A/N: You probably never expected to see another chapter of this story, did you? Yeah, I didn't either. But I've been working on it every once in a while in hopes that I might finally post it. There hasn't been much inspiration for me to keep writing the story-Kyle hasn't been seen once in season 8! (PM me for a spoiler as to why he has not been seen) However, I've been wanting to get back to writing FF and I've got some new plotbunnies, most of which involve Kyle, Ray, and Leslie...so we shall see. No promises.
This chapter is based entirely off the episode "Dissolved" which aired last season. Some of the scenes feature dialoge directly from the show. If it seems that I am skipping lines here and there, I am. This chapter is from Kyle's viewpoint and he may or may not be paying attention the whole time. You'll hear what he hears.
I know I gave up on you guys, but reviews are greatly appreciated and may inspire me to write another chapter!
Kyle was one ring away from throwing the damn cell phone into the ocean. He loved his mother, but this was out of control. No one, not even his mom, needed to be calling him seven times a day. He had taken to ignoring most of her calls, and making excuses about it later.
If he were a bit braver, he reasoned, he would just tell her that he didn't want to talk to her. He would just look her in the eye and say that he had no wish to visit her house. But he wasn't brave. He couldn't tell her. So instead he made several trips a week to her now downsized house. He put up with hours of rantings about Ron, money troubles, and anything else that had upset her that day.
Kyle decided to ignore this call. He would take the next one. Instead he was going to enjoy his lunch break.
Usually he packed a lunch and ate in the staff room in the City Morgue building. Occasionally he would cross over to the crime lab building and have lunch with his dad. But today he decided to use his hour of freedom and go to a local outdoor cafe. He didn't mind eating alone. During his time in juvie he had learned the advantages of sitting and watching. So much could be learned by studying humans in their natural habitat.
Kyle was studying an elderly man who was feeding the birds. The man would toss some bread crusts to the excited birds, then sit back and breathe in with a sigh. Kyle wondered what the man was thinking about. Was he wondering, reminiscing, regretting? Kyle was brought out of his reverie by the sound of a chair pulling up beside him.
He turned to find Leslie sitting with her head on her fist, grinning at him. "Hey," he said happily. "What's got you so happy?"
Kyle had almost forgotten. He had graduated at Christmastime. Now his classmates would be receiving their diplomas. "I forgot. When's the date again? I've got make sure I take work off."
"The 12th," She said happily, "And if you can't get work off you're quitting. I have not suffered through thirteen years with you only to have you miss the big day."
He was about to retort when his cell phone rang. Out of habit he glanced down. Mom. Frack. He hit the ignore button.
"Who was that?" Leslie asked innocently.
"You aren't going to answer it?"
Kyle hesitated. It was true that in the past he had told Leslie nearly every gruesome detail of his life, but when it came to his parents he had been rather quiet. She knew very little about either of them.
"She's been calling a lot. I can't keep answering every time."
Leslie was quiet a moment, trying to stitch things together. "Is…everything okay with her?"
"Not really." Kyle ate a French fry. "Can we talk about this later? It's gonna take some explanations and I've only got fifteen minutes to get back."
Leslie nodded, her face blank. "Okay, I've got to run anyway. I've got a dentist appointment." She grimaced. "I'll call you tonight."
She stood and placed a kiss on his cheek. It had become something of a custom lately. Although due to her schoolwork and his morgue-work they had been unable to see each other as often as usual, she ended each of their meetings with a kiss on the cheek. Kyle knew she was probably trying to send him a message, but every time he wanted to take things further, his courage failed him. He just couldn't figure out how to segway from a platonic relationship to a romantic one.
Shaking aside the tingly feeling that always accompanied a kiss from Leslie, Kyle stood up. He paid the bill and headed back to the lab.
He was digging through the storage room for more gloves when his phone rang again. Seeing his mother's name on the screen for once did not bring anger. He had made up his mind about what to do. He only needed the opportunity.
"Dr. Price?" Kyle asked, walking back into the autopsy room.
"There are no more gloves in the storage room. Do you want me to run over to the crime lab and see if they have extras?"
It was a lame story even to him, but Dr. Price looked at him with slight understanding. She had, no doubt, heard his phone vibrating in his pocket all day. "Go ahead."
Kyle took his time walking over. He wanted to be sure he knew what he would say. He only hoped his father wasn't out at a crime scene. Luck seemed to be with him. He had only just entered the hall headed towards the lab when he saw his father walking towards him, cell phone glued to his ear. As the older man drew nearer, he put the phone away and greeted his son with a short "Hey."
