What You'll Never Know
WARNING:
WARNING:
WARNING:
DARK. REALLY DARK. It will lighten up a little bit later, but I really doubt it. I started this about three months ago, a little idea popping into my brain that probably is invading every fic I do... If suggestive themes and graphic details bother you, don't read this.
Rating: NC-17 and beyond
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and don't claim to.
Archiving?
Author: Uriel Falcon
Pairing: C/S Eventually, I promise.
THANKS FOR THE FEEDBACK!
I awaken from a vivid dream in a start, hoping that I haven't screamed. The television is on mute, playing something about the migration habits of birds. Why do I even bother sleeping, there really is no point to it. I just end up reliving my past in full colour. I check Raphael's room to make sure he's still sleeping soundly. I smile when I find him snoring, so I shut the door quietly and head back towards the couch.
I remember the exact expression on the face of each and every person I've killed and it makes me sick. When I sleep, there's no controlling what happens to me. I simply dream, or have a nightmare and watch as the world slips away. I hate the thought of losing control again, like I used to when I was stupid. I lay down on the couch before shutting off the television, squinting as it flashes off.
The day with Catherine actually wasn't too bad. After the park, we let Raphael and Lindsey roam her neighborhood while we sat down and had coffee. I didn't learn anything I didn't already pick up, but I think she was happy that I was at least making an effort to be nice. It came easier than I thought it would. Her favorite colour is forest green, her favorite movie of the moment is Hannibal Rising because it actually gave her the willies, she wears blue because it looks good on her and she hates the guy Lindsey was crushing on before. I guess it's better that Raphael came along, apparently the guy was a real sleezeball, the sort of guy I'd probably kick the shit out of for no reason OTHER than that he was a sleezeball.
After we left, I hit a couple stores. I bought groceries, new clothes for Raphael, and a couple awesome new paintbrushes for Sofia. What can I say, when I see talent, I make sure it can flourish. She's working on a piece for a cancer research foundation. She's donating it so it can be auctioned off for charity cash. I'll drop the brushes by tomorrow.
I yawn and stretch a bit before resting my head back on the pillow. My alarm is set, the dishes are done and the door is locked, so therefore, sleep is imminent. I close my eyes and the last thing I envision is Catherine.
I'm awakened by the shrill screaming of my alarm clock a few hours after I finally laid my eyes to rest. Slapping my hand on the snooze button, I groan at the light and shove a pillow over my face. I do this every morning; who wants to get up to go to work on a friggin' SATURDAY?!
I sigh and finally get up after five minutes, fully disabling the alarm and stretching. I hear a couple joints crack, a sure sign that I'm finally starting to age. Lovely, just lovely. I get up and check on Raphael; he's still sleeping, which is good because that means I can have a shower without worrying about him needing to pee or something.
As I step under a rush of hot water, I try not to look at myself. Yeah, I know it's pretty hard considering I'm very naked, but I try not to anyway. Every time I do, I get a reminder that I really shouldn't be alive. Subconsciously, I trace my biggest scar with my fingers, hoping that one day it'll get better. I look down and crush my hopes. The scar runs from the side of my right hip, up underneath my belly button and up to my first left rib. I look like a gutted fish. Best reason for one night stands; they don't have to deal with looking at the scars when you're in the dark.
After washing my hair and trying not to think of all the bullet holes in my back, I step out into the steam and dry off, facing away from the mirror. It's sad when you're afraid to look at yourself. I dress for the day; dark black jeans, slightly old I'll admit, and a blue t-shirt with flames across the front.
I'm starting to look like Greg and it's scaring me. Of course, I say that with all possible good meaning of the phrase, but it still scares me. I hang out with Sofia WAY TOO MUCH. I've picked up Greg's fashion sense, Sofia's random art supply buying spurts and both of their speech patterns. Just the other day I caught myself saying 'Stoked', which is Greg's, and 'Oh Bother', which is Sofia's. Damn them.
I step out of the bathroom, a little fresher, and start on breakfast. Pancakes, I do declare, will start the morning off good. I'm surprised I'm even up in the morning; I don't have to go back to work until 6. That is, if I still have a job. Raphael wanders into the kitchen, shooting me a grin before wobbling over to the bar, sitting on a stool and yawning.
"Good sleep?" I ask while making batter. Raphael nods and stretches.
"Yeah, pretty good. That bed is really comfy; it's so peaceful in there. I guess that's because of the egg cartons, eh?" I nod after shooting him a grin, continuing to make pancakes. A knock on the door confuses me.
"Hey Raphael, could you check the peephole to see who that is? It's sort of early for anyone to be knocking," I ask, wondering who the hell would be up this early. I swear if it's one of those witnesses, I'll show them the meaning of 'witness'!
"Dad, some lady with blonde hair, high cheekbones and blue eyes in a cop uniform is at the door. Should I let them in?" Sofia? Why the hell is Sofia here this…? Oh wait, she was working graveyard. Maybe it was a bad case.
"Yeah, that's my friend, Sofia. You can let her in." Raphael opens the door and greets Sofia in his usual cheery manner. I hear Sofia greet him back, and although she's chipper, I can hear the burden in her voice.
"Hey Sof," I call out, starting the first batch of pancakes. Sofia steps in and chuckles, taking off her runners.
