New
Arrivals
Author-Ice Bear
Titles
Rode Hard
by Ice Bear
Summary: Jim's busy life catches up with him. Rated PG (despite the title!).
Author's notes: The story is routed in my own experience in my last job which came to a climax on the Saturday of a Memorial Day weekend. I had planned to be on an 8am flight for a long weekend but ended up at work - as usual - instead. By the time things were taken care of (the 2001 Tax Bill to be specific) there was simply no way I was going anywhere but home. I lay down on my couch and was pretty certain I wouldn't be able to move again regardless of who wanted me or what the emergency was.
Disclaimer: No money changed hands for the writing of this story, and there certainly isn't enough in my bank account to buy the guys, so I just borrowed them.
Thank god Sandburg’s out of town, he thought as he put his gun away before urging his tired body into the living room. Grabbing one of the throw pillows off the far end, he eased himself onto the couch, toeing off his shoes as he did so. A huge sigh escaped his weary body as it gratefully accepted the embrace of the soft cushions.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was it, he wasn’t moving for the next forty eight hours, regardless of what happened. Aliens could invade Cascade for all he cared – they were welcome to her. And if the President were to call – well, he’d just have to leave a message.
Scenes from the last three months played across his mind - eighteen hour days; early morning call outs; fast food abandoned on desk tops and truck seats; the chaos associated with four visiting dignitaries; a defense attorney who thought he’d outlast the detective’s patience by keeping him on the stand for four days straight; the Everest sized mound of paperwork done late at night; and the two dead bodies he’d pulled from that burning car. His eyes flew open as that memory assaulted his senses – the searing heat; the smell of burning steel, rubber, and human flesh; the crackle as the flames claimed the car; the fear at being unable to determine if what he was seeing was real or not through the smoke, haze, and light.
No, he wasn’t going back there. He was going to lie quietly and hope the world forgot about him for a while – just as he planned to forget about it. He turned his head slightly but the remote was on the far end of the coffee table and truth be told he didn’t have the energy required to get it. That was okay, though. Silence was golden and he could deal with silence. Silence meant no one was yelling at him – not Simon; not the Commissioner; not the Mayor; not the hired thugs belonging to that rock star. Yeah, he could live with silence.
He drifted along, eyes closed, body still until he remembered he’d promised to attend Simon’s barbeque that afternoon. Well, a man didn’t have to eat. Besides, there was no way he was getting off the couch. He wasn’t sure he could get up, even if he wanted to. His body, it seemed, had gone on strike. Well, it wasn’t like he was the life of the party anyway, and there’d be enough people there so he wouldn’t be missed. Besides, given the way he’d been acting lately, most of the bullpen would probably be happy to learn he was AWOL.
With a shaking hand he haphazardly covered himself with the afghan. It was official: life- his life - was just too much. He had nothing left to give and until he could recharge his brain and his body, he wasn’t moving off the couch. And for anybody who thought different - tough.
~end~