Title: Songs
About Rain
Summary: Grissom receives a wedding announcement from an old
acquaintance, and he's forced to acknowledge things he never wanted to.
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Inspired by Gary Allan's "Songs About Rain". Just a bit
of Grissom goodness, and a bit of the G/S relationship. It honestly didn't come
out as well as I would have liked, so feedback would be much appreciated.
Disclaimer: If it were mine, there wouldn't be repeats. Muahahaha!
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*+*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Had he been asked about Terrie Miller 8 hours ago, he would have said he knew her -professionally- and she was damn good at her job. He wouldn't have mentioned her blonde hair, or the way she knew how to make an exit. Then the mail came, and he realized how well he could delude even himself.
Amongst the bills, account statements and junk was a cream envelope. The rich texture felt oddly foreign, and even more oddly ominous. It was a wedding announcement. She looked every inch the radiant bride, flowers in her hair and a smile on her face. Terrie Miller was now Terrie Stone.
He wasn't sure what drove him to drive around Vegas, but he was behind the wheel and cruising down the strip before he could ask himself. His route was methodical, like everything else in his life. The strip; then just off the strip, where tired seniors bet their last dollar in the hopes that just once a winner would be one of their own; then came the residences, sorted by class. He stopped once, to fill his tank. But he wouldn't be able to say where; it was not the streets he focused on.
It wasn't so much Terrie herself being married, because that he could live with. It was that thought, that knowledge that once again he had lost. Lost what, he couldn't say. At some point he had angrily jabbed the radio on, to avoid the sound of his own thoughts echoing in the Tahoe's interior.
There must have been a theme going on in Las Vegas, because every station he turned to was playing sad songs. Or those were the ones he noticed, at least. He'd change a station, leaving it on for a distraction. But within a few moments "rain" would pop up in the lyrics, and he'd have to hit the button again.
Hello misfortune, how's my old friend "Mr. Misery"?
I've been away so long I bet you think you saw the last of me
Got no bed, to rest my head
No doors or walls or window pane
Now all I needed was the rain
rain, rain, rain, rain
Jab.
Just walk out in the rain,
Walk out with your dreams,
Walk out of my life if it don't feel right.
And catch the next train'
Oh, darling, walk out in the rain.
Jab.
In
the twilight glow I see her
Blue eyes crying in the rain
When we kissed goodbye and parted
I knew we'd never meet again
Jab.
Clouds, one by one, fill the sky
Just like these tears that fill my eyes
I know by now she ain't comin' back
I watch my world slowly fade into black
Look out my window it's still rainin'
Look out my window it's still rainin'
Jab.
"Rainy Night In
Georgia"
or "Kentucky
Rain"
"Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again"
"Blue Eyes Cryin" in the "Early Morning Rain"
They go on and on, and there's no two the same
Oh it would be easy to blame all these
Songs About Rain
Jab.
The songs must have been some kind of omen, because he had only been driving for an hour when grey clouds appeared on the horizon, and it was only a few minutes after that the rain began to fall. For once it was not heavy, just enough to blur his vision and put on the windshield wipers.
He drove past restaurants, hotels, houses that he had been to. All crime scenes. All of Las Vegas was a crime scene.
He finally ended at the lab, to get a head start on the night's work. But once he had parked, it seemed futile. Tilting his seat back, he closed his eyes and imagined himself far away from the time and place. The wipers still swooshed back and forth, and the radio played more songs about lost love.
Time passed, but he couldn't remember how much. He may have fallen asleep, because the next thing he was aware of was the passenger door opening. He didn't have to look to identify Sara, her breathing said it all. It was a little thing, her breath. You could barely hear it most of the time, but if you were in a lab with her you could pick it up.
She settled into the seat, turning the radio station to find something more upbeat, then snapping it off when she was unsuccessful. He didn't acknowledge her presence, keeping his eyes closed. Comparative silence reigned in the vehicle, the squeak of the windshield wipers the loudest thing.
"You know Grissom, it stopped raining ten minutes ago."
"Terrie Miller's married."
"The anthropologist?"
"Yeah."
"Good for her. It never would have worked between you two. I would have made sure."
He looked at her then.
"Was that supposed to make me feel better?"
"It couldn't hurt," she smiled. "Now, are you going to come in?"
"Just a minute."
"Okay. I'll meet you there Bugman."
She opened the door and stepped out, heading towards the building. She stopped to wave at him before ducking inside, and he smiled. Maybe he hadn't lost after all.
.......................
Feedback appreciated, almost as much as new episodes of CSI. ;-)
