Title: Abdication
Author: Giwu
Rating: Teen
Genre: Angst with a little bit more angst on top of that
Pairing: Implied GSR
Summary: What we didn't see in TGTBTD
Author's Notes: Seriously, did I mention angst? After 1500 plus words, I felt the need to throw a song on the end of this story as well.
Disclaimer: "You-all" do know I don't own them, right?
It is sometimes said that where there is no hope, there is no life….
Abdication
The persistent knocking invaded her reverie. She knew who it was before she opened the door. In the last year, few people had come to her house; most of her friends had been scared away by the horror and sorrow that had permeated her life.
She also knew he wouldn't leave her doorstep any sooner than he would leave her memory.
"Dr Grissom," she said. "Please, pardon my lack of originality, but what are you doing here?"
He looked at her steadily. "I want to know why you're trying to destroy yourself. What has happened to make you disregard your own safety twice in 36 hours?" he asked.
"I don't believe that is any of your concern. You ceased to have that privilege some time ago. I don't want you here." she said.
"Heather, the evidence tells me something different," he said.
"And of course, the evidence never lies," she said coolly.
"I'm compromising my job and my…everything in my life to be here right now. There are very few people whom I could convince that my intentions are honorable at this point," he said.
They stood in silence for a moment. Both of them knew the other had a stubborn streak and their personalities and beliefs had a tendency to clash. It never ceased to amaze him how different they were from each other, yet how drawn he was to her. She stepped aside and made a graceful sweeping motion with her hand. "Do come in; since you seem to feel the right is yours," she said.
He grabbed her forcefully by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall. He wasn't rough enough to hurt her, but he had known the physical action would get her attention.
"Just stop," he said. She raised her eyebrows at his choice of words. "I'm here because of our past relationship, our past friendship and because of the connection that we have that haunts me when I let my mind think of you. What is important is what is happening now and that we understand it clearly and deal with it."
She refused to ask him to remove his hands. She didn't want him to know it was making her uncomfortable to have him this close to her. It pained her more to have to ask him for anything. She desperately wanted to reach up and caress his cheek like she had done to comfort him in the past. Only now he was here to comfort her and she was lashing out in anger.
"I would like to move this conversation to the den," she said. He released her immediately and she led the way to the back of the house.
He was trained to observe and had spent time at countless crime scenes memorizing every nuance of a room, of a house. Her den had light blue furniture in it, bare white walls and little sign of her dynamic personality. There were blankets and pillows on the couch. He wondered what would make her sleep here in this cold room instead of in her bedroom. He saw the spots on one of the pillowcases and wondered if it was from her tears. There was a pile of unopened mail on the coffee table. Her insulin and meter were on the table. It looked like she had created an island for herself and there was an odor of defeat in the air. "An island of despair," he thought. He could feel the sadness invade him somehow.
"I'm sorry I haven't been there for you this last year," he said.
She waved her hand dismissively. "I understand that your integrity would be called into question should you have supported me. As always, I never wished to be that which compromised you," she said.
"Yet, you sold your life on the Internet to a sadist who was one step from living out his fantasy of killing someone," he said. "You had to know that I would hear of the investigation and possibly be present for the autopsy. What kind of message does that send to me?"
"It might surprise you to know I wasn't thinking about you at all," she said. "I have spent the last year of my life doing everything I could to make myself respectable in the eyes of the law. I was able to get the attempted murder charges dismissed because many in the legal system had used my services before, but no matter what I did the family court did not see it beneficial to award me custody of my granddaughter."
"Those are two different animals in the legal system, criminal and family court," he said. "I could see where the family court would be hesitant to give you custody of her since you were Lady Heather, the most well-known dominatrix in Las Vegas."
"People always fear what they don't understand. You could have been a character witness. That was my occupation, not my life…just my livelihood. I never sold my body for sex and you knew that," she said.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. The questions hung in the air unasked. Where were you when I needed you? Why didn't you help me then? "I need to know that you are through trying to kill yourself…passively or impassively," he said.
