I'm not sure if I like this, I wrote it while I've been at home sick and the idea popped into my head for some reason. Please review, I'd love to hear what you think.


Speed of Sound

It feels wrong, and he knows if he really cared he would quit now while he could, but his hands can't stop moving and they drag down her skin, slick and cold as a steady stream of water washes over the both of them. She moans and her hands reach out to brace herself, his fingernails scratching her spine. His lips are hovering above hers, as if he can't bring himself to actually kiss her.

He wants to quit, but it's been so long since he's had this that he's not sure if he can. Riley tastes of coffee and smells like pomegranate and it's so different than the taste he's accustomed to. One of cigarettes and bourbon, and if he thinks hard enough he can taste the tang of it on his tongue. Desperate to finish what he started Greg pushes her against the wall of his shower and steadily they both reach oblivion, only the name that breathlessly escapes his parted lips isn't hers and she stops and looks at him with an expression that conveys both hurt and curiosity.

He stops, embarrassed and angered, not only at himself but at her too, for leaving him with nothing but the taste of her name on his tongue and a decade's worth of let downs and heartbreak. But Riley, always intent on finding the truth and not willing to stop until she has, turns of the shower and leans against the wall, slick beads of water traveling down her body. He runs his hands through his damp hair that's already began to curl, and he watches her grab a towel and wrap it around her body.

"I'm sorry.." the words are hoarse and he feels as if his throat is closing up. But Riley only shrugs, and Greg wonders why he even brought her here in the first place.

Then of course, he remembers finding her outside, sitting down with her back against the brick wall of the lab and a cigarette slowly burning out between her fingers. He sat down beside her and she offered it to him before he took a drag and slowly exhales a plume of smoke into the night air.

"I didn't know you smoked." He had said. She laughed, accepted the cigarette once more and took another long steady drag.

"I don't."

From there things get fuzzy for him, but he remembers Riley's hand sliding up his thigh while he drove, and he remembers the burn of vodka as a bottle was passed back and forth along with a few more cigarettes. He wakes up and they're both tangled in his sheets with their clothes strewn across his bedroom and he thinks how bad he's screwed up.

"Who's Sara?" She asks, drawing his attention once more. For a moment he doesn't speak and Greg wonders how to answer the question, because the truth is Sara was nothing to him, but at the same time she was everything.

"She used to be a CSI." Is all he says and to his immediate relief Riley nods and pulls her t-shirt over her head, her hair falling down her back.

"You love her?" She has an eyebrow quirked, and her mouth is set in a straight line, while all he can do is stare at the floor and attempt to ignore her gaze as it burns into him.

"Once upon a time," he says with a slight laugh, "guess life doesn't always happen the way you want it to." He gives a half smile, but his eyes betray the sadness he attempts to cover.

"She loves someone else huh?" This time he stops and fixes her with a look, because she's slowly reading his life out loud to him and he's only known her for a matter of months, and through this time he's figured out almost nothing about her. Riley simply smiles, and he joins her as she sits on the end of his bed.

"I've been there," she explains, "it never really gets any easier." Greg laughs at this, a quiet, bitter laugh that somewhat resembles something he would hear in the interrogation room seated in front of a smug suspect with nothing to lose.

"Thanks, I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Sarcasm drips from every word, and his muscles tense when her hand accidently brushes his leg.

"I didn't tell you that.. Because I want to upset you. I'm telling you this because it's true and the longer you keep a grip on the past, the harder it is to let go in the future." There's truth in her words and a wisdom that went beyond her years. But before Greg can reply she's already standing up and walking towards the door, stopping and turning to face him with a watery smile that manages to catch him off guard.

"I hope you things work out for you." She whispers, barely audible as her voice catches in her throat. She's gone after that and he's left alone on his bed, staring at the spot where she had just been.

When he goes back to work the next day someone tells him she's gone, and he's surprised when a pang of guilt hits him. He holds her letter in his hands but the words blur together and the ink drips down the paper as he stares at it through tears.

There's a reason behind everything, although sometimes it may not appear clear until after the storm has passed. He knows there's a reason she left, other than the one that was written on paper and shoved into a manila folder. She says the team is fractured, but he knows that in reality it's she who is broken and cracked, the aftermath of his carelessness, and his inability to let go of someone that wasn't his to have. She had given herself to him and he merely used her as a distraction, and now he realizes he is the one the blame should be placed on.

So he folds the letter in half and shoves it deep into the confines of his locker, a futile attempt to bury the past along with the hurt he caused and the ache that now has a permanent place in his heart.