Taylor walked wearily down the steps to the court house. She had just spent the day inside watching Leveau’s preliminary trial. Now she just wanted to go home and soak in a hot bubble bath. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but being around him made her feel filthy.
She slipped her headphones to her phone in and switched on the mp3 player, allowing Rascal Flatts to belt out into her ears as she stepped onto the busy subway car as she tried to drown out the man next to her that was complaining about how many people should be allowed in the cars. She shut her eyes and held tightly to the hand rail, waiting for her stop. Six stops later and she was grateful to be off. Perhaps it was time she bought a car.
She began to climb up the steps when she noticed a man stood in front of her – six bullet holes in his chest. “Help me,” he pleaded with her.
The bath was going to have to wait. She nodded at him, and was about to take another step when another ghost appeared, again, its body riddled with bullets – only it wasn’t Maddy. “Stay out of our business!” it shouted at her, before pushing her down the stairs.
Taylor went flying backwards, landing heavily on the marble floor. Thankfully she had only managed to take a few steps up, but her ankle was in agony and she had certainly smacked her head hard enough – the room was spinning. The last thing she was aware of before she blacked out was Maddy’s concerned face hovering above her, and thinking that she was there for her.
She awoke some time later, aware of voices she recognised, muttering in the background. Gingerly, she opened her eyes, immediately regretting it as the bright light was doing nothing for her headache. Her groans attracted the voices over to her.
“Taylor, are you alright?”
“What happened?” she groaned, looking up at Mac and Lindsay – the owners of the voices.
“We were hoping you could answer that,” said Lindsay.
“My head hurts,” she muttered.
“You have a concussion. The doctors are going to keep you in overnight,” Mac explained.
Taylor nodded, then winced, instantly regretting moving her head. “Why are you here?”
“I had a phone call,” said Lindsay. “It was your cell phone and I thought it was you, but it was a man telling me he had dialled the last number you had because he had your phone. I thought you’d lost it, but he then told me that you had been pushed down some stairs and were currently en route to the hospital.”
Taylor frowned. “The last thing I remember was… Maddy!”
“Taylor, you hit your head quite hard,” said Lindsay, gently. Taylor sighed – there was no point in explaining that one.
“Do you remember who pushed you?” Mac asked.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she paused but decided to continue anyway. “There was a body – a ghost – he had at least six bullet wounds to him, and he asked me for my help. I was about to go to the Crime Lab to find you when another ghost appeared. He’d been shot too, but I don’t know how many times, because he pushed me down the stairs.”
“We can’t prosecute something which doesn’t exist,” sighed Lindsay.
“Look, thank you for the concern, but how about we clock it up to an accident, and leave it at that. I’ll be back in as soon as the first ghost appears with some clues,” she shrugged, then winced at the effort.
“No, Taylor you are staying here, like the doctor ordered,” Mac told her sternly.
Taylor nodded, although she had every intention of leaving if the ghost turned up – Stella would be the one to see. Not only did she believe her about ghosts… well, she was accepting about the ghosts, but she could also have the power to manipulate Mac. That was another thing which made Taylor wonder why those two weren’t together. Perhaps they’d tried it once already. Although, Mac had been married. And they thought she was crazy.
The two CSIs left a short time later after a call came through for them leaving Taylor and her sore head.
“About time they left,” said Maddy, appearing at the side of her bed. “Are you alright?”
“What was that about, Maddy?” Taylor asked her. “That guy was dead – why was he attacking me?”
Maddy shrugged, “I don’t know who he is, but I do know that I’m not responsible for him and as I’m responsible for all spirits which visit you, that means he wasn’t a good person.”
“And what? That means they can touch me?” Taylor demanded, alarmed.
Maddy shrugged. “Evil can hurt, whether dead or alive.”
“Do have any idea how clichéd you sound?” Taylor muttered.
“Hey, you asked, I answered,” Maddy sighed. “Look, I have to go. I have a spirit to look after.”
She was gone before Taylor could ask her if her spirit had a name. But she wasn’t alone for long. It was the second ghost again. “What do you want?” Taylor asked him, trying to press herself into her pillows.
