A/N: Ok, here's another idea that was floatin' around in me head. I blame the music. (matchbox twenty's Hang) Ok, no really—I think I'm subconsciously making myself avoid working on my other fiction. Ah well. Hope you like this one, and of course always feel free to review. I'd say its set in the future after Crash and Burn. But that's just my opinion. I mean, hey. I just wrote the fiction. Who am I to interpret? Syke. Hope it's not to confusing…and hope ya like it. Again, feel free to review…constructive criticism helps.
Read on!
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He eased the vehicle into an open parking space.
The time was still early—yet even now, the parking lot was still fairly full.
Evidently the morning's shift had yet to end.
He pushed the car into park, and immediately set the emergency brake on.
It was an old habit he picked up from before.
From a different time.
He killed the engine, quickly removing the keys from the ignition.
However, the radio continued to play on—a new feature in the younger models.
As usual, he didn't really pay any attention to the waning melody that was being emitted from the speakers.
Unbuckling his seat belt, he slowly reached over and grabbed his cell phone off the passenger seat.
Where it had been tossed aimlessly after a received phone call.
Holding on to his keys, he opened the door. The music stopped immediately.
He smiled; stepping out on to the asphalt, phone in hand.
The car door slammed shut.
He turned, tucked his phone inside his jacket pocket, and made his way towards the building.
As usual, it was always the same. The same cars. The same lights.
There were hardly any surprises anymore.
He looked at his watch. He was early.
Like always.
He looked at the building again. The ethereal light that was being emitted made the night seem that much darker.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something.
A someone.
They were leaning against the hood of a car, staring upwards.
Hands in their pockets.
He took a couple steps closer, squinting.
Trying to figure out who it was, without getting too close.
The figure shifted slightly.
He stopped in his tracks. His brow furrowed.
"Sara?"
He took a step forward.
The figure looked over at him.
"Grissom—hey." She sounded tired.
He looked down at his watch—then back up at her.
"What are you doing here so early?"
She shrugged a little—not looking at him.
He walked closer.
"Sara? What are—."
"I couldn't sleep." She looked over at him. Her skin was pale in the darkness.
"Oh."
She looked down at the ground, then back up at him.
"Besides—why are you here so early?"
He frowned.
"I'm the supervisor Sara—I have responsibilities to take care of—paperwork to do—."
She smiled, shaking her head slightly.
"Grissom—you hate paperwork. You always put it off 'til the last minute."
He had no rebuttal. Only a smile. She gazed upward again.
They stood there in silence.
"I couldn't sleep."
"What?" She looked over at him.
"I couldn't sleep. Either." His face remained emotionless.
She gave a small smile.
He shrugged.
She returned to looking up at the sky.
He followed her gaze upwards—then glanced at her.
"What are you looking for?"
She slowly shifted, hands still in her pockets.
A tiny smile escaped her lips.
"My dreams?" She looked at him. "My destiny?"
He gave a perplexed look back.
She shrugged slightly.
"You never know."
He smiled.
She looked up again.
He watched her curiously. She never broke her upward gaze.
He gave a small inaudible sigh.
"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny—but in ourselves."
She looked at him curiously.
"Shakespeare?"
He nodded.
She shook her head again. Amused.
"Of course."
He looked down at the ground.
"Do you believe it?"
He looked at her.
"Do I believe we make our own destinies? Yes."
She nodded like she expected that answer.
"Do you?"
She looked down at the ground in thought.
"I guess so."
"You sound confident."
She smiled slightly.
"I guess—I guess part of me believes in fate—no matter how unscientific it is."
He didn't say anything, his eyes watched her curiously.
They remained quiet for a few moments.
She looked up at the sky again.
"Ya know, when I was younger—my parents a—sent me to one of those sleepover summer camps—."
He smiled.
"Horrible experience really. Ten year old girls who thought they were thirty—and ten year old boys who acted like they were three."
He didn't say anything. She glanced at him quickly.
"Yeah—anyway—one activity that we did every year—was—a—to hike out into the mountains for a few days, and a—spend a couple of nights out 'in the wilderness'."
He watched her.
"And a well—the thing we always did—was when it got real dark out—we would put the fire out—and shut off all the lights—so that it was almost pitch black. And—and then we would look up into the sky."
He looked up.
"And it was so dark out there—with no street lights or anything—that it seemed that—that you could see every star in the sky."
He noticed the waver in her voice
"I mean—of course I knew that it wasn't true—that it was impossible to see—every star—but—I-I believed that I could."
Her head dropped, hands still in her pockets.
She sighed.
"And—and it made me feel—not so—alone."
She stared straight ahead.
His brow furrowed at her comment.
She remained quiet.
"Alone?"
She looked at him.
"Yea—it's crazy I know."
She looked up again.
He stared at her.
"It's—it's just comforting ya know? That somewhere out there—someone with the same problems—with the same issues—is looking up at the same sky—at the same stars—and asking the same questions."
He looked up again. The sky was partly cloudy, and the city lights were not helping with the view. He barely saw a flicker.
"I mean, the odds are in my favor right? Almost 6 billion people out there—."
Concern flashed across his face.
She didn't see it.
"I guess?"
He spoke slowly.
She looked down at her shoes.
"I mean—maybe they're asking 'Why?'"
"Why?"
"Or how."
Her voice wavered again.
"How?" He was unsure. She didn't look at him, instead choosing rather to kick at the loose gravel with her toe.
She offered no immediate response.
"Sara—."
"I mean—maybe they're asking, 'Why did I fall for it?'" She kicked harder.
He didn't say anything.
"Or maybe, 'How did I not see it coming?'" She dislodged a rock and kicked it across the drive.
He moved a little closer to her.
She didn't move away. She only looked upwards.
"Maybe then—I—I wouldn't be the only one waiting for an answer."
She looked away.
He leaned against the car.
Her hand moved towards her face, as she secretly tried to wipe away a tear.
He still noticed.
She didn't say anything for a few moments.
"God—I can't believe I'm crying in front of you." She wiped another tear away.
He didn't say anything.
He stared straight ahead. Hands in his jacket pockets.
Her hand rested on the hood of the car. She looked up again.
"Do you think they'll ever answer?"
He looked at her.
"Perhaps."
She shook her head. But remained quiet for a moment.
"Yea—you're probably right." She looked around at her surroundings.
The parking lot was still dead.
They only had a little time before the rest of the crew showed up.
She sighed.
Her hands returned to her pockets.
He gazed upwards again. The sky had partially cleared.
She looked over at him for a moment.
Curiously.
He noticed her stare.
"What?"
"Now what are you looking for?"
He smiled, shrugging slightly.
"The Big Dipper?"
That got a small laugh out of her.
He smiled.
She shook her head in amusement.
He watched her for a moment, then shifted his gaze upwards again.
She looked at him.
"What are you looking for?"
She tried again.
He sighed—but he didn't answer.
"Grissom?"
He glanced down at the ground first, before looking at her.
He smiled slightly.
"My dreams—My destiny?"