Prompt 30—Invincible

It wasn't the first time someone had died in front of her. It wasn't even the first time someone had committed suicide in front of her. She had lost people of greater importance in her life before that moment. Speed, her grandmother, her best friend as a child, a nephew only a few hours old…all had slipped through her fingers, all with a deeper connection to her, all she had been able to move on from, relatively unscathed.

But when John Hagen turned his gun on himself in her lab, something came loose inside. She had known John, both as a friend and as a lover. He had never seemed anything less than a perfectly healthy, normal guy. Someone who was seeing his share of hardship lately, but nothing anyone couldn't overcome given enough time.

He had been strong and healthy and independent—just like her. He had his whole life ahead of him—just like her. He could have been helped. She could have helped him, if only she'd known what was wrong.

And perhaps that's what it was that still haunted her each day as she worked in the lab where he'd taken his last breath. She hadn't known anything was wrong because she didn't want to get involved. She had wanted to remain—as she always was—on the outside, not getting attached, keeping her professional distance. It wasn't her business anymore—they weren't together anymore. Someone else would take care of him.

But no one had. And it had taken three coats of paint to cover up the proof of that fact.

That day had been only the second time she had ever considered quitting her job. The first had been after Speed, when going about every day tasks had seemed unbearable, when just the act of doing her job had broken her heart day after day. But she hadn't quit then. She hadn't quit because she knew that people needed her. She could still help people by staying. If she left…she didn't know who she'd be helping.

But when John had died, there had been something different. She hadn't been able to help a man standing in front of her, screaming for it at the top of his lungs. What good could she be to anyone else? Why devote her life to helping strangers when she couldn't even help her friends.

In the end, it was Alexx who stopped her from making a mistake.

"Talk to me baby," she said, dropping onto the park bench next to her.

"I'm fine, Alexx, really. I was just catching some air before I went home."

Alexx fastened her with a raised eyebrow. "You can be fine and still talk to me."

Calleigh had smiled sadly. "It's just been a rough day."

Her friend had nodded, rubbing her arm. "I know. But honey, he was sick. There's nothing you could have done differently."

"I could've been there for him," she'd said softly. "He was reaching out to me and I just kept blowing him off. I could've helped him earlier."

"There is no way you could have known what he was going to do."

"It feels like I could have, though. It feels like I should have."

Alexx nodded sadly and reached for Calleigh's hand. She gave it a squeeze. They sat in silence, watching listlessly as the sun slid down into the ocean. It was nearly dark before Calleigh spoke again.

"Do you remember when I first started here?"

Alexx smiled. "A ball of fire from New Orleans. You drove all the boys crazy and did their jobs better than they could too."

She allowed herself a small smile. "I've loved guns since I was a little girl. I loved shooting and loading and target practice and hunting. I loved the way I felt when I fired a gun." She took a deep breath and tried to remember the feeling she was talking about. "But you know what I loved most of all?"

"What's that?"

"The power. I know it sounds crazy but there's a sense of power and protection that I always felt when I held a gun."

"I don't think that's crazy at all."

"It's just that growing up, everything was always such a mess. I just knew the one place I could always be in control was at the range. It was the only time I didn't feel vulnerable. The only time I felt invincible."

"There's nothing wrong with vulnerability, honey. Nothing wrong at all."

"I just…" her voice caught. "I just don't think I can do this anymore. This place…these things that I loved…that I found solace in…" she took a shaky breath. "They keep killing my friends." She gave a futile wipe at her eyes as Alexx took her in her arms.

"Baby, it's okay." She petted Calleigh's blonde hair for a few moments, rocking back and forth on the bench. "It's okay."

"I just don't know how I'm supposed to go back to that lab. I just keep seeing him lying there," Calleigh took a deep breath and wiped again at her eyes. "How am I supposed to do my job when I can't even stand to be there?"

"Hey," Alexx took Calleigh's face in her hands. "You are good at your job, okay? You are a good CSI." She smoothed her hair away from her face. "You can still help people—even without the guns."

"I'm not so sure anymore."

"You don't have to be right now, baby," Alexx said soothingly. "Just take things one step at a time."

And that was how she had taken things. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other, dealing with that feeling of being exposed, of being afraid of her job, one day at a time. Until one day had become two and then a week and then a month and before she knew it, she was back in her lab. Just like she was today.

Calleigh released the magazine and took off her headset. She looked around her lab with a resigned smile. Alexx had been right—she was good at what she did. It was where she belonged. Her eyes fell to the .38 in her hand.

Her relationship with guns had changed. Before it had been about the control, about the power—the invincibility. Now, she set it down and made a few notes on the report, being around her guns was like being around an old friend. And there was something different. A new element.

Respect.

And perhaps, she thought as she gave the lab another appreciative look, perhaps that was something that John had left her without even knowing it.

--

I'm on a spree! It's fanfic madness! Anyway, just something different for this prompt. R/R as you always do.