“Stay out of our business!” he roared at her, before grabbing her arm and flinging her against the wall. The bed went flying after her. Taylor screamed as the bed landed on her arm, but she got to her feet, ignoring the ankle which was screaming in pain at her, and ran.
Whilst she had been lucky that she had been placed in a private room on a quiet corridor, currently, with no-one around, other than patients, she was scared. Not that a nurse or doctor could help her with a poltergeist, but she wouldn’t feel alone. She dashed into the first closet-looking room she could find. She didn’t want to end up in a ward where the ghost could have done some damage to a patient.
The closet contained sheets and scrubs. Taylor gabbed a set of blue surgical scrubs and put them on, biting her tongue so as not to scream from the pain in her arm. She was sure it was broken but she didn’t want to alert the ghost to where she was.
She didn’t need to make a sound though. Taylor had just managed to pull on a shoe when he appeared again. This time, as Taylor backed into a corner, he put his hand around her throat and pinned her against the wall.
“Leave her alone!” Maddy yelled, appearing out of nowhere with the other ghost.
The ghost, which was still strangling Taylor, turned to look at Maddy. With a scream of “Stay out of our business,” he lunged at the other two ghosts and the three of them disappeared.
Taylor fell to the floor coughing, trying to wipe away the tears that were streaking down her face. One thing was for certain – she couldn’t stay at the hospital. She was too scared that the ghost would hurt someone else.
She hurried back to her room and stopped only long enough to grab her purse. No one had been to the room: the bed stay lay against the far wall. She left the hospital and flagged down the first cab she could get before making it take her to the Crime Lab. At this point, it was the only place where she would be able to feel safe, and it also had three licensed doctors.
She slipped her headphones to her phone in and switched on the mp3 player, allowing Rascal Flatts to belt out into her ears as she stepped onto the busy subway car as she tried to drown out the man next to her that was complaining about how many people should be allowed in the cars. She shut her eyes and held tightly to the hand rail, waiting for her stop. Six stops later and she was grateful to be off. Perhaps it was time she bought a car.
She began to climb up the steps when she noticed a man stood in front of her – six bullet holes in his chest. “Help me,” he pleaded with her.
The bath was going to have to wait. She nodded at him, and was about to take another step when another ghost appeared, again, its body riddled with bullets – only it wasn’t Maddy. “Stay out of our business!” it shouted at her, before pushing her down the stairs.
Taylor went flying backwards, landing heavily on the marble floor. Thankfully she had only managed to take a few steps up, but her ankle was in agony and she had certainly smacked her head hard enough – the room was spinning. The last thing she was aware of before she blacked out was Maddy’s concerned face hovering above her, and thinking that she was there for her.
She awoke some time later, aware of voices she recognised, muttering in the background. Gingerly, she opened her eyes, immediately regretting it as the bright light was doing nothing for her headache. Her groans attracted the voices over to her.
“Taylor, are you alright?”
“What happened?” she groaned, looking up at Mac and Lindsay – the owners of the voices.
“We were hoping you could answer that,” said Lindsay.
“My head hurts,” she muttered.
“You have a concussion. The doctors are going to keep you in overnight,” Mac explained.
Taylor nodded, then winced, instantly regretting moving her head. “Why are you here?”
“I had a phone call,” said Lindsay. “It was your cell phone and I thought it was you, but it was a man telling me he had dialled the last number you had because he had your phone. I thought you’d lost it, but he then told me that you had been pushed down some stairs and were currently en route to the hospital.”
Taylor frowned. “The last thing I remember was… Maddy!”
“Taylor, you hit your head quite hard,” said Lindsay, gently. Taylor sighed – there was no point in explaining that one.
“Do you remember who pushed you?” Mac asked.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she paused but decided to continue anyway. “There was a body – a ghost – he had at least six bullet wounds to him, and he asked me for my help. I was about to go to the Crime Lab to find you when another ghost appeared. He’d been shot too, but I don’t know how many times, because he pushed me down the stairs.”
“We can’t prosecute something which doesn’t exist,” sighed Lindsay.
“Look, thank you for the concern, but how about we clock it up to an accident, and leave it at that. I’ll be back in as soon as the first ghost appears with some clues,” she shrugged, then winced at the effort.
“No, Taylor you are staying here, like the doctor ordered,” Mac told her sternly.
