Author: Lithium Shamrock
Spoilers: Not really.
Paring: Well…G/S? Make your own conclusions
Authors note: Another stand alone fic. Probably not a happy one.
-------------------------
Sara's POV
-------------------------
It was hard; the knowledge.
The realisation that it was gone.
I'm not even sure I had it, some days I thought it was obvious even for bystanders.
But now, now I don't know.
That's the problem with life; the most certain you can be about an event is when you're living it. And even then, all evidence is open to interpretation.
But if you think too much about that, you begin to wonder if life's just a dream – a meaningless dream that doesn't matter.
And it's dangerous to think that way.
Life matters.
It has to.
I find myself constructing memories – adding things, but basing them around the history we shared. Making them happier; having me say the right things at the right time. Having you reciprocate – and admit your feelings.
I guess I'm daydreaming.
We did share something.
In my mind, I believe we did.
After all, all we have in this life is interpretations.
Thinking about it, he is right. I question things too much. I dissect, and analyse, and compare, until everything becomes a pattern. Then I still want to know more. Nothing is ever enough for me.
I wonder if that's why he refused to have dinner with me.
Even the mention of that moment makes me cringe; his rejection. It was simple, yet so cutting. No explanations.
I guess maybe I scared him, he likes things slow. But I couldn't keep this up forever. I guess he doesn't like people being forward.
But I hate to dwell on the past.
And I hate to dwell on him.
But I know it's not *him* that I really want. I just want someone who's smart and funny to be with me.
I just liked him, that's all.
I like to tell myself that, it makes me have hope, hope that that I'll love someone else as much as I loved him.
To me, if we shared anything, what we shared was powerful. I can only imagine what it would have felt like if we ever got together.
He was good to me, well, most days. He made me feel like I was more than a scientist, he made me feel special.
And few things in this life make me feel special. My only other highs are caffeine and solving cases.
I'm not sure if it's easier to pretend there was nothing between us; that all the things he said were just spur of the moment comments, driven by testosterone, interpreted and shaped into something more meaningful.
His words meant the world to me; and although that should feel pathetic, it doesn't.
But he's gone now. And I can persecute myself with the 'what ifs' but it's not really going to make a difference.
I feel like a fool, I'm allowing a man to make me cry, to make me feel the emotions I pushed down inside me.
And he didn't even have the decency to tell me. He could have at least told me something; I guess that goes to show there was nothing between us…if there was something between us, he would have told me.
…But maybe he's sparing my feelings?
Maybe he's trying to make me feel jealous…would Grissom go as low as trying to make me feel jealous?
Or maybe he was lying.
I only heard him talking about it to someone.
Talking about *her*.
Maybe it's a ruse. Maybe he's trying to stop the rumours about us – after all, Grissom isn't one to share information about his personal life, unless he has ulterior motives.
Or maybe he's trying to save me – He doesn't want me to dwell on what we could have had together.
Or maybe I'm in denial. Maybe I'm interpreting it wrong.
Maybe it doesn't matter.
I'm sure there are worse things that could happen to me. I could get hit by a truck tomorrow – end up paralysed.
Right now, deep down, I'm secretly hoping something bad happens to me, like a truck accident – minus the paralysis. It would force his hand; he could confess his feelings to me; like in the movies. Movies have happy endings.
Maybe I should ask him to go to the movies with me. We could go as friends…He'd never agree. I know that – It doesn't matter if he has someone or not –he'd never go to the movies with me.
Fear of confessing too little, or too much.
And I guess everyone knows that.
And I bet they're all laughing at me now. 'Sara Sidle, shot down by Gil Grissom. She was just a fool in love'
I never knew how much real heartbreak hurt – the pain is spreading through my mind, and my memories.
And I hate it. I just want to ask him, straight out.
And I should be able to – If we're nothing else, we're still friends, right? I've known him forever, yet we don't seem to have that kind of relationship.
But I know, If I went up and asked him, he'd probably disregard me, or get angry.
Why should I care how he feels? He doesn't seem to care about me.
I wonder who *she* is. She could be someone I know; maybe someone at the lab? No. Not at the lab. He wouldn't break the rules for me – so he wouldn't for anyone else.
'Maybe he didn't break the rules for you because he doesn't love you.'
I know I'm going round in circles. I'm constantly dragging myself back to a single question, a question where evidence is discounted.
A question that can only be answered by him.
'Do you feel anything for me?'
Well, I guess I have insufficient evidence to answer that.
I wonder what she's like…blonde…brunette…redhead?
I guess I really don't want to know. It wouldn't matter if she were pretty, or ugly, or anything.
Because now she had the one thing I truly desire.
And I hate her for that. I hate her because she has everything I want.
Wait, If I had everything I wanted, like she does, wouldn't that result in hating myself, if I hate her?
I guess I hate that too. He's the only man who leaves my brain is a state of flux; not even knowing how to feel, if I have the right to feel, if there's anything left to feel.
* * *
* * *
I saw *them* together today.
It sickened me to my stomach; because my fears had been confirmed. He was seeing someone.
It broke me, to see him enjoying himself so much, and the amount of physical contact they were sharing.
I guess it made me realise something.
He was the one person in my life who really made me smile.
*She* makes him smile. Well, he was practically grinning with her today, I thought that those expressions were reserved for me alone. I guess I was wrong.
I should be content; at least he's happy.
He doesn't lock himself in his office for hours on end, well, unless he's on the phone to her.
And I feel like I'm cracking up, because when I'm in his presence, I don't think I even register on his radar anymore.
I'm just an employee again.
A lowly employee in love with her supervisor.
And every night I go in, and every night I'm determined that I'll make him tell me about her, or get Nick or Warrick to ask him.
And some nights I just want to resign, or get myself assigned to day shift. Because it hurts so much to see him happy, to know she gets to have him.
To know he's someone else's.
I know I'm bitter. Why shouldn't I be? I have a right to be bitter. The man I love has someone; and it's not me.
I can only pray I get over this. I just don't want to do it with pills, alcohol, or one-night stands.
I guess right now, I'm trying to punish myself with the pain; I was irrational to think that we'd ever be together.
Of course he'd go with someone else.
I'm just not good enough for him.
Maybe I'm not good enough for anyone.
But I know I should think that way.
Because tomorrow is a new day.
And I *will* learn to smile again.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Please Review.
Spoilers: Not really.
Paring: Well…G/S? Make your own conclusions
Authors note: Another stand alone fic. Probably not a happy one.
-------------------------
Sara's POV
-------------------------
It was hard; the knowledge.
The realisation that it was gone.
I'm not even sure I had it, some days I thought it was obvious even for bystanders.
But now, now I don't know.
That's the problem with life; the most certain you can be about an event is when you're living it. And even then, all evidence is open to interpretation.
But if you think too much about that, you begin to wonder if life's just a dream – a meaningless dream that doesn't matter.
And it's dangerous to think that way.
Life matters.
It has to.
I find myself constructing memories – adding things, but basing them around the history we shared. Making them happier; having me say the right things at the right time. Having you reciprocate – and admit your feelings.
I guess I'm daydreaming.
We did share something.
In my mind, I believe we did.
After all, all we have in this life is interpretations.
Thinking about it, he is right. I question things too much. I dissect, and analyse, and compare, until everything becomes a pattern. Then I still want to know more. Nothing is ever enough for me.
I wonder if that's why he refused to have dinner with me.
Even the mention of that moment makes me cringe; his rejection. It was simple, yet so cutting. No explanations.
I guess maybe I scared him, he likes things slow. But I couldn't keep this up forever. I guess he doesn't like people being forward.
But I hate to dwell on the past.
And I hate to dwell on him.
But I know it's not *him* that I really want. I just want someone who's smart and funny to be with me.
I just liked him, that's all.
I like to tell myself that, it makes me have hope, hope that that I'll love someone else as much as I loved him.
To me, if we shared anything, what we shared was powerful. I can only imagine what it would have felt like if we ever got together.
He was good to me, well, most days. He made me feel like I was more than a scientist, he made me feel special.
And few things in this life make me feel special. My only other highs are caffeine and solving cases.
I'm not sure if it's easier to pretend there was nothing between us; that all the things he said were just spur of the moment comments, driven by testosterone, interpreted and shaped into something more meaningful.
His words meant the world to me; and although that should feel pathetic, it doesn't.
