(no subject)

[rachbigbro.livejournal.com]

Title: What Ifs
Rating: Teen (just to be safe)
Genre: Angst
Summary: You'll just torment youself thinking of all the 'what ifs'.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or its ridiculous amount of lead characters.

 Things never go the way that you want them to, plans are almost always messed up.

 

Something always happens to cause everything to go awry.

 

It could be a car accident on the way to work causing you to hours late, even though your boss had told you that you would be fired if you were late one more time. It could be a meeting running late causing you to be late in picking up your child after they got out of school, even though you had promised to be on time because you were almost always late. It could be as simple as you losing your keys and causing you to leave the house a few minutes later then normal.

 

The thing is that you never really know what those few minutes could really mean.

 

It could mean something as simple as getting a red light instead of a green one if you had left those few minutes earlier. It could also be something much more, such as passing through the intersection a few minutes later and getting creamed by the drunk driver that you would have missed if you hadn’t left a few minutes later.

 

The thing is, is that you never really will know if those few minutes could have changed everything or nothing.

 

Something always causes your well laid plans to change, to shift a little to left instead of to the right like you wanted.

 

It could be you forgetting to lock the front door on your way out, leaving your house open to a crime of opportunity. It could be something a simple as leaving your headlights on causing you to have a dead battery at the end of they day when you only want to go home after a long day of work.

 

You never know what could have happened if you had turned left instead of right.

 

But it won’t stop you from wondering.

 

Wondering ‘what if I had been there on time would my daughter be alive now?’ or ‘what if I had turned left at E Washington Ave instead of right, would I have gotten in that accident?’ there are to many ‘what ifs’ in life.

 

You’ll just torment yourself thinking of all the ‘what ifs’.

 

It doesn’t stop you from thinking them though.

 

The problem is that if you only think about the ‘what ifs’ you’ll never move on and moving on is very important otherwise you’ll get stuck. At least that’s what I’m told and to tell you the truth I have to agree with them.

 

You’ll stay in one place as everything and everyone around keeps on moving even though it seems as if it shouldn’t. But things and people do move on and if you stop moving you’ll get left behind.

 

The thing is I can’t move on.

 

I don’t deserve to even have the ability to move on.

 

I deserve to feel this pain, this anguish, this…this guilt. This overwhelming guilt, that everything that happened is my fault. That I could have stopped it, that everything could be different, happier if I hadn’t climbed in behind that wheel. If I had only used common sense and had waited. But I did climb in behind that wheel and I didn’t wait.

 

He’s here now in this place because I was fucking impatient.

 

No one else blames me, even though I’ve told them they should. When I had first told them that it was my fault they had just given me this pitying look and had informed that it wasn’t my fault. They tell me I should stop torturing myself this way and move on. That I should stop coming here as much as I do cause it only seems to make me worse, make me even more depressed.

 

The nurse at the desk only offers me a small sad smile as I pass by, I haven’t needed to stop in by the front desk after the first few weeks. They know who I am even if haven’t taken the time to learn their names. I suppose I should but I just can’t bring myself to, I hate this place so much. Despite the fact that I know they keep the place as sterile as they possibly can the smell of sick people is heavy in the air.

 

I make my way down the familiar white halls, not making eye contact with any of the people I pass. I stop at the familiar door and look in through the glass, this room is much larger then the first one he got. His first room had been small and had caused him an immediate panic attack, of course he had no idea why he was afraid of small places. I focus on his now small frame and find him sitting in the same spot I always find him, in the chair by the window staring at the TV hanging from the ceiling, it’s blaring some random children TV show. Most likely Arthur.

 

He turns to me as I open the door and walk into the room, a happy grin on his face. The one that always makes my heart lurch painfully in my chest, because he’s always happy to see me. It’s my fault that he’s this way, forever reverted to the state of a six year old child.

 

I force a happy smile on my face, “Hey man!”

 

“Hi! I’m watching Arthur, do you wanna watch it with me?” He asks a hopeful look on his face.

 

“I would love to.” I reply making my tone as happy as I can.

