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26 July 2006 @ 12:23 am
Theatrical Muse: Week 136: Question 136  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 990


'What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.' Do you agree or disagree? Why?


He dreaded that time of month. He dreaded it even more, because he didn’t know when it would come, or when it would end. It never interfered with whatever work he was doing, but in the very back of his mind, in his subconscious, even, sometimes, it lingered, and, when that time came, it sprang to the surface of his thoughts.

Doctor Sid Hammerback, sitting in his morgue, tapping his fingers on his desk in time to the music, seemed worlds apart from Chef Sid Hammerback, culinary master extraordinaire. Truly he wasn’t, because his past profession, and his current one, were so interlaced that it was impossible to separate them. The thing was, there were many beautiful people in New York City. There were aspiring actresses, and snappily dressed businesswomen, all of them, just, all of them, hoping for success. There were young women, travelling through the City with their friends, on a wild, exciting adventure, and there were teenage girls, who looked mature beyond their years. The variation of people who he cut open, and took care of, was astounding, and that was only the female side of it.

The female side of things, was the side that caused him that minor, almost insignificant, occasional worry. It usually happened once a month, and sometimes, it didn’t come at all, but he knew, that there was always one in the future. It made him frown in passing, when he remembered what he wasn’t looking forward to.

The thing was, every now and then, he’d see someone like her. Maybe it was like her when she was a teenager, and he had first met her, or maybe it was from when she was older, a young woman, ready and raring to go. It might even be from when she was older still, and hurrying their children off to school. They never looked exactly like her, but, the resemblance was there. It might just be their hair, or their eyes, that caused him to recognise and remember, but, whatever it was, he knew that he’d always find someone that looked somewhat like Marianne, on his slab, every now and then. When a lot of those times came around, Mac would come and look at him, as he worked diligently over the deceased body with his sharpened tools, and the Detective would see him pause occasionally, and give a wistful glance over to his desk, where he stored some of his personal items. The other man, would watch the Medical Examiner shake it off, and, soon after, he’d leave him to his work, and to his memories.

The curse of it all, was that it would never stop. He’d never stop seeing her in people, because that was the type of person his wife was. She was unique, she was her own person, but she had also taken in small parts of other people, and shaped them into her own quirks and delights. It pained him, somewhere deep inside, to see someone like her, who reminded him of her, because, at the same time, it reminded him of who he had lost, and how much he had lost on top of that.

He missed his wife, he missed his children. He missed sex with his wife, and reading his boys to sleep. It made him want to dig the scalpel into his own flesh and dig his heart out, and shout to the world that it was aching with pain, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was true, there was nothing he could do about the pain, because, although anti-depressants might have helped, they wouldn’t cure it, they’d just dull the pain for a while, until he remembered, saw something, and, it resurfaced. He was fine as he was, but he was just sad, that was all, so amazingly, bitterly, sad. What had not killed him, had made him stronger, but he had made the ultimate price for something he never, ever wanted. He had lived, and not died, but they had, and it was one of the reasons he kept going, because of them. He kept going because of them, and for them, as well. He’d keep on going until he died, and could be with them, but, until then, he’d just continue. He’d keep on going, onwards and upwards, until his world came to a natural end, and no longer was he without his family.

He was a Medical Examiner, and a Chef, who lived in a never ending world of pain, and joy. What passed under his hands, at the morgue, was his work, and, his life, as well. He worked had, he worked well, he did his job to the best of his ability, and he would often surpass that level in order to improve himself and make himself better. What had not killed him, had indeed made him stronger, and the rest of his life, he would deal with that very fact. Such a thing excited him, and caused him that oh so familiar feeling of dread, that sat in his stomach, like a bad cheeseburger from some second grade fast food shop. Luckily, he was smart, and most certainly smart enough to be happy, and to keep himself alive. The thing was, he treasured his past, enjoyed the memories, and, even though there were many sad memories, and bad ones, as well, there were plenty of good ones, that would last him a long, long time, until he, hopefully, died in his sleep. Not only did he prove that what had not killed him, had made him stronger, but he also made true the other statement, that it was better to have loved, then to never loved at all. He was a happy, and, a sad, man, and that was just how his life would go, how it had gone in the past, and how it would continue to be, in the future.
 
 
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