OOM

The soft blue glow of the television was the only light in the entire room. She hadn't even turned the bathroom light on when that first wave of nausea hit. Her stomach rolled and Chris still felt uncomfortably warm even with the cool tile of the bathroom wall against her skin but - aside from a few gasping breaths - nothing came.

He had been so afraid and so sad and so alone. The tears came again and she held her head in her hands. Chris had known for months how her father had died but she hadn't dwelled on the specifics, she couldn't. It was just too horrible to imagine him waiting to die, knowing what was going to happen and having no one there for him.

And stupidly she wanted to believe maybe it hadn't been so bad, somehow, if he could be all right now then maybe he had been okay then.

Now, she knew better. Now, she'd always have images of his final moments to remind her.

I need to go see him. Chris got to her feet, stood at the sink and washed her face. The water felt refreshing and somehow it was easier to stand, to focus. I never should have asked the bar for those dvds. Curiosity had overtaken common sense. She had known immediately what the second one was but watched anyway, though sometimes behind her hands.

She gripped the sink tightly remembering her father's body being taken away. That image, more than the gunshot or the blood on his head, had ht her hard, bringing back memories of the funeral preparation and asking the agency personnel why she couldn't see the autopsy and why the casket was sealed. Chris had known then she was being lied to she just hadn't wanted to admit it because then she had to think of the possible reasons. It had been easier just believing the lie.

"A non-event."

It didn't fit, not really, but with the way she felt right now, that phrase seemed to make sense. She had watched her father explain why they couldn't save Jack from the Drazens, her breaths becoming shallower as the scene progressed. A non-event, what does that even mean, a non-event? Who creates these words? She had wanted something more from him, something more than his calm explanation which could have been a disagreement over the budget for the way he was acting.

A new but familiar feeling replaced her grief and she was left feeling restless. Chris turned off the lights as she left the bathroom. Maybe I won't go see him. She wouldn't be able to keep from asking questions he wouldn't want to answer and maybe it was better to just not reopen these wounds. Maybe I'll go for a walk. But she was too tired for that though her anxiety meant she wouldn't sleep tonight.

The television was muted but the show was still playing. She paused, watching Stephen Saunders on the phone, talking to Tony, every muscle in her body tensed. He's still here. Still alive. Free. He killed my father, murdered all those people and he's still walking around free. Chris remembered that she had her gun here. I could find out where his room is. Or wait.

For one moment it all made so much sense, her mind forming plans she'd never fulfill. I have an oppurtunity here I'll never have again.

Then Chris remembered conversations she had before, promises she had made to her father and Jack. Promises that somehow seemed funny now.

She turned off the television and left the room, not sure where she was going.

[OOC: The episodes watched were 1x21 and 3x19.]