Crushed

By: iferleigh

Rating: T (for now, just in case.)

Summary: "Screw all movies to hell. Someone always dies. I'm not about to let that happen now."

Disclaimer: The ones you know aren't mine and the one's you don't know are mine.

Note: Just a little thing. As usual, tell me what you think. One shot, maybe, but you never know.

-o0o-

Chapter One: Old Movies

And she walked away just like that.

Like an old movie, she stood there crying in front of me and then walked away out into the pouring rain.

Like an old movie, I watched as she walked away from me like she didn't feel the pelting rain or hear the rumbling of thunder.

She was playing the heartbroken girl, hopeless now as she walked away from the one she had unintentionally given her heart to.

I was the guy who, without knowing, had seized her heart with mine. I was the guy she had brokenly walked away from because he didn't love her back because he was with someone.

And like in an old movie, the rain continued to pour, she continued to walk away and I continued to stare.

Usually, in old movies, the guy would stare at the retreating girl before coming to his senses and start running after her. He'd call out her name desperately, but the rain would be too loud for her to hear him. So he would run faster, trying to catch up with her before it was too late. It was never too late for he knew he loved her and only her.

It's never too late in movies.

He would catch up to her, call out her name and she would spin around to face him, her tears falling along with the raindrops on her flushed cheeks. Her lips would be trembling, maybe from the cold, maybe because she's crying, maybe because she's consumed by her own emotions, but they would stare at each other.

Until he starts running to her and suddenly, without so much as a warning, seize her in his arms and kiss her. He'd tell her of his love, that it was her and only her. The other poor girl would be forgotten by now, both of them so enthralled, so immersed with their love for each other.

He would say a line that would instantly mend her breaking heart.

She'd smile, kiss him and accept him, holding on tight as if she never wanted to let go.

They'd smile and laugh as they are filled with joy to be right where they belong—in each other's arms. And they would kiss again, smiling into each others lips.

And live happily ever after.

What was different with us?

She walked away; I let her, sticking to the script so far. And I stared at her and stared…

But I didn't come after her.

I let her walk away.

Life wasn't like the movies and so I watched as she, brokenly, got into her car and drove off.

She didn't look back. I didn't call out her name. I didn't run after under the pouring rain.

I let her walk away then drive away.

And I walked back in, with a heavy heart, knowing I caused her pain once more.

It was raining when she arrived, standing on my doorstep and shivering out in the rain.

She had admitted she has loved me for a long time, but I couldn't allow myself to hurt the one I already promised to love unconditionally. So I chose not to say anything. She confessed her love and I just stared at her, not knowing what to say. She apologized when she received no answer and said sorry for bothering us at home. I didn't even tell her I didn't mind.

I didn't.

She must have figured that I didn't love her, that I didn't care for her emotions while I stood like a statue on my doorstep. It hadn't occurred to me I hadn't invited her in, despite the rain.

She gave me a sad look and that's when she walked away.

I'm not certain if it was in my mind or if she really did whisper 'I love you' before walking away, but I'm certain she said 'I'm sorry'.

How I wished I had told her she shouldn't be sorry, that I was happy she felt that way for I loved her too…I just couldn't bring myself to hurt the one I was with who so desperately needed me, wanted me and loved me.

I couldn't bring myself to hurt her already fragile being, yet I stood there and hurt the woman I have loved and waited for for so long to feel the same and say those words to me.

I didn't have the heart to hurt someone else just so I could be happy with the one I wanted to be with.

I was much more of a man like that. I never want to hurt others.

But I hurt her.

I hurt her.

But I swore I would fix it and apologize the next time I see her when she'll be most likely be calmer then.

Yes, when I see her again...I'll tell her I'm sorry.

And then what?

Tell her I love her? Tell her that I have loved her for so long, that I have just been bidding my time until she got sick of dating those bums and losers until she would finally notice me?

What would she say?

Would I even have the courage to do all that?

Maybe not.

But…

I would gladly take back everything and travel back in time, stick to the script and take it all back so I wouldn't be here right now...

…Sitting in my office, surrounded by my bugs and books and thinking about her, my mind replaying the look on her face before she ultimately gave up and walked away.

I think about her as I sit and stare at nothing but then a loud bang startles me and suddenly Greg is standing in my office. I look at him and I see how wide his eyes are, how his chest falls and rises as he looks at me.

Suddenly I realize something's wrong and before I can ask he says, "Griss, something happened! It's really bad!"

The youngest of my team isn't always like this, usually, he is weirder, but tonight his weirdness is laced with alarm. I can see it in his eyes so I ask simply, "What?"

He jumps to me, running to the front of my cluttered desk, "Griss, Brass got a call and called me since Warrick, Nick and Sara are all out on a case and I'm on call and…"

I hold up my hand and I am not as worried as I was. He's probably had a case come in. "Greg, stop the babbling and tell me what you want to say."

Sometimes this guy can be too much. I used to wonder if he has ADD, but no, he doesn't, the truth is he's brilliant. Only his brilliance comes with his oddness and people tend to overlook it and only see the troublesome former lab rat obsessed with rock music.

He takes a deep breath. "Brass got a call and it was a collision, a hit and run. It was a black Denali and the driver was…" he stops and I stare, waiting.

I am too old to be dealing with dramatics like this. "Spit it out, Greg!"

"The driver was Catherine!" he blurts out.

And suddenly everything stops.

Just like in the movies?

The girl gets in the car, doesn't look back and the guy goes on with his life…

And later he finds out she's dead.

But no…

She's not dead, right? So we're not exactly on script.

"Brass found her in the car and said it was ugly," Greg starts to say, he almost looks dazed, but then again maybe it's me. I'm barely listening as I stare at the wall at the opposite end of my office

This can't be happening.

"They brought her to Desert Palm and she wasn't conscious," Greg went on, this time his voice in a dull monotone that was not like him.

This can't be happening.

Here I am in shock, yet still able to analyze the young CSI. Perhaps it's the gift that comes with the job. Gift…or curse?

Why can't I sit and be shocked and dazed by this and tune out everything? Why do I have to be this way? If I wasn't this way maybe I wouldn't be so bad at reading and dealing with women and love. Maybe this wouldn't have happened… Maybe…

Maybe...

"They say it's bad," Greg continues, possibly unaware I haven't said anything.

"Brass is there right now, trying to contact Lindsey or maybe her mother…"

"Surgery…"

"They think it's serious…"

"Blood everywhere…"

"Car was such a wreck…"

"Drunk driver…"

"Pouring rain…"

"Serious…"

"Emergency room…"

That's all I'm getting and you'd think I've gone deaf, but no. I just don't want to hear the rest. I've seen enough car accidents to actually see her vehicle in my head. I don't need any description or some paint me a picture session.

A hit and run. Pouring rain. Drunk driver. Desert Palm. Surgery. A crushed Denali. Catherine.

Catherine.

Catherine...

Catherine.

It doesn't make sense.

This can't be happening.

God, no.

Catherine...

Before I know it, I'm grabbing my keys, my jacket and Greg. I was still on the clock, we both are, but this is Catherine and she's in the hospital. I grab my phone and my beeper and wondered why Brass didn't call me.

Damn it.

I realize my phone wasn't on and so was my beeper.

Of all days, I had to make this mistake today?

Screw all movies to hell.

I slam the door behind me.

No way in hell am I sticking to the script.

Someone always dies.

And I'm not about to let that happen.

This isn't a movie and I am not about to let her go.

Not yet, when I still have so much to say.

Not yet.

Catherine, wait for me.