Genesisby chibiness87
Rating:
High T for theme
Genre:
Angst. CD.
Pairing:
GSR
Length:
1632 words
Disclaimer:
Not mine.
Spoilers:
Anything and everything is up for grabs…
Summary: On the seventh day, he rested.
A/N: The fic I promised myself I would never write. My smut muse and fluff muse are in ICU right now. I promise I have the best muse doctors on their case. Not beta'd. NB: Fixed some glaring typos.
On the first day, God created Heaven and Earth
He had been brought up Catholic. Learning about Heaven and Hell, and purgatory and guilt. For, it seemed, a catholic could never have too much guilt.
Prayers formed an essential part of each day. Before meals. Before bed. Prayers of hope. Prayers for forgiveness.
God was very forgiving, after all.
Repent meant going to heaven when you died.
A good place.
A place of beauty.
The Monday he met her, he gave up being catholic.
Either that or he had died.
Heaven was the crinkle in her brow when she was thinking.
Heaven was the gap in her teeth.
Heaven was the way she looked asleep; sprawled out on the couch.
It was the way her socks never matched, how she was NOT a morning (evening) person, how her hair curled (Frizzed, she insisted, Frizzed!) with a drop of moisture.
God created Heaven, but Sara Sidle personified it.
On the second day, God created day and night.
He worked the night shift.
There was something about the urges of man that seemed to make the shift more bearable.
Everything was clear in the light of day.
He preferred confusion.
It was the best place for a scientist to be.
Vegas had its own set of rules.
There was a reason it was known as the City of Sin.
Sin in the desert.
Jesus survived temptation in the desert for 40 days and 40 nights.
Sin in the place of temptation.
Irony worked like that.
Holly Gribbs was shot on a Monday.
He prayed for help.
Prayed for forgiveness.
Prayed for heaven.
Sara Sidle came to Vegas on a Tuesday.
On the third day, God created land and seas and plants.
She threatened to quit on a Wednesday.
A form was sitting on his desk at the end of shift.
He wanted to leave it for the night, but the scrawl of her handwriting stopped him.
It was the title of the form that made his blood run cold.
He wanted her to stay.
When she mentioned the Feds, his heart lurched.
Feds got it wrong.
He should know.
He was confused.
For once not in a good way.
He needed her here.
But to admit that was to admit to other things.
And he couldn't do that.
So he tried personification.
But she didn't get it.
It was Catherine who made him realise what an idiot he was.
One day, she would be wrong.
He was waiting for that day.
A phone call to the local florists later and he wondered if he would ever understand women.
His initial assessment was no.
It was confirmed later that day when he got to work.
She was sitting in the break room, her plant beside her, and a smile at the corner of her mouth.
The first he had seen in a while.
Women, he decided, were a strange people.
Because, somehow, the plant convinced her to stay.
On the fourth day, God created the Sun and the sky and the Moon and the Stars
The car broke down in the desert on a Thursday.
It was typical, he decided.
The one day he actually wanted to get away from shift on time, and he was stuck in the desert.
She was sitting on the hood of the Denali, her face to the stars.
He wondered if she had ever been stargazing before.
You couldn't see the stars in Vegas. The neon lights blocking their natural beauty from sight.
But nothing was stopping the natural beauty before him look at the stars in wonder.
She was standing before him, then.
Pulling on his hand, dragging him from inside the car to join her on the hood.
He pointed out the constellations he could identify.
She pointed out the "Big Pineapple."
He was laughing then, the sound shocking her.
And then she was joining in.
They spent the 3 hours waiting on AAA naming shapes.
Clouds were absent, but stars made do.
That night, something changed.
To this day, he didn't know what.
On the fifth day, God created birds and fish.
He took her to a carnival on a Friday.
They had been doing, whatever it was they were doing, for 6 months.
6 months since a crazy man held a piece of pot to her throat.
Only to cut his own.
While Grissom could do nothing but stand by and watch.
So.
That was what Hell felt like.
He did something then he hadn't done in the 5 years she had been in Vegas.
