Catherine stood on the street corner trying to ignore the looks that those passing by gave her. She wanted to scream at them "Yes. I am a broken woman! The one man in my life I thought I could count on is gone!" And as the passers by moved to the other side of the street, she realized she had done just that. The declaration made the truth hit even harder, and the woman rebuilt the walls that allowed her some dignity.
Seeing a phone booth on the other side of the street, she crossed and went through her pockets for any change. Her cell phone was somewhere, thrown aside in an emotional fit. Finding the requisite 50 cents, Catherine stared at them hoping that they would be able to tell her where she had gone so wrong.
"Hey guys." Warrick greeted the group sitting in the break room. "Ah, I asked all of you here so I could let you know that… well, let me introduce you to my wife." The dark skinned man leaned out the door and spoke briefly before leading a petite Asian woman into the room. "I'd like you to meet-"
Catherine slammed her hand down onto the top of the phone. Cursing, she threw the coins down the aptly named coin slot and dialed Greg's number.
"Hello?" A groggy voice answered.
"Ah, sorry. I was looking for Greg." Catherine said, cursing herself for wasting the last bit of money she had on a wrong number. She frowned in realization. The voice had sounded awfully familiar. "Nick?" She asked incredulously.
"Catherine? Where are you? Everyone's been worried sick." Greg's voice came in, presumably on the other line. "Are you ok? What's going on?" As the man stopped to take a breath, Catherine jumped at her chance.
"I'm fine. I'm um.." She looked around for landmarks. She had gotten on planes and trains without care. All she cared to do was get away. "I'm outside a bar. Other than that, I don't know exactly where I am. How's Lindsey?"
"Worried about you. She spent a couple of nights at Grissom's, now she's at Sara's, and if you don't come home soon, we get her." Nick's recital of her daughter's whereabouts brought tears to her eyes. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I can't-" The lump in her throat prevented any other words.
"What, did you think we were gonna let her stay alone? At her age?" Greg laughed. "No, we're taking care of her. And we'll take care of her for as long as you need. Now and forever."
Catherine blinked back tears. "I'll be home soon." She whispered. "I'm just so lost. He left and yet, didn't leave, and I don't know what to do. I couldn't even tell Lindsey. I just left her a note to call Grissom and tell him that I wouldn't be in for a while. Oh, God. What did I do?"
"It's ok. It's going to be fine. You'll get this figured out. Lindsey was fine. She managed to figure out what happened. Came in to Grissom first thing. She's a bright one, that daughter of yours. Take all the time you need." Greg's voice whispered to her like the waves of the ocean, calming and tranquil. Catherine leaned into a wall of the phone booth, soaking up whatever calm his voice could offer her. She closed her eyes, not noticing that her money should have run out long ago.
A hand on her shoulder made her cry out in surprise.
"What's wrong?" Both of the men on the phone demanded.
"I don't know. Nothing, I think. Can I help you?" She reassured her friends, then turned to the man who had gotten her attention.
"I don't think so. But I think I can help you." His words, Catherine realized should have put her on guard, but his whole being was much like Greg's soothing litany. "You seem kind of lost."
Aware that the boys could hear both sides of the conversation, Catherine clutched the phone to her chest like a lifeline. "I am. I have no idea who I am or where I am or what I need to be doing." The last words of her sentence were partly spoken and partly sobbed as she met the man's eyes. There was something in his chocolate eyes that let lose the dams and Catherine found herself sitting on the sidewalk with tears pouring down her face, phone long forgotten. The man reached over her to place the phone near his own ear.
"Your friend. She is lost. If you will allow me, I will help her find her way home." Greg agreed instantly, trusting something that he heard in the man's voice. Nick was not as easy to persuade as his boyfriend.
"How do we know that we can trust you and that you won't take her off somewhere and do horrible things?" He demanded into the receiver.
