STRIS Bits

The Lavigne Effect

Author's Note: This bit is inspired by Avril Lavigne's "Sk8ter boi"... with the Stris twist of course! Read to find out what happens when you mix insomnia, Chris, Street and skating! Have fun!

*****

Sigh.

His head was all over the place. He turned to the small table by their bed. Ten thirty. Sigh.

Offer Jim Street had been up for the past hour, twisting and turning in bed. He couldn't sleep! His mind was still standing there, in the rain, watching as the medical team placed the fragile body of the five year old victim into the gray body bag. No way to save him, it was just...too late!

Now, as he laid in bed, he wondered what could've been. The scenario played in his head on and on, with the loud cry of an ailing mother in the background. He couldn't wash away the memory of the lady kneeling down beside her son's dead body. He swallowed hard, and pinched his eyes shut.

Nothing. His mind wouldn't stop! The cries, the sirens, the gunshots...everything kept playing in repeat! His ears ringing and ringing! The pain, the guilt...

"Street?" a soft voice to his right called.

He was so into his thoughts that he hadn't realized Chris was staring at him. With the covers pulled all the way to her neck, she laid sideways, now frowning surprised.

"Sorry" he blurted, without really thinking.

"For what? You've been tossing and turning...have you slept anything at all?"

He shook his head and took a deep breath.

They remained motionless for several seconds, until he said, "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll let you get some sleep!"

He got up abruptly, without giving her a chance to respond. He couldn't take it anymore! He needed some fresh air...or at least to look at something other than the ceiling in their bedroom!

His bladder was completely empty, so there was no need for the bathroom. Instead, he went towards the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge. He kept pacing, up and down, wondering what he could've done differently. These were the moments that it sucked being SWAT... being police...just, being there!

 He was deep into his thoughts, when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned around and noticed her standing by the entry of the kitchen, leaning sideways against the wall. She stared at him, as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Babe, what's going on?"

Deep breath. "Nothing."

"Street, you know you're a really bad liar, right?"  she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not! It's just that-"

"I know you too well!" she finished, while flashing a quick smile.

"Yeah." he said, bowing his head momentarily and taking yet another deep breath. "Its...this case we were working on."

"Yeah?"

"I keep- I mean- it's just keeps playing in my head, over and over and over!" he stuttered, lamenting himself, shaking his head in frustration.

Chris slid from her original post, towards the middle of the kitchen, just a foot or two from him. She listened closely, as she continued to stare him down. He set the bottle down on the kitchen island and thought for a second.

"I followed formation, we did everything by the book. Everyone did their assignments, we lined up exactly where we were supposed to. No flinching, no faulting. Perfect."