Fic: Invisible, Part 1/22
Title - Invisible, Part 1
Rating - PG-13ish
Pairing - Eric/Ryan eventually, mentions of Horatio/Speed
Spoilers - None, as far as I know... At least not yet.
Disclaimer - What do you think?
Summary - A ghost story, of sorts.
Word Count - 1,034
Notes - Un-betaed. I've seen this idea many times in other fandoms, but not in this one, so I thought I'd try my hand at it. Feedback is appreciated, of course.
Great. Just great. Another bumbling idiot that wanted to live in his house. He’d seen five other people try and fail at making this place their home in the past two years, but he had made sure they knew that this wasn’t their house. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the company; in fact, he got pretty lonely having to spend each day and night alone, with no one to talk to, but he wasn’t ready to share his space just yet. Everyone else had gotten tired of the constant noises and “occurrences.” So, he figured this one wouldn’t last long either.
***
Eric dropped the last box of clothes in the living room of his new apartment, wiping the sweat off his brow. The Miami heat was starting to get to him. Six trips from his car and back bringing in bags and boxes of his meager belongings had worn him completely out. Lucky for him, the apartment had already been furnished, so he didn’t have to worry about buying a couch or bed.
He locked the door and slumped down on the couch, laying his head against an armrest. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.
***
Ryan watched the man sleep for a few moments before debating his next course of action. He could give him a few days to get adjusted to the new place, or he could start now, slamming things while he slept and trashing his belongings. He wouldn’t actually ruin anything; he would just take things out of the boxes and scatter them across the room.
He was about to go to another room to figure out his plan when he caught sight of a badge resting on the man’s hip. So, he was a cop? Well, that brought a whole new side to this. Cops didn’t scare easy, in his experience (and he should know), so he’d have to start now if he wanted him gone any time soon. Good, it was always more fun when he started early.
He gave the sleeping man an eerie grin and silently opened the box nearest to him. Rectangular objects were wrapped in bed sheets and pillowcases. Unwrapping the top piece (wrapped carefully in a hideously-colored orange and green sheet), he found a picture of six people in a wooden frame. He recognized three of the people - one was the man lying on his couch. The one furthest to the right was Lieutenant Horatio Caine of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Ryan had seen him on numerous occasions before the accident that had changed his life in a very big way. The other was Detective Yelina Salas, Caine’s sister-in-law. They were the first two people on the scene when he was murdered (although he couldn’t remember the details; he just remembers watching them move around his body).
Slowly, he rewrapped the picture and put it back in the box. He wouldn’t mess with the rest of that box’s contents. Moving to a suitcase sitting by a small television, he found t-shirts. Finally, something he could work with!
He tossed a few shirts in the general direction of the front door, a couple over the TV, and the rest were strewn around on the carpet. Quietly, he zipped the suitcase and went back to the table in the dining room to wait for the strange man to wake.
***
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he fell asleep, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. He opened his eyes, but still couldn’t see anything. He lifted a hand to his face and felt something soft. A blanket? He didn’t remember grabbing a blanket out of one of the boxes. Moving the thing off his face, he found that it was a plain white t-shirt. A quick glance around the room told him that, in fact, it was not the only article of clothing out place. All of his t-shirts were scattered around the room haphazardly. When did that happen? He looked at the door, but it was still locked.
Rising from the couch, he began to inspect the room as if it were one of his crime scenes. There was no sign of forced entry, nor was there any sign that anyone had been in the room besides himself. Checking all of his boxes, he found nothing missing. He briefly considered calling Horatio, but decided against it because, really, there was no reason to. Nobody could’ve gotten in and out of the house without the key - which was still in his pocket, he found - and the only things remotely out of place were his shirts.
He couldn’t explain exactly how they’d gotten out of the zipped suitcase, but it wasn’t really a problem, as long as nothing was missing. He set to work picking up the clothes and replacing them in the suitcase, and was just about to finish when he felt a gust of cold air hit the back of his neck. He whipped around, but nothing was there. He was staring down the empty hallway. Okay, another thing that made no sense. There were no air vents that could point at him, and the windows were all in front of him.
And then he heard it. Or, he thought he did. A ghostly giggle - for it could only be described as that.
Yeah. Right. “You’re delusional, Delko,” he told himself. “My apartment does not have a ghost in it. And I don’t even believe in ghosts!”
***
“Well, you’re wrong about that,” Ryan argued, although he knew that he - Delko - couldn’t hear him. Nobody could ever hear him. It was probably because humans tended to ignore the paranormal, opting to believe that strange occurrences were their imagination. Nevertheless, he had managed to scare off five people with what they believed to be over-active imaginations.
“For one thing,” he continued. “This isn’t your apartment. It’s mine. I’m just letting you stay here - for now. You’ll be gone soon enough. For another, there is a ghost here. Me. Of course, you can’t see or hear me, but you’ll realize the truth soon enough. You won’t be able to ignore me for long.” Oh yes, this one was going to be fun.
