DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, nothing at all. I receive no monetary gain from writing, just good feels. All characters are property of their respective owners.
Just an idea that came to me after watching 'The Finger' 2x14. Hope you enjoy!
I watch them through the window. His hand raises, strokes the side of her face, brushes back a stray hair. She smiles. I used to do that. I used to be the one that made her smile.
We spent the day in the park, her body stretched out on a soft blanket, me pulling sandwiches and cut veggies from a cooler. The sun's rays danced across her skin, emphasizing the freckles on her shoulders, the highlights in her hair. The gentle breeze played with her thick tresses, some strands curling around her chin, others skittering in the wind behind her. She said she wanted a picnic, wanted to be cliche and romantic. I could never deny her anything. We watched people tossing frisbees, children building in sandboxes, dogs running after sticks. We made silly faces at babies passing by in strollers. We exchanged tender glances when we saw elderly couples holding hands on benches. I loved spring with her, loved watching the flowers bloom through her eyes. I loved the soft rains that forced us inside, urged us under covers, intertwined and sweaty, both of us starving for life. I loved pretending we were new enough to never grow old.
He says something to make her laugh, and her eyes sparkle as her hand comes to rest on his own. It's a small gesture, a gentle touch that used to make me shiver.
We spent the weekend in Lake Tahoe, the air humid and thick with summer heat, our clothes sticking to our bodies like glue. We rented a cabin, solitary and secluded, away from prying eyes. She kissed me in the doorway, her hands greedy and nimble as her fingers climbed under my shirt, peeling it from my frame like a second skin. Her mouth was hot on my neck, my shoulders, my arms. She was an explorer, mapping my body with delicate lines, tracing shapes with her lips. She backed me over the threshold and our tangled limbs tumbled to the floor, a knotted ball of desire rolling on the wooden planks. We grasped at fabric, tearing it off each other in a fervor, aching to know the feel of skin on skin, desperate for the contact. She unraveled me like loose string, my hips arching into her touch, my arms wrapped around her torso. Her name toppled over my tongue, falling from my mouth in waves, the letters burning scars into my chest. She said my own name like a prayer. Whispered and reverent, her voice floated through my ears, filling up the empty spaces in my heart and the cracks forming on my lungs. She told me she loved me like it was a promise, like it would always be true.
They stand to leave, his arms holding out her jacket as she shrugs into its form fitting snugness. He follows behind her as they make their way through the parking lot, and she pulls him close when they reach his car, her lips finding his, her hands snaking into his hair.
We drove with no destination in mind, one of her hands on the steering wheel, the other interlaced with my own. The day stretched out before us, begging to be claimed. Her thumb absently stroked my palm while I gazed out the window. Leaves of orange and yellow hovered on the wind before drifting down to the ground to join their fallen comrades, casualties to the weather. Deer skittered along the edge of wooded groves, stopping to graze on the fading greens of grass and vegetation. Her voice mingled in with the radio, softly singing the words she knew and humming the ones she didn't. She navigated roads I'd never traversed before, cut turns I wouldn't have taken, getting me lost even more in her. She pulled over in an alcove along a deserted strip of road in an area that was desolate, devoid of house or home, owned by the wild and the free. We made love under the stars, goose pimples budding on our flesh when the temperature dropped. I told her I wished that the day wouldn't have to end. I told her of the calm I felt in her embrace, the peace I found in her eyes. I wanted to stop time, hold us forever in space, preserving the wholeness that I knew with her, the lack of fear.
He opens the car door for her, and she turns, eyes going wide when she notices me exiting my vehicle. I see her debate whether to talk to me or not, her mind flipping between flight and fight, but he turns around first.
Winter held us captive, slaves to the snow and the cold, the bitter winds from the north slapping our cheeks and mouths. The trees stood naked and trembling, skeletons decorating a barren landscape as we huddled together for warmth, swathed in sweatshirts and blankets, playing footsie by the fire. We drank wine until our cheeks flushed as red as the liquid in our glasses and kissed until our lips were stained and swollen. She told me stories about her youth and read me poetry by candlelight, her words soft and beautiful as they landed like snowflakes around us. We danced without music, her head resting in the crook of my neck as we swayed to silent crooners, the smell of her hair spiraling through my senses like a drug. She said to me one night that we could be infinite, could be more than stardust and ash, and I believed her. I believed in her ability to resurrect me from the ruins. I believed in us.
"Hello." His greeting is gentle and calm, like always.
"Grissom." He glances between her and I, taking his cue from her nod and getting into the car, the engine roaring to life.
"I was going to tell you." Her voice sounds distant as the blood rushes to my head, and I can hear the heavy thump of my heart against my eardrum.
"Yeah? When?"
"When the time was right." She fidgets with the buttons on her jacket, her slender fingers tracing the brown, plastic circles.
"I bet." She looks hurt, and I try to feel bad, but I can't. It's still too fresh, my wounds oozing with venom and spite. I want to scream at her, curse her, push her up against a wall and kiss her until she can't breathe without the taste of me on her teeth.
"Please, don't make this any harder than it already is."
"Oh, is this hard for you?" I step closer to her, knowingly overstepping my boundary, the line she's drawn to keep me out now. She doesn't back away.
"Of course it is. It's hard for everyone." I laugh, thinking of Grissom waiting patiently in the car. I'm sure it's hard for him when she rakes her nails across his skin, when her eyes roll back in her head, her hair fanned out around her like moon beams. I'm sure it's hard for him waking up next to her in the morning, knowing she's his.
"Fuck you." It's like a smack in the face, and she visibly recoils, her eyes wet with tears. She doesn't say another word as she opens her door, and I watch them drive away. My ribs feel like they're broken, aching every time I take a breath, and I stand in the restaurant parking lot for what feels like forever, a numbness coating my skin slowly. I think this is what dying must feel like.
When the speck that is their car disappears over the horizon, I make my way inside, taking a seat close to the front. The waitress waves from across the room, recognizing me as a regular and grabbing a coffee before heading to my table. As she approaches, I try to take some small comfort in the fact that everything changes, nothing is constant, and time is immovable. Science is only good to a point, and then it too breaks down, unable to classify everything, unable to explain the initial spark. It's a cold logic, but it's all I have, so I cling to it to survive. The waitress is next to me when I look up.
"Gettin' cold out there, isn't it Sara?"
"It sure is, Dorris. It sure is."