"I'm not the same person you met six years ago," she said. "I was always able to separate who I was from the more distasteful aspects of my job and clients. Now, I'm more cynical…and maybe even mean. I became misanthropic and really am not suitable for human companionship."
A feeling of déjà vu came over Gil as he recalled Sara's comments months ago about his own tendency to block out the world and think the worst of people. "You didn't answer my question," he said.
"I have a little money now," she said quietly. "We could go away together. We could go anywhere you want to go and leave the pain of Vegas behind. We could start somewhere fresh, where I wasn't Lady Heather, Mistress and Dominatrix and you weren't Gil Grissom, Crime Scene Investigator."
She was reaching out to him and asking him to be the rock for her to cling to in the storm. He knew there was no way he would be able to keep from hurting her. He searched for something eloquent to say and nothing seemed to sound appropriate to say outloud.
"I can't," he said simply.
"You can't or you won't?" she asked.
"Both," he replied.
Heather stared at him and he studiously stared at his fingernails.
"Who is she?" Heather asked.
"She is someone I have a past with, I have a present with and we will have a future together," he said.
"Does she make you happy?"
"Yes, every day."
"Then, why are you here?" she asked.
"Truly, 99 percent of the time she fulfills every need, want and desire I have. She is intelligent, warm and kind to everyone. I can't fault her cooking skills or housekeeping skills. We have common interests. We have the same religious background, the same political views and the same outlook on life. We are physically compatible. She is a complement to me in every way possible," he said.
"But for the other 1..." she said.
"It isn't anything I can put my finger on and describe," he said. "It happens when I think of you. The smell of orange juice reminds me of you. There are songs and music that you and I listened to that will bring back powerful memories and overwhelm me at times. I hear a laugh that reminds me of yours. I dropped everything when they told me you had been attacked and were in the hospital."
They were both silent. "I know you never meant to hurt me and you're not trying to hurt me now. You have the conundrum of loving two women and I have the misfortune of not being able to be with the man I love," she said.
He nodded miserably. "My presence here could destroy my personal and professional relationship. That is everything I have worked for and what I hold close to my heart," he said.
"There is irony to our situation," she said. "As long as you are here with me is emotionally traumatic for you and on the flip side, for me to live my life without seeing you destroys me just a little more each day. Either way, one of us suffers."
She tried to cover a yawn.
"Heather, did the hospital have any at-home instructions for you?" he asked.
"They gave me a prescription for painkillers and something to help me sleep," she said.
"Let me run a bath for you and help you into bed," he said.
She started to protest and then agreed to it. At the entrance to the room she called to him. He turned and looked at her. "If I haven't said it, I want to thank you for coming today," she said.
An hour later he was adjusting her covers and pillows. She had good-naturedly directed him to the drawer that held her comfortable pajamas, which he had carefully laid on her bed and then left the room. She reached for his hand.
"Gil…please stay with me," she said.
He swallowed hard. He had been there almost three hours. He had checked his messages while she had been soaking in the tub. Sara had called him twice. He was already missed. If he didn't go home soon, he would damage their future, possibly beyond repair. But looking at Heather, he couldn't refuse her. He took off his shoes and socks and lay down beside her fully clothed. She turned away from him and he spooned next to her. There were blankets and clothes that physically separated their bodies but he worried about the message he was sending her. Heather began to sob softly and he held her tighter.
"You have no idea how much I absolutely hate and despise myself at this moment because I need you," she said.
I Get Along Without You Very Well by Jane Thompson
I get along without you very well
Of course I do
Except when the soft rain falls
And drips from leaves, then I recall
The thrill of being sheltered in your arms
Of course I do
But I get along very well without you very well
I've forgotten you, just like I should
Of course I have
Except to hear your name
Or someone's laugh that is the same
But I've forgotten you just like I should
I get along without you very well
Of course I do
Except perhaps in Spring
But I should never think of Spring
For that would surely break my heart
In two
Abdication-to cast off: discard, to relinquish formally