(no subject)
Title: Be Still, My Heart
Prompt Number/Prompt: 013/Child/Children
Character/Fandom: Catherine Willows/CSI
Word Count: 560
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): This is rated PG-13 for violence and language. It's sad. It's depressing. CSI's job, plus the prompt children. And I was actually thinking of Gil when I wrote this and how torn up he gets at the thought of anyone hurting a child. Anyway, you've been warned. It's sad. Also, slight spoiler for 'Grave Danger' if you haven't seen it.
Summary: We can't stop the monsters.
There were times when the job was just too much. When the only thing left to do, it seemed, was to give up. Because obviously she wasn’t making one damn bit of difference. She felt that way most often when a conviction didn’t stick, or when evidence was over turned. But today, as she looked at this shelled out building and the scattered toys and clothes, she felt it hard and deep.
The whole group had dealt with bombings before. Outside of casinos, in business buildings. Car bombs, even the bomb Walter Gordon set off to kill himself right in front of Gil. But this was new. This was something Catherine didn’t think she could work. A bomb in a daycare. Who did that? What kind of monster had such a point to prove that he would kill twenty innocent children? The small bodies weren’t at the scene any longer; they’d been gone two days ago. She was there now with Gil, Nick, and Warrick to try and determine the bomb location, how much explosive was used. But as she looked around at the clothes that had come off of the kids; the tiny shoes, the little bows, she had to turn and walk away. Back to the Denali she’d ridden to the scene in. And she put her face in her hands and cried. She knew that Gil walked up behind her. Knew because he didn’t touch her, his own awkwardness in situations of comfort clueing her in to the fact that it was him.
"The FBI doesn’t think he meant to bomb this building."
Catherine turned and wiped at her eyes, glancing at Gil. "What do you mean?"
"There’s a building four blocks away that looks almost identical in structure to the daycare. But it’s an office building." Gil’s eyes were saying that he was struggling with this, his cool exterior betrayed.
There was nothing she could say for a long while, and she leaned over with her hands on her knees. "Why? What makes the FBI so damn sure?"
"His brother was fired from the office two weeks ago. And his job was the only source of income for both of them."
Bringing her hands to her face, Catherine wanted to punch something, she needed to hit something. So she turned around and hit the door of the car with a clenched hand. "God...damnit! Gil! Twenty babies! None of them old enough to even know what a fucking bomb is! One to three years old! And you’re telling me this bastard didn’t realize where he was parking his car with that bomb inside? He knew! He knew what he was doing!" She was screaming, and Warrick and Nick both turned back to look at her from the rubble. But she couldn’t stop once she started. "How do we sleep at night after this? How do I keep my own daughter safe when there are people like that out there, who put bombs in front of daycares?" She started walking away, jerking away from Gil’s hand when he tried to grab her arm. "I can’t. Don’t ask me to do this. I can’t."
She walked away. Walked until she was on the strip, and then hailed a cab. Getting away was the only thing that she could do. So she left, and contemplated never going back.
Prompt Number/Prompt: 013/Child/Children
Character/Fandom: Catherine Willows/CSI
Word Count: 560
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): This is rated PG-13 for violence and language. It's sad. It's depressing. CSI's job, plus the prompt children. And I was actually thinking of Gil when I wrote this and how torn up he gets at the thought of anyone hurting a child. Anyway, you've been warned. It's sad. Also, slight spoiler for 'Grave Danger' if you haven't seen it.
Summary: We can't stop the monsters.
There were times when the job was just too much. When the only thing left to do, it seemed, was to give up. Because obviously she wasn’t making one damn bit of difference. She felt that way most often when a conviction didn’t stick, or when evidence was over turned. But today, as she looked at this shelled out building and the scattered toys and clothes, she felt it hard and deep.
The whole group had dealt with bombings before. Outside of casinos, in business buildings. Car bombs, even the bomb Walter Gordon set off to kill himself right in front of Gil. But this was new. This was something Catherine didn’t think she could work. A bomb in a daycare. Who did that? What kind of monster had such a point to prove that he would kill twenty innocent children? The small bodies weren’t at the scene any longer; they’d been gone two days ago. She was there now with Gil, Nick, and Warrick to try and determine the bomb location, how much explosive was used. But as she looked around at the clothes that had come off of the kids; the tiny shoes, the little bows, she had to turn and walk away. Back to the Denali she’d ridden to the scene in. And she put her face in her hands and cried. She knew that Gil walked up behind her. Knew because he didn’t touch her, his own awkwardness in situations of comfort clueing her in to the fact that it was him.
"The FBI doesn’t think he meant to bomb this building."
Catherine turned and wiped at her eyes, glancing at Gil. "What do you mean?"
"There’s a building four blocks away that looks almost identical in structure to the daycare. But it’s an office building." Gil’s eyes were saying that he was struggling with this, his cool exterior betrayed.
There was nothing she could say for a long while, and she leaned over with her hands on her knees. "Why? What makes the FBI so damn sure?"
"His brother was fired from the office two weeks ago. And his job was the only source of income for both of them."
Bringing her hands to her face, Catherine wanted to punch something, she needed to hit something. So she turned around and hit the door of the car with a clenched hand. "God...damnit! Gil! Twenty babies! None of them old enough to even know what a fucking bomb is! One to three years old! And you’re telling me this bastard didn’t realize where he was parking his car with that bomb inside? He knew! He knew what he was doing!" She was screaming, and Warrick and Nick both turned back to look at her from the rubble. But she couldn’t stop once she started. "How do we sleep at night after this? How do I keep my own daughter safe when there are people like that out there, who put bombs in front of daycares?" She started walking away, jerking away from Gil’s hand when he tried to grab her arm. "I can’t. Don’t ask me to do this. I can’t."
She walked away. Walked until she was on the strip, and then hailed a cab. Getting away was the only thing that she could do. So she left, and contemplated never going back.