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16 March 2008 @ 11:00 pm
Theatrical Muse: Week 222: Question 222  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 654


Sleeping on the couch.


There was a particular night where he had found himself fed, clean and ready for bed, and this came upon him all of a sudden, because he hadn’t really been paying attention to any of these little particular processes. He had had a busy day, so he had a bit of grilled fish and leftover fried rice from the night before. He had put the dishes into the washer and had a shower while reciting an autopsy he had performed that day, over in his head, because the case was not yet solved, and something was bugging him. The clothes had been put on to wash, the dishwasher turned on, and he was all of a sudden sitting on the couch, hot cocoa in hand, remembering everything he had done up until that point, but mystified at how he had gotten there, seemingly, so quickly.

Sid sighed and placed the warm cup onto a coaster, rubbing his head once his hands were free. The week itself was ok, but that day had been particularly long and grinding on the nerves and he must have just, switched off at some point upon arriving home. Now though, he sat on the couch, in front of the TV, so he might as well see what was on. There was a flick of a controller and the screen burst to life, displaying in perfect detail a rehashed version of some tennis game in some far off stadium that he didn’t recognise too well. Animal channels flicked past, channels about crimes, then cartoons, more cartoons, some dramas, some old classic comedies, some older classic comedies. The ME’s fingers twitched impatiently at the controller, so used was he to actually feeling directed towards something, instead of that quasi apathetic, half hearted concern about some thought he couldn’t quite grasp.

Working his way up the ladder television channels again, his eyes took in a familiar site, briefly illuminated on the screen before he flashed past it in his channel hopping antics. Slowing, he climbed down the ladder again, and found it, an aerial side view of two towers, pristine against an all encompassing city surrounding, standing tall and serene against struggle, against adversity, fighting for the right to succeed.

Suddenly the genius, the Medical Examiner rumbled within him, and he watched the 9/11 documentary with enough attention to warrant mild but largely unsettled interest. When the view switched to a shot during the event, to the towers burning and falling, crumbling in on themselves, his heart lurched in his chest, the cocoa tasting deadly poison cold in his mouth. He couldn’t help it, his eyes mentally ticked off the floors, scanning up to where she must be, must have been, or could, or would, have been, when that video was taken. It hurt more than he could bear, so Sid finished his drink and lay down on the couch, head pounding with frustration, and the day, all the stress and confusion of it all.

Pulling a blanket over his pyjama covered body, he fell asleep listening to hurried news reports of an event now years in the past, already buried under other days, months, that had followed after it. Some mention of falling, some mention of dust, though, caused something to click inside his head, and when he awoke and hour or so later to a documentary on elephant seal mating habits, he wrote down a few things on a notepad before retiring to his own bedroom, his own covers, his own, other emptiness. The next day, his mind still changed by the past but brimming with inspired ideas and other thoughts, he followed a line of inquiry, and found the answers to his autopsy created puzzle. Perhaps sleeping on the couch wasn’t so bad after all, although he could do to avoid any more saddening documentaries before sleep, feeling that, really, it would only reinforce the presence of unwanted nightmares.
 
 
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