Promises Made

Ryan

I awoke the same way I do every other time I have the dream, with a feeling of panic, sweating profusely, heart racing, gasping for breath and feeling an overwhelming urge to wash the blood off. The blood I've tried to wash off for the past four and a half months. It never comes off because it's not really there anymore, but it still feels like it is. It will always be there.

The dream is always the same. I call out her name, she looks at me and smiles, she always smiles, then she walks toward me. I see the gunman, but I don't tell her, the words won't come out of my mouth. She goes down and I run to her. The blood is everywhere, it's all over me and I can't stop it from coming out of her. We're both panicking. She asks for her husband and I promise I'll get him, but she's gone before I can keep that promise. That's when I wake up. It's always the same.

That's not exactly what happened however. I never saw the gunman, I was nowhere near Calleigh when she arrived, or when the shot was fired. I had been assured ahead of time, by the uniforms that the site was secure. But, I was with her when she died. There were moments of panic, for both of us. I did get covered in her blood. I did promise I would get her husband, although I can't say she was even aware that I was talking to her at the time and she did die before I could get him there.

I had the dream a lot in the first few weeks after the shooting. I began to dread going to sleep each night. My counselor explained it as 'survivors guilt', says it's very common after traumatic events like these, as if that's supposed to make me feel better. To me it just feels like a very heavy weight that is suffocating me and no matter how hard I try I can't rid myself of it. I didn't pull the trigger that day, but it was me who dragged her out of the lab because I needed her help. I've got her blood on my hands any way you look at it.

I've thought about quitting this job more times than I can count, being in that building is just too uncomfortable with the guilt and tension. I see my counselor regularly and I thought I was getting a handle on things, but Speedle came back to work and the guilt was oppressive again. It was hard to come back to work in the beginning, I felt all eyes on me. Calleigh was loved by everyone, I was the guy who took her place on the team when she went part time, I was the guy who called her out of the lab that day and I was the guy with her when she died.

I work well with this team, but I have never really felt like I fit in, always a bit on the outside of the circle. They had more in common. They've been together for more than a decade, are married with kids and are part of each others' lives outside of work. That involvement works for them, but it wasn't really what I wanted, and maybe that's why I felt like I didn't completely belong. Calleigh, though, was always nice to me, more of a mentor than anyone else because she had the time. I truly liked and respected her.

I feel my heart and breathing coming back to normal, if I sit quietly the panic feeling abates. I know what set me off, why I had the dream again after being rid of it for awhile. It was seeing those little girls, Calleigh's twins, skipping down the hallway in their matching dresses, blonde pony tails flying, with smiles identical to their mother's, as they raced into their father's arms and getting a smile from him in return, the only true emotion I've seen out of him since he returned to work a few weeks ago. I hadn't seen the girls since the funeral. They look so much like her it made me stop in my tracks, all the memories rushing back. Seeing them was so unexpected, all I could think was if I hadn't asked for Calleigh's help, they'd still have a mother. I concentrate on my breathing, in and out, in and out. Keep it steady.

It hasn't been easy seeing Speedle at work every day either. He's like a different person now, just a shadow of his former self. He goes out of his way to avoid me at all costs. I can only think it's because he holds me responsible for Calleigh's death. It's become a very stressful environment, but it was seeing the twins that brought me to my knees, so to speak, and my emotion laden response shocked me. Admittedly, I haven't given them much thought, though I hear the others talk about them all the time. But seeing them, seeing them with him, that brought it all home for me. Again. Thus the return of the dream, although it's really a nightmare and living through it once was enough.

I wondered why they were there, it seemed like the last place they should be and I asked Delko about it. He explained that it was to reassure them that their father was safe inside the lab when he went to work, they'd been having a hard time when he left each day and worried about his safety. Oh. Way to stick the knife in. If their mother was safe inside she would still be alive. I get it.

