DISCLAIMER: CSI and its characters are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Summer Storm
By Kristina K
Jim told you once how it feels, and you've heard some other people on the force describe it, but it seems you can't grasp the full extent of it until it's you on the receiving end. Until it's your life flashing in front of your eyes.
At first it's a flash of lightning, just like the one you can see in the stormy summer sky when, all of a sudden, the sun gets dimmed by the clouds and the air around you smells like rain, with the pressure so high you feel like it's hammering you into the ground. Then the breeze slowly starts to blow, soon beginning to rise, fast and almost angry. Then there's the rumble; it starts somewhere far behind the endless fields of gold wheat and it travels fast and menacing in your direction only to explode so violently and loudly, making you cringe, making your skin crawl at the overwhelming power of it all.
You want to close your eyes and spread your arms apart to welcome the opening of the sky above you and the sudden burst of rain from the heavy clouds that hang high over your head. The second the large drops land on your face – and anywhere on your skin – the impact is heavy but so incredibly soothing; you just have to give a little smile at how warm and comforting the summer rain is.
Yes, you see the flash and you do close your eyes at the impact, the loud bang echoing in your ears so loudly that it smothers all other sounds you've ever known. You want to smile, but it's impossible, because the scent of rain you expect is replaced by the strong smell of gunpowder.
Suddenly your eyes fly open, the pupils fully dilated, the black of them covering the steel blue almost completely. The shock gets stuck in your throat and you can't swallow, your breathing coming to a stop almost instantly. Like your body is caught on fire, the flesh sears and burns, nerve synapses screaming for help, but your brain is powerless and it just stands idle while your body fights to keep standing up straight.
Soon, you feel your legs buckle and you start falling, face first, landing hard on your knees with a thump, with your eyes glassy and numb. Finally, rain, your brain jolts to life and decides to deceive you, because when you look down to your front, feeling your shirt damp and sticking to your body, it's not the rain that drenches it, it's the crimson of your blood.
The asphalt is cold and dirty, it smells like garbage, vomit and urine. In the back of your mind the sounds that seem so distant and distorted slowly start to morph into words and you find yourself fighting the sleepy feeling that overcomes you when you recognize the voice close to you shouting Officer down, officer down! We need a medic!
Your eyes are open but all you can see are smudges of color and unclear shapes of people running towards you. The guns are blasting, finally you clearly distinguish their sounds, and it's the AK 47's on one side, versus the nines and forty-five's on the other. And it's loud.
Fear spreads through your veins and it slowly replaces the blood that keeps gushing out of your wound. You need to put pressure on it to control the bleeding, but you cannot move, almost as if you were bolted to the ground. Moments later, your eyelids start to feel too heavy and you slowly drift off to sleep.
The room spins when you flutter your eyes open and the strong feeling of nausea washes over you. You clench your jaw to fight it off.
It smells sterile with a faint scent of flowers mixed in. When the room finally stops spinning and your eyes manage to focus, you notice a vase on the windowsill overwhelmed by white lilies and a get well soon card tucked into it.
Your left shoulder hurts. It's like no other pain you felt before. It stings, it burns, and it's drilling through the flesh and digging into the bone. The force of it brings tears to your eyes. The monitor next to your head sounds off steady beeps and you can match it to the pace of your heartbeats. Your whole body feels heavy and immobile and you realize that you've never felt so tired in your entire life.
Somehow you manage to curve your lips into a faint smile; you're alive.
"You scared me for a second there," the voice is soft and in whisper, but you recognize it in an instant. It feels like it takes forever for you to turn your head in the direction the sound came from, but when you do, you meet another tired pair of eyes - brown, deep and caring – and they are watching you intently, fighting with the emotions that threaten with tears.
"Sara…" you manage another smile, but your voice never leaves your mouth. She reads her name off your lips and returns with a smile of her own.
"Shhh." Her fingers are smooth and warm against your cheek when she touches it to soothe you into silence. You study her face and it saddens you to see it so pale and exhausted. "You need to rest, get as much sleep as you can," she says, "You've been through a lot and you need to get your strength back."
Sara grasps your right hand and squeezes it gently in hers. You nod your head faintly and close your eyes back shut, feeling the softness of her lips slowly trailing across your knuckles. Just before you drift off back to sleep another little smile tugs on your lips when you feel her cheek pressing against the back of her hand. Finally, rain, your brain whispers to you again when the warmth of her tears slides over your fingers and then disappears.
The End