Disclaimer: Apologies in advance for my Spanish – blame it on the online translation site, they claim it is in Latin American dialect!
Author Notes: Tried to keep this one short – always a struggle!
The Rain.
By Rianne
It was driving her crazy.
It was a constant, flooding roar. Tumbling down the sides of her tent. Bouncing off the ground.
Invading her dreams, tangling into intense disjointed narratives of confused searching, of pining loss, of ache so keen she could taste it.
Dreams of places familiar, distorted, long lost. Of trees and words scrawled on paper. Following passages endless, with people who shifted and changed as they told her things in whispered languages she did not understand. Of blurred faces, muted colours, and the sound of her own panicked breathing.
And yet the rush of background noise kept bringing her back to wakefulness. Dragging her roughly back from the near blissful release of sleep, slamming her back hard onto the thin mat she slept upon, in this strange land of animal noise, moisture and darkness.
The need to cry hurting.
Frustration raw, at being cruelly snatched back from any semblance of rest, and dumped right back to uncomfortable and exasperated. She was so tired, so very tired.
And hot. She couldn't ever remember being in a place this hot. This rainfall made the air muggy. Oppressive and thick, warm with the heady scent of earth.
Her clothing clung, covered with a thin gravel layer of dirt which decorated everything, scratching and uncomfortable on her skin. A constant reminder that she was still awake and sleep was just a desperately longed for distant memory.
Three days, three days, she had been on supposed dry land, and yet for three days the deluge had sustained unrelenting.
She rolled again, facing away from the river of droplets cascading down the dark green tarp.
Gone was the steady lulling rock of the Sea Shepherd as she dozed atop hazy waves of sadness.
And it was only now that it was gone that its soothing motion was an absence felt.
In its place was this dull rushing background thunder of heavy droplets making landfall.
And the worst was the waiting.
The having of nothing to occupy her time. Long hours with nothing but her thoughts for company.
She had arrived here with a new and invigorated spring to her step.
With a need to work and be busy. To get started. She needed to use her hands, her brain and her heart, instead of just being flooded with all the thoughts rattling around in her mind.
She needed a release from the constant feel of the unfinished past looming over her shoulder.
But with her arrival had come this rain.
Some omen she was.
The dark clouds of where she had come from, trailing her here, and then breaking, bursting with the strain, purging, and she could do nothing but hope for the day when all that was left was their silvery linings.
Transition was hard, she wasn't acclimatizing as well as she had hoped and as she waited for the new beginning to start the long lists of tasks and experiments unable to be completed was only growing ever longer.
She rolled back, trying unsuccessfully to find a more comfortable position, and with a sigh she reached out, pressing her fingertips to the malleable tarp. Feeling the heavy beads stream in rivulets, stroking her skin. Melancholy seeping like the damp into her bones.
And the urge to go outside, to stand fully clothed in under the power of the tumultuous sky, to feel the rush of liquid as it cascaded over her troubled skin, soaking into her, became so tempting.
Would it cleanse her heart, take this weight from her soul?
Would it free her of the things she had not spoken of to another person?
But she did not want anyone here to think she was crazy. She left enough of those people behind her.
She wanted this to work out.
And the stifling heat had quite literally sapped any energy she had left anyway, the sticky heat in the small tent hugged her like an invisible blanket, it had made her so lethargic it was a major effort just to turn over.
She had lain uncomfortable for what felt like hours, but movement required too much of her.
Sulking, overtired and grouchy.
And she was trying not to wake those undoubtedly asleep in the other tents.
They were good here, good people. Like minded people. Intelligent. Entertaining.
And nothing but welcoming and inviting.
But her entire environment was unfamiliar. And as the rookie she still felt like an observed outsider. They were curious about her, it was only natural. She was too old to be a gap year student, too young for retirement, and clearly not rich.
These people were scientists, labellers, compartmentalists.
She didn't fit into their preconceived notions, or readymade boxes, and so they wondered.
They were polite about it, but she had accidentally overheard one of the elder group leaders referring to her as the 'la chica con ojos tristes.'
The girl with sad eyes... they clearly underestimated her Spanish.
She had studied her face in the tiny compact mirror after that, watching her features morph in and out of focus for longer than she ever had been able to stomach before. Who was that woman?
But she was trying to be jovial, and it was getting easier. There was a community feel being all the way out here away from civilization. They could spend hours complaining about the weather, the conditions, and the infinite nature of waiting. They could discuss things so wide ranging, from the political, to their previous volunteer adventures; right through to the TV they watched as children. They could drink warm beer on supply drop days, share chores, play cards, but she kept her cards very close to her chest in many ways.
She couldn't talk to any of them about her insomnia.
No one knew her reasons for joining their research project.
No one knew about her life before here. About what she had left behind.
Who she had left behind.
It was easier.
But by no means easy.
It was hard, lonely and hard.
And strange, to be alone surrounded by other people, trying to decide who she was now she was freed from all the familiar reference points. She felt such a feeling of alienation, like a stranger in her own skin, lost in an even stranger environment.