Part 2
Rating - PG-13ish
Pairing - Eric/Ryan eventually, mentions of Horatio/Speed
Spoilers - None, as far as I know... At least not yet.
Disclaimer - What do you think?
Summary - A ghost story, of sorts.
Word Count - 1,034
Notes - Un-betaed. I've seen this idea many times in other fandoms, but not in this one, so I thought I'd try my hand at it. Feedback is appreciated, of course.
Great. Just great. Another bumbling idiot that wanted to live in his house. He’d seen five other people try and fail at making this place their home in the past two years, but he had made sure they knew that this wasn’t their house. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the company; in fact, he got pretty lonely having to spend each day and night alone, with no one to talk to, but he wasn’t ready to share his space just yet. Everyone else had gotten tired of the constant noises and “occurrences.” So, he figured this one wouldn’t last long either.
***
Eric dropped the last box of clothes in the living room of his new apartment, wiping the sweat off his brow. The Miami heat was starting to get to him. Six trips from his car and back bringing in bags and boxes of his meager belongings had worn him completely out. Lucky for him, the apartment had already been furnished, so he didn’t have to worry about buying a couch or bed.
He locked the door and slumped down on the couch, laying his head against an armrest. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.
***
Ryan watched the man sleep for a few moments before debating his next course of action. He could give him a few days to get adjusted to the new place, or he could start now, slamming things while he slept and trashing his belongings. He wouldn’t actually ruin anything; he would just take things out of the boxes and scatter them across the room.
He was about to go to another room to figure out his plan when he caught sight of a badge resting on the man’s hip. So, he was a cop? Well, that brought a whole new side to this. Cops didn’t scare easy, in his experience (and he should know), so he’d have to start now if he wanted him gone any time soon. Good, it was always more fun when he started early.
He gave the sleeping man an eerie grin and silently opened the box nearest to him. Rectangular objects were wrapped in bed sheets and pillowcases. Unwrapping the top piece (wrapped carefully in a hideously-colored orange and green sheet), he found a picture of six people in a wooden frame. He recognized three of the people - one was the man lying on his couch. The one furthest to the right was Lieutenant Horatio Caine of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Ryan had seen him on numerous occasions before the accident that had changed his life in a very big way. The other was Detective Yelina Salas, Caine’s sister-in-law. They were the first two people on the scene when he was murdered (although he couldn’t remember the details; he just remembers watching them move around his body).
Slowly, he rewrapped the picture and put it back in the box. He wouldn’t mess with the rest of that box’s contents. Moving to a suitcase sitting by a small television, he found t-shirts. Finally, something he could work with!
He tossed a few shirts in the general direction of the front door, a couple over the TV, and the rest were strewn around on the carpet. Quietly, he zipped the suitcase and went back to the table in the dining room to wait for the strange man to wake.
***
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he fell asleep, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. He opened his eyes, but still couldn’t see anything. He lifted a hand to his face and felt something soft. A blanket? He didn’t remember grabbing a blanket out of one of the boxes. Moving the thing off his face, he found that it was a plain white t-shirt. A quick glance around the room told him that, in fact, it was not the only article of clothing out place. All of his t-shirts were scattered around the room haphazardly. When did that happen? He looked at the door, but it was still locked.
Rising from the couch, he began to inspect the room as if it were one of his crime scenes. There was no sign of forced entry, nor was there any sign that anyone had been in the room besides himself. Checking all of his boxes, he found nothing missing. He briefly considered calling Horatio, but decided against it because, really, there was no reason to. Nobody could’ve gotten in and out of the house without the key - which was still in his pocket, he found - and the only things remotely out of place were his shirts.
He couldn’t explain exactly how they’d gotten out of the zipped suitcase, but it wasn’t really a problem, as long as nothing was missing. He set to work picking up the clothes and replacing them in the suitcase, and was just about to finish when he felt a gust of cold air hit the back of his neck. He whipped around, but nothing was there. He was staring down the empty hallway. Okay, another thing that made no sense. There were no air vents that could point at him, and the windows were all in front of him.
And then he heard it. Or, he thought he did. A ghostly giggle - for it could only be described as that.
Yeah. Right. “You’re delusional, Delko,” he told himself. “My apartment does not have a ghost in it. And I don’t even believe in ghosts!”
***
“Well, you’re wrong about that,” Ryan argued, although he knew that he - Delko - couldn’t hear him. Nobody could ever hear him. It was probably because humans tended to ignore the paranormal, opting to believe that strange occurrences were their imagination. Nevertheless, he had managed to scare off five people with what they believed to be over-active imaginations.
“For one thing,” he continued. “This isn’t your apartment. It’s mine. I’m just letting you stay here - for now. You’ll be gone soon enough. For another, there is a ghost here. Me. Of course, you can’t see or hear me, but you’ll realize the truth soon enough. You won’t be able to ignore me for long.” Oh yes, this one was going to be fun.
Part 2