Title: Life
Author: butterflied4life, aka Kristen
Rating: G
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Pairing: GSR, duh!!
Spoilers: Basically through 9x02.
Summary: My short little angsty piece that I used to comfort myself after the hell of 9x02: The Happy Place. Fact is, there is nothing happy about the episode.
Disclaimer: I don't see any names, but, okay, I don't own CSI. That's rather obvious considering the rocky history of GSR.
A/N: This really just flowed out of me Friday night, so I hope it flows well for you guys. Many many many thanks to Keegan for the awesome next-day beta, and for understanding. I love you, girl!! Also, this is really different from anything else I've written, so please review and let me know what you think.
Loss.
That's all she could feel.
And it wasn't even feeling, more a lack of feeling.
Something that should be there, had been there, was gone.
It started with the ghosts that stalked her and sucked meaning from her job until she only felt empty, instead of fulfilled, after closing a case.
She left Vegas then, leaving with a note instead of a kiss, unable to face more loss in his eyes.
In San Francisco she turned around and faced the ghosts, forcing them to disappear like fog in sunlight. By losing them she regained herself.
And he, he was still there: his voice floating over the phone, chuckling as he described Greg's new haircut; his words, perfect and heartfelt and poetic, soothing her soul in his daily e-mails.
After several months, the end of the black tunnel was almost in sight.
But then came the greatest loss of all, a best friend.
Warrick.
Dead.
Murdered.
Gone.
This loss neither of them could bear alone, so they lost together. He clutched her to him so, so hard but never close enough.
He loved her through it, made her forget if only for brief moments.
It was enough for her to touch him, to feel him next to her, until the tide of grief finally ebbed and revealed the tide pools of reality.
Now it was worse.
She looked into his eyes and saw total, unadulterated, body-heart-mind-soul love.
It could not longer mask the loss that had always been there.
The loss that was the essence of his job, and had been the essence of hers.
Death, hate, anger, lies.
But really, it was loss of life, loss of love, loss of truth.
By simply being surrounded by these things they had leeched their way into his soul and stared through his eyes at her.
But the loss in his eyes that hit her hardest and stole her breath away was one he was conscious of: the illusion of forever was gone. He understood why she had left, that she had needed to leave, but also that she was not finished. He knew she had to leave again.
As soon as she realized that he knew, she was gone. She would come back when she could give him forever, what they both deserved.
She made the ghosts become negative signs, adding herself back together.
Finally, instead of a negative sign, she saw a positive one: a little '+' on the plastic test.
By that afternoon she was on a plane.
It was over. The losses themselves were lost. She, they, had gained the greatest proof of it.
She didn't call him, didn't warn him, just walked in the door and melted into his arms, pressing his hand to her abdomen.
Beneath his palm fluttered life, the embodiment of their love, and the opposite of death.
Finally.
Life.