Looking Back On Days Gone By
Disclaimer: don't own them, not making money off them.
This is pure unadulterated au. This is a romantic piece of fluff because it's Valentine's Day soon, and well, I'm getting into a corny mood!
Have you ever just stood and wondered at the world around you? Looked at the smallest detail, so perfect, and wondered at something so immense that even the smallest detail has been done to perfection? Ever stared at the stars, trying to get your head round how truly stupendous this universe really is, how infinity stretches before you? Wondered at the vastness of a world where two humans could fall in love, be together, have happiness together?
In his arms, the world seemed small and intimate. The world confined by the relationship between them. She could swear that the world just existed in him, in them, together. That the rest of the world was put on hold, was lost in the infinity to give them that time together.
In his arms, the world lost the power of fear and jealousy. Lost it's relentless search for power and fame and guilt. In his arms, the world was safe again. The murderers, rapists, arsonists, all confined to an anywhere but here place outside of the window. In his arms, nothing else mattered because he was there, he was with her.
Life was so much simpler in those times.
She thought back to the beginning. To the passion, the energy that had filled them at any given opportunity; when life was lived in the bedroom, with the making of love, being consumed with feelings for each other, of discovering the other person inside and out, relishing every inch of skin over and over.
'I love you.' Those three words that had made the universe grind to a halt. She could recall the first time he had said it as if it had just happened. Outside, in the pouring rain, after an argument that had consumed them almost as much as the passion had. The inevitable argument about telling their colleagues, admitting to a love affair that had carried on for the best part of a year with no one detecting it. And they called themselves investigators. She had been all for keeping it that way. Enjoyed the secret buzz of having this entire life that no one else was aware of it.
He had accused her of being scared, or being ashamed of him, of what they had together.
And she had tried to explain the truth, that there was no way she could ever be ashamed of something that felt so right, that felt so real. It was the sense that if other people knew about it, then it wouldn't be as special, it wouldn't be as intense as it was.
He had looked at her, that serious look softening to a twinkle in his eye as he had drawn her close, brought his lips millimetres from her ears and whispered that nothing could ever take away the intensity he felt when he was with her. That the more people knew about it, the more he could show her off, show off their relationship, show the world what she meant to him. That he loved her.
She swore she melted in his arms, melted into his body, his strong arms stopping her melting to the ground.
The passion had boiled down, but still simmered, even after all this time, boiling under the surface. There wasn't that intense need to show it, but it was still there, in a single look, in the briefest of touches.
She thought about telling the others. The giggles that had consumed her for minutes at their shocked faces, as they realised how long it had been going on without even Grissom cottoning on. As they had all started talking at once, denying that it could have been, denying that they had missed all the evidence. She hadn't been able to speak, but he had confirmed it all, turning to face her, his look bringing calm to her in an instance. His serious, loving intensity that had quietened the others in an instant. That had told them all they needed to know.
She turned in his arms to look at him now. His look turned to hers in questioning, as she searched his eyes, finding the love there in an instance, as she knew she would. It was all she had ever needed to do to find the reassurance that he was still in love with her.
A single look.
The day he had proposed, she couldn't look away, searching his eyes for something that she knew would be there forever, that wouldn't fade, wouldn't falter. There was no other answer that she could think of.
Down here, on this very beach, the lake stretching out into the blackness of the dead of night, the water lapping gently at their feet, the moon the only light. His arms around her, keeping the cold at bay, as they were now.
Fifty years ago she realised with a gulp.
Memory was a strange concept. She could remember the significant parts of their relationship with little trouble, but the days of the week, the months, she had difficulty remembering which one they were in. But the date he had proposed, the day they had finally got married, those dates would be etched in her brain forever.
Their wedding day, she could quite easily forget. The split seam in her dress, the lost rings, the alcoholic band member that had decided to hold the whole of reception hostage because he was having issues.
But as he had said, it wasn't the wedding that was important, they were married, they were together, that was the important part. She could look back and laugh now, tell the story to grandchildren to make them laugh at Nanna and Gramps chaotic day. Then it had felt like a disaster, an omen. Only his words had stopped her from giving it all up then. The simple 'I love you' he had whispered in the midst of it all.
They had argued of course. Many arguments, passionate long drawn out fights; screaming, yelling. The good thing about arguments? Making up afterwards which was just as passionate, just as intense. What had they argued about? Anything and everything. They were in love, but they were also two different people, two headstrong people. And she was very headstrong. They fought about work, inevitably. About bringing work home with them, getting too involved. They worked on the same shift of course, which caused its own arguments, although, as they got more involved, the less they worked together on cases. They argued about having children. She was against it, far too much the career minded girl for her own good. Till the month she had been late, fallen pregnant by accident, resenting it, resenting him till that first ultrasound, the first time she had heard the heartbeat and known that this was something as amazing as their love for each other. This was something that their love had produced. Something that she never gotten her head around, even with the four children they had had.
Grandchildren, growing old, the midlife crisis he had suffered, or so he had told her which had necessitated in buying a Thunderbird. She had wanted to be mad, but the image of him pining for his youth was too funny, and she had ended up in fits of giggles instead.
The laughter was the best. She had never laughed as much until she met him, started really getting to know him. He wasn't a comedian in the classical sense, but he could point out the smallest detail about something, could spot the irony, be as dry as a desert in summer. Laughter filled their house most of the time, their children learning to laugh before they could speak.
There had been troubles. Mostly minor, a few with lasting impressions. Finding out their youngest child had a genetic problem with her heart meaning hospital visits became a way of life. The day it had become terminal. She could never consolidate losing a child before she was even an adult. You weren't meant to watch your child die. It was a dull ache inside of her, that had never been erased even though time had made it easier to live with, to remember her for the good times.
Looking back, reminiscing, brought a smile to her lips, an aching to her heart, a satisfaction as she looked at him, knowing on this day, that she wouldn't change a thing, because through it all, through out the tragedy they had grown stronger, had the privilege of knowing all their children, even if one had died. Had the privilege of having the child even for a short time. She wasn't that religious, but at the funeral, the words that Maddy was a gift from God had echoed in her heart, brought a calm to her soul.
The beach was bright with afternoon sun. The family spread out on the beach front, picnicking under umbrellas. They stood apart from them now, watching their brood with a pride and passion. Reminiscing in their hearts of what had started all this.
A simple 'I love you' floating from Warrick's lips brought Sara back from years gone by. Made her look at him and echo his words, no other words being suitable to describe what she still felt for him.
Disclaimer: don't own them, not making money off them.
This is pure unadulterated au. This is a romantic piece of fluff because it's Valentine's Day soon, and well, I'm getting into a corny mood!
Have you ever just stood and wondered at the world around you? Looked at the smallest detail, so perfect, and wondered at something so immense that even the smallest detail has been done to perfection? Ever stared at the stars, trying to get your head round how truly stupendous this universe really is, how infinity stretches before you? Wondered at the vastness of a world where two humans could fall in love, be together, have happiness together?
In his arms, the world seemed small and intimate. The world confined by the relationship between them. She could swear that the world just existed in him, in them, together. That the rest of the world was put on hold, was lost in the infinity to give them that time together.
In his arms, the world lost the power of fear and jealousy. Lost it's relentless search for power and fame and guilt. In his arms, the world was safe again. The murderers, rapists, arsonists, all confined to an anywhere but here place outside of the window. In his arms, nothing else mattered because he was there, he was with her.
Life was so much simpler in those times.
She thought back to the beginning. To the passion, the energy that had filled them at any given opportunity; when life was lived in the bedroom, with the making of love, being consumