Title: Still Waiting

Author: Aeon Cole

Rating: FRT

Warnings: Character death (canon), heavy angst, tissues for Horatio Marisol fans.

Fandom: CSI: Miami

Character: Horatio Caine

Challenge: Philosophy 20 / table

Prompt: #13 Love Beyond Desire

Word Count: 442

Summary: After Marisol's death…

Author's Note: The poem is The Wait by Gary Hess.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

ooo

Time Clicks as I await

The hour ends before my take

Sitting, thinking, waiting; my mind escapes

I stand by the window as Eric says his goodbye. I gave him my place at her bedside and walked away. As I stare out the window, my mind wanders back to one day ago, one day ago when we were happy. I close my eyes and try to capture that moment again, but it's gone all too soon.

The day grows old as night passes

Wolves crying, coyotes howling; anticipating

Watching, staring, seeing -- nothing

I can't go home. I've slept in my office for two nights, when I've slept at all. The funeral is tomorrow and I have to go home. I've been wearing the same clothes since I sat at her side in the hospital, since I watched her die. The sun will be up soon and I have to go home.

The house is empty and quiet; it wasn't supposed to be. The flower Eric gave her still sits on the table in the makeshift vase. An empty beer bottle, it was all I had at the time. It made her laugh and say something about my house needing a woman's touch. I smile faintly when I see it but my smile quickly fades. I don't know if I can do this.

Silence begins the day

as morning comes without notice

Tears begin to fall, slowly

I stand in the bedroom doorway for a long time as if some invisible wall prevents me from going any further. The bed is still unmade, sheets rumpled, pillows out of place. Memories of our wedding night flash through my head; her smile, her lips, the feel of her body pressed up against mine. I close my eyes for a moment against the tears before I realize that I am alone here and let them fall, finally let them fall.

The day moves on without hope

Wishing to be what is not to be

I wander through the room now on automatic; shower, shave, comb my hair. The face staring back at me from the mirror is a stranger. That's not the same man who stared back at me three days ago. That man was happy. That man had a future.

The sun moves to its peak

without a whisper or retreat

Standing at her graveside with her family, I can't help thinking that they will always blame me. I know I will. If I'd walked away that day three months ago she'd still be alive. I loved her and she died because of it.

Time moving, but still empty

Stomach aching, curling

Still waiting

Fin