How can I rid myself of this guilt knowing Calleigh's little girls have these worries? They're six! This is going to be a long night, I won't be getting any more sleep, I never do. I know what I have to do, I have to confront Speedle and get this obvious tension between us out in the open. I can't stay here if it continues like this. This is what my counselor has been urging me to do and I've avoided it. It never feels like the right time or the right place. The guy has been through enough, but so have I. What exactly do I want? His forgiveness? To apologize? But, it's not my fault!

I was surprised he came back to work here at all. I knew he had been struggling with his loss, but wouldn't going back to the job you shared for years with your wife be agony? Although, I suppose it's no different than going home to the house you shared, and I know he hasn't moved. With his reputation he could get a job anywhere. Why didn't he consider a fresh start somewhere else?

I made the mistake of asking Horatio that very question after he announced Speedle's return. Really wrong question. With fixed blue eyes he looked at me the way he does when you've displeased him, then he explained that it was best for them to be where they had the most support and here, he really emphasized this part, was where Calleigh was buried. I felt like a complete ass. I should've known that. I actually like Speedle, well, I did, but now, facing him everyday is really difficult, for both of us, I think. I would be lying if I didn't admit it would be easier for me if he never came back and I never saw those little girls.

This has taken such a toll on the man. I really do feel bad for him. He looks like he never eats or sleeps and he seems devoid of emotion, well, except when I saw him with his daughters. I must say though, his work hasn't suffered, I don't know how he does it, but he has been spot on in the lab since his return. It's probably the only time he gets to escape from his grief, so he really gets into it. He only talks a little bit, and then just to Horatio, Delko and a couple other people. Around me, nothing, unless he absolutely has to.

I've been up since 3 AM and it's almost time for me to get ready for work. I hope a cold shower will help to keep me awake and jolt my senses. I've decided I'll confront him first thing this morning.

When I arrive, I feel my anxiety level rise as soon as I step in the building. I know where to find him, in the Trace lab, where he'll be alone, hunched over a microscope. My apprehension increases with each step, I just don't know what to expect and I can't believe my palms are sweating and my heart is racing already.

"Speedle," I call to him as I wander in finding him exactly where I expected. He looks up and in my direction, but not at me, after a moment he looks back in the microscope.

"What is it Wolfe, I'm busy." His words echo the exasperation I saw briefly on his face and I'm taken aback by this display of emotion, I'm used to his flat affect and monotone.

"We need to talk," I tell him simply. "About what happened... to Calleigh."

He jerks up and swings his head in my direction, his eyes flashing intense anger, his jaw set and I actually take a step backward feeling stunned.

"No," he says forcefully. "We don't need to talk about my wife. Now or ever." His words are short, terse as he leans his head back over the microscope. The heavy emphasis on the words, 'my wife', is not lost on me, as if I could ever forget she was his wife.

"Yes we do. The tension surrounding us is oppressive," I say as I motion around the lab toward the various glass encased rooms surrounding us filled with our coworkers, "and it's damned uncomfortable...for everyone." I'm not going to back down, we need to have this out, that was made obvious by his anger.

"I can't help but feel that you hold me responsible." I breathe a heavy sigh, there...it's out in the open.

"That's your problem. I don't fucking care." He jerks his head up from the microscope, stares me down with eyes blazing in anger and shouts this at me. I wasn't prepared for that, I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. Before I can respond he continues.

"What the hell do you want from me? To tell you I wish you never asked for my wife's help that day? Every...fucking...minute...of...every...fucking...day... I wish you didn't ask for her help! I wish you had called me. Me! Anyone... but her!" He lowers his tone now, just a bit, but the intensity is still present.

"But you know what? It doesn't change a single thing. My wife is still dead and my daughters still cry themselves to sleep every night."

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. His anger seems to have taken a lot out of him, he suddenly looks more drained and tired than he did before, I know it's taking a lot out of me.

I don't know what to say except, "I'm sorry. I wish I could take that day back, but I can't. There was nothing I could do to prevent it. Nothing. If I could have protected her somehow I would have. I would have done anything." My body is shaking and my heart is racing. That day just won't go away. I feel something I haven't felt in a long time, I feel like crying. My words seem so insignificant, yet they're all I have to offer.

