Disclaimer: I do not, under any condition, own CSI... if I did, I wouldn't be here, on my knees, begging you not to rat me out... I DUN WANNA GET SUED!
Not a Lie
It's not a lie if you don't tell, right? You can't really be held for dishonesty, though people may be disappointed that you didn't trust them with the truth… but it's their fault for not actually asking, and just assuming that everything's alright… right?
Right, this wasn't his fault.
So, sitting across the room from a bottle of Jack Daniels must be sane, right? After all, if not lying by neglecting to tell the truth is logical, then anything is… not that he's trying to hide anything.
But maybe, just maybe, none of this is real… maybe last shift didn't happen. Maybe that arson case wasn't real. Maybe he didn't break down in the locker room in front of the only person he really thought cared…
But the knocking on his door was very real, and he was so very tempted to go and open it. But he was also tempted to drink the alcohol across from him… that was the reason he put it there, to be in the way of the door. He wouldn't be able to pass it without taking a sip, something he didn't want to do.
The knocking on the door eventually stopped, and he curled up at the end of the couch. Best to forget about it…
But he couldn't.
It had been simple really, almost laughable, how easy the case was to solve. Find were the fire started. Lift some partial prints left on the outside of the door. Figure out which of the suspects' statements didn't fit. Point out the faulty alibi. Case solved. Alls that was left was the paper work.
It didn't hurt that the cause of the fire had been a small chemical bomb, rigged up in a school chemistry lab. Didn't hurt that the teenager who was convicted had intense blue eyes and pretty blonde hair like a certain supervisor he knew. Didn't hurt that the only victim had been her science loving brother… it really didn't hurt that the girl only wanted him gone because she couldn't stand that he was going to med school and she was most likely to become the next lady working the block.
No, it killed.
Not a quick death, either. A slow, painful one that tore at his heart and ignited his veins with flames as memories washed over his vision.
He didn't remember when he got up from his feral position, or when he crossed the room. The only important thing was seeing the bottom of the bottle as fast as he could.
It wasn't long before he was ruffling through his kitchen, trying to find more of the intoxicating liquid that left his throat burning. Ironic really, that the only thing that could make him forget the fires burned his insides… his search failing, he grabbed his jacket and walked over to his door.
He found his keys as he threw it open, only to stop dead in his tracks. There, sitting against his doorframe, was the one person who had witnessed his break down. The person who had followed him home. The one who had stayed knocking on his door for hours, hoping he'd open up so that she could help him…
Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he dropped his jacket and joined her on the ground. With a shuddering breath, his face fell into his hands.
Words were needed; no sense in lying and saying that they weren't… no, but it wouldn't be a lie if he didn't say…
She had him in her arms in moments, keeping the silence as she stroked his hair. Her actions spoke volumes, telling him she'd fight his fires with him, keep the flames at bay, heal the burning… but he needed her to say it… after all, how could he just assume that this was real? How could he after everyone assumed he was always alright, and he disappointed them all by breaking down?
Not that anyone other than her saw…
"Please," he broke the silence finally, pushing her away lightly and avoiding her contact. He looked down at his shaking hands.
She took those hands in her own, and he marveled at how easily she made it look to stop moving… "Tell me what happened."
"It'll just make it real," he muttered, slowly looking up into her chocolate eyes.
"Just because you don't say something," she offered him. "Doesn't mean it didn't happen…"
Those words, so similar to what he'd been thinking all night now, were the ones to break down the last of his barriers. Through the shaking tears, he relived the fires and remembered the burning, and for the first time, told someone everything there was to say…
So maybe he had never lied, but it was easier to tell the truth.
-Owari