The Rain
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. I don't own Lady Heather or any other character. I don't own anything…whatever…
Author's note/explanation: this story is set during "Lady Heather's box". Partly because I think of it as one of the best CSI episodes ever, and also because Lady Heather was simply mesmerizing in it. Hope you'll like it.
Author's note 2: rated M just to be safe.
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(Lady Heather's POV)
The birds are flying over the buildings. The Rain drenches them.
The Rain.
Every tiny drop of water accompanied by another one.
The Rain.
As the water starts to drench my robe, I feel as if I'm drowning inside myself. I start to think about my life, I consider all of my doubts for the thousandth time. I start to doubt my own truth but at the same time I bravely protest against the ideas of the brightest minds of our world….Every drop of The Rain rips out a new quotation from my memory and my storming mind crushes it down to letters so it could be put together the way I want it to be….
The Rain creates an illusion that everything is fine, that I'm not the only with such a mess in the head. Even the nature seems to be lost sometimes. Why can't I be then?
There is a man lying in my bed.
When The Rain touches my skin it burns… The Rain is unfamiliar, yet when it touches me it seems I am a part of it, I belong to it. It feels just like the man's hands felt a mere hour ago. That's why it burns…
When he came into my dominion the first time, he was intrigued. I could almost hear all the questions in his mind, burning to be answered. He looked at me with a sort of glimmer in his eyes. He was like a boy in a candy shop, not knowing which candy to grab first. But he retreated. The heavy clouds didn't burst. The Rain didn't come. He left…Little did I know that it was still cloudy in Las Vegas.
The Rain is cold. It burns me, but I realize it's cold. Can it be me? Is it my guilt? But the truth is I don't even feel guilty. Or at least I believe I shouldn't feel guilty. There was no other option for me in this situation….I know I have a carefully crafted life, a slowly and painfully earned reputation. I have a lifestyle I don't like changing. I am Heather. A cat, who walks alone. But the moment I saw his eyes the second time, I knew this was inevitable. Gil Grissom wasn't lost anymore. He knew what he wanted. And that made me understand what I needed. A primal instinct awoke in me. I simply needed to feel him, to have him. A part of me expected him to feel threatened by my power, to be slightly reserved with me, like all men in my life have been. But Gil Grissom surprised me. His hands were strong enough to bruise. His eyes were deep enough for me to drown in them. He was rough at the same time managing to be ridiculously gentle. I doubt there is a tiny part of my skin he didn't explore. Tonight I was his. I gave myself completely to the man lying in my bed. But that was out of my control. I can't feel guilty. I shouldn't feel guilty.
Yet The Rain is still pouring. The Wind is howling as if asking something from me. But I feel I don't have anything else to offer. My hands are empty. I took a step. I took a huge leap tonight. What else can I do? What else can I give? I feel lost, because I don't know what is going to happen know, and it has been quite some time since I felt lost. Because I simply don't. I always have all the answers, and even when I don't – I find them. But there is a man lying in my bed and there is no answer to that.
The Rain has completely drenched my robe by now and I can feel his eyes on my back because I left the balcony door open. I can hear him getting up. I'm not going to move. I'm not going to be the one to break this night into pieces. I don't want the silence to end. Apparently he doesn't either. He comes to me behind my back and places his hands on my waist. Silently. I was wrong. The night isn't broken- I am. I don't care about The Wind or The Rain anymore. All I want is to look into his eyes, to see that untamable passion, to feel his lips and his hands. I want our skins to become one again. He seems to understand that I don't want to speak tonight. Words are spoken and forgotten. They are lost and they disappear. But I will always be able to remember how my skin burned under his fingers.
I crossed over every line which is called "Heather". But I don't feel guilty, because The Rain will stop. And if it doesn't – it'll just become a lullaby for me. Just like the breathing of the man lying in my bed. Soft and rhythmic. One or another way, I will find peace with my actions, because I'm Heather- the woman who stands alone in The Rain.
