A/N This is my first CSI fic, it's also the first time I've posted here. I am studying postmodern literature at the moment and this is my attempt at writing in that style. For those unfamiliar with this genre, it attempts to confront the reader and plays with narrative conventions. I do not write very often, especially not in this genre. Also, I am Australian and therefore I apologise for any grammar or spelling that is different due to its Australian nature. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I am not in any way affiliated with CSI (or the briefly mentioned Alias). I am receiving no financial gains from this story. Etc.
Chapter 1: The Long-awaited, now-infamous scene
She sat serenely on the on the floor of her apartment, her back against the counter, the last cold beer in her hand. The boxes piled high around her embodied the finality of her decision. She was leaving. As she drew the cold bottle to her lips, her mind wandering over her time in Vegas, allowing her lips to curl into the remnants of a once wide, exuberant smile, a soft, almost imperceptible knock sounded on her door. She took a long slow sip from the neck of the bottle, hoping that if she ignored the timid sound, it would go away, leave her to her silent contemplations.
On the other side, the rain poured down, occasionally accentuated by the fierce lightning and thunder of the storm that mirrored the mood of the man by her door. He hesitantly brought his fisted hand to the foreign wood and made contact. He was unsure how to proceed. He did not know what to expect. Had she been right, would he be too late? He had still not figured 'this' situation out but this time he knew he needed to do more than give her a plant. He was not sure what, he was not sure why.
After what seemed like an ever-present eternity, the physical barrier separating the two worlds revealed a crack as the light from the inside and the outside melded. She had sensed it would be him yet she was still forced to inwardly curse herself as a combination of surprise and pleasure coursed through her body at the sight of the man who had held her captive for so long. As they each stared into the deep swirling orbs that were the compelling eyes of their counterpart, all inhibitions disappeared. Slowly but surely the gap between their faces lessened as they leaned in to break yet another barrier of their relationship. As the distance almost miraculously disappeared and their freshly moistened lips made their initial chaste contact, several sparks flew between their bodies. The enchanting music of a mellow chart-topper that had been surreptitiously playing over this encounter faded, making way for the theme song and credits.
As the last images of the actors and their names assault your screen, you subconsciously notice your favourite actors Jorja Fox and William Peterson are introduced as special guests. Your brain does not compute this information and its significance is momentarily lost on you. You are too preoccupied by the long awaited scene you have just witnessed. You cannot believe that after no previous indication your fanfiction is coming to life on the screen before you. In the back of your mind you realise this does not feel right, the people you have grown to love seem out of character, OOC, the three letters we dread reading in any review yet ignore in any summary. Yet, you do not care, you realise, these characters are simply what the writers make of them and need only be linked by the familiar face behind them each week. You no longer have time to think about this as the light comes up on the night shift gang awaiting Grissom and their assignments. You drink in this information, still on an emotional high created by the possibilities of the previous scenes. You are confused and annoyed by this sudden and violent deviation in plot until you notice three small words at the bottom of the screen in a colour too light to read clearly, "Five days earlier". That little reserve in the back of your mind, reminds you again that this is an uncommon ploy for CSI, it seems more like an Alias storyline and you briefly consider checking your tv guide to make sure you are where you want to be. That thought is quickly pushed away, your brain focussing only on the need to gain as much knowledge as possible regarding the now infamous scene. You run through a myriad of options of where this could lead, where this could have come from. You decide the only way to find out is to continue to watch.
TBC...
