Title: Perspective
Author: nicky69
Summary: Perspective is a strange thing, don't you think so?...
Spoilers: Slight for Season 1 episode "Who Are You?"
Characters: Nick Stokes
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Betaed by the lovely elmyraemilie. Any mistakes you find are my own.
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, CBS does. I'm only playing in their sandbox.

Perspective is a strange thing, don't you think so? I mean, I know all the old clichés; 'beauty is in thee eye of the beholder', 'a rose by any other name', yadda, yadda, yadda. Still, so much in life depends on our point of view.

I remember the first time that I had a gun pointed in my face. It was at the Hendler house. Grissom had just left with the suspect and as I was setting up to process the scene I found not only the murder weapon, but the murderer too. Or should I say, she found me?

On the face of it, Amy Hendler seemed the most unlikely of killers, but as a CSI, I know that appearances can be deceiving. She had seemed so harmless, so fragile, and repentant, but the gun in her hand spoke volumes.

They say, whoever 'they' are, that when faced with death your whole life passes before your eyes; well let me tell you, that's a crock. No visions of my childhood days cavorted behind my eyelids. I relived no moments of past glory or teenage angst. My whole world had shrunk down to that gun and the trembling hand which held it. With laser accuracy, my vision sharpened to the point where it was almost painful and every detail of that weapon was permanently, instantly etched into my consciousness. What before had been only a tool was now in my mind the arbiter of my doom and my eyes were drawn to it like a compass to true north, an irresistible force.

Mrs Hendler was speaking, explaining, and all I could do was hold out my hand in a futile gesture at protection and beg for my life. Even as desperate words fell from my lips, tears came unbidden to my eyes, an unwelcome and humiliating display. Only the sudden reappearance of Gissom and his calm authority saved me that day.

The memory of that gun stays with me still.

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The slight pressure and additional weight at my hip is at times a grim reminder of the realities of the world in which we live and at others a calming influence. It bestows on its bearer a sense of authority, power and responsibility. It is a burden that I choose to bear willingly and one which others give no thought at all.

Here in my hand, I hold the power over life and death, literally. In this one small package lies salvation, resolution and ultimate control. How we choose to use it is down to us. It is an oracle, revealing to us the deepest most hidden depths of our souls. Do we choose to wield this force for good or for ill? We are the true weapons.

The gun in my hand is nothing more than an extension of my will.

In its purview lies horrors untold and misery unrepentant. A chilling vision of the evil that lies at the heart of Man. Yet, at the same time, it protects the innocent and upholds the law. It is a dichotomy. Firepower and bullets, flesh and bone, justice and retribution.

Still, in the dull gleam of metal, in the quiet authority of purpose, I find that it brings me comfort.

Perspective is everything.

On a personal note guys, this was written after seeing kristen999's Monday Pic Post featuring Nicky and guns. Now bear in mind that I live in Scotland, Glasgow to be precise, (otherwise known as the knife crime capital of Europe) and the only time that I ever saw a gun except on T.V. was when I went to the USA on holidays. I have to say that seeing the damage we do to each other over here with blades, the thought of the carnage that would ensue if guns were as readily avaliable here as they are in the USA scares the crap out of me.