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30 December 2007 @ 08:07 pm
Theatrical Muse: Week 211: Question 211  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 1051


Old acquaintance.


One day, after cutting the usual y shaped incision and cracking open the ribs, Sid found a watch in the stomach of a man. It was an expensive watch, and as he held it up to the light with a plastic gloved hand, it glittered gold and shone bodily fluids and blood. The man smiled in amusement, turning it this way and that, and looked down at the victim’s face in self conversational amusement.

“You know fellow.” the ME began, turning over the watch to examine the back side of the watch face.

“If one is pressed for time, I usually wouldn’t recommend swallowing your watch to forget about it.” he finished, satisfied that such a thing was the last oddity for the day as he set down the watch in a metal bowl and put it to the side until one of the CSIs on the case had time to look at it, which, being that he had only just begun, may have been anywhere between soon and a long time away.

However, several nail set pairs of scissors, some paperclips, a pocket watch and a handful of marbles later, the normalness of the day had long since been disrupted. Sid finished pulling out a rather long and gooey length of plastic tape measure and made his report, finishing off the relevant paperwork just as Mac arrived through the morgue doors, his eyebrows arching themselves upwards slightly at the now long procession of things laid out in kidney dishes.

“Pica is most commonly seen in small children and dogs, from my personal experience. It would appear that this man died from several obstructions of the small intestine, and several more punctures of the stomach.” Hammerback said, raising a hand in a sweeping motion to illustrate the metal dishes. He saw Mac’s face flicker in an indication to continue, and so onwards he went.

“However, from the bruises on his throat.” he spoke, mimicking his assumptions about the situation by placing one hand on his throat and thrusting his head back a little.

“I’ve begun to suspect that he was forced to swallow all these things, in groups to inflict a gradual and increasing pain and irreversible torture.” Sid said and then indicated to the man’s stomach, which still lay open as the man himself remained on the long, cold, morgue table.

“I could have showed you through pictures, but this has to be seen to be believed Mac.”

The ME then illustrated further by detailing the various holes in the victim’s stomach, and the rest of the damage to his body, finishing off with a final concluding word on the matter.

“If I may be so bold as to suspect extortion here, because from the looks of it, all this was swallowed over a course of time, during which each “course” of items was forced upon him to ensure maximum pain and damage. So he died slowly and painfully, but more rapidly towards the end, when it became too much.”


Towards the end of their day, Sid appeared from the morgue, clean and relatively fresh smelling, and slipped inside Mac’s office, just as the man was packing up to go home. He had impeccable timing, and like their almost silent conversation beforehand, in Sid’s own domain, all it took was a simple nod from Mac to see that he walked with him, down to the garage to get their respective cars. One word was exchanged between them, from Sid to Mac, and another nod of understanding passed between the pair, soft and slight and nearly unnoticeable by anyone who wasn’t aware of how close their histories were shared.

In the deep and usually unused reserves of the middle of his living room floor, Sid set out and adorned with a tablecloth, a small card table. He donned a cat and scarf against a nipping night time wind, and was back from the deli by the same Mac arrived at the front door a short time later. They shared a good meal together, oven cooked fish and Asian vegetables, well enough available for two, as if Sid had already prompted, in some fashion, the course of their night beforehand. As they ate, the friendship and between them implicitly obvious to the omnipotent eye, the card table revealed its use as a platform from which they could watch a sport’s game. This game had inevitably been the source of much discussion during a break where all the regular male workers in Sid’s and Mac’s section of the world, had congregated together to discuss play tactics and team choices. Mac and Sid had both been absent from the occasion, having been down in the morgue examining the man of a multitude of stomach contents, so it gave a chance for them to relax, eat and in general, have some company.

The kind of thing that went between Sid Hammerback and Mac Taylor that night was not so regular that it occurred on a weekly basis always. It just happened when they felt like it, and besides, they were old acquaintances by that point in their shared lives, and they knew when such a thing might be a good idea, or even, when some company, was, simply, needed. They both knew some of the reasons the other might be quiet from time to time, and why, on certain days, this silence was more pronounced. All in all, they knew each other more than well, and such behaviour had become accepted over time, especially in the recent years, as not unusual. It was becoming of friends to spend time in each other’s company, socially, of course it was.

However it had come about, when the world had been torn asunder by the attacks on the Twin Towers, when those very towers had failed to be, the friendship had helped them. While they may not have readily admitted it in everyday conversation, the friendship from friends, from old acquaintances such as them, and even Peyton and Stella, had made all the difference in the universe for both of the men. In different lengths and strengths such a matter of bonding had occurred and created influence, definitely, but friendship had made a difference all the same, and that point, could never be argued by either of them.
 
 
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