Title: Deserving More
Disclaimer: Owned by Zuiker, CBS, Cynthia somethingorother who created Profiler, NBC, and CourtTV, et al. I'm making no profit from this.
Spoilers: General
Pairing: Sara/Rachel Burke, Sara/Catherine
Summary: A consideration of a life.
Of all the labs in all the world, she had to walk into mine. All right, it's a cliché. I admit it in my head, but then we have joked about being a cliché. Lesbians who remain incestuously close after the end of the romance. Granted, there have been problems and sometimes we repeat our mistakes.
But god, I never expected her to appear and shatter my safe new life where I have always distance myself from my coworkers. I know I should have—our paths have often crossed professionally. And she never fails to force the confines of my safe little existence.
It's funny. The word safe always defines my life until she appears, yet I have never felt safer than with her. In her arms I am protected, in her eyes I am beloved. She is my definition of both pleasure and pain. Pleasure because I love her, pain because we are both too devoted to our work to contemplate sacrificing career on the altar of our relationship.
Sometimes I wonder about accepting the omnipresent job offer so we could work side-by-side on a daily basis. We have always complemented each other, both in love and in work. Fear has always shackled me. I stubbornly cling to the lie that I am happy where I have landed. I am, after all, working for the second best lab in the country and the most brilliant mind I've ever encountered. Even the FBI can't compete with the allure. It simply can't provide the education I'm getting now, with him.
Yet I am perpetually the outsider. I am the loner who takes her cases far too close to the heart, who is isolated even by the man who brought her to this place. And I am a frightened little girl, cowering under the blankets, wishing for someone to hold me.
She is the only one who ever has. But today I long for another's arms. I wish for the scent of spice and strength, the feel of leather worn until it is butter soft, sheathing lithe arms.
I dismiss the fantasy. She won't come after me. We're barely coworkers, let alone friends. Besides, after today I'm not sure I'd want her, too ashamed to face her all-too-knowing gaze.
I am raw, battered and bruised within my soul. My façade has been shattered like a piece of fine china. I know I will return, pack my bags, and go. It's become second nature after all this time.
Maybe I'll accept the job. Her team knows me. Amazingly, they accept me, as they would accept us if we chose to reunite. It would be good—she's always good for me. She pushes me to demand more, to make friends, to enjoy life. Her vibrancy forces people to like her on sight. She thinks I should expect the same. And maybe I should, I always tell her, but always give the excuse that I'll demand more next time.
I give her another couple of minutes before she comes to rescue me from myself. I give myself a mental high-five when I feel someone approach my back. I barely have time to register that it's not who I expected before slim arms slip around my waist. I lean back, resting against the strength of the deceptively small body.
I don't know how or why, but the woman who has become the center of my desires since the moment we met is holding me. Her voice in my ear is husky as she whispers that she is taking me home.
I slide off my bar stool and wrap an arm around her shoulders, allowing her to lead me into the blossoming dawn. And for once, I believe that I deserve more.
Disclaimer: Owned by Zuiker, CBS, Cynthia somethingorother who created Profiler, NBC, and CourtTV, et al. I'm making no profit from this.
Spoilers: General
Pairing: Sara/Rachel Burke, Sara/Catherine
Summary: A consideration of a life.
Of all the labs in all the world, she had to walk into mine. All right, it's a cliché. I admit it in my head, but then we have joked about being a cliché. Lesbians who remain incestuously close after the end of the romance. Granted, there have been problems and sometimes we repeat our mistakes.
But god, I never expected her to appear and shatter my safe new life where I have always distance myself from my coworkers. I know I should have—our paths have often crossed professionally. And she never fails to force the confines of my safe little existence.
It's funny. The word safe always defines my life until she appears, yet I have never felt safer than with her. In her arms I am protected, in her eyes I am beloved. She is my definition of both pleasure and pain. Pleasure because I love her, pain because we are both too devoted to our work to contemplate sacrificing career on the altar of our relationship.
Sometimes I wonder about accepting the omnipresent job offer so we could work side-by-side on a daily basis. We have always complemented each other, both in love and in work. Fear has always shackled me. I stubbornly cling to the lie that I am happy where I have landed. I am, after all, working for the second best lab in the country and the most brilliant mind I've ever encountered. Even the FBI can't compete with the allure. It simply can't provide the education I'm getting now, with him.
Yet I am perpetually the outsider. I am the loner who takes her cases far too close to the heart, who is isolated even by the man who brought her to this place. And I am a frightened little girl, cowering under the blankets, wishing for someone to hold me.
She is the only one who ever has. But today I long for another's arms. I wish for the scent of spice and strength, the feel of leather worn until it is butter soft, sheathing lithe arms.
I dismiss the fantasy. She won't come after me. We're barely coworkers, let alone friends. Besides, after today I'm not sure I'd want her, too ashamed to face her all-too-knowing gaze.
I am raw, battered and bruised within my soul. My façade has been shattered like a piece of fine china. I know I will return, pack my bags, and go. It's become second nature after all this time.
Maybe I'll accept the job. Her team knows me. Amazingly, they accept me, as they would accept us if we chose to reunite. It would be good—she's always good for me. She pushes me to demand more, to make friends, to enjoy life. Her vibrancy forces people to like her on sight. She thinks I should expect the same. And maybe I should, I always tell her, but always give the excuse that I'll demand more next time.
I give her another couple of minutes before she comes to rescue me from myself. I give myself a mental high-five when I feel someone approach my back. I barely have time to register that it's not who I expected before slim arms slip around my waist. I lean back, resting against the strength of the deceptively small body.
I don't know how or why, but the woman who has become the center of my desires since the moment we met is holding me. Her voice in my ear is husky as she whispers that she is taking me home.
I slide off my bar stool and wrap an arm around her shoulders, allowing her to lead me into the blossoming dawn. And for once, I believe that I deserve more.