Honest Man
Rated- T to be safe.
a/n- I loves reviews, you can tell me if you hate it...as long it's in a constructive way...please r&r!
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He wouldn't say he loved her when he met her. That would be a lie. Did he notice her? Certainly. But it wasn't as though he saw her as anything beyond a student or co-worker. She was brilliant. Her mind constantly amazed him; she could see connections where sometimes even he couldn't. Throughout the years he watched her mature into a thoughtful, patient scientist. Some of her spark that he had admired when the first met, so many years ago, had dimmed somewhat. He knew that disillusionment came with the territory of working with death every day, but when he saw her become more jaded and cynical he felt the loss of the young women who had, once upon a time, so much hope for the future.
He worked a few cases with her and quickly grew to respect her intelligence and aptitude for her work. She was likely one of the best investigators he had ever worked with. She was passionate, at times to a fault. But her passions kept her going, kept her honest and searching for elusive truths.
Did he love her then, when they first met in San Francisco so many years ago? No. Did he love her when he asked her to join his team? No. He couldn't say he did. He supposed, it would have been romantic, if not a bit unethical, if one of his reasons for asking her to come to Las Vegas had been because of some unspoken, lingering love he held for her. However, being an honest man, he knew the truth; he didn't love her when he met her, or even the first few years she came to work with him and his team. He knew this as a fact. He truly didn't love her then. He cared for her, sure. He cared for her like he did everyone on his team.
In all honesty, in the early days he'd sometimes forget she was a woman. In a twisted way, he figured it was a compliment to her. Her work ethics gave him no cause to segregate her from the men on the night shift. That he thought her just as capable as Warrick and Nick. That's not to say he never noticed her womanly attributes. He most assuredly did notice, probably more often then was proper. Before her he only had Catherine to worry about. Catherine was…well, Catherine. She was a constant in his life. A best friend, perhaps. He knew Catherine was a beautiful woman. He would never say he hadn't, in the past, enjoyed looking at her. But, after getting to know her, and one awkward drunk night of clumsy kisses, the idea of their relationship going past anything platonic seemed…well, wrong.
When he began to take a more avid interest in Sara, he certainly did notice her to be a woman; usually during the most inopportune moments. Such as at crime scenes, leaning over he'd catch the scent of her hair, or her body lotion (something sensually exotic that he would ponder well after shift). He'd find himself staring at her curves, her lips, her legs. Imagining the taste of her.
He noticed how other men looked at her. They saw what he had forgotten for so long. While she seemed a newly found treasure, it became clear that to others she wasn't so new.
Love and lust are two very different things. Lust he could deal with and understand. He could understand lusting after her; she was a beautiful woman, and he was a red-blooded heterosexual male after all. Love was something foreign to him. It was intangible and frightening to his scientific mind.
He pushed her away. Her control of him terrified him. He watched from afar, jealousy licked his heart when she began dating. Drinking came soon after. Then giving into the burning attraction…once…twice.
She was everything he imagined and more. Freedom and exhileration. Their first time was awkward and silent. The second was wonderful, terrible, furious, and sweet.
He pushed her away. Her need for him suffocating. His need for her shredding him.
She left, his name a whisper on her lips, taking his heart with her.
He let her, his blood freezing in his veins, too proud to beg her to stay.
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fin