Two Lovebirds From a Shot
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I wish I did, but I don't.
Chapter 1: There's a hole in our hearts
After a night of loving sex, Grissom and Sara were wrapped around each other in post-orgasmic haze. Right before, he had loved her with such passion and ferocity, it held a strong resemblance to violence. Her hand cupped his cheek; she could tell something about him was off.
"Gil, you seem distracted… is there something bothering you?" Her voice was lazy, and her smile was warm and reassuring.
"Not since I've retired." He answered. "You know, I'm happy to have you with me. I love you." They kissed, and Sara slowly fell to sleep.
At least his last statement was true. He was really happy being with her indeed. In fact, he had promised himself never to lose her and never to let her go away from him again. Nonetheless, she was right when she sensed his tension. However, once he saw his wife laying peacefully beside him, he decided to let his worries disappear and simply enjoy his current good luck.
"You're mine and I'm yours, and nothing's gonna change that, baby." He whispered as he fell asleep.
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"Neighbors heard a shot, so they went all out to the street. As they were the only ones who didn't, they entered their house to see if something was up, and well… they found them like this." Brass almost choked when he said the last sentence.
Both bodies were naked, covered only by the bedsheets. She wasn't completely on top of him, but just enough so the left side of her body was on top of the left side of his body. They were killed by one single bullet, which tresspassed her heart and went on through his. They were embracing each other and had the faintest hint of a smile on their faces ("at least they died happy" Greg thought). His right hand was mid-way between her back and his stomach, still holding a gun. Edgar Allan Poe would have been proud.
In any other circumpstances, a crime scene like this would generate all kinds of snarky comments, puns and remarks with double meanings. But of course, this time was different, these were Gilbert and Sara Grissom: She was their friend and the woman they once had a crush on; he was their mentor and former boss; and they were very respected criminalists, even after they left the lab.
Several minutes after, they were all collecting evidence, still silent. Only Nick was brave enough to utter the words they were all afraid to speak:
"Murder-suicide, perhaps?"
Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
'Cause I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
