Summary: Natalie Davis created miniatures, committed murders and ultimately abducted Sara. The question is why? Rated M for adult content, this story will get a bit dark following Natalie's journey. Spoilers for Season 7 are included, you have been warned.
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a fan fic, so please read and review as suggestions and comments would be appreciated. I have tried to keep as honest to the CSI timeline as possible, however, since it is a little fuzzy, so am I. As you read, you will question Ernie's relationship with Natalie. Is Natalie seeing things that aren't there?
This is written with Natalie's perspective in mind. I am writing this because I am trying to fill in what we have not seen from Natalie.
Disclaimer: I did not create nor do I own these characters or anything to do with CSI.
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Chapter 2People were always wrong about her, misjudging her. Looking past her, through her. Whenever an incident would happen, whenever Natalie would perceive that she was being dismissed, she would become someone else, something else.
Throughout her life, Natalie never had many friends. Her intensity and worldview frightened those around her. She found it difficult to fit in with other children and the adults around her didn't understand anything about her. She didn't speak very often and people took her silence as an admission to ignorance. People saw her as either slow or stupid because she had trouble articulating her thoughts and feelings. Natalie couldn't express herself adequately with words. Her mind was always racing so far ahead; she couldn't put words together in a coherent manner quick enough to catch up to her speeding brain. When she did speak, she sounded dense, confused and awkward. This caused her to be shy and embarrassed to even speak in front of strangers. She could, however, communicate though her art. Natalie had the amazing gift of a photographic memory. She could quickly scan a room and have every minuscule detail committed to memory. From the color of the walls to the last ring of dust from a long-standing object recently moved.
She was able to create drawings that were precise and exact. She loved to sketch in pencil, in black and white, in her sketchbook that she took with her everywhere. It was soothing to her that she could create and control what she saw. She loved the feel of the pencil lead that she could manipulate and smudge on the paper to create perfect shadow. When she was sketching a scene from her memory, she felt powerful and for once, in control.
It was all because of her.
After Chloe fell from the treehouse, Natalie's father gave her away to the system. The Great Rainone as he liked to call himself, could not even bear to look at Natalie anymore. To him, Natalie represented not only his loss of his favorite daughter, but more striking; Natalie represented everything that was "bad" about being a parent. He could not control Natalie, could not relate to her and worst, he could not love her. She was disobedient; she was quiet, and a little off. Everything that Chloe was not. Things were worse for her than ever. Natalie was forced to retreat more and more into herself, with no one to rely on. Because, she was again, ignored by her father. Again, it was because of Chloe. It was because of the loss of his child by the hands of another, that he eventually gave her away. Without so much as a second look. As far as he was concerned, he had lost two children that day.
Natalie was shuffled from foster home to foster home, unable to make a connection to anyone. She continuously had the same problem - she was alone. The other kids in the group homes would mock her and then she would retreat to that comfortable place that Chloe had introduced her to. If anything, Chloe's accident had shown Natalie that aggression was a quick and effortless way to solve problems.
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The Dell family was a blessing of sorts for the foster care system. They took in children that no other family or institution wanted or could handle. The Cindy and Ernie Dell did what they could for the children, made sure that they were safe, fed, and clothed, which was much more than any of the children had ever received at any of the other homes. The children received medical attention, physical and mental as necessary. When Natalie arrived at the Dell house, she immediately knew that things would be different. For Natalie, it was the childhood that she never had. It was everything that she had hoped and prayed for; she had someone that cared for her. While she didn't always get along with her "brothers and sisters," she did get along with Ernie Dell. She looked up to him, admired him. She loved him.
Ernie was so much more than just her foster father. Natalie was Ernie's special one, his special girl. He was a mentor to her and her only anchor to the world when it started to spin out of control around her. His soothing words and his touch were what kept her grounded. When the world started to close in around her, he always seemed to be there to bring her back down. Ernie seemed to be the only one that understood her. Because of him, she felt like she was worth keeping. It was never about anyone else when they were together.
Growing up in the Dell household, Natalie went to see many doctors to help her with her problems, her "anger." The only therapy that seemed to help her was her special time with Ernie.
They used to spend hours upon hours creating entire city scenes in the basement. Ernie loved his model trains and had an elaborate outrageous setup in the family basement. He had tracks that followed the entire layout of the lower level of the house. Natalie was able to focus all of her energies in creating the scenes with Ernie, from each little store in the imaginary city to the contents of each tiny house. Their city was a microcosm for the real world. Each segment of society was represented down to the most miniscule detail. Rich. Poor. Young. Old. Good. Evil. It was here that Natalie was able to work out her problems. Just like Ernie.
Ernie had a vile job at the Manley chicken processing plant. Part of his job was to help massacre the chickens for the world's dinner table. He killed so that his family could live. It was dirty, disgusting work. It was sloppy and smelly. Working in a factory is hot, brutal way to earn a living. Working at a place like that starts to taint your view on life. You become desensitized to not only violence, but also the concept of violence. If you see violence and death every moment of every day, it becomes a normal way to approach the world. That is why Ernie loved his trains and his miniatures. He loved creating his tiny miniature scenes. He would craft almost every piece by hand. He had all sorts of molds to create whatever item he needed to finish a particular setting. Natalie was the only child that came through their house that really understood him and what he was doing. She had a connection with him.