"You can't." The man's answer was so full of sadness and longing, that Nick found himself more willing to trust the complete stranger. "But you have my word that I will do my best to help your friend find her way home. It is not up to me whether she does. I will simply point her in the right direction."
"Alright. Thank you." Nick agreed, wondering why he had done so, especially with the kinds of crimes he saw on a daily basis.
"It may be several more days before she will be able to start the journey. There are things she has to learn about herself." The man bid them goodbye, the word whispering across their souls, reassuring them that Catherine would be fine.
The man finished his conversation with Nick and Greg and bent down to scoop Catherine into his arms. The redhead wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. The man clucked at her and brought her across the street to the bar she had seen earlier. Carrying her in past an ornately carved bar, the man set her gently in one of the booths that lined the walls. Leaving her there to her own devices for a moment, the man went to collect a number of things from behind the bar while trading light banter with the few patrons that sat there.
Bringing a glass of water, a cloth and a notebook the man returned to Catherine. Tipping a little of the water into the cloth, he handed both to the woman. She smiled gratefully at him, and used them to her great relief.
"Why are you doing this for me?" She asked as he sat opposite her in the booth. The man merely smiled at her and handed her the notebook and a pen.
"Take this now and write in it. Why you're lost, what you have when you go back, anything. You will know more when you are done." Catherine took the proffered items, with a dubious smile.
"I was never a very good writer." She said, attempting to lighten the mood. It never occurred to her that there was something extraordinary in his request or that she might not know what to write.
The man began to hum a tuneless drone that soon became the focus of all her senses. The sound of it corresponded with the jagged lines on the paper and the smell of food that was brought out by faceless shapes and the pen soon became part of her. It was just as natural to breathe as it was to move the pen in accordance to the music.
The music stopped abruptly as Catherine found herself at the end of the notebook. She leafed back through the pages of writings and looked at the man, an expression of wonderment on her face. "How did you do that? How long have we been here?"
"A couple of hours only." The man replied as he moved out of the booth. Moving up to the bar, he reached over to the cash register. Taking the money, he folded it in half and turned and pressed it into Catherine's hands. The CSI had moved out of the booth as well to follow the man.
"Who are you?" She asked as she tried to close her fists against the money. He was surprisingly strong yet gentle as he forced her hands open and closed again around the cash.
"They call me Jack Daw." The man replied. He opened the door to the bar and looked out. "Come." He called to the woman, who hastily grabbed her things from the table. She left the notebook sitting on the table, a reminder of the things in her life that she could not control.
Jack led her out to a waiting cab. "Now that you are no longer lost, you can find your way home." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and opened the car door for her.
"But what do I do when I get there?" She asked, reluctant to start the trip back to Las Vegas. "I don't think things are going to be any better when I get home." She willed herself not to cry.
"Reconnect with friends. Laugh a little. Don't forget to live. You've been through a lot. Share it with your friends. Those who were on the phone. They are good ones to go to.As good as family they are, yes?Don't give up hope for Warrick."
Catherine started. "How do you know Warrick?" She asked suspiciously. He handed her the notebook she had filled.
"Go home to that family of friends. Read this on the way. You will remember why and when you do you will know what to do." He helped her into the taxi and moved to speak with the driver.
Catherine rolled down her window. "I- Thank you." She said, smiling up at him. "For everything. I still don't understand it all, but…"
Jack shrugged one shoulder. "You have found your way home." He sent the cab off with a faint smile for the woman as she waved.
Once in Las Vegas, Catherine made her way to Greg's house, notebook in her purse. She knocked on the door and waited for him to answer.
Fin
Blink What the hell was that? I have no idea... I think it was the flu talking, not me. So in the morning, don't blame me. Blame the sickness. It took hold of me and wouldn't let go until I'd written it. I think it came from my deep anger at Warrick for getting married. I'm not a het shipper, but I just kind of assumed that the two of them would be together. Apparently not this season. glower
Kudos to anyone who knows where Jack Daw came from. I'm going to sleep now... And not waking up for a couple of days.