But he's gone now. And I can persecute myself with the 'what ifs' but it's not really going to make a difference.
I feel like a fool, I'm allowing a man to make me cry, to make me feel the emotions I pushed down inside me.
And he didn't even have the decency to tell me. He could have at least told me something; I guess that goes to show there was nothing between us…if there was something between us, he would have told me.
…But maybe he's sparing my feelings?
Maybe he's trying to make me feel jealous…would Grissom go as low as trying to make me feel jealous?
Or maybe he was lying.
I only heard him talking about it to someone.
Talking about *her*.
Maybe it's a ruse. Maybe he's trying to stop the rumours about us – after all, Grissom isn't one to share information about his personal life, unless he has ulterior motives.
Or maybe he's trying to save me – He doesn't want me to dwell on what we could have had together.
Or maybe I'm in denial. Maybe I'm interpreting it wrong.
Maybe it doesn't matter.
I'm sure there are worse things that could happen to me. I could get hit by a truck tomorrow – end up paralysed.
Right now, deep down, I'm secretly hoping something bad happens to me, like a truck accident – minus the paralysis. It would force his hand; he could confess his feelings to me; like in the movies. Movies have happy endings.
Maybe I should ask him to go to the movies with me. We could go as friends…He'd never agree. I know that – It doesn't matter if he has someone or not –he'd never go to the movies with me.
Fear of confessing too little, or too much.
And I guess everyone knows that.
And I bet they're all laughing at me now. 'Sara Sidle, shot down by Gil Grissom. She was just a fool in love'
I never knew how much real heartbreak hurt – the pain is spreading through my mind, and my memories.
And I hate it. I just want to ask him, straight out.
And I should be able to – If we're nothing else, we're still friends, right? I've known him forever, yet we don't seem to have that kind of relationship.
But I know, If I went up and asked him, he'd probably disregard me, or get angry.
Why should I care how he feels? He doesn't seem to care about me.
I wonder who *she* is. She could be someone I know; maybe someone at the lab? No. Not at the lab. He wouldn't break the rules for me – so he wouldn't for anyone else.
'Maybe he didn't break the rules for you because he doesn't love you.'
I know I'm going round in circles. I'm constantly dragging myself back to a single question, a question where evidence is discounted.
A question that can only be answered by him.
'Do you feel anything for me?'
Well, I guess I have insufficient evidence to answer that.
I wonder what she's like…blonde…brunette…redhead?
I guess I really don't want to know. It wouldn't matter if she were pretty, or ugly, or anything.
Because now she had the one thing I truly desire.
And I hate her for that. I hate her because she has everything I want.
Wait, If I had everything I wanted, like she does, wouldn't that result in hating myself, if I hate her?
I guess I hate that too. He's the only man who leaves my brain is a state of flux; not even knowing how to feel, if I have the right to feel, if there's anything left to feel.
* * *
* * *
I saw *them* together today.
It sickened me to my stomach; because my fears had been confirmed. He was seeing someone.
It broke me, to see him enjoying himself so much, and the amount of physical contact they were sharing.
I guess it made me realise something.
He was the one person in my life who really made me smile.
*She* makes him smile. Well, he was practically grinning with her today, I thought that those expressions were reserved for me alone. I guess I was wrong.
I should be content; at least he's happy.
He doesn't lock himself in his office for hours on end, well, unless he's on the phone to her.
And I feel like I'm cracking up, because when I'm in his presence, I don't think I even register on his radar anymore.
I'm just an employee again.
A lowly employee in love with her supervisor.
And every night I go in, and every night I'm determined that I'll make him tell me about her, or get Nick or Warrick to ask him.
And some nights I just want to resign, or get myself assigned to day shift. Because it hurts so much to see him happy, to know she gets to have him.
To know he's someone else's.
I know I'm bitter. Why shouldn't I be? I have a right to be bitter. The man I love has someone; and it's not me.
I can only pray I get over this. I just don't want to do it with pills, alcohol, or one-night stands.
I guess right now, I'm trying to punish myself with the pain; I was irrational to think that we'd ever be together.
Of course he'd go with someone else.
I'm just not good enough for him.
Maybe I'm not good enough for anyone.
But I know I should think that way.
Because tomorrow is a new day.
And I *will* learn to smile again.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Please Review.