by Battus philenor
Archive: Please ask first I might say yes.
Disclaimer: I have no claim to anything CSI related. I get nothing from this but happiness in doing things that those who do own CSI would never do.
Summary: *Warning* There is a character death.
Copywrite © by Battus philenor 4/2004
The glass tumbler was heavy in his hand as he watched the crystal cubes floating, making slow circles through the amber liquid. Needing to feel the burning path it created; he forced another large
gulp pushing the elixir through his digestive track. The pain would at least let him know he was still alive while numbing any remaining senses.
Grissom choked out a laugh as he realized again how ridiculously prophetic those words had been. Wondering, not for the first time, what Sara would think about those words now. Fighting back the sting of tears that attacked his eyes, an irrepressible gurgled moan escaped from his throat as a dry sob wracked his body yet again.
It took him fifty years to realize that a person could actually cry themselves out of tears. That well would apparently run dry eventually leaving the person feeling even more broken. Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, was a complete falsehood. Alfred Tennyson never knew his Sara.
His Sara. Knowing he would think of her that way for his remaining days, he realized with little emotion that he did indeed have some lingering tears. The heat they left on his face prompted him to absently bring the glass to his forehead as if to stem the tide.
The coolness of the smooth surface pressing into his skin shocked him to his core as it reminded him instantly of the second and final time she had touched his face.
Her hands had been so cold. They had been working outdoors in the cool desert night for most of their shift with not much to show for their efforts. It had been just the two of them and the frustration got to them both.
The combination of hurt and anger from the case along with the pent up feelings for her caused him to finally reach out to her. Discussing the disregard and degradation of yet another woman victim as only Sara could, he had leaned in and kissed her at a time when neither had expected it.
She responded with nothing but love. There was no challenging his timing. There was no wondering why he had waited so long. There was no anger over years wasted.
Those were questions and emotions which were left for him now.
He had her for two days before she was taken away. A kid who had a car he couldn’t handle, and now so many lives were destroyed. His love gone too soon.
Throwing the not quite empty glass against his living room wall; he watched the fragments fall to the floor as what was left of the liquid drizzled in slow streaks down to the baseboards. He went to the hall closet to retrieve the broom and guiltily began sweeping up the shards, wishing it would be as easy to dispose of his shattered heart.
- The End -
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