He heaves a heavy sigh. He looks left and right, but not at me. "If you're looking for me to absolve you of your guilt, I can't do that." There's a long pause during which I don't think either of us breathe or move.

"Wolfe, I don't hold you responsible for my wife's death. I know what happened." He heaves another heavy sigh, and when he speaks his voice is softer, the anger is gone, resignation remains in it's place.

"You needed help and she was available. My wife loved her job, she was better at it than most anyone, including me. She was happy to help you, she left me a message saying that before she left the lab that day. I got it...later." I don't know what to say in response to this. He continues, "What happened, happened, and you nor I can't change it. I don't want to talk about this again."

He goes back to the microscope and I know I've been dismissed, I'm just not sure I feel any better. I turn to leave and I'm almost at the door when he calls me back.

"Wolfe. Wait."

I turn, not knowing what to expect. He takes a deep breath, expels it heavily, as if he hopes he can expel his burden along with it. Instead of anger, I see profound sadness in his eyes, making it hard for me to keep looking. He fidgets with the wedding ring he still wears. Every part of him seems twitchy, unable to be still.

"I'm not sure I ever thanked you," he pauses, his voice is halted, this must be torture for him, "for being with her, for all you did to help her." I start to respond, but he puts up his hand.

"I've seen a lot of," again he pauses, searching for the right word, "victims. She, Calleigh, looked at peace, like she was asleep, not scared... not like some I've seen." Again he pauses, eyes darting, fidgeting still with his ring. I'm afraid to speak.

"She wasn't alone, that must've helped her. Thank you for being at her side." His voice is even softer and when he briefly looks at me, I can see his eyes are moist and suddenly I understand.

For me, I've been wrestling with my culpability in Calleigh's death, for him, it wasn't about blaming me, it was about the fact that I was with her when she died and he wasn't.

I've been carrying my guilt and he's been carrying his. That day comes rushing back to me like a movie playing in my mind, clear as the day it happened. I've never completely told him all the details, I tried, but he didn't want to hear anything from me and I didn't blame him. My guilt now, is that of omission. I should've tried harder to talk to him, he needs to hear this. I can give him this.

"No." I capture his attention with this word and he looks at me as I walk back to where I was standing before.

"I should've told you this a long time ago. I'm sorry. You should know this. It wasn't me that calmed her down, she didn't see me, didn't even know I was there. It was you, I'm absolutely certain of it." He looks at me, his eyes pleading and confused.

"She was struggling to breathe, choking and very panicked." I stop, he's shaking his head, is still twitchy, doesn't want to hear this, but I continue.

"She had this wild look in her eyes. I tried talking to her, but she didn't seem to comprehend. She kept trying to speak, after a struggle, your name came out. She wasn't asking for you, it was as if she was talking to you, but she wasn't able to say more. Then she immediately calmed down, her eyes cleared, it was a profound change. She stopped struggling and she became very peaceful, she squeezed my hand a little bit. It was as if she just went to sleep after that. There's no doubt in my mind that she thought you were with her. I'm so, so sorry I didn't tell you all of this before now, I tried right after, but you probably weren't really hearing anything. I'm so sorry. You really needed to know that."

I'm not sure there's anything more I can say. I can't look at him right now. I should've known that not being there was one of the things he was struggling with. I was so preoccupied with my own guilt, I didn't think about his. This has been a really intense morning and I feel depleted, but if I gave him a bit of peace, than I can live with that and maybe begin to move forward. Perhaps now we can exist around each other without the tension. Seems we both had something to say and something to hear. If only it can make the nightmares stop for good.

"Thank you." I hear him mumble, very softly in a strained voice, as I make my way out on shaky legs.

I wonder, is it worth it, to love someone that much, so much that losing them leaves you completely broken hearted and lost? It's a high price to pay. Maybe too high? Then I remember those little girls skipping into his arms and getting a smile out of him and I realize he wouldn't give back a moment of his life with Calleigh. I guess when it hits you that hard it's all out of your control and you just enjoy the ride while you can.

Something I'll think about for a long time.