A 'Silent Witness' fanfic by Saffy Scarlett
TITLE: Favourite Year
CHARACTERS: Nikki, principally.
SPOILERS: Literally one line in Voids, series 13.
SUMMARY: A time in Nikki's childhood which wasn't quite so bad… Massively AU, but I can't be the only one who's wanted to write this fic! Possible multi-chap. Who knows? (Not me!)
A/N: Title based on the 'Dixie Chicks' song. As previously explained, am country music whore.
And, I swear, I'm not breaking my "being nice to Nikki" vow. Much. Well, OK, I'm trying really hard not to. I won't hospitalise her, I swear.
This is dedicated to Immortal Spud Thief, who first drew my attention to the line in question, by the way…
"You really don't get it do you?" she steams, trying to get past him. He blocks her in.
To everyone around them, it's a lover's tiff, and nothing more.
To him, it's legal; purely legal. Well, it's legal, and it's a matter of pride. To him, everything's a matter of pride, and especially when it comes to her. He can't lose his dignity in front of her, and so, instead, he chooses to lose his temper. It's not the choice he should have made, but then, he didn't know. He didn't know any of it; any of what was driving her.
Because, to her, it's more. To her, it's so much more. It's a memory of an argument from the past. It's a memory of a time she'd rather forget, because she let herself lose it, and she wants it back. It's a memory of a golden summer, and a first love, and a kiss, and nothing, and blankness, and happiness, and sorrow, and bliss…
"When investigations get tunnel vision," she continues, knowing that it's not 'investigations' that she means, "it's chronic." She doesn't even pause; this is an argument she remembers, this is a fight she's fought before, a line she's reciting, from memory, while trying to forget who said it before. "It's a black hole."
He's still staring at her, as she tries to push past, and he's still ignoring the look of pure, unadulterated hate in her eyes. He knows they'll make up. He knows it will all be alright, in the end. He knows that she'll forgive him.
The last time she had this fight, though, it wasn't quite that simple.
"It's like…" she breathes, and this time, she does pause for thought. She pauses, and she calculates, and in the end she can't hold the words in; they just come spilling out: "It' like getting married at sixteen."
She doesn't see the look of confusion on his face, and the remark is swept aside, and forgotten, amongst a million others. The significance, though, is about to become horribly apparent.