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15 October 2006 @ 04:45 pm
Theatrical Muse: Week 146: Question 146  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 1774


She had persuaded him to do ballet lessons with her. Persuaded him, whispered in his ear and kissed his earlobe in secret pleadings, until he had given in. It was not that he didn’t want to be with her, didn’t want to hold her safe and tight, and close, but, he was not sure. There was actually nothing on the list of reasons he didn’t want to take ballet lessons with his girlfriend, and, on the list of reasons he wanted to, there were a couple of things, actually, there were a few things, no, many things, that gave him reason to take the chance to spend even more time with her. However, the bruise on his chest, on his ribs, and the cut on his elbow, served as painful reminders of the dangers that schoolyard bullies could enact on him, was he not careful and quick. Bullies weren’t a big problem, it was just the matter, that, they were there sometimes, ready to pick and make fun, that really made the tips of his fingers burn and itch.

Waiting in the right wing of the stage, for his cue, during his first performance, Sid glimpsed his red haired lover in the other wing, she herself, hiding amongst the shadows, and smiled at her fondly, and warmly. Marianne smiled back, and together, the laughed silently at one another, for they were young, yet, so very, nearly, on the cusp of adulthood. They weren’t on stage for a while yet, but, there they were, ready and prepared for each other, just waiting and watching, until they could be together at last.

That night, their performance was beautiful, and, as young man picked her up and twirled her around in his arms, looking at her lovingly, the audience adored them, and clapped. They were meant to be acting, playing out a part, but there was no pretence there. Sid and Marianne, Marianne and Sid, were lovers, and they loved each other, in the truest sense of any word. The kinds of words, the types of, words, used to describe such love, were things like beautiful, things like splendid, and tremendous, and forever enduring. Indeed, there were so many of these words, words that painted out how they felt about each other, that fit such a bill of self described happiness, that it was, magnificent beyond belief.

“A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;”

In their young twenties now, the married couple danced on the dance floor of a New York City nightclub. Each of their bodies pressed against the body of the other person, their skin meshing together, their fingers intertwined, their eyes locked on each other’s eyes. His blue eyes looked into hers, and they kissed, a cascade of red hair showing her shoulders as he tugged out her hair scrunchie with a deft flick of his recently freed fingers, before stretching it around her hand, and slipping his inside, joining them together. This joined them together at the wrist, on one side of her body, and, amused, the woman laughed, and nuzzled the man’s neck.

Sid Hammerback reflected upon the sentence about destiny, about those fighting against their fate, many years later, as he sat down to an empty kitchen table and stared at a brightly coloured crayon drawing, that was still hung up in its frame. Still hanging against one of the walls opposite his current position, the man had left it there, because he could not bear to take it down and pack it away. Mac, had, he had been, able to, he had, had to, pack Claire’s things away. As for him, as for him, Sid had been unable to put anything of his wife’s, anything of his children’s, away, in packets, in boxes, to go into cupboards, or storage. He had not been able to do anything so significant as pack everything away, as if, as if, he was strong enough to deal with such actions.

He had put some things away, though. He had folded up and replaced the washing in the laundry, putting it in draws, he had tidied up dishes from that fateful morning, he had collected things from school, had cancelled things, had cleaned. He had done things like that, of course he had done them, he had to, he needed to. Other things, though, things like changing sheets, like removing clothing from cupboards, or perfume from cabinets, pictures from walls, report cards and business reports from the fridge door, he had not. Certainly, thing like shampoo, and toothpaste, had been thrown away, but many, many, other things, had not.

Quietly, as he thought, Sid’s shoulders slumped, drooping downwards as he stabbed at his cereal with a look of dreaded futility. For all his hidden intricacies, for all his weird and wonderful stories, he was still a lonely man, a lonely, lonely, man, because, the one woman, the one and only woman, he had ever truly loved, in the deepest recesses of his heart, was gone, forever. He could not get her back, and, there was nothing he could do to fix his terrible, heart breaking pain. He could fix it for a while, but, he could never fix it permanently, because, he had loved her too much, and for too long, to ever, really, truly, let go of her memory, and the memory of the two wonderful children she had given him.