He prayed.
For forgiveness.
For her.
For heaven.
And then she was free. Gasping for breath, pushing everyone away, but ALIVE.
And something in him snapped.
Because Heaven was supposed to be safe and beautiful, not held at knifepoint by a crazy rapist.
And now here he was, with her, at a carnival.
A ring toss game later, and she held a fish in her hand.
She had laughed at him then.
Laughed some more.
And kissed him.
He smiled at her.
Licked his lips, still tasting her breath.
And asked her to move in.
On the sixth day, God created beasts and cattle and man and woman.
She found him on a Saturday.
He had been back from Williams for 3 days when she heard the noise coming from the back yard.
They had tensed, but before he could do anything, she was already outside.
20 minutes later, they had found the source.
One look at her face, and he knew the dog would be with them for a long time.
A bowl of water was by his head, and he lapped at it gustily while she ran her hands over his flank.
A high pitched whine told him the dog was injured.
Blankets were fetched then.
And warm water.
Clean clothes to wash the deep gash.
The dog watched her with soulful eyes, but let her tend to him.
A phone call later, and the local vet was on his way.
Paperwork.
But forms he wanted this time.
The baseball fan in him won over everything else they suggested.
Hank was part of their family.
It was on that day he finally realised how much she meant to him.
When he paused mid sentence, she looked at him, worried.
He kissed her then.
And told her he loved her.
On the seventh day, he rested.
The day he lost her, he lost himself.
Strange how he didn't know he was her until she was gone.
He waited for her to come back.
To Vegas.
To the lab.
To him.
After the first week had passed, he stopped looking up at his office door every 5 seconds, expecting her to be leaning against the door frame, like old times.
But her favourite juice was still in the fridge.
And some of her clothes were still in the closest.
The locket he had given her was gone, as was a few of his shirts.
Her scent lingered in their house.
The dog looked up expectantly every time he came home.
He knew how he felt.
Home wasn't home without her.
The first month went by, and life became routine.
Wake, wash, dress, feed dog. Feed himself, work, bureaucratic paper bullshit, home. Walk dog, eat, wash, sleep.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
The anniversary of his proposal, and her voice on his answer machine.
His name. And "I love you." And a sorry.
He kept the tape.
The second year went faster than the first.
Until Jim was shot.
Again.
This time fatal.
He thought he saw her in the background of the funeral.
A blink later, and she was gone.
Work. Work. Work some more.
Greg had Hank now.
It was too painful for him to see the dog every day.
Brown eyes too much like hers.
5 years after she left him with a kiss and a letter, Nick was attacked at a scene.
And never woke up.
This time, he watched for her at the funeral.
Nick had been a brother to her.
She was there. He could feel it.
But didn't approach.
It was her choice.
His heart broke again as she turned and walked away.
A letter was on his desk the next shift.
He was really beginning to hate that form of communication.
Catherine and Warrick were leaving.
Too many memories.
Too many hours watching him die a little each day.
He sighed, and let them go.
Greg stuck by him.
Until one day he was gone.
Blink and you miss it.
Explosions were like that.
10 years after she left, he was the only one still there.
There was no cake in the break room the day he quit.
No goodbye party.
Good.
He was never the social one anyway.
15 years after she left him broken, she came back.
She didn't cry at the service.
That was what struck him the most.
She listened as people he had never paid any attention to talk about him.
The good, never the bad.
Then it was over. And the people left.
The thud as the first shovel of dirt hit the pine, and her shoulders tensed.
It was only when his coffin was fully covered did she let a single tear slide.
He waited for her for 7 years.
It seemed fitting, somehow.
She came to him, and they watched as Catherine scattered her ashes off the Golden Gate Bridge.
He met her and redefined Heaven on a Monday.
She started working the night shift with him on a Tuesday.
He sent her a plant on a Wednesday.
She dragged him stargazing on a Thursday.
He won her a fish on a Friday.
She brought the dog home on a Saturday.
They both rested on a Sunday.
END