoulders and back trying to get him to relax. He does and he whispers her name again, she places a soft kiss on his shoulder to let him know that she's nearby. She has a restless night's sleep, but isn't complaining, she is there to help him through it and won't leave his side until the fever breaks.
By dawn, it does. With another soft kiss on his shoulder, she gets out of bed and pads out to the kitchen, to make a light breakfast. Jim needs to eat, and I'll make him a light soup that'll make him feel better. While she busies herself with that, Jim turns over in bed and notices the empty space next to him. He slides his legs out from under the covers, and winces at the fact that he's covered in a sheen of sweat, so he gathers a few things and jumps in the shower. The warm water feels good and it washes away the grit and the grime from his sickness, along with the soreness in his muscles. He dresses in a pair of faded jeans and an old shirt he left there a few nights ago, and walks down to the kitchen to join Annie.
"Good morning." Jim wraps his arms around her from behind, and nuzzles her neck.
She breathes him in. The clean fresh smell of soap and a slight hint of aftershave causes her to moan. Annie reaches behind her head and runs her hand through his damp hair. Jim places a tender kiss on her exposed shoulder, then lets go of her.
"How are you feeling, Jimmy?"
"Much better, thanks to you." Jim answers and sits down over by the bar, keeping an eye on her as she moves about the kitchen.
"You need to eat, I insist." Annie leans against the counter, and crosses her arms over her chest.
"I appreciate that, but I don't think my stomach can handle anything right now." A thin smile spreads across his lips, then he lowers his head, "I'd better get going, actually."
"So, it's going to be like that, huh?" Annie approaches him, "What are you so afraid of, Jimmy?"
Jim looks away momentarily, "I . . . uh, hear you're leaving soon."
"I was wondering when you'd get wind of that, I would've mentioned it but . . ."
"You know the precinct, word gets around," Jim replies with a sigh, "I don't . . . Annie, why?"
"It's this town, or maybe it's just me. I need a change, Jimmy." She averts her gaze, when a past memory crosses her face.
"You're leaving your past behind, forgetting those memories," Jim says, as if reading her mind. "You know, that wasn't your . . ."
"It was my fault, I forgot all of my training," Annie shoots back, interrupting him. "I failed to protect him."
"You did what you could do. Losing Brian like that is something you shouldn't blame yourself for, and you know it." Jim's eyes soften and he reaches out for her hand.
"I didn't do enough." She shakes her head, "Leaving those memories here is the best thing for me to do."
"Where will you end up?"
"Los Angeles, the chief of detectives was a good friend of Brian's. He approved my placement within the homicide division, without any hesitation," Annie replies, and her eyes take on a distant stare.
"Cross country . . ." Jim slides off the bar stool and walks down the hallway slowly, lost in his own thoughts.
"Jimmy, wait this must be very difficult for you, but please believe me, it's for the best. I need to get away from here. I need a change."
"Once in a while we all do, a fresh start is always a good thing." Jim turns around to face her, "Nancy and I are headed for a divorce, I can't keep doing this. I know what's going on, and you know what? I'm past caring, I love Ellie but I just can't keep doing this."
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. I'll be headed out the door eventually, as much as I hate to admit that. Maybe you're right, leaving Newark is the best thing for you to do. Who knows, I might end up somewhere else too and begin a new life of my own." Jim looks into her eyes.
"Jimmy, you're the one memory I won't leave behind. I'll miss you, though one thing is certain, I'll always know you're never too far away."
Jim doesn't know what to say, he leans in and caresses her face in his hands, he kisses her softly then lets himself be lost in her. A few seconds later he breaks the kiss and they embrace each other, not willing to let go.
"I have to get going." He whispers into her ear.
"Yeah, okay. Get something into that stomach of yours."
"I will, and thanks again." Jim turns and places his hand on the door knob, but she stops his advance by wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, and resting her head on his back.
He breathes deeply, enjoying the heat radiating into his body from hers, then he brings up her hand and places a kiss on the inside of her palm. She releases him and he slips out of her home, probably for the final time.
He stands under the street lamp, it's still dark out but the sun is creeping up near the horizon. He watches as her silhouette crosses the window in the bedroom and the lights go out, he spends a few more seconds there, then snaps out of his reverie. Jim won't let her leave without saying goodbye, and he's going to make sure that doesn't happen. Turning around, he steps off the sidewalk and hails a cab coming down the street.
Jim steals himself another look at those dark windows, as the vehicle pulls away from the curb.
The End