Title: Oh Captain, My Captain
Author: A.K.H.H.
Summary: "O the bleeding drops of red, where on the deck my Captain lies, fallen cold and dead."
Warnings: Grissass est. relationship, angst
Disclaimer: It doesn't belong to me. Summary and title from Walt Whitman's "Oh Captain, My Captain."
A/N: This is my very first fanfiction ever! I'm so excited. I just can't hide it! I wrote this for an assignment in English class. Teacher was… less than impressed by slash fic. Prude. Anyway, read and review! HeartHeart!
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Grissom hated the smell of hospitals. They reeked of despair in a way that even the most rancid corpse couldn't quite manage. It was almost depressing how often he found himself here, if not in this very corridor, then some other in an equally bland hospital with the heavy weight of uncertainty in his chest.
This time was worse than any he could recall. The weight was heavier, the smell more sickening. Perhaps it was that he stood to lose more now than ever before. The decision to remove the bullet at the risk of Jim's life, was the most difficult he'd ever made. Now, he could only wait.
Ellie should walk through the doors any moment now, having agreed to meet him here, and he'd made it his personal duty to see that the girl made the trip to Jim's room without incident- whether she liked it or not.
A nurse's aide made her way past his chair and down the hall, her shoes squeaking newly on the polished floor. As ridiculous as it was, even that sound reminded him of times past, and brought with it a wave of emotion. It was like that time they accidentally ran over a duck on the way to the beach and Jim humoured him and returned to the scene of the crime on their way home to let him check it's level of decomp with a knowing smirk. If that wasn't love, Grissom didn't know what was.
Sighing, he glanced at his watch. Something should be happening by now. Where was she? Would she even show up? What if there were complications with the surgery? What if...
Just as he was about to lose his mind in the waiting room, Brass' daughter walked through the doors, complete with mini skirt and stiletto heels. A father's pride and joy. It was none of his business, really. Logically, he knew that. Yet every time he saw the girl, he couldn't help but resent the pain she'd caused Brass throughout the years.
At least she was here now. Maybe she finally realized what she was giving up every time she ignored his calls or went out of her way to humiliate him. No matter what her intentions were, Grissom knew how much it would mean to Jim that she came. He really was masochistic sometimes, but then, that was one of the things he liked best about Jim. Always willing to put himself on the line. Never afraid of a little pain in the pursuit of pleasure, in all areas of his life. It was endearing. Ellie, however, was not.
Grissom smiled despite his inner turmoil and resolved to deal with his resentment at a later, more appropriate time.
"He hasn't woken up yet," he offered, rising to meet her.
She nodded. Wordlessly he led her down the corridor, toward the surgery theatre where Catharine would be waiting for them, ever watchful and diligent.
He was about to initiate small talk when his heart stopped beating at the sounds coming from Brass' room. He broke into a run, stopping only when he reached the glass barrier where Catherine stood.
A cascade of sounds emitted from the surgery theatre, doctor's arguing, the heart monitor flat lining, nurses rushing around.
It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not now.
He couldn't breathe. Ellie's hand wrapped itself into his shirt desperately and she leaned into him, the weight of the situation too much to bear.
Grissom pressed one hand against the glass, tightly clutching the half-heart pendant around his neck with the other; kept hidden by day from prying eyes. His lover wore the other half, in a youthful salute to a passion neither of the men could escape.
He wouldn't be wearing it now, though, what with the hospital garb and wires surrounding him. Grissom only hoped he could convey the devotion he felt through the glass separating them as Jim lay still on the table.
If Jim died, it would be his fault. His decision that ended a father's life, a detective's life. His best friend's life. Everything. Gone. It just wasn't supposed to end like this.
Finally, astonishingly, the heart monitor flickered, paused, then resumed its pace, tracking the delicate heartbeat of Captain Brass once more.
A single tear of profound relief escaped its prison and traveled unabated down Grissom's cheek, neck, and finally settled on the collar of his shirt. It only took a moment for him to notice the same tears mirrored back at him through his lover's now open eyes as Jim weakly reached out to him. Grissom prayed he'd now have the chance to wipe those tears away.
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To Be Continued
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