Chapter 11
AN: We're getting to the home stretch here, folks. But buckle up, because it's going to get to be quite a ride from here on out...
He was laying drowsy eyed on the couch as a movie flickered past on the TV. Calleigh had rented movies and brought popcorn over with her, in an attempt to make it seem more like something they had planned to do, instead of what it really was: babysitting. He didn't care, really. It wasn't like he'd had a choice in the matter. And therefore, why should he care?
He was really too tired to actually follow the movie. All he could tell was it had something to do with dancers or cheerleaders or something along those lines, and wasn't something he would really be interested in, even if he weren't exhausted. To be fair, Calleigh had called him from the Blockbuster to ask his opinion, but he hadn't really been in the mood for choosing a movie, so he'd told her that whatever she wanted was fine by him. He'd have to remember, in the future, that Calleigh, for all of her fascination with guns and science, was a girl. It wasn't like he forgot this fact, exactly; it was more like it didn't really come up until she went to rent movies, apparently, or was in the supermarket line looking at tabloids.
It had been an excruciating day. Every time his tenuous self-control slipped even a little bit, the people around him had exchanged concerned looks. And he had never been left alone. Virtually all day long, someone else had been in the room with him. He understood, somewhat, but it didn't mean he had to like it. Having people around all day had really just irritated him, and that just made things worse. By the end of the day, he'd been plenty ready to go home, just so he could stop swallowing his irritation. He wouldn't have put it past Horatio to do that on purpose, just to make him want to leave the lab.
Calleigh had cut him a break and let him go home on his own while she went by her apartment to pick up some clothes and stop by Blockbuster. And really, it wasn't so bad if it was just Calleigh. She might push him, but she knew when to back off, and he could refuse to answer her and she'd leave it alone, most of the time, anyway. She hadn't asked him a single question that didn't relate to the movies or food the entire night, and he really was grateful for that. And, if he was honest, he was kind of glad she was there, because it made the house less dark and quiet and distracted him from his head. He felt pretty sure that hadn't been the intention, but he wasn't really ready to face his head just yet. He was almost content curled up on the couch with Cider snuggled up against him. That was more than enough, tonight.
"So, what do you think, bud? Another movie, or you want to go to bed? It's 9:30," Calleigh said from her seat in the armchair. The movie was apparently over. He hadn't even noticed.
"Don't care," he mumbled. "Whatever."
"You think you can sleep yet?" she asked.
"Maybe," he admitted.
"Alexx gave me something for you, if you want it," she offered.
"What did she send," he asked, unsurprised.
"Let me check," Calleigh said, getting up to retrieve her purse from the table by the front door. "Ambien," she said, coming back into the living room and sitting down on the coffee table, facing him.
He thought about it. He hated the groggy, muzzy sleeping pill hangover, which he got, even if the ad copy on the pills said he shouldn't, but if he took one, then he'd be sure to sleep the night through. It hadn't been an option, previously- he didn't trust himself quite enough to keep them in the house, and besides, the over-the-counter pills weren't strong enough to keep him down all night. Sleeping all night without his head running in the same circles was very attractive. "All right."
"Ok, then. Do you need to be in bed before you take it?" she asked.
"Probably," he said, struggling to sit up.
"All righty. You go get ready for bed, and I'll clean up in here, ok?" she asked.
"Fine," he said, levering himself up off the couch.
He'd changed into his pajamas when he'd gotten home from work, so he just needed to brush his teeth and such. Calleigh brought the pills and a glass of water to him shortly after he'd crawled into bed "Here," she offered.
"Thanks," he mumbled, knocking the pill back with a gulp of water.
She smiled at him a little. "All good?"
"Yeah," he replied, laying back.
"Good. Are there sheets on the bed in the guest room?" she asked.
"Yeah, it's all made up," he said.
"Ok. Yell if you need me, ok?" she said.
He nodded, and she left him alone to stare at the ceiling until the medication took hold and knocked him out.
He swam back up into consciousness some time later. 5:00, the clock read, just thirty minutes before the alarm. Despite the groggy hangover, he dragged himself out of bed. Stumbling out into the living room, he looked around. Something was…off. Not quite right. He paused in the middle of the room for a long moment, trying to determine what it was, when Calleigh's purse caught his eye. That was it, it was just Calleigh in the house, nothing to be alarmed about. He relaxed slightly and stretched, trying to will himself awake.
Wandering into the kitchen for a glass of water, he caught sight of the calendar on the refrigerator. September 17th. Oh. Twelve years now exactly, later today. He turned away from the kitchen and went through the breezeway to the back door. His hands shook as he fumbled with the doorknob, but he got the door open and walked out onto the back patio.
It was dark yet, and cool. His eyes wandered over the bit of overgrown jungle that he called a backyard as he tried not to think.
It's all right, Timmy.
Don't.
You didn't do it, you know.
I did, though. If it hadn't been for me, he wouldn't have needed the surgery in the first place.
No one blames you. Lisa and George don't, and if anyone should, it's them.
They should. It was my fault. And then I couldn't fix it.
Tim, you were 18. How the hell were you going to fix it?
I…don't know. But I should have fixed it. You fix the things you break.
Some things aren't fixable.
He sat down on one of the chairs, pulling his knees up to his aching chest. His eyes blurred, but he fought the tears. He didn't want to cry. It hurt too much for crying.
Calleigh found him sitting out there an hour later when she woke up. "Are you ok?" she asked, standing over him.
He shook his head, afraid to talk. He couldn't even deny anything was wrong anymore.
"What is it?" she asked
He shook his head again.
"Are you up to going to work at all?" she asked.
"I…don't think so," he admitted, in a croak.
"Then you don't have to go," she said simply, sitting down on one of the other chairs. "I'll call you out with Horatio. He'll be fine with it."
He nodded, looking away from her.
"Do you want me to stay?" she asked after a moment.
"You can't. One of us has to go in," he said, still not looking at her.
"I know. I just don't want you to be alone if you don't want to be," she said softly.
"I'm ok alone," he replied, taking a deep breath. "Really," he said, looking at her finally.
"What will you do?" she asked.
He shrugged a little. "I don't know."
Her mouth twisted at that answer. "Fair enough. I'll come by at lunch, though, ok?"
He nodded. "Fine."
"You call if you need me, all right?" she asked.
"I will," he agreed.
"Ok. At least eat something before I go," she said, reaching her hand out to him.
He was decidedly not hungry, but he took her hand anyway. "Ok," he said, letting her lead him back into the house. He didn't have anything left to fight with.