But there was plenty to distract and there would be much more when she could finally set to real work.
But the nights were the longest of her life.
She just desperately needed some peace, some time to rest in quietude.
To have some respite from that constant drowning feeling inside, the one that made her stomach uneasy, that kept tightening her chest with tears unshed.
But the more she fret and worried the more acute her pain.
She hated feeling weakness. Hating having to struggle to stay afloat.
Even hated herself for needing to prove that she could do this.
But tonight was the worst. The worst in all the weeks she had been gone.
She would have collapsed into unconsciousness eventually.
Had she not dreamed...
She pressed her lips together hard.
Had she not dreamed that he had been here.
He never left her thoughts, not once.
There was always something she thought he would be fascinated by, amused by, bemused by.
It was like she carried him with her. Like they still examined the worlds clues together.
But the dream had been so simple, so full of unspoken longing.
They were supposed to be having this adventure together.
And he had been here.
Right there.
She had opened her eyes to quiet, to no more rain, to sunbeams caressing the inside of her tent with a faint green glow of brand new life.
And he had been there, lying beside her.
Face tilted towards hers.
So familiar. Soft beard, ruffled curls.
Serene in his slumber, lazy, beautiful.
A faint smile gracing his lips.
Then his deep blue eyes had slowly blinked open, and as he had seen her beside him, that smile had grown.
Glittering with love.
And her heart had fluttered happily.
Her body had felt light, floating, giddy.
Her eyes had lulled closed in pleasure.
And then she had been awake.
Really awake.
Thrust back into reality.
Alone.
Back in the uncomfortable, sticky darkness.
Lost, confused, frantic.
Her heart pounding in her throat.
And the dam had broken. The well of sadness and loss running over. Her heart broken all over again.
And her hands had barely smothered her aching sobs.
She missed him so much.
It physically hurt.
A thousand bitter sweet memories of their life together flickered across the green canvas before her, blurred by her tears.
What was she doing here?
She lowered her face to her thin pillow, feeling strands of her hair stuck to her skin.
And she allowed herself to really think of them. All of them.
Jim gruff and oddly funny, Catherine so sharp in many ways, Nicky charming and sweet, Greg goofy and irrepressibly loveable, and Hank with his big soft paws and his bed hog slobber and Warrick. Oh god, Warrick.
Her tears flooded faster.
Warrick, beautiful Warrick.
And Gil.
Crying at the funeral, lecturing the day they met, drawing her into a warm hug huge hands curling around her at the end of a hard day, tossing out thinly veiled compliments with a cheeky sly grin over lab tables, the sweetest first kiss, whispering into her ear as he moved so tenderly inside her.
And she felt loved.
Felt lucky.
Felt stronger with her family in her heart.
The relief of letting go of some of her pain made her heavy lids drift closed.
And as she finally slept the sun slowly dawned, and the clouds found their silver linings.
She awoke to a faint rustle.
And the heavenly absence of rainfall.
And she lay a while feeling lighter, more contented.
There was that rustle again, and her stomach grumbled faintly in anticipation of breakfast.
She dressed quickly, face splashed with water from her canteen, teeth brushed haphazardly.
There was the rustle again, urging her to see who was awake, encouraging her out into the early sunshine.
But the camp was still as she crawled out.
Getting her first true view of the beauty of her surroundings.
No one else seemed to be awake.
It was cooler after the storm. The air was easier on her lungs and she took long fulfilling breaths, letting her gaze move over everything, appreciating with new eyes.
Then there was the rustle again, and her attention darted to the sound.
A monkey, tiny, with brown and white fur was peering back at her from the nearest tree.
And she couldn't help but smile, watching it tilt its head curiously, unintentionally mirroring her.
There was a camera, on the table in the equipment tent, heavy in her hands, expensive.
She crept quietly back, partially obscured by some washing hung up on a line.
The monkey had forgotten about her, was happily picking through leafy green growth on a tree branch.
The lens captured him perfectly.
The click loud.
Then out of crime scene habit she clicked again.
It made such a change to be focusing upon the living.
Then she felt it.
A presence, eyes on her.
And lowering her camera she turned.
And felt her whole world spin. Her limbs going slack.
Grissom.
Standing not ten feet away.
Looking dirty and sweaty and exhausted and far too good to be true.
If she was dreaming again this was far too cruel.
Her pounding heart could never withstand it.
But his eyes were shining, shimmering with hope and love.
And he was wearing his ridiculous straw hat, surely she wouldn't hallucinate that.
His backpack was dropped and it made a genuine thump as it landed.
Her lip was quivering, she really didn't know if she should laugh or cry.
But then she was in his arms, and their lips met and he was solid and hungry and real, so real.
And inside she did both as her heart sang.
Clinging back as he held her so tightly, her tears mixing with his.
Whispering to her.
Telling her he loved her as she told him.
Feeling it with every beat of her heart.
He was here!
Really here.
And the rain clouds were gone.