TITLE: Don't Let Me Leave

AUTHOR: Anansay

RATING: PG-13

SPOILERS: None

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters. They are owned by the CBS corporation.

~Don't Let Me Leave~

by Anansay

I don't want to leave. I wish he would do something… just DO SOMETHING… but no… he doesn't do anything…

I don't want to leave… please don't let me leave… please ask me to stay… but nothing is said. He just sits there, his glasses in his hands, eyes looking down and not at me, like he can't look at me, like he doesn't want to look at me… like he doesn't really care. I scream at him – in my head – to say something. His head doesn't come up. He just sits there, head down, doing nothing.

My body is shaking so violently now, I wonder if I'll even be able to walk out of this building. Or if I'll trip or something.

JUST DO SOMETHING, DAMMIT!!!

I realize he isn't going to do anything.

He won't say anything.

He won't do anything.

He'll just sit there and watch me leave.

Or he'll just sit there and do his paperwork as I walk out.

Alone.

I sigh and turn on my heels and walk down the hallway. I keep hoping that I'll hear his voice calling me.

But nothing.

I get to the elevators… and nothing.

As the doors close, it is as though they are closing and locking forever on a part of my life that is now over.

He's not coming. He can't catch me now. I have to keep on walking. My pride demands it.

The doors slide open to reveal the front entrance way and the doors to outside.

I can hear the clack of my heels on the floor as they take me closer and closer to the doors of outside. My heart is still hoping for one last shout from him. One last word… One last sound. My mind imagines him still in his office, head buried in paperwork, grumbling.

The sun hits me like a laser, blinding me temporarily. I walk to my car like a robot, fishing my keys from my pocket and opening the car door and sliding my body in behind the wheel before shutting the door. Like shutting the door on that part of my life.

So many doors closing… where's that damn window!?!

I drive back to my place… like a robot on automatic, taking turns and stopping at all the right times.

My house is empty. The boxes are piled against the wall holding all that is mine. Box after box.

My phone is disconnected and packed. Everything is packed. My life is packed. Ready to be shipped to another state, another job, another life.

I stand in the middle of my living room, now huge and bare with square stains on the walls where the pictures used to be and the big stain on the wall where the book shelf used to be. I stand in the middle of this room until my legs buckle beneath me and I'm a pile on the floor, body slumped forward as I come to grips that this is the end. The end of this life. Time to say goodbye. My eyes look around me. The room is huge. And I feel so small in it. So insignificant. I am nothing between these walls. I am nothing to him.

He never even tried. I told him I was leaving and he never even tried to keep me there. Not even with the shallow promise that it was really the lab, and not him, that needed me there. Not him, no… never him. Only the lab, the cases, the bodies. But never him. He needs no one it seems. And he assumes that like him, no one else needs anyone either.

I sit in this room, alone on the floor, wondering if it was all worth it, coming here. Three years and I'm going back. I'm leaving. Now I just wait for the moving guys to come and carry my life away into a truck, to a different life. They can't seem to come quick enough I think, and I'm stuck waiting, thinking, wondering… and even hoping.

As long as there is breath in the body, the soul shall have hope. So I try to not to breathe. I breathe out, feeling the air slowly leave my body and my body slump forward, bending over itself, the lungs slowly collapsing, the chest cavity emptying. My head hangs, chin against chest, eyes closed. And I feel it. I feel it leaving my body. My hands become numb, fingers tingling with depressed oxygen.

I feel my body slowly becoming mush, slowly sinking into the floor.

Then my lungs start in. Hitching and jerking in their attempt to draw in air. I keep my mouth closed, my eyes closed and my body numb and relaxed. I don't tense. I stay relax. But my lungs have a different idea and the hitching and jerking become spasms as they try desperately to draw in air. I fight it as much and as long as I can but it becomes a desperate attempt for my body to live even if my soul wants to die.