Finishing off the bowl of what was now a soggy food and liquid concoction, the Medical Examiner was about to heave himself off his chair, so he could wash up, get his things for work, and drive off, when there was a knock at the door. Sorely tempted to not answer it, and go about his business, the man’s interest peaked suddenly when a familiar voice echoed into his household.

“Hey Sid, you up for a coffee? Before we head of to work?”

The grey haired man smiled to himself and clipped off his glasses, rubbing his eyes as if to look more awake. Detective Mac Taylor was spot on, in his always natural and simple way. Sid indeed, was not fully awake yet, and he did, indeed, need a coffee, and, all of this being awake and drinking coffee business, needed to occur before going to work. It seemed like a perfect plan, and it cheered him up immensely. Bounding off the chair, the man soon returned, and slowed down to, his slightly sleepy, sluggish state, and unlocked the door with a swift flick of his fingers around his keys.

The Medical Examiner greeted the Detective with a smile and stood back to let him inside.

“I just need to brush my teeth, put on some work clothes, and grab my things. Come in.” he said, with a smile, grinning somewhat sheepishly at the freshly dressed man, while he was still in his a pair of grey around the house pants, and his long stripped pyjama top. Mac merely smiled, and stepped inside, letting Sid close the door, before he watched him run off in a fashion that gave the impression that he was still somewhat asleep.

Looking around, the brown haired man took in his friend’s house with a quietened face. Although they both never sought to put any of their own personal tragedies over the tragedies of the other person, he knew, that Sid had lost two more people on that terrible day, then he had. It showed, in the pictures on the wall, the pictures on his kitchen fridge, and the letters, business cards, and more pictures, that he had up on one of his pinup boards. Him and Claire, they hadn’t had children yet, when she had died, but Sid, he had, and he had had two children, at that. A deep sorrowful yearning stirred in his gut, but, when the Medical Examiner ran down the stairs and appeared before his eyes, Mac Taylor was reading an old copy of Moby Dick from a bookshelf, which has something written in the front, which he hadn’t looked at closely.

“One of our school books.” Sid said, smiling slightly, but sadly, as, letting the other man hold it, he flicked over to a dog eared page, which had a perfectly created, pink lipstick mark in the centre of the paper.

“One of her favourites.” the man continued, turning to the front, and pointing at the small note written on the blank page opposite the cover. Mac smiled back, and read quietly, a soft, different, kind of smile, spreading onto his face as his eyes travelled over the carefully written words in their slightly slanted, joined cursive.

To my Sid,
Moby Dick at last!
Here’s your own personal copy,
to read at home, whenever you please
Love Marianne, your one and only Queen.

“They called her Queen, at school, because of her hair. It was red, you know, lovely, long, and red. Like fire.” the Medical Examiner said quietly as the Detective replaced the book on the shelf. They both knew, that Mac already knew, most of these things, but still, he had let Sid say it, because it made the grey haired man smile, even if it did make him a little sad.

“Coffee?” Mac queried, his hand dropping to his side, his smile, taking on a more friendly and direct look, on his face.

“Absolutely. Definitely.” Sid replied, smiling back at the other man, taking a second to brush some hair off his face, so it rested away from his eyes.

As they left, and Sid joined Mac in walking to their respective cars, the Detective flashed him a slightly sad, more soft, open mouthed smile, that was almost, just almost, a grin.

“You’ve got a nice house.” he said, and the Medical Examiner chuckled in a quietened tone. Again, Mac had already been to his house, had already told him, that it was nice.

“Thanks.” the man said, nodding.

“I’ll follow you.” he continued, using his keys to unlock the car, and, soon enough, he had placed his things on the back seat, and slid into the driver’s seat.

Coffee was good, coffee, was great, coffee before work, was splendid, coffee before work, was, comforting. He was happy for the opportunity, and happy because he had such a good friendship with such a knowing, caring man. All in all, although he was not happy all the time, at that moment, at that very moment, he was indeed, a very happy man. And, just as Sid was, so was Mac, so, together, for the moment, for that beautiful moment, they were very happy people, very happy people, indeed.
Current Mood: okayokay
Current Music: I Want to Hold Your Hand - The Beatles