Taylor nodded, although she had every intention of leaving if the ghost turned up – Stella would be the one to see. Not only did she believe her about ghosts… well, she was accepting about the ghosts, but she could also have the power to manipulate Mac. That was another thing which made Taylor wonder why those two weren’t together. Perhaps they’d tried it once already. Although, Mac had been married. And they thought she was crazy.
The two CSIs left a short time later after a call came through for them leaving Taylor and her sore head.
“About time they left,” said Maddy, appearing at the side of her bed. “Are you alright?”
“What was that about, Maddy?” Taylor asked her. “That guy was dead – why was he attacking me?”
Maddy shrugged, “I don’t know who he is, but I do know that I’m not responsible for him and as I’m responsible for all spirits which visit you, that means he wasn’t a good person.”
“And what? That means they can touch me?” Taylor demanded, alarmed.
Maddy shrugged. “Evil can hurt, whether dead or alive.”
“Do have any idea how clichéd you sound?” Taylor muttered.
“Hey, you asked, I answered,” Maddy sighed. “Look, I have to go. I have a spirit to look after.”
She was gone before Taylor could ask her if her spirit had a name. But she wasn’t alone for long. It was the second ghost again. “What do you want?” Taylor asked him, trying to press herself into her pillows.
“Stay out of our business!” he roared at her, before grabbing her arm and flinging her against the wall. The bed went flying after her. Taylor screamed as the bed landed on her arm, but she got to her feet, ignoring the ankle which was screaming in pain at her, and ran.
Whilst she had been lucky that she had been placed in a private room on a quiet corridor, currently, with no-one around, other than patients, she was scared. Not that a nurse or doctor could help her with a poltergeist, but she wouldn’t feel alone. She dashed into the first closet-looking room she could find. She didn’t want to end up in a ward where the ghost could have done some damage to a patient.
The closet contained sheets and scrubs. Taylor gabbed a set of blue surgical scrubs and put them on, biting her tongue so as not to scream from the pain in her arm. She was sure it was broken but she didn’t want to alert the ghost to where she was.
She didn’t need to make a sound though. Taylor had just managed to pull on a shoe when he appeared again. This time, as Taylor backed into a corner, he put his hand around her throat and pinned her against the wall.
“Leave her alone!” Maddy yelled, appearing out of nowhere with the other ghost.
The ghost, which was still strangling Taylor, turned to look at Maddy. With a scream of “Stay out of our business,” he lunged at the other two ghosts and the three of them disappeared.
Taylor fell to the floor coughing, trying to wipe away the tears that were streaking down her face. One thing was for certain – she couldn’t stay at the hospital. She was too scared that the ghost would hurt someone else.
She hurried back to her room and stopped only long enough to grab her purse. No one had been to the room: the bed stay lay against the far wall. She left the hospital and flagged down the first cab she could get before making it take her to the Crime Lab. At this point, it was the only place where she would be able to feel safe, and it also had three licensed doctors.
* * *
“Normally surgeons don’t accompany the bodies to the morgue,” said Marty as he attacked a victim with an enormous pair of pliers.
“No, Marty. It’s me,” Taylor told him, struggling to keep her voice calm and level.
Marty took one look at her and swore. “What the hell happened? Who did this to you? And why are you in scrubs?” Before giving her the chance to answer the questions he had fired at her, he dropped the pliers and started to lead her to the back room where the bed was. Except Taylor’s cry of pain stopped him. Without even asking, he pulled the sleeve of her arm up and looked at her arm, swearing again. This time, he led her to the x-ray machine and sat her down on a table. “Just stay there a minute.”
He returned a while later dressed in protective gear, and loaded the machine with fresh slides. Taylor had been right – she had broken her arm, as the slides were clearly showing.
“You’re lucky we have the bandages and plaster so we can cast it,” Marty muttered as he began looking through the cupboards for the supplies he needed. He mixed the plaster and walked back to Taylor. After a few minutes of setting the cast in silence, he put the bandages down and stared at her. “Alright, what happened?”
“I was on my way back from court, for the Leveau case. The preliminary case was today,” Taylor frowned. “I was walking up the steps from the subway to the street and a ghost appeared asking for help. But he disappeared and was replaced by another ghost. Only this one warned me to keep away and pushed me down the steps.”