 

I sit down in the chair next to him and watch the show with him. We do the same thing everyday, I arrive and he’s happy to see me. I watch the random children’s show with him and then let him show me what he worked on that day. It’s usually some drawings of random animals, usually birds. But sometimes he draws things that the mind of a six year old shouldn’t know. He draws pictures of corpses and crime scenes. Those days are the hardest because despite all that the doctors have told me, that there is no chance of him reverting back into who he used to be it still fills me with the hope that he could. But always by the next day he’s back to drawing pictures of animals.

 

It’s my fault that he’s here in this facility.

 

If I had only waited a few more minutes longer instead of going out to the Denali impatient to leave, he had finally allowed me to drive and I wanted to go right then and there. If, if, if, my life is filled with ‘what if I had done this…’ and I hate it.

 

But the thing is I didn’t wait a few moments longer and he was left alone inside the house as the Officer O’Brian, who had been the officer on the scene, was outside with me. I should have known better then to leave him alone, past experiences should have taught me better then to do that. Everything always seemed to happen to him, he got a gun drawn on him, thrown from a second story window and buried alive all because he was left alone at a crime scene. And there I was leaving him alone to pack up his kit all because I was impatient and eager to drive the damn Denali.

 

I still can hear the frightening loud shot ringing through the air as I climbed into the drivers’ seat of the Denali, the keys dangling in my hand.

 

What I remember after that is clear up until I made into the house. What I remember clearly is the Officer O’Brian rushing into the house with me hot on his heels, and then another shot ringing out this time from the officer’s gun taking down the perp. It wasn’t until I reached the kitchen where I had last seen him that everything becomes a blur. I remember being on the ground next to him holding his hand with Officer O’Brian’s voice in the background most likely calling in medical help and I remember the blood. There was so much of it and all I could remember thinking was that there was too much of it.

 

I deserve to feel this pain and guilt, because it’s my fault that he’s like this. I don’t care what Catherine, Sara, Warrick and even Grissom say, this is my fault.

 

It’s my fault that there won’t be anymore lazy mornings spent in bed enjoying each other, when we both had a day off together by what he thought was pure luck. Those mornings used to my favorite, so I would switch shifts with almost anyone else on night crew just so they could happen, I never told him how much I loved those mornings. Now I dread any day that I have off because he won’t be there, instead he’s here in this place not remembering those mornings we spent together.

 

I wont ever hear him call me baby again in that rough low voice because he had just woken up, making his accent thicker. He won’t ever call me ‘G’ again in that exasperated tone because I had once again done something that he adored but found annoying at the same time.

 

I will never again feel those feather light kisses he would place on my back, on my scars when he thought that I was sleeping. He’ll never know how much I loved him for doing that, because I never told him and now I’ll never have the chance too.

 

I miss him so much even though I see him every day.

 

If only I had waited—

 

“Greggo?” My eyes immediately snap to his face as I’m brought back to the present by his hesitant voice.

 

“What is it Nicky?” I ask.

 

“Why are you crying?”

 

I raise a hand to my cheek and feel the moisture there, well what do you know? I really am crying.

 

“It’s nothing Nicky, I’m just happy to be here.” I lie.

 

“I’m glad you’re here too, I like it when you’re here.” The pain that shoots through me is almost unbearable. I watch him silently as he turns back to the TV with a happy grin on his face.

 

I will keep on coming here even if it makes me miserable and depressed, I will keep on coming as long as he’s still happy to see me.

 

And he’s always happy to see me.

 

Comments

[musicluvr325.livejournal.com]

Were you trying to make me sad? Cause it worked.

Heartbreakingly well done.

[rachbigbro.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

Sorry I made you sad.

[wojo62.livejournal.com]

OMG, you just brought tears to my eyes. Very very sad and wonderfully written. God, so heartbreaking.

maybe you can contiue this and he will get better? BUt it's great either way.

[rachbigbro.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

I'm sorry I made you cry. I'm not sure if I'm going to write more, I am thinking about it though.

[lspen.livejournal.com]

I am crying so hard right now. Your fic is magnificent even if it is heart breaking. I think I have finally found my level of angst.

Bravo

lori

If you decide to do a sequel, I am all for it. It does stand well on its own, tho

[rachbigbro.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

I'm sorry I made you cry and there are always more levels of angst to find. :) I'm thinking about writing more, but I'm kind of liking it as a stand alone.