When Ernie had a difficult day at work, the miniature that he created would reflect that feeling. Soon, Natalie, when she was upset, she would work on creating her own miniature scenario as well. It seemed to help her focus. Give her one thought, one task to focus on. She would take out her sketchbook and outline to the finest detail what she wanted to create. If Natalie had a bad day at school, maybe the result would be to draw and then render a bloody beating at a bus stop. Little dolls would be inflicting pain on one another. The detail was breathtaking. Maybe a pedestrian had a little broken leg after being hit by a car. They made sure that the blood was correct in amount and color, that the leg would be twisted to the correct angle to show it was broken. Sometimes some people deserved to be hurt. They deserved to die. That is what Ernie and Natalie decided together.
Trevor was the only other foster child that took a real interest in Ernie's trains and his miniatures. Sure, some of the others would humor him, but the bloody dolls put off most of them and car crashes. Trevor, who was a few years older than Natalie did not have any skills for making any miniature pieces. He enjoyed making models, and liked the trains and mechanical aspects of the scenes, but it was a game to him. He always wanted to add his Spiderman and have him swinging from lampposts. Sometimes Natalie would come home from school only to find that Trevor had set up his action figures in epic battles, Storm troopers vs. G. I. Joe and the like. It would enrage Natalie that he had dared to interfere with what she was creating with Ernie, but she realized that he only wanted to help, or so Ernie told her. He tried to help them, but he was always in the way, Natalie and Ernie usually sent him out for paints or parts, to keep him from contaminating their scenes. Trevor didn't realize that what he was doing didn't fit. He did not see the time that Natalie and Ernie spent together as anything special or important. He just thought it was for fun. He just didn't understand the importance of what they were doing.
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After Natalie graduated high school, Ernie helped her to get her own apartment and try to set up a life for herself. After his wife died, all of the children were gone, except for his son Lionel, and Ernie was left alone. Alone except for Natalie. She was the only one that stayed. She was the only one that still needed him. They would still have their special times together. Creating an outlet for themselves against the indignities of the outside world.
Natalie was never someone that would be considered a "people person" and she had difficulties keeping a regular job. Ernie helped her get a few temporary jobs as part of a cleaning crew and that worked out well for Natalie. She didn't have to talk to anyone and she could just focus on the task in front of her – to make clean the room, or office, or home. The only difficulties she had were if she had to use bleach. She had never been able to get over her reactions to the chemical. When she even smelled the pungent cleaning fluid, she would almost blackout. It would send her back to that day in treehouse, looking down at her bloody sister on the sidewalk. She would slip away and fall into a state of ambiguity. Natalie would start to sweat and shake. Her vision would become blurred and the sounds around her would become muffled, like they were coming from some far away place. By the time that she was able to refocus, Natalie had usually lost chunks of time. She may even be in a completely different place than when the episode began. For Natalie, trying to decipher these episodes was like trying to listen to an old transistor radio without an antenna. She could only make out garbled phrases and pieces that were difficult if not impossible to put together.
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Izzy Delancey was an accident. Natalie didn't believe that was her fault. Things had been going well with her job for him. She found him disgusting, but he followed a routine pattern everyday and she could appreciate and take comfort in that. Natalie was cleaning, trying to do her job, but he wouldn't stop.
"Natalie! How many times have I told you that you need to use bleach on my sweats?" Izzy asked her as he was standing in the kitchen, waving the bleach bottle at her. She had been working for him for a few days, but he was starting to become relentless about the bleach.
Natalie looked at Izzy in horror, watching the bottle sway back and forth as his one finger hooked the handle. Back and forth. Back and forth. That was all she could see and focus on. He had her complete attention.
Izzy came closer to her, with the bleach bottle in his hand. He had now unscrewed the cap and the smell of bleach was starting to waft to Natalie's nostrils, as she stood frozen over the sink. "Don't be afraid of a little bleach. Look it can be your friend," he said, mocking her.
Natalie could feel her heart race. Her ears were filled with the sound of her own heart beating. It was beating so hard, she was sure it was going to bust through her ribcage at any moment. Her breathing became ragged and shallow. Natalie could see Izzy's lips moving, forming silent words. She could feel him taunting her. He was laughing at her.
Izzy put down the bottle of bleach directly next to Natalie and went to the dining room table to eat his breakfast. The same breakfast, two sunny side up eggs and 3 pieces of bacon, that he ate every morning.
Natalie tried to compose herself. She tried to breathe and move away from the bleach. She carefully replaced the cap and tightened it. She was able to then let the breath that she had been holding out. And that is where it began. She had to make him pay.
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Thanks for reading! I appreciate your time and reviews.