Taylor held the door open and allowed Stella to leave. She had just spent the last hour having Stella process her and it wasn’t something she wanted to ever go through again. “Don’t worry, Taylor. We’ll get them,” Stella told her.
Taylor smiled sadly. “I know you will. I’ll see you later.”
“Make sure you get some sleep, or Mac will just send you back home. And Flack here, is going to stay and make sure you do so,” she added, nodding her head in Flack’s direction.
“What?” cried Taylor. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Mac’s instructions. Consider it a condition to you being allowed in the Crime Lab later,” Stella told her before quickly leaving, leaving Taylor and Flack staring at each other.
“You can go, you know,” Taylor started to tell him.
“Don’t bother,” Flack told her, cutting her off. “Mac will have me killed.”
“Fine, but I don’t see why either of us has to be punished for this.” Taylor sighed, “Make yourself at home. I’m going for a shower.”
She headed to her bathroom, shut the door behind her and leant against it. Sometimes she surprised herself with her own stupidity. Perhaps she would be better off in some middle of nowhere place doing some mundane job. Having said that, by all rights, she was only a journalist – Danny had been right about that. She got in the shower and allowed the water to run over her, urging it to wash away her pain, and try to warm her up. It wasn’t until the water was pounding down over her that she started crying. It was silly really. Short of a cut on her head, she was fine. But she couldn’t help it.
Finally the tears stopped and she got out and after drying off and wrapping her robe back around her, she pulled some pain killer out of the cupboard above her sink and took a couple. She headed out of her bathroom and into her room where she sat down at her vanity unit and glared at herself in the mirror.
Doc had been good with his ‘stitches’ but she would be lucky if she didn’t scar. And so far, it wasn’t being a particularly lucky time for her. She was startled back from her thoughts by a knock at her door. Flack walked through it carrying three mugs, carefully trying not to spill their contents. Taylor looked expectantly at him.
He shrugged. “Didn’t know if you liked coffee, tea, or hot chocolate. All three were out on the counter.”
“Marty drinks the tea, and the coffee is usually for guests. I’m the one who drinks the chocolate. Thank you,” she told him as he handed her one of the mugs.
“I’ll take the coffee, then,” he told her, after an awkward pause.
“Did you find anything on television?” Taylor asked, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah, 24.”
Taylor managed a small grin, “Jack Bauer is probably one of the only people in the world who has worse luck than me.” She sighed and looked down at her chocolate. “You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll stay and be good and get some rest, but I know you have work to do.”
“Forget it. I’m staying,” he told her and left the room.
Admitting defeat, Taylor took her drink over to her bed and snuggled up under the blue sheets. Within minutes, she had soon fallen asleep herself.
Taylor smiled sadly. “I know you will. I’ll see you later.”
“Make sure you get some sleep, or Mac will just send you back home. And Flack here, is going to stay and make sure you do so,” she added, nodding her head in Flack’s direction.
“What?” cried Taylor. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Mac’s instructions. Consider it a condition to you being allowed in the Crime Lab later,” Stella told her before quickly leaving, leaving Taylor and Flack staring at each other.
“You can go, you know,” Taylor started to tell him.
“Don’t bother,” Flack told her, cutting her off. “Mac will have me killed.”
“Fine, but I don’t see why either of us has to be punished for this.” Taylor sighed, “Make yourself at home. I’m going for a shower.”
She headed to her bathroom, shut the door behind her and leant against it. Sometimes she surprised herself with her own stupidity. Perhaps she would be better off in some middle of nowhere place doing some mundane job. Having said that, by all rights, she was only a journalist – Danny had been right about that. She got in the shower and allowed the water to run over her, urging it to wash away her pain, and try to warm her up. It wasn’t until the water was pounding down over her that she started crying. It was silly really. Short of a cut on her head, she was fine. But she couldn’t help it.
Finally the tears stopped and she got out and after drying off and wrapping her robe back around her, she pulled some pain killer out of the cupboard above her sink and took a couple. She headed out of her bathroom and into her room where she sat down at her vanity unit and glared at herself in the mirror.
Doc had been good with his ‘stitches’ but she would be lucky if she didn’t scar. And so far, it wasn’t being a particularly lucky time for her. She was startled back from her thoughts by a knock at her door. Flack walked through it carrying three mugs, carefully trying not to spill their contents. Taylor looked expectantly at him.
He shrugged. “Didn’t know if you liked coffee, tea, or hot chocolate. All three were out on the counter.”
“Marty drinks the tea, and the coffee is usually for guests. I’m the one who drinks the chocolate. Thank you,” she told him as he handed her one of the mugs.
“I’ll take the coffee, then,” he told her, after an awkward pause.
“Did you find anything on television?” Taylor asked, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah, 24.”
Taylor managed a small grin, “Jack Bauer is probably one of the only people in the world who has worse luck than me.” She sighed and looked down at her chocolate. “You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll stay and be good and get some rest, but I know you have work to do.”
“Forget it. I’m staying,” he told her and left the room.
Admitting defeat, Taylor took her drink over to her bed and snuggled up under the blue sheets. Within minutes, she had soon fallen asleep herself.
* * *
Taylor awoke with a scream, her heart pounding – she’s just relived the events of the previous night, only things hadn’t turned out as well. At the sound of the scream, Flack was in her room in an instant. “What’s the matter?”
Taylor shook her head. “Bad dream,” she told him, thinking he would leave her.
He didn’t, instead climbing onto the bed next to her and wrapping his arms around her. It was exactly what Taylor needed and soon the tears were flooding down her face.
Taylor shook her head. “Bad dream,” she told him, thinking he would leave her.
He didn’t, instead climbing onto the bed next to her and wrapping his arms around her. It was exactly what Taylor needed and soon the tears were flooding down her face.
* * *
Taylor awoke with a start and glanced at her clock. She’d been asleep for just over three hours, and then realised what it was that had awoken her: raised voices coming from outside her door. “You don’t need to be here anymore. I’m here now.”
“And where were you last night?” Flack’s tone was accusatory.
“I went to work,” Marty shot back.
Taylor got out of bed and stood in her doorway watching Marty, who had clearly just got in from work, and Flack standing close to each other, both looking furious. Knowing both of them, she wasn’t sure who was going to win the argument.
“What time did you go to work?” Flack yelled at him.
“My shift started at two.” Marty was shouting back.
“Two am? So she’s not in the apartment for five hours and you don’t think to check on her,” Flack asked, furious.
Marty threw him a dirty look. “I thought she was around at yours.”
“Why the hell would she be around at mine?” Flack asked him.
“Guys!” cried Taylor, from her bedroom doorway.
“Well she was at yours the night before. I thought it was a reoccurring theme,” continued Marty, ignoring Taylor.
“Martin Pino!” Taylor shouted.
“It was one night, and nothing happened,” Flack shouted back at him.
“Donald Flack!” Taylor tried again.
“Well one night can turn into two.”
“For crying out loud, I’m in the room. Can we please stop discussing my sex life, or lack thereof!” Taylor asked in exasperation.
“And that would be you talking from experience, would it?” Flack flared.
“Damnit, I wish I knew your middle names,” Taylor muttered, still unnoticed by the two arguing men.
“We aren’t talking about me here.” Marty roared, flinging his jacket onto the back of the couch.
“I think we are talking about you, and how you should have called when she hadn’t come back.” Flack snapped back. “Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
“It would have happened anyway,” said Taylor. “If a message was going to get passed on, they were going to do it, regardless of whether it happened last night, or on my way to work.” The two men were still arguing about her, and still ignoring her. “Fine, you two argue,” she told them, as she walked past them towards the door, “I’m going for a run.”
She didn’t have time to get to the door before she was pinned against the wall by Flack, and Marty’s jacket was being held over her (she was still in a small vest top and a pair of short shorts). “You’re going nowhere dressed like that,” Marty was telling her.
“Good point,” Taylor said, glancing at her feet, “I have no shoes on.”
“This is hardly a time to be joking,” Flack told her. He still looked furious.
“No,” Taylor agreed. “And this is hardly a time to be arguing. And could you please let go of my arms. They already ache.”
Flack and Taylor looked at each other for a few moments before Flack released her. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“My ass there’s nothing going on,” fumed Marty as he stormed into the kitchen. Taylor looked again at Flack, before she sighed and padded after Marty. She found him standing at the sink, clutching at the side so his knuckles were white, and staring out of the window. Taylor leant against the island counter and stared at the back of his head. “You could have let me know,” he told her, turning around. “I thought I deserved the right to that – this is the second time you’ve been hurt, and no-one told me. Stella had to come into the morgue to let me know.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am sorry. I just… I’m sorry.”
Marty walked over to her and hugged her. “Don’t apologise. Just don’t do it again. I do care about you, you know?”
Taylor smiled at him. “Please stop arguing with Flack. There is nothing going on with us.”
He nodded, though his expression told her he didn’t believe her. “Come on, let’s get you back into bed.”
Taylor shook her head, “I can’t do that, Marty.”
“You are not going to work,” he told her. “You are in no fit state.”
“Marty, please let’s not do this. I have no intention of going into work, anyway,” she added.
Marty’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t seriously think you’re going to the lab?”
Taylor nodded. “There’s a killer still out there.”
“Taylor!” Marty cried in a combination of exasperation and anger.
“Marty,” she started, calmly. “If something like this happened to you, you wouldn’t be sitting around. You’d be out on the streets, and I am no different. If you want to mother me, then do it later.” Her voice broke, “I can’t sit around her, Marty. I need something to take my mind… to distract me. I need to be busy.”
Marty sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t you dare leave Flack, or any of the CSI’s sights. I mean it, Taylor.”
Taylor wiped away the few stray tears from her cheek before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. She gave his arm a squeeze and headed back into the living room. “I can’t stay here, Flack,” she told the detective softly.
He stared at her from where he was standing and sighed. “No, I didn’t think you would.”
Taylor stared at him in bewilderment. “You’re not going to argue with me on this one?”
Flack shrugged. “What’s the point? You’d only end up at the Lab anyway.”
“I guess I do have a bit of a determined streak,” she said, managing a weak smile, before she headed to her room.
“Personally, I think calling you as stubborn as a mule would be an understatement,” Flack muttered to the closed door.
“And where were you last night?” Flack’s tone was accusatory.
“I went to work,” Marty shot back.
Taylor got out of bed and stood in her doorway watching Marty, who had clearly just got in from work, and Flack standing close to each other, both looking furious. Knowing both of them, she wasn’t sure who was going to win the argument.
“What time did you go to work?” Flack yelled at him.
“My shift started at two.” Marty was shouting back.
“Two am? So she’s not in the apartment for five hours and you don’t think to check on her,” Flack asked, furious.
Marty threw him a dirty look. “I thought she was around at yours.”
“Why the hell would she be around at mine?” Flack asked him.
“Guys!” cried Taylor, from her bedroom doorway.
“Well she was at yours the night before. I thought it was a reoccurring theme,” continued Marty, ignoring Taylor.
“Martin Pino!” Taylor shouted.
“It was one night, and nothing happened,” Flack shouted back at him.
“Donald Flack!” Taylor tried again.
“Well one night can turn into two.”
“For crying out loud, I’m in the room. Can we please stop discussing my sex life, or lack thereof!” Taylor asked in exasperation.
“And that would be you talking from experience, would it?” Flack flared.
“Damnit, I wish I knew your middle names,” Taylor muttered, still unnoticed by the two arguing men.
“We aren’t talking about me here.” Marty roared, flinging his jacket onto the back of the couch.
“I think we are talking about you, and how you should have called when she hadn’t come back.” Flack snapped back. “Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
“It would have happened anyway,” said Taylor. “If a message was going to get passed on, they were going to do it, regardless of whether it happened last night, or on my way to work.” The two men were still arguing about her, and still ignoring her. “Fine, you two argue,” she told them, as she walked past them towards the door, “I’m going for a run.”
She didn’t have time to get to the door before she was pinned against the wall by Flack, and Marty’s jacket was being held over her (she was still in a small vest top and a pair of short shorts). “You’re going nowhere dressed like that,” Marty was telling her.
“Good point,” Taylor said, glancing at her feet, “I have no shoes on.”
“This is hardly a time to be joking,” Flack told her. He still looked furious.
“No,” Taylor agreed. “And this is hardly a time to be arguing. And could you please let go of my arms. They already ache.”
Flack and Taylor looked at each other for a few moments before Flack released her. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“My ass there’s nothing going on,” fumed Marty as he stormed into the kitchen. Taylor looked again at Flack, before she sighed and padded after Marty. She found him standing at the sink, clutching at the side so his knuckles were white, and staring out of the window. Taylor leant against the island counter and stared at the back of his head. “You could have let me know,” he told her, turning around. “I thought I deserved the right to that – this is the second time you’ve been hurt, and no-one told me. Stella had to come into the morgue to let me know.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am sorry. I just… I’m sorry.”
Marty walked over to her and hugged her. “Don’t apologise. Just don’t do it again. I do care about you, you know?”
Taylor smiled at him. “Please stop arguing with Flack. There is nothing going on with us.”
He nodded, though his expression told her he didn’t believe her. “Come on, let’s get you back into bed.”
Taylor shook her head, “I can’t do that, Marty.”
“You are not going to work,” he told her. “You are in no fit state.”
“Marty, please let’s not do this. I have no intention of going into work, anyway,” she added.
Marty’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t seriously think you’re going to the lab?”
Taylor nodded. “There’s a killer still out there.”
“Taylor!” Marty cried in a combination of exasperation and anger.
“Marty,” she started, calmly. “If something like this happened to you, you wouldn’t be sitting around. You’d be out on the streets, and I am no different. If you want to mother me, then do it later.” Her voice broke, “I can’t sit around her, Marty. I need something to take my mind… to distract me. I need to be busy.”
Marty sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t you dare leave Flack, or any of the CSI’s sights. I mean it, Taylor.”
Taylor wiped away the few stray tears from her cheek before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. She gave his arm a squeeze and headed back into the living room. “I can’t stay here, Flack,” she told the detective softly.
He stared at her from where he was standing and sighed. “No, I didn’t think you would.”
Taylor stared at him in bewilderment. “You’re not going to argue with me on this one?”
Flack shrugged. “What’s the point? You’d only end up at the Lab anyway.”
“I guess I do have a bit of a determined streak,” she said, managing a weak smile, before she headed to her room.
“Personally, I think calling you as stubborn as a mule would be an understatement,” Flack muttered to the closed door.
Originally posted: 24/06/2006