Summary: My first fic, heavily revised. GS Angst, inspired by the song "High Above Me." (No lyrics.)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Up to Season 3
High Above Me
By Pheo 5.27.03
revised January 2005
Chalk. Printer paper. Baseball. Shopping carts. The only real moments in my life have circulated around little things- bits of conversation and stolen touches, unexpected gestures and neverending glances. I welcome bugs, death, theory, evidence. They're science. They're ageless, sexless. They're factual, without the consequences of emotion.
And they don't come with a bottomless pair of brown eyes.
God, I could even handle the dark-haired seductress because she was a controllable variable. I knew we would both leave unscathed, without attachments. She was already hardened by the realities of this world, darkened in ways that parallel my own blackness.
But there are no guarantees with the one who haunts me. She is too real, too alive; too bright.
I told her no. Just like that- a sure route to comfort, maintaining my lease inside this box, my haven of deadened senses. Misplaced heart skips, sharp intakes of breath, dizziness. These symptoms, sure consequences had I said yes, are not welcome here. I reside in a bleak void-a place of comfort but not for sharing.
Of course, her sound heart can handle such things. Her existence itself pushes for justice in all that she does. The stubborn tilt of her head, the defiance glowing from those eyes. Her spirit is eternal. Timeless grace, the heartened stance of a just queen; she is both the bold crusader for what is right and the winged harbinger of peace.
"I wish I were like you, Grissom. I wish I didn't feel anything."
It would be a shame to tell her she is wrong.
Movies. That's all. She says that he's her friend- that they visit those darkened mating-ritual locales only to view the newest blockbuster. I am old but I am not a fool- like airplanes, movie theaters house traces of DNA. Her taut, swanlike neck-her sculpted rose lips-her perfect, gleaming form cloaked by that fumbling EMT's.
While I am rational enough to avoid such thoughts in the daytime, at night I cannot prevent those images from plaguing my unconsciousness.
Venus was not meant to be touched by mere mortal hands.
"Hey."
I look up from my thoughts and there she is, in true goddess form. Leaning against the frame of my office, as always, she pulls at my heart.
"Hi."
"So, uh, how- how are you feeling" Her nervousness thickens the air. I can almost feel it close in around me. Nonetheless, her courage peeks through it at me: undeterred, as always, she refuses to give up. We have not been close for some time now.
"Fine, thanks. And you" Cringe. I can predict her response.
"Grissom, why didn't you tell us? It's okay to tell Catherine, but not Nick? Or Warrick? Or me"
Her relentlessness is one of the qualities that makes her such an asset to our team. It's also on my top five list of what will probably do me in someday-just under a rollercoaster accident and above being hit by lightening.
I sigh. It was to happen eventually. "Sara, I didn't see a reason to tell any of you. It would have caused an unnecessary distraction in your work." She rolls her eyes at me.
"For all of you" I add hastily. And my heart couldn't bear being weak in your eyes.
Her nervous stance is replaced with an arms-crossed, icy glare. "All but Catherine"
She's regal, unmoving. Her eyebrows arch and she adopts that little grin that makes her seem both unimpressed and bordering insane-another tactic that works with all suspects and most men.
Another sigh. "She guessed. I wasn't going to lie."
Besides, Catherine has seen me at my worst. There was no real threat with someone who is like a neurotic, nosy little sister.
She tilts her head. "Is it better? Did it work" Her scary smirk is replaced by a bitten bottom lip.
As she squeezes her hands, I realize that I am the subject of worry to this unattainable, gilded creature.
My heart skips at her concern. "Yes" I simply state.
At her glare, my cheek twitches. I seem to be the subject of her fury as well. This combination may be enticing for younger men, but it sends my entire being into plague reaction.
I go on. "I can hear most pitches, but I won't ever regain the loss of hearing very low tones."
I can hear you sing Blondie songs in the lab, and that's enough for me.
She seems satisfied. She stares over my head for a moment, as if evaluating my statements. Then she looks back at me, and I'm not sure how to interpret the mixed, wet jumps in her gaze. "I'm glad that you're better," she finally says.
I swallow. "Me too."
She is suddenly interested in the tiles of the floor. The woman is incredible-she's shy now, a maiden with pomegranates as cheeks . "Is that why you said no"
My limbs tingle, remembering her invitation weeks ago. Why this ethereal nymph would select the oldest tree in the wood to mold herself into is something that I'll probably never know; an aged tree doesn't need to know why something wants it as its host to reject it.
It only needs to know that it will never be enough, and that the only result from that will be death.
"No."
I cannot offer more. Besides the cotton in my throat, there is nothing that will satisfy her question. Such a creature could not know of such darkness and I will not be the one to introduce it to her.
Her lovely face is clouded by shadows of disappointment, and I hate being the cause of them.
My need for order, however, wins over my need to see her smile again, and I shuffle through my papers as a dismissal. The danger will always exist as long as we do: each day she is closer to breaking me-breaking my walls, my carefully constructed barriers erected soley for her-and then, sure to follow, my very heart.
I will continue to fight her each and every day but I know each brick will tumble, and tumble, and continue to smash at the base of the wall. As if playing a Pink Floyd song backwards, brick by brick, she will contiue to obliterate my protection until there is nothing left but this shaky, barren, bland creature with nothing to give but adoration.
She will find it wanting.
She will find herself mourning her wasted efforts.
She will leave.
As if reading my thoughts, she turns and slides out the doorway. I begin to shake as I realize that she will probably win. Her entire life is filled with winnings-her record is flawless. Why should I not be another conquest?
The makings of deity may not be without error but they will do what they do until the goal, the want, is reached. My head falls into my palms as I realize that she will have me. Some day soon, I will be hers, and their is nothing that I can do to save her from me.
And after she is destroyed from what I am, from what I cannot change, I will be alone again. Aching, exposed, and exhausted, there will be nothing left from what little I am.
Loneliness envelops me in its freezingly dark shroud and I close my eyes, savoring it for what it is-my crutch, my shield, my life.
A/N I wanted to punish Grissom with some dark thoughts for his behavior this season! Actually, I was going through this story and it sounded as if the "No" was inspired by Sara's involvement with Hank. I wanted to clean it up to be a bit more than that. Happy New Year!