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12 August 2008 @ 11:30 am
Theatrical Muse: Week 243: Question 243  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 533

If you could be in the Olympics (summer or winter), what event/sport would you want to do most? Why?

His boy had all the awkward movements of someone his young age, herded into the confines of his tiny, still chubby body. A mere toddler, he stood at the edge of the water, eyeing the waves and ripples of the liquid, the result of the tumult of other people’s bodies, slowly bringing his stare up to his father, and down again. His boy was wary of the water, so he had to help him. Sid smiled again, and beckoned his son with curling motions of his fingers, a reassuring string of words, his eyes welcoming.

“Come on Chris, it’s just like a big bath, nice and warm. Jump in and I’ll catch you.” the man urged, stretching out his arms, grinning now, looking playful and excited, trying to inspire the same emotions in the child, waiting for the response that he knew would come. There was a moment of thoughtfulness, of quiet contemplation that passed briefly within the boy’s shining eyes, before he leapt, all limbs and infant tumbling, away from the edge of the pool, the edge of reserve that had left him there, momentarily stranded and confused.

Sid moved forward, catching the child just as his head was submerged and his arm floaties began to tug him upwards. Chris was holding his breath like he had been taught to, and when he was pulled up enough out of the water, he began to giggle, impish and soaked and so very excited. Even if this didn’t last forever, even if he knew it wouldn’t, this would be enough. Being proud, knowing that, in life, he had actually achieved something, made something, that was a good thing. Knowing further that his child was building on his skills to move through the world with ease, that was a benefit on top of an already momentous set of circumstances. He imagined the future ahead for this child, his child, the one he held in his arms, his, not someone else’s, and the man had to shake himself from his temporary reverie.

Suddenly struck with a surge of parental fondness, Sid hugged his son close to him in the water, and the child, finished with his laughing, snuggled closer to his father, silently agreeing with him, even if he didn’t know what he was agreeing with. Besides, even at such a young age, he had already realised that letting his father hug him and get it over and done with was quicker than trying to avoid it. Beside besides, he liked it anyway.

In those moments, his boy could have been anything in the world. He could have been an Olympic swimmer, a gymnast, a computer scientist, a doctor, he didn’t care, because it was his son, and it didn’t matter what he would become, as long as he was a good person on the inside, and he already was, in many ways. Now, with nothing of his boy, his boys, his wife left, he was alone, grasping at the only idea that sometimes seemed to remain when depression struck at him like wave after wave against the hull of a boat. Way back then, his boy could have been anything, and now, he was dead.
Current Mood: crushedcrushed
Current Music: Field Below - Regina Spektor