"Hey Dad," Kyle replied, careful to infuse the simple words with the feelings he did not want to express.
Horatio, ever perceptive, looked at him with care, the way a father inspects a child with a cut. "You okay?"
A rush of affection raced through Kyle's veins. His mother had never bothered to ask questions like that—no one had, except Leslie, perhaps. "Yeah…I've been okay. It's just that Mom's been calling me non-stop." Kyle paused. That was a little exaggerated. "I mean, she's already called me four times and…" The frustration of the past days broke through his carefully planned routine. "I can't deal…I just can't deal with—"
"Hang on a second. What are you talking about?" Horatio interrupted. Kyle took a breath in. He often lost his temper in conversation and he had a feeling his father's question was more a chance for him to calm himself than to get answers.
When he had regained his mask of calm, Kyle explained. "Well she always wants me to come over to her house and when I do it's just trouble. She's constantly getting mad, always talking about Ron."
"Kyle," Horatio's voice was slightly admonishing, "she's been through a lot lately hasn't she?"
Kyle just barely refrained from sighing in frustration. His father was right of course, but there's only so much he should be expected to take. He gave a small nod of the head and said, "I know. It's just that she isn't getting any better, Dad." He wanted to throw in like you promised, but it sounded childish, even in his head.
"Has she been taking the medication?" Horatio questioned.
How should I know? Am I my mother's keeper? Kyle said to himself. To his father he said, "I don't know. I've been really busy with work." It was a safe answer.
Kyle's phone chirped in his hand. "Someone's calling me from my house. It has to be her."
Horatio took the phone and answered it—"Julia?"
Even Kyle could hear the sound of the line going dead. Horatio stared at the phone a moment. Kyle felt so vindicated he couldn't help but say, "See?" Horatio gave a small nod of the head.
"She's ready for the Y," Kyle informed Tara.
Dr. Price looked at the young man on her table. "All right. Grab the bone saw, please." Tara then looked across the morgue at CSI Wolfe, who was talking on his cell phone.
Before he even heard the sound of the gun, Kyle felt his reflexes yank him toward the ground. He cowered behind the table until his mind caught up with the action around him. He looked to his right where he saw Tara and her assistant crouching, their faces contorted with fright. He looked to his left where he saw CSI Wolfe with his gun drawn, pointing at some target across the room.
Kyle followed the direction of the gun towards the door. Mom. He didn't even think the words before they were flying out of his mouth, "Mom! What are you doing?"
Julia didn't even seem to be paying attention to her son. Her face was deadly calm and set. Kyle hardly processed what was happening as he watched CSI Wolfe put his gun down. A rush of panic raced through him as the gun pointed at each body in the lab but his own.
The steel woman finally turned to the boy. "Kyle, come with me." It was an order—direct, concrete, and absolutely to be followed.
He needed time. "I will, just put the gun down, you're scaring everybody!" You're scaring me, he wanted to say, but he knew it wouldn't matter.
"I will when we're safe." He could see his mother wasn't about to be persuaded. Knowing he was out of time, Kyle took one step forward and stopped. Blue eyes met blue eyes.
"Julia." She whirled around and pointed the gun at Horatio. A rush of panic much stronger than before hit Kyle.
"Don't come any closer, Horatio." For the first time there was real fear in Julia's eyes. "I'm gonna get him back."
"This is not the way."
"I've tried your way. But you still blame me for trying to kill Ron, for hurting our son, for taking those pills."
"Julia, you were right, and I was wrong."
Kyle was utterly confused. All he could think about was his racing heart and the gun now trembling in his mother's hands. He didn't even try to decipher his parents' conversation.
His mother was turning back to him. For a split second he wondered whether she was about to turn the gun on him. She wasn't. "Goodbye, Kyle."
Instinctively, he reached out. "Mom no!" Never had such terror racked his body. No thoughts went through his head. He had no memory that words had even escaped his lips. All he knew was that his arm was reaching forward and his body was preparing to lunge. He closed his eyes.
No sound of bullet fire reached his ears. No screams. No body hitting the floor. He opened his eyes. His father's hand was locked onto the trigger.
He did not process what happened next. He did not watch his mother be put into handcuffs and read her rights. He did not watch her be lead away. He did not look at the others. He only felt the stinging in his eyes.
He turned and walked away so that his father would not see the hot tears falling down his cheeks.