“Taylor, when someone falls, the break tends to be spiral, from where they put their hand out to protect themselves. Yours is a clean break and there’s too much bruising around it.”
“I woke up in the hospital and-”
“You mean that no-one contacted me?” said Marty, sharply, cutting her off.
Taylor frowned, “Lindsay and Mac were there. I assumed that they told you what happened.”
Marty shook his head, “No.”
“Well, I’m sure they would have tried, Marty.”
Marty wiped his hands on his scrubs and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He sighed as he flicked it open. “They did call, but it was on silent.” He shut the phone and put it back in his pocket. “But that doesn’t explain how you broke your arm. If you’re trying to hide something to protect someone-”
“Marty, who could I possibly be protecting. And you didn’t let me finish explaining,” she told him as he returned his attention to bandaging her up. “I was lying in bed, minding my own business, when the second ghost turned up. He attacked me again, throwing me out of the bed, then threw the bed at me. That’s what broke my arm, as it landed on my arm.”
Marty frowned. “Since when did the ghosts start getting violent with you?”
Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know, but he might not even be dead. Leveau suffered from schizophrenia and one of his other personalities attacked me.” She rubbed at her neck, revealing the bruises that were beginning to from there.
“What the hell are they, Taylor?” Marty exclaimed, as he spotted them.
“What?” she asked him, unsure as to what he was referring to.
“The hand prints around your neck!” he exclaimed, moving over to examine them.
“Oh,” she frowned. “After the bed landed on me, and nobody came, I ran and hid in a closet, which is where I found the scrubs. But the ghost found me and choked me. I’m not sure, but I think if Maddy hadn’t have-”
“Maddy?” Marty repeated, suddenly staring intently at her. “Taylor, Maddy is dead. You can’t have seen her,” he pulled out a pen-sized torch and shone it into her eyes. “Did you hit your head when you fell? Because I think you might have concussion.”
“The doctors said I do have concussion, but I’m not seeing Maddy because I hit my head. I saw her before that,” Taylor told him.
“Taylor,” he started softly.
“Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice, Marty,” Taylor interrupted. “You have been the one person who has always believed me. So don’t start failing me now. She appeared the night of her funeral, and randomly since. She’s like a guardian angel for ghosts. She’s there with them as they wait for me to help them. In fact, I thought you could see ghosts, so how come you’ve never seen her? She was there last weekend at the beach – how do you think I suddenly got so good at volleyball?”
Marty said nothing as he finished bandaging her arm. “Don’t move while that sets,” he told her quietly as he walked to the sink to clean up.
Taylor watched him, wondering if he’d actually heard her, and then he sat back down with her. “I’m not making it up, Marty, I promise you that.”
Marty sighed. “I’ve thought about the ghost thing before, Taylor – how I can’t see the ghosts you can. I think they only appear to certain people who they think, or know, can help them.”
“So you’re saying that’s why you can’t see Maddy?”
Marty shook his head. “No, I’m saying that’s why I can’t see the same ghosts as you.”
Taylor stared at him. “You don’t believe me about Maddy, do you?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Sometimes, when people lose someone they’re close to, they think they see the person who left them. It’s a coping mechanism.”
Taylor pursed her lips. She stared back at him, and then got to her feet. “Thank you for sorting my arm out, but I should be going.”
“Come on, Taylor, you can’t disappear. Where are you going to go?” Marty called after her.
“I’m going to go and help the ghost, Martin,” she told him curtly as she headed for the door.
Marty winced. “You’ve never called me Martin before.”
“And you’ve never not believed me before,” she retorted before leaving the room, despite his protests.
“No, Marty. It’s me,” Taylor told him, struggling to keep her voice calm and level.
Marty took one look at her and swore. “What the hell happened? Who did this to you? And why are you in scrubs?” Before giving her the chance to answer the questions he had fired at her, he dropped the pliers and started to lead her to the back room where the bed was. Except Taylor’s cry of pain stopped him. Without even asking, he pulled the sleeve of her arm up and looked at her arm, swearing again. This time, he led her to the x-ray machine and sat her down on a table. “Just stay there a minute.”
He returned a while later dressed in protective gear, and loaded the machine with fresh slides. Taylor had been right – she had broken her arm, as the slides were clearly showing.