My head comes up as my mouth opens and draws up gulpfuls of air to satiate my bursting lungs. I lay down on my back, my chest panting as my lungs make sure they can still draw in air after that bout of anaphylaxis.

Then the hitching in my chest becomes something else and I feel it coming up, that which I tried to so long to push down and forget: the pain. It comes up and out and bursts from my body in a loud torrent of sound as I sob my pain into the empty room. It echoes my sobs making it sound like many people crying instead of just the one. The voices surround me, these indistinct parts of myself coming to support me in my pain as they cry out their own pain. I am surrounded by the sobs echoing off the walls, until one by one they subside to become whimpers in my throat, my face wet with tears that have fallen into my hair. I roll over and curl myself into a fetal position, wrapping my arms around my legs and holding myself like that. A most secure position, a child in a womb protected from all sides.

I stay like that for a long time; the sun's shadow moving across my body. With cramps in my legs from staying in that position for so long, I uncurl myself and drag myself to a sitting position. Something brought me back.

What was it?

A sound.

Far away.

A ringing.

Far away.

My head turns slowly to see my jacket on the floor by the front door. The ringing seems to be coming from there. My cell phone.

My cell phone is ringing.
Groaning like the old woman that I feel, I crawl over to the jacket and fish out the phone.

"Sidle" I say automatically, not bothering disguising the weariness in my voice.

There is silence on the other end. Just when I wonder if it was a wrong number, or a crank, I take it away from my ear to press the end button when I hear a voice. I put it back to my ear and listen.

"Sara?"

My heart stops in my chest and my breath doesn't move. It's him.

I say nothing. What do I say? Do I want to say anything? Is it too late to say anything?

"Yeah…" I say.

I can hear him breathing. Faintly but it's there. And it sends chills down my spine. Damn my body for responding against the wishes of my mind!

"Are you gone yet?" Was that hope in his voice?

I decide I don't want to play games anymore. "Why are you calling?"

There is silence on the other end. It seems he cannot handle direct questions. Well, I am tired of playing games anymore. I want answers. He will not call me and play games anymore.

"Fine. I'm hanging up." And my finger presses the button and I put it back down.

There is silence in the room again. A deafening all encompassing silence which signifies just how alone I really am.

I sit with my back against the wall, the jacket at my side. The phone is silent. I am glad the phone is silent. And yet… as I stare at the phone, I find myself willing for it to ring… just one more time…

With a self-derogatory snort I push myself to my feet and head to my bathroom. I've left one roll of toilet paper, just in case. But there's no towel to dry my hands. Everything is packed. I dry my hands on my pants just as the phone rings again. I stop in mid wipe and listen. It rings again. It's calling to me. Do I? Is it him? Something tells me it's him. Games again…

Slowly I walk towards it. If it's still ringing when I get there, I'll answer it.

It's still ringing when I get there. I stare at it, willing for it to stop. It doesn't. Ten rings he's let it ring. I answer it.

"Sara don't go." He says quickly.

I lean against the wall and let myself fall to the floor. He sounds so… scared and so desperate. God I want to believe him. My heart begs me to say something. My head adamantly refuses to let my mouth work.

"Sara please…" his voice comes again, pleading this time.

I shut my eyes tight against the pain in my heart. It's thudding against my chest now, trying to break free, wanting to go through the phone to him.

"Please… Sara… don't go… talk to me… please…" his pleading is exacerbating. Talk to me, he says. Talk to him?? About what? What he doesn't want to hear? About feelings and emotions?

I sit with my back against the wall, the phone to my ear, saying nothing.

I can hear him breathing now, hard as though he's just run a marathon. I can picture him in my mind, him holding his head in his hand, eyes shut tight. I open my eyes to rid myself of that heart-wrenching sight.

"Sara," his voice comes again. "I'm right outside. Please… can't we talk?"

My eyes shoot open. Outside? Here? I resist the urge to run to the windows and check. I shut my eyes and begin to rock back and forth. "No, Grissom. No more talking. I'm through. I'm leaving. Goodbye." And I press the End button again and drop the phone to my jacket.

