by Angela U
Author: Angela U
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of CSI or the lyrics of the song(s) used in this story.
A/N: This is my answer to the birthday challenge. This story takes place a few years after the end of season 6. A lot of things have happened in the interim. This is, for me, an ambitious undertaking and I welcome any constructive criticisms. I's also like to thank Sydne for the beta.
Summary: A lone man is found battered and broken on the side of the road, who is he? And why is he calling out Catherine's name?
On a cobweb afternoon
In a room full of emptiness
By a freeway I confess
I was lost in the pages
Of a book filled with death (Audioslave - Like a Stone).
During the late 80's, a AAA representative once described Highway 50 through White Pine County, Nevada as, "totally empty" with "no points of interest.".
He or she would have been wrong.
They found him by the side of the road. His steps were halting, slow and uneven. Several times his path swerved dangerously into the middle of the road, which was thankfully experiencing a lull in traffic, or else the ambulance would have been greeted by 5'11" bloodstain. Instead they found a Caucasian male, with unkept salt and pepper hair and bowed legs. His cerulean eyes were glazed, dull and lifeless. They showed no flicker of response when the EMT called out to him or when she placed a hand on the small of his back, so she could guide him onto a gurney. His beard showed that quite of few days had gone by without any kind of grooming, while his skin was sweating profusely yet, felt cool to the touch.
The man offered no resistance, neither verbal nor physical, as he was easily strapped to a gurney and loaded into the back of the ambulance. Blood-soaked shirt and pants were removed to reveal; no penetrating trauma but, there was a host of bruising on his chest and inner thighs ranging from hours to days old. All of which begged several, silent questions amongst those present, questions that would have to remain unanswered by them. It wasn't their job to solve the mystery of who this man is and what happened to him. Their duties were to alleviate his heat exhaustion and any other physical injuries, internal and external. After that, it would be up to the local detectives and crime lab to gather a rape kit, his clothing and fingerprints. Hopefully these items will give their John Doe a real name, because there was no wallet found and their victim was still unresponsive. Lost in his own world he refused to give any personal information. Yet he wasn't silent. One name, not his own, was repeated over and over again like a religious mantra.
"Catherine, Catherine . . . "
In his mind he saw her, his beautiful strawberry blonde goddess. He saw her turn her back to him as she walked away. As her form faded further from him she got, a terrible knot grew in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't remember her fully, couldn't remember why she wasn't by his side. Yet he knew had to because he knew somehow, someway she was the key to his salvation.