"I have such good timing. I get off of work and get fed right away! Geez, it's like your telepathic or something," she jokes, seating herself at the bar beside Raphael. I give her one of my arrogant smirks.
"Well, you know me, perfect genius, perfect cook, everyone's favorite." I look up and see Sofia laugh, stretching and undoing the cuffs of her sleeves. She looks incredibly tired; I'll ask her about it soon. I can tell she's had a rough shift; her blouse is slightly askew and the friendship necklace I got her a while back is backwards. Yes, that's right; I got her a friendship necklace. Cheesy, I know.
"You do make good pancakes," she mumbles, leaning on her forearms. Yup, food and then a nap for Sofia Curtis.
"Sofia, this is my son, Raphael. Scrat, this is my best friend, Sofia Curtis." Sofia turns to my son and grins, shaking his hand.
"Nice to meet you, kiddo. I'll probably be around here… A LOT…." My blonde friend laughs, turning to me with bright eyes. I grin and serve up the pancakes, laughing as Sofia digs right in, forgetting to put any extras on. Raphael raises his eyebrow and laughs.
"You forgot to put syrup on!" Sofia looks up before mumbling something through her food, still shoveling away. I set work on making more batter.
"Jesus, Sof, why do you always eat me out of house and home?" Sofia simply shrugs her shoulders and continues eating. I've never seen anyone eat that fast since my military days; she eats like someone is going to take it away from her. I'm afraid if I reach my hand in she's going to bite me. I serve up another batch on a plate and reach for my own, only to discover my best friend shoveling MY pancakes down.
"SOFIA!!" I grab her by the ears and wiggle her them, earning a complaining noise.
"Lemme go!" She whines, grabbing my ears. I make a sound that sort of resembles ARGH and wiggle her ears more. I can faintly hear Raphael's laughing over our whiny yells. We both let go at the same time, rubbing our ears daintily.
"Those were mine, asshole!" I complain, throwing a random dishtowel at Sofia. She raises a slim blonde eyebrow at me before cracking a grin.
"So? They were available." Ass.
"Ass." I'm really not good at this eloquence thing. Sofia looks at me for a moment before laughing.
"That word was exactly what you were thinking, wasn't it?" I give her a very stern look before giving up and nodded. She bellows in laughter before grabbing her plate and heading to the dishwasher.
"I know you all too well, Sar." I have to agree with that, she knows me fairly well. I'm almost ready to let her read my war journals. It was the one thing that kept me sane; a steady flow of words expressing what was going on in no lapse of detail. I'd be proud of them if they weren't so disgustingly graphic. I'm brought out of my thoughts by Raphael's laughing. Sofia's got a spry side to her, and her humour is often dry like mine. I finish off my own pancakes and load the dishwasher before joining them on my bed, err, couch.
"Hey Dad, can I play one of your games?" I nod and let Raphael set himself up. Turning to Sofia, I notice her energy quickly slipping away.
"You wanna talk about it?" I ask. The way to get Sofia to open up is to be tact; don't fuss, but don't ignore. I listen as she sighs.
"Bad case," she says cryptically. I've always had trouble deciphering this side of my friend. She only gets like this when a case is terrible or if an officer died. Since she said 'bad case' I have to try and guess what kind. Knowing Sofia, it's some sort of teen violence case. Her teen years weren't exactly the best. Losing her father was something hard for her to deal with, especially considering it was a fire caused by a drunken teenager at a house party next door.
"You wanna take a nap?" I ask, rolling my head to face her. She smiles and closes her eyes.
"Yeah. You don't mind, do you?" I shake my head and grab my pillow, leaning back on the couch. My friend lays her head down on my stomach and I feel her drift off almost instantly. I close my eyes and listen to the game, feeling myself joining her in the world of sleep.
The phone's ringing. Dammit. I reach over and grab the accursed thing, all but smashing it on.
"Sidle," I snarl out, just wanting to go back to sleep.
"I'm sorry to bother you Sara. It's Celeste." Ah shit, what now?
"What's up?" I attempt to be slightly more hospitable, even to the one who crushed my heart. I hear a sigh.
"I just… I wanted to hear how things are going." Why? And what time is it… Well, Sofia is still sleeping and Raphael is still playing, so I'm assuming I've only been asleep for a little while. Must be around 10.
"Fine, actually. Hit it off really well," I answer, adjusting slightly. My friend curls closer, snoring ever so slightly.
"That's good… Um, can I talk to him?" I almost laugh at her nervous demeanor. She was so strong when I was with her, and now she's almost shriveling at the sound of my voice. I guess I do that to people.
"Raphael, your mom's on the phone." I hand the phone to my son before throwing my free arm over my face.
"A thirteen year old boy took his dad's gun and shot his best friend in the face because his friend was 'stealing' his girlfriend." I hear Sofia's weak voice and I immediately snap into comfort mode.
"Jealousy kills," I reply. She looks up and smiles.
"Thanks Sar." Such a simple phrase, but I know it means so much more.
"Anytime." If only I could be this way with Catherine. It'd be nice to be there for her on those bad cases. Last time I tried though, she shot me down. Maybe I just have to learn how to deal with her… I'll give it a shot. And Sofia's going to help me, whether she knows it yet or not. She's already saved me once or twice from doing something stupid.
TBC