My head bangs against the wall as I try to force the tears down. They will not come again, I vow. I squeeze them tight, clenching my fists hard, feeling my nails dig into my palms. I imagine them ripping into the skin and the blood coming out. There is pain but it is good pain. It takes away from the pain in my heart. I squeeze them harder willing the blood to come.

There is a knock on my door. And everything stops.

"SARA!"

He is there, on the other side of my door. I can see the shadow from his feet beneath the door jam. He is here. He was telling the truth.

"Sara, open the door, please!" His voice sounds strange. It cracks when he calls out to me. Was he crying?

"Sara…!!"

I realize he won't go away. But I remind myself that it's too late now. The tickets have been bought, the boxes packed, my resignation handed in.

I get up and unlock my door.

He is standing there, one hand leaning against the door frame holding his body up. He lifts his head and looks at me. His eyes are red, his face blotchy and red. His lips tremble just slightly. He looks at me and begs me with his eyes before he pushes himself to a standing position.

"What do you want?" I ask quietly.

"Please… don't go…"

"Why?"

He stares at me and I can see him fighting with himself. This is his fight, I tell myself, and I will have no hand in it. He must deal with it one way or another. "I… I – I don't want you to…" he stammers with great difficulty to get the words out.

"Why?" I ask again. I need the clarification. No more assumptions. No more plants. No more cute little phrases meant to make my stomach to flip flops as he walks away.

He swallows audibly. "Because… because I… I – "
"Forget it." I interrupt him. I really don't want to hear this. It's too late. If it's so hard for him to say it, then I don't want to hear it. I back up to close the door, but his hand shoots out and stops it from closing. I look at him in surprise.

"Sara, I don't want you to go because I… I want you here… with me…"
"Not enough." I say and push the door closed quickly before he can stop it. It latches and stays closed. I lean my head against it and close my eyes. My heart aches and the sobs threaten to come again. This door is him, I realize. Closed and hard and walled up for good. I have to turn around and live my life. Just as I'm about to turn away I hear it. Softly from the other side.

I go back and press my ear against the door. It's there again. The same sound. Over and over again. So soft and yet so there.

I open the door.

He is still there.

He lifts his head, his lips are still moving. He is still saying it. Over and over again. But now he's looking at me, looking into me and still saying.

"I love you, Sara… I love you, Sara… I love you, Sara…" His voice begins to break as the enormity of the words settles in and begins to shatter his walls. "I love you… Sara…"

I can do nothing but stand there and gape at him, wondrously. Until his head falls to his chest and his shoulders begin to shake. His hand comes up to shadow his face, to hide his tears. But I can hear him, I can hear his sobs as his lips try to keep it in.

My hand reaches out and touches him on the side of the face. And he sobs loudly at my touch. At the same time, I pull him to me as he comes toward me, his other hand outstretched toward me. I pull him into me, my arms wrapping around his shuddering body, holding his head against my shoulder. The words are still coming, in between sobs, broken by the sobs. His hands wrap around my body holding me tightly as though I might fly away or disappear suddenly into thin air. His hands are all over my back, my shoulders, my waist as he tries to feel all of me at once, afraid he'll never hold me again.

I feel this from him, I hear this from him, I know this from him. He is with me, inside my head.

"I love you, Sara…" It comes to me over and over again, like the song of a broken heart trying to mend itself.

With the last sane thought, I close the door behind him and allow myself to get lost in him. I know he is waiting to hear me say it too. Hoping and praying. But the words… seem so banal at this point. Three words spoken countless times over and over throughout time memorial. I know he wants – needs – me to say them. And I want to, but…

I have to…

I need to…

"I love you, Grissom…" I say softly, testing the words as they flow from my lips. They feel good. Really good. "I love you, Grissom." They feel good… but not perfect. I need to make them perfect. I need to.

"I love you, Gil." I say.

And now they're perfect.