Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of its characters.
Author's note: This occurs after "Fannysmackin'". Short one-shot for a friend.
"Those Who Care"
She walked down the hospital hall, getting ready to turn in her smock and head home. She enjoyed the time she spent working as a candy stripper, but on days like today, it was very tiring. She knew it was good practice though for when she finally became an RN.
She ran a hand through her platinum blonde hair, wondering if she should dye it dark for the winter. She let out a sigh, knowing she probably didn't have the money nor the time to get it done. Between volunteering, nursing school, and work, it was difficult to get a spare minute.
She looked in to the rooms as she passed them, wondering what brought each of them here. In one particular room, she noticed the man inside staring at his food. His face was black and blue with one eye still swollen shut. His head bandaged; his right arm in a cast. And she felt a pang of sadness for him, as he looked a little lonely. She looked at her watch and decided she could spare a few minutes.
She knocked on the doorframe and he looked up from the food in front of him. She gave him a warming smile. "Hey, my name's Sammy," she introduced herself, stepping in to the room.
"Greg," he half-heartedly replied after seeing her hospital ID badge.
She took a couple more steps towards him. "I noticed you weren't eating and wondered if you needed some help," she said, pointing to the barely touched tray in front of him.
He looked back at the food. "I'm…I'm not really hungry," he told her. He couldn't get the image of the mother crying over her son in the next room—the son he had killed.
She saw something in his eyes. "Are you ok?" she asked, then realizing that was a pretty stupid question, she added, "I mean, besides the obvious."
Greg let out a sigh. "Do you know who I am? What I've done?" he looked straight at her.
"You're Greg," she gave him a playful half-smile. "And more than likely something dangerous."
Normally he would have laughed at her goofy reply, but he found nothing funny about his current situation. "That's…That's not what I meant," he slowly replied.
She saw the hurt in his face at her reply and grew serious. "I'm a good listener if you want to tell me."
Greg thought for a moment and decided he really didn't want to be alone right now. "Have a seat," he motioned towards the chair along the wall.
She pulled the chair over so that she was closer to him. She could tell that speaking was a little taxing and didn't want him to have to speak louder than necessary. "I'm all ears," she sat.
"I work for the crime lab," he told her. "And I was going to a scene to collect evidence when I saw a person being beaten by a mob."
Sammy's eyes grew wide. She had heard on the news about the crime spree and seen some of the victims of the mob beatings that had been happening. She hadn't made the connection between Greg and them until he had made it plain.
"In the process of trying to help, I hit one of the attackers with my car. He…he…didn't…" he turned and looked back to the next room. He couldn't say the words. He didn't want to make them real.
Sammy nodded in understanding. She had heard the Code call and knew the man in the next room had died. "I'm so sorry," she tried to console him.
A tear slid down his bruised cheek. He looked down, not wanting this stranger to see him cry.
Sammy could almost hear his heart breaking at the thought that he had taken a life. She got up from her chair and sat down on the bed next to him, putting an arm gently around him, not knowing exactly how bruised he was.
"You didn't mean to hurt anyone," she soothingly said. "You were trying to help someone else."
He shrugged off her arm, not letting himself be comforted. "I took a life," he replied in barely above a whisper, a few more tear escaping.
She put a hand under his chin and lifted his head. She looked him straight in the eye. "In this life we all have done things we weren't proud of. And whether or not we've stopped someone's breath, we've all killed someone, stopped their heart, in some way. Right now it's fresh and hurts probably more than your physical injuries, but you will make peace with it and be a better person for it."
Her words touched him and he felt his walls fall. He put his good arm around her and placed his head on her shoulder and started to cry. It felt good to let it out. And for some reason, it was easier to do with this woman who barely knew him then with anyone from the lab.
She put her arms back around him and lightly stroked his hair. She knew there was nothing else to say and just let him cry. She knew that sometimes all we need is someone who cares.