Where the Wildflowers Grow
Just a one shot that came to me. Catherine's POV, sort of what I think will happen after For Warrick.
Everything seemed to be in slow motion. All I could hear was the beating of his heart, slowly pumping the blood out of his body, killing him. Every breath was one closer to his last. And then nothing.
The funeral was small. A man like Warrick deserved more. But he would have preferred it this way. A sob escaped me when I saw the coffin. It made everything final. We were here to say good bye. I could hear Greg, trying to hold back his tears and Nick letting them flow. Grissom stood straight and still, staring off into the distance. Grieving in the way only Grissom could.
He'd spent his last hours on earth with us. If only I had known that I was saying goodbye forever when I left the dinner, if only I'd stayed a minute longer, if only, if only.
He's in a better place, one free of the cruelty and injustice we'd seen only too often on the job. I was glad of that. But we were left here, with only our memories and our regrets. It didn't seem fair. But at least we could take comfort in the fact that he was in a better place, looking down on us all.
He was buried in a beautiful place too. The hillside in the cemetery, in the perfect spot overlooking it all. Clusters of small white and lavender wildflowers popped up every few inches and right now the sky was so blue with the perfect amount of fluffy white clouds in the sky. It was like a small bit of heaven on earth. And I felt that it was the perfect spot for him to be.
I'd never forget his eyes. Not as long as I lived. If I became one of those old ladies, in a retirement home suffering from Alzheimer's, those piercing green eyes would be the one thing I'd never forget.
His voice. The lab felt so empty without him in it. Not hearing his laugh and his voice and he rounded the corner or as he mocked Hodges. The rushed lab techs and activity were there. But it seemed empty without him in it.
His locker. It stood untouched, unopened in the locker room. No one dared to even suggest cleaning it out. It stood there as a tribute to him. To all he had been. A great CSI, a great cop, a great friend.
I stood at his grave, on the hill overlooking the cemetery, the clusters of wildflowers at my feet. I needed him right now. I'd always needed him. And now I'd trade every material possession I had to spend just one more minute, one more hour, one more day with him.
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