“You’re lucky we have the bandages and plaster so we can cast it,” Marty muttered as he began looking through the cupboards for the supplies he needed. He mixed the plaster and walked back to Taylor. After a few minutes of setting the cast in silence, he put the bandages down and stared at her. “Alright, what happened?”
“I was on my way back from court, for the Leveau case. The preliminary case was today,” Taylor frowned. “I was walking up the steps from the subway to the street and a ghost appeared asking for help. But he disappeared and was replaced by another ghost. Only this one warned me to keep away and pushed me down the steps.”
“Taylor, when someone falls, the break tends to be spiral, from where they put their hand out to protect themselves. Yours is a clean break and there’s too much bruising around it.”
“I woke up in the hospital and-”
“You mean that no-one contacted me?” said Marty, sharply, cutting her off.
Taylor frowned, “Lindsay and Mac were there. I assumed that they told you what happened.”
Marty shook his head, “No.”
“Well, I’m sure they would have tried, Marty.”
Marty wiped his hands on his scrubs and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He sighed as he flicked it open. “They did call, but it was on silent.” He shut the phone and put it back in his pocket. “But that doesn’t explain how you broke your arm. If you’re trying to hide something to protect someone-”
“Marty, who could I possibly be protecting. And you didn’t let me finish explaining,” she told him as he returned his attention to bandaging her up. “I was lying in bed, minding my own business, when the second ghost turned up. He attacked me again, throwing me out of the bed, then threw the bed at me. That’s what broke my arm, as it landed on my arm.”
Marty frowned. “Since when did the ghosts start getting violent with you?”
Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know, but he might not even be dead. Leveau suffered from schizophrenia and one of his other personalities attacked me.” She rubbed at her neck, revealing the bruises that were beginning to from there.
“What the hell are they, Taylor?” Marty exclaimed, as he spotted them.
“What?” she asked him, unsure as to what he was referring to.
“The hand prints around your neck!” he exclaimed, moving over to examine them.
“Oh,” she frowned. “After the bed landed on me, and nobody came, I ran and hid in a closet, which is where I found the scrubs. But the ghost found me and choked me. I’m not sure, but I think if Maddy hadn’t have-”
“Maddy?” Marty repeated, suddenly staring intently at her. “Taylor, Maddy is dead. You can’t have seen her,” he pulled out a pen-sized torch and shone it into her eyes. “Did you hit your head when you fell? Because I think you might have concussion.”
“The doctors said I do have concussion, but I’m not seeing Maddy because I hit my head. I saw her before that,” Taylor told him.
“Taylor,” he started softly.
“Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice, Marty,” Taylor interrupted. “You have been the one person who has always believed me. So don’t start failing me now. She appeared the night of her funeral, and randomly since. She’s like a guardian angel for ghosts. She’s there with them as they wait for me to help them. In fact, I thought you could see ghosts, so how come you’ve never seen her? She was there last weekend at the beach – how do you think I suddenly got so good at volleyball?”
Marty said nothing as he finished bandaging her arm. “Don’t move while that sets,” he told her quietly as he walked to the sink to clean up.
Taylor watched him, wondering if he’d actually heard her, and then he sat back down with her. “I’m not making it up, Marty, I promise you that.”
Marty sighed. “I’ve thought about the ghost thing before, Taylor – how I can’t see the ghosts you can. I think they only appear to certain people who they think, or know, can help them.”
“So you’re saying that’s why you can’t see Maddy?”
Marty shook his head. “No, I’m saying that’s why I can’t see the same ghosts as you.”
Taylor stared at him. “You don’t believe me about Maddy, do you?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Sometimes, when people lose someone they’re close to, they think they see the person who left them. It’s a coping mechanism.”
Taylor pursed her lips. She stared back at him, and then got to her feet. “Thank you for sorting my arm out, but I should be going.”
“Come on, Taylor, you can’t disappear. Where are you going to go?” Marty called after her.
“I’m going to go and help the ghost, Martin,” she told him curtly as she headed for the door.
Marty winced. “You’ve never called me Martin before.”
“And you’ve never not believed me before,” she retorted before leaving the room, despite his protests.
Originally posted: 19/06/2006