Title: Mad Skills

Summary: Post Ep 7x13 ‘Redrum’.  Written for <lj user=csi_crimelab> Quote: Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings – always darker, emptier, and simpler.

 

I sit on the edge of my bed and plop back to stare blankly at the ceiling.  Another day of work.  Another case.  Same crime, different face.  Only tonight it wasn’t the case that got to me.  It was an open slap in the face by a co-worker, someone I trusted with my life.

 

Warrick says to let it go.  He doesn’t understand.  He couldn’t.  None of them could.  So I haven’t completely dealt with the whole buried alive thing.  My safe haven?  It isn’t here.  It isn’t work.  It’s the people where I work.  They pulled me out of hell and whether I should or not, I need them.

 

I silently curse the tears that escape my eyes and trickle down the sides of my face to pool at the blankets beneath me.  I’m drowning in my own thoughts and disbelief that this even happened.  The part of me that starts to close off is almost a physical ache inside me.  Broken trust will do that to you.  It’ll also make you numb inside.

 

I roll over onto my side and reach for my phone to flip through the numbers.

 

Let it go…

 

I’m about to call one of the night shift detectives that I’ve been with before.  She’s pretty, brunette, and doesn’t mind just keeping me company when I need it.  A knocking on my door stops me and I get up, swiping the back of my hand over my eyes and cheeks as I walk towards the door.  When I open it, I’m surprised to find Warrick there with a case of beer.

 

“Thought you might wanna hang out.”

 

From the way he’s eyeing me I know that he knows I’ve been crying.  I hate that.  I hate how he knows.  “What about the little lady at home?”  I attempt to sound okay, like I’m dealing but I know that he sees through that too.

 

He shrugs lightly.  “I told her I had somewhere I needed to be.  She’s cool.”

 

“You think I need this?”  I ask, suddenly doing a one-eighty from okay to defensive.  My emotions are in overdrive, going every direction at once just like they had in that box I’d been buried in.

 

“Honestly?  I think you do.  Not like you’ve never done the same for me.”

 

I hesitate, trying to decided whether to let Warrick in or send him away.  I know it’s possible I could cry again and I hate it.  It’s lodged in my throat blanketing every word that comes out of my mouth.  “Rick…You know that was wrong of her, right?  That I can’t just let it go…”

 

“I know.  Shouldn’t have said that.” 

 

He nods, sets the beer down inside the door and wraps his arms around me.  “I mean I’ll be cool at work but I can’t just let it go.  It hurt.”  I ramble, the words coming out more emotional and uncontrolled than I meant for them to.  “It hurt.  There are things that just can’t…”  I trail off and shake my head.

 

Once I have more control over myself, I pull back and look at Warrick.  “I’m not okay.”  I whisper.

 

“Don’t expect you to be.”

 

I nod, glad that someone can just let me deal the only way I know how… the only way I can.  “Beer and Madden?”

 

“You got the new one?”  That’s Warrick, always rolling with the punches.

 

“Just got it yesterday.”  I step aside and let him in, shutting the door behind him.  I follow him into my kitchen and watch him put the beer in the fridge.  “Thanks. I needed this… someone.”

 

“I know.”  He nods, and holds a beer out to me.  “Ready for me to kick your ass?”

 

I smirk lightly and lift one amused eyebrow.  “You kidding?  I’ve got skills on PS2.  Mad skills.”