CSI: Miami fanfic
13 June 2008 08:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wrennetteTitle: Five ways in which Ryan never saved Calleigh's ass
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Pairing: CaRWash (mostly implied)
Rating: PG-13. Some violence.
Warnings: AU, whump-age
Disclaimer: No profit is made from this, and the author is very aware she does not own the characters portrayed.
Notes: The title is pretty self explanatory. The titles of the individual sections are from police codes found here. I give what the code is for, but it's a fun website if you're into that sort of stuff.
More Notes: So the CSI empire was fun at the beginning, but it's gotten a bit old with me, and some of the characters have become especially annoying. That said, there are characters I really like, mostly because they're pretty, but also because they're decent characters. Also, I don't have a beta reader. Any mistakes are my own. Flames will be ignored, but constructive criticism is always appreciated.
1) 10-80 (explosion)
"Everyone out!" Someone called from deeper in the warehouse, and she glanced up, than back down at her evidence, kneeling to photograph, than bag and tag another little bit for trace.
"Ma'am," her uniformed escort said warningly, glancing nervously at the other uniforms hurrying out. She met his eyes just as they went wide, and he roughly pulled her up and close, turning his back and hunching over her. She would have scolded him, because she was certain they were kneeling on evidence, but then the blast blew by them, driving her down to the ground, his weight heavy on top of her.
Vaguely she could hear sirens, and she was surprised, because she wasn't really in pain, which was odd, because that had sounded like a big explosion. That was when she noticed the strong arms still tight around her, the warm body covering her. She shuddered, pulling off her gloves before they melted on, reaching up, trying to find his neck, trying to find a pulse. When her fingers finally found exposed skin, it was too hot, sticky.
She pulled her fingers away, and they were coated in crimson blood. She reached back up. He had to be alive. She simply would not allow this young officer to die protecting her. There. Pulse. Too fast, irregular, but a pulse. She fumbled up, pulling away his radio. Still intact, and hopefully still functional.
"I need a paramedic!" She cried frantically. "Please hurry, he's not doing so good." She didn't hear anything back, but she just stayed huddled there under his sturdy body, holding his radio like a lifeline and praying he would be alright.
2) 10-53 (man down)
She could hear the soft footsteps of her uniformed escort slightly behind her, to the left. She liked this one. He wasn't super experienced, only about a year in uniform, but he had a good eye. More than once when he was her shadow, he would point something out before she had noticed it. He had the makings of a good CSI. But he was an excellent Patrol officer as well, and she knew about the unspoken animosity between the PD and the Crime Lab. Officers didn't often cross over to become investigators.
"Hold," he said softly, and she heard the distinct sound of a gun being unholstered and cocked. He stepped ahead of her, gun up, sweeping, eyes intent. She nodded, than knelt and photographed another bit of evidence. "Move, now," he said just as softly, just as intently, and she stood, drawing her own weapon, and he was herding her away from the cross street as the window of a car exploded out. She saw an instant of pain flash across his face, and than he was pushing her to the ground, shielding her body with his.
She tried to turn in his arms, to see the car, to get off a shot, but he held her still with one strong arm, wincing as another bullet slammed into his vest, than gasping sharply, squeezing her so tight it hurt.
"Call a bus," he said huskily, and then he let go of her, shoved her towards a dumpster that could shield her in place of his firm body, and staying low, he turned, squeezing off two quick shots, one into the rear passenger tire, the other into the body of the car.
"Suspect southbound on 107th, between Cocoa and Grove, white sedan, one charlie five, alpha baker niner. Suspect is armed and dangerous, repeat, suspect is armed and dangerous." He stayed down, on one knee, as the car got away, and she could see the blood staining the back of his uniform. He had been hit, below the vest, that soft unprotected area of a few inches just above his belt, just above the cuffs that winked in the strong Miami sun.
3) 10-10 (off duty)
She didn't really know why she had let Eric and Speed talk her into going out clubbing with them. She didn't really enjoy clubbing. They always promised they would stay with her, but tonight, as usual, they had disappeared within about fifteen minutes, lured away by scantily clad women shaking what God gave them. She snorted softly to herself. If she was smart, she would leave now, get some rest, and be annoyingly chipper in the morning.
"What she's having," a vaguely familiar voice said at her side. "And give her another on me." She turned, and couldn't help but smile a bit.
"Officer Wolfe," she said, the tiniest bit of surprise coloring her voice, "I hadn't picked you out as the clubbing type." He smiled slightly and sipped his water.
"I'm not," he said. "But one of the guys just made Detective, so we figured we had to celebrate. They're happy, you're not, I figured maybe you might like some company." She grinned, and he blushed slightly. "So do you want to dance?" He asked with another, stronger blush and her smile widened, and she let him lead the way.
Out of his uniform, his physique was even more impressive. He wasn't a tall man, shorter by a head than any of her male coworkers. But he was still a few inches taller than her, even when she had her heels on, and in a tight tee shirt and jeans, he was really quite good looking. His warm hand rested gently but not too intimately on her hip, and as they danced, she couldn't help but inch herself closer to him, until they were pressed tight together, one hand hot against the small of her back, the other still loose on her hip. When it was time to go, because they did both have to work in the morning, he smiled at her, giving a little wave that was about half way to a salute, and she kissed him quickly on the cheek.
"You're a life saver," she said with a smile, and he blushed and looked at his shoes, and than she went home, and went to bed, and fell asleep smiling and thinking about warm whisky brown eyes and firm tan hands.
4) 11-80 (accident, major injuries)
Driving in Miami, in any city really, was always an adventure. Driving the Hummer when you were chasing a suspect, and there were radio cars zipping every which direction, that was something else. That was adrenalin on wheels, and Calleigh loved adrenalin. She did not, however, love driving. Somehow though, she was ahead of the radio cars, for now anyway, until someone set up a roadblock, and she had clear visual on the suspect, and she could hear the helo, but she didn't want to use the pulse, because she was too close, and she didn't want to fry the Hummer, and she didn't want to slow down.
She didn't even see the truck. All off a sudden though, there was the scream of brakes and the crunch of metal on metal, and than silence, and slowly the sirens filtered back in. There was glass everywhere, and she didn't really understand why there was glass, or why she smelled smoke. People were yelling, and the sirens hurt her ears, and there was the tinkling of glass and strong tans arms were wrapping around her, dragging her up and out through the smashed in windshield.
For a while she stared uncomprehendingly at the strong tan hands that were pressing her down, staring at the light fracturing and the little sparkles of glass, at the blood trickling from torn knuckles. She looked up, and his eyes were brown, or maybe green, or grey, she wasn't sure, but they were kind eyes, worried eyes, and he kept asking her for her name.
"Calleigh," she said after a while, because that was her name, and he smiled, and said:
"Calleigh what?" And she furrowed her brows, because he looked so familiar, and she was fairly certain he knew her name already.
5) 207A (kidnapping attempt)
Calleigh smiled at the uniforms as she ducked under the yellow tape, than went to find Alexx and the DB.
"Hey," she said, looking around the room the Medical Examiner knelt in.
"Hey," the ME said, that weary sort of tone in her voice. "This poor girl was trying so hard to leave. She got all the way to the door before the life bled out of her." Calleigh shook her head, taking in the packed bags that had been dropped, the signs of a struggle. The DB had black eyes and a bruised neck and jaw. Domestic abuse gone even worse, and now the lady was dead. She sighed, and followed the blood trail back to the kitchen.
She stopped short, staring. The scene had been cleared. This man was not supposed to be here. Slowly she began to back away, reaching for her weapon. But her heels weren't exactly sneaky, and he turned, his face transforming into an ugly mask of anger, and before she could get a shot off, he had her by the neck, the edge of a knife pressed up under her jaw.
"You move, or you scream," he growled in her ear, "and you die." She whimpered softly. "Slowly pull that gun out," he said. "Hand it to me, real slow like." She did as she was told, and he gently placed her gun on the counter, than began walking towards the kitchen door.
About two steps outside, she heard that distinctive sound of a gun cocking.
"Don't move," a familiar and oh so welcome voice said evenly. "Let her go. Drop the knife, and let her go." The man growled softly, and she heard foot steps on gravel. "Drop the knife," the officer said again, and she whimpered softly as the sharp pressure increased. The sharp crack of a gun discharging covered her gasp of pain, and then the knife was gone, the big rough hands were gone, and she was on her knees, gasping and retching, feeling ill.
A warm, comforting hand rubbed her back while another reached past her, feeling for pulse.
"You alright?" Came a soft voice in her ear, and she turned, and grabbed hold of his tan uniform, and buried her dry eyed face in his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne, and under that, the sharp scent of scared sweat. His hand just kept rubbing up and down her back, and after a moment she pulled it together and pulled away. He stood slowly, and offered her a hand, which she gladly took, letting him pull her to her feet.
She wrapped her arms around his trim waist, still inhaling his calming scent to quash the urge to go spit on the body, or puke.
"Let me take a look at you," Alexx said off to the side, and still clinging to her hero, she lifted her chin and let Alexx swab away the blood. "Just a little nick. Put a bandaid on it, you'll be fine." She nodded, and Alexx smiled that sweet gentle smile of hers, than looked up at the officer. "Thank you for looking out for my girlie," the ME said, and he smiled.
"My pleasure Ma'am," he said, in that polite calm way of his.
"Thank you Ryan," she said, squeezing her arms around his waist, and he smiled at her, briefly pressing his face into her head.
"Just doing my job Cal," he said gently, one of his hands coming up to tangle in her long blonde hair. The longer they stood there, the more she could feel the tenseness seep from his body, and when they were both finally all calmed down, they let go, and went back to their jobs, pretending that nothing at all unusual or unexpected had happened.
let me know what you think!
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Pairing: CaRWash (mostly implied)
Rating: PG-13. Some violence.
Warnings: AU, whump-age
Disclaimer: No profit is made from this, and the author is very aware she does not own the characters portrayed.
Notes: The title is pretty self explanatory. The titles of the individual sections are from police codes found here. I give what the code is for, but it's a fun website if you're into that sort of stuff.
More Notes: So the CSI empire was fun at the beginning, but it's gotten a bit old with me, and some of the characters have become especially annoying. That said, there are characters I really like, mostly because they're pretty, but also because they're decent characters. Also, I don't have a beta reader. Any mistakes are my own. Flames will be ignored, but constructive criticism is always appreciated.
1) 10-80 (explosion)
"Everyone out!" Someone called from deeper in the warehouse, and she glanced up, than back down at her evidence, kneeling to photograph, than bag and tag another little bit for trace.
"Ma'am," her uniformed escort said warningly, glancing nervously at the other uniforms hurrying out. She met his eyes just as they went wide, and he roughly pulled her up and close, turning his back and hunching over her. She would have scolded him, because she was certain they were kneeling on evidence, but then the blast blew by them, driving her down to the ground, his weight heavy on top of her.
Vaguely she could hear sirens, and she was surprised, because she wasn't really in pain, which was odd, because that had sounded like a big explosion. That was when she noticed the strong arms still tight around her, the warm body covering her. She shuddered, pulling off her gloves before they melted on, reaching up, trying to find his neck, trying to find a pulse. When her fingers finally found exposed skin, it was too hot, sticky.
She pulled her fingers away, and they were coated in crimson blood. She reached back up. He had to be alive. She simply would not allow this young officer to die protecting her. There. Pulse. Too fast, irregular, but a pulse. She fumbled up, pulling away his radio. Still intact, and hopefully still functional.
"I need a paramedic!" She cried frantically. "Please hurry, he's not doing so good." She didn't hear anything back, but she just stayed huddled there under his sturdy body, holding his radio like a lifeline and praying he would be alright.
2) 10-53 (man down)
She could hear the soft footsteps of her uniformed escort slightly behind her, to the left. She liked this one. He wasn't super experienced, only about a year in uniform, but he had a good eye. More than once when he was her shadow, he would point something out before she had noticed it. He had the makings of a good CSI. But he was an excellent Patrol officer as well, and she knew about the unspoken animosity between the PD and the Crime Lab. Officers didn't often cross over to become investigators.
"Hold," he said softly, and she heard the distinct sound of a gun being unholstered and cocked. He stepped ahead of her, gun up, sweeping, eyes intent. She nodded, than knelt and photographed another bit of evidence. "Move, now," he said just as softly, just as intently, and she stood, drawing her own weapon, and he was herding her away from the cross street as the window of a car exploded out. She saw an instant of pain flash across his face, and than he was pushing her to the ground, shielding her body with his.
She tried to turn in his arms, to see the car, to get off a shot, but he held her still with one strong arm, wincing as another bullet slammed into his vest, than gasping sharply, squeezing her so tight it hurt.
"Call a bus," he said huskily, and then he let go of her, shoved her towards a dumpster that could shield her in place of his firm body, and staying low, he turned, squeezing off two quick shots, one into the rear passenger tire, the other into the body of the car.
"Suspect southbound on 107th, between Cocoa and Grove, white sedan, one charlie five, alpha baker niner. Suspect is armed and dangerous, repeat, suspect is armed and dangerous." He stayed down, on one knee, as the car got away, and she could see the blood staining the back of his uniform. He had been hit, below the vest, that soft unprotected area of a few inches just above his belt, just above the cuffs that winked in the strong Miami sun.
3) 10-10 (off duty)
She didn't really know why she had let Eric and Speed talk her into going out clubbing with them. She didn't really enjoy clubbing. They always promised they would stay with her, but tonight, as usual, they had disappeared within about fifteen minutes, lured away by scantily clad women shaking what God gave them. She snorted softly to herself. If she was smart, she would leave now, get some rest, and be annoyingly chipper in the morning.
"What she's having," a vaguely familiar voice said at her side. "And give her another on me." She turned, and couldn't help but smile a bit.
"Officer Wolfe," she said, the tiniest bit of surprise coloring her voice, "I hadn't picked you out as the clubbing type." He smiled slightly and sipped his water.
"I'm not," he said. "But one of the guys just made Detective, so we figured we had to celebrate. They're happy, you're not, I figured maybe you might like some company." She grinned, and he blushed slightly. "So do you want to dance?" He asked with another, stronger blush and her smile widened, and she let him lead the way.
Out of his uniform, his physique was even more impressive. He wasn't a tall man, shorter by a head than any of her male coworkers. But he was still a few inches taller than her, even when she had her heels on, and in a tight tee shirt and jeans, he was really quite good looking. His warm hand rested gently but not too intimately on her hip, and as they danced, she couldn't help but inch herself closer to him, until they were pressed tight together, one hand hot against the small of her back, the other still loose on her hip. When it was time to go, because they did both have to work in the morning, he smiled at her, giving a little wave that was about half way to a salute, and she kissed him quickly on the cheek.
"You're a life saver," she said with a smile, and he blushed and looked at his shoes, and than she went home, and went to bed, and fell asleep smiling and thinking about warm whisky brown eyes and firm tan hands.
4) 11-80 (accident, major injuries)
Driving in Miami, in any city really, was always an adventure. Driving the Hummer when you were chasing a suspect, and there were radio cars zipping every which direction, that was something else. That was adrenalin on wheels, and Calleigh loved adrenalin. She did not, however, love driving. Somehow though, she was ahead of the radio cars, for now anyway, until someone set up a roadblock, and she had clear visual on the suspect, and she could hear the helo, but she didn't want to use the pulse, because she was too close, and she didn't want to fry the Hummer, and she didn't want to slow down.
She didn't even see the truck. All off a sudden though, there was the scream of brakes and the crunch of metal on metal, and than silence, and slowly the sirens filtered back in. There was glass everywhere, and she didn't really understand why there was glass, or why she smelled smoke. People were yelling, and the sirens hurt her ears, and there was the tinkling of glass and strong tans arms were wrapping around her, dragging her up and out through the smashed in windshield.
For a while she stared uncomprehendingly at the strong tan hands that were pressing her down, staring at the light fracturing and the little sparkles of glass, at the blood trickling from torn knuckles. She looked up, and his eyes were brown, or maybe green, or grey, she wasn't sure, but they were kind eyes, worried eyes, and he kept asking her for her name.
"Calleigh," she said after a while, because that was her name, and he smiled, and said:
"Calleigh what?" And she furrowed her brows, because he looked so familiar, and she was fairly certain he knew her name already.
5) 207A (kidnapping attempt)
Calleigh smiled at the uniforms as she ducked under the yellow tape, than went to find Alexx and the DB.
"Hey," she said, looking around the room the Medical Examiner knelt in.
"Hey," the ME said, that weary sort of tone in her voice. "This poor girl was trying so hard to leave. She got all the way to the door before the life bled out of her." Calleigh shook her head, taking in the packed bags that had been dropped, the signs of a struggle. The DB had black eyes and a bruised neck and jaw. Domestic abuse gone even worse, and now the lady was dead. She sighed, and followed the blood trail back to the kitchen.
She stopped short, staring. The scene had been cleared. This man was not supposed to be here. Slowly she began to back away, reaching for her weapon. But her heels weren't exactly sneaky, and he turned, his face transforming into an ugly mask of anger, and before she could get a shot off, he had her by the neck, the edge of a knife pressed up under her jaw.
"You move, or you scream," he growled in her ear, "and you die." She whimpered softly. "Slowly pull that gun out," he said. "Hand it to me, real slow like." She did as she was told, and he gently placed her gun on the counter, than began walking towards the kitchen door.
About two steps outside, she heard that distinctive sound of a gun cocking.
"Don't move," a familiar and oh so welcome voice said evenly. "Let her go. Drop the knife, and let her go." The man growled softly, and she heard foot steps on gravel. "Drop the knife," the officer said again, and she whimpered softly as the sharp pressure increased. The sharp crack of a gun discharging covered her gasp of pain, and then the knife was gone, the big rough hands were gone, and she was on her knees, gasping and retching, feeling ill.
A warm, comforting hand rubbed her back while another reached past her, feeling for pulse.
"You alright?" Came a soft voice in her ear, and she turned, and grabbed hold of his tan uniform, and buried her dry eyed face in his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne, and under that, the sharp scent of scared sweat. His hand just kept rubbing up and down her back, and after a moment she pulled it together and pulled away. He stood slowly, and offered her a hand, which she gladly took, letting him pull her to her feet.
She wrapped her arms around his trim waist, still inhaling his calming scent to quash the urge to go spit on the body, or puke.
"Let me take a look at you," Alexx said off to the side, and still clinging to her hero, she lifted her chin and let Alexx swab away the blood. "Just a little nick. Put a bandaid on it, you'll be fine." She nodded, and Alexx smiled that sweet gentle smile of hers, than looked up at the officer. "Thank you for looking out for my girlie," the ME said, and he smiled.
"My pleasure Ma'am," he said, in that polite calm way of his.
"Thank you Ryan," she said, squeezing her arms around his waist, and he smiled at her, briefly pressing his face into her head.
"Just doing my job Cal," he said gently, one of his hands coming up to tangle in her long blonde hair. The longer they stood there, the more she could feel the tenseness seep from his body, and when they were both finally all calmed down, they let go, and went back to their jobs, pretending that nothing at all unusual or unexpected had happened.
let me know what you think!
