Journey
Disclaimer: -sigh- No, I don't own CSI nor any of it's characters. I don't understand why we have to mention that.
Spring 1998
She gave him her heart, that last day on the dock.
It sat in his hands, glowing and pulsing, despite the fact that it was bruised and a little broken. He looked at her quizzically.
She shrugged her shoulder. I've been through a lot was her explanation.
Been through a lot. She could still give her heart away as wholly and freely as she could, after this "lot". So why couldn't he, a forty year old who's had a relatively easy albeit quiet existence? There was no reason for it, but she seemed to understand all the same. And that's what mattered. He gripped the heart more firmly.
I'll take care of it.
A small smile from her. I know you will.
In Vegas, he unwrapped the jacket he placed to protect the heart, even though he knew that hearts in this form don't break from physical, but emotional abuse. He placed it in a transparent case for protection, and set it on the mantle of his never-used fireplace.
She was young and probably naïve, no matter how intelligent. And if she ever asked for her heart, he would give it back.
Years later
He called her in because he needed someone to investigate Warrick and the circumstances surrounding Holly's death. If he were truly honest with himself, he would admit that he needed some sort of anchor in this storm. He didn't ask for this position, and he didn't want it, especially under these conditions. It was out of his hands, though, and he needed someone who would understand him – not as the tin man, but as the person.
She was beautiful, older, and a little wiser. She was a brilliant and empathetic investigator, and at the end of the week, when it the investigation was cleared, he asked her to stay. She flashed a smile and accepted the position.
There was lots of flirting that first year. He never felt so alive, but as the saying goes, all good things come to an end. In this case, Conrad Ecklie brought it down around him.
It's against policy for a supervisor to date an employee, said Ecklie, slyly.
That night he went home and finally read the lab's rulebook, buried under a mountain of unimportant things near the fireplace where her heart sat, and saw it in big, bold letters.
Shit.
It was too hard for him to give it up, their something-more-than-friends-but-not-quite-lovers relationship, but when his world started to go silent, and he couldn't hear her laugh one night, he sheltered himself. Not to hurt her, but for their protection. Mistake number one.
They grew distant. She made her mistakes (Hank) and he made his (Heather). Only something monumental could bring them together. In this case, her being held hostage in the mental hospital.
She was scared. He was scared. And they loved each other. So why not be scared together?
She came over to his townhouse that night. He opened the door and expected her to ask for her heart back. Instead she stood there, at a loss for words, and he kissed her.
Their relationship was tough. She gave too much, and he gave too little. She had her doubts; he his insecurities. One night, after spending his sick day and her off day together, he gave her his heart. She accepted with delight, and kissed him under the stars.
They moved into a new home and placed both of the hearts in a bigger case on their new mantle of the still-never-used fireplace. Sure they still made mistakes. She kissed him outside the lab, though was only caught by Brass, who had been looking for them. He touched her in an obvious gesture of we're-more-than-what-people-think-we-are. Only this time, a more dangerous person witnessed it.
She was left to die in the desert, survived and became more broken because of it. Vegas became too much, and ghosts can only be ignored for so long. She fled Sin City.
He came home that night, and looked at their mantle. There was a note taped to the case.
My heart's forever yours, it read; I'll come back someday.
He had his doubts that she would, but if she didn't, he would still have her heart and she'd have his.
Only she didn't have his. It was sitting next to hers. Well, they would see each other one more time.
He dug up the case that once singularly held her heart, and washed it. He put his heart into it, and got in is car.
He drove for hours non-stop until he got to Tamales Bay. He asked a native to the area where Laura Sidle lived, and he gave him his directions with a shocked tone. Usually, no one asks for her. You're the second one in a week.
Well, then, I'm in the right place, he told him.
He drove up and quietly walked to the front door. He knocked lightly, hesitant to disturb the peace inside. He needed time to think, for he had no idea what to say when Laura Sidle opened the door.
However, Laura didn't answer the door. She did. She wasn't mad, but surprised.
I need to do this on my own, she said softly.
I know, he replied softly, but you forgot something.
He gave his heart to her, with a note taped to the glass. My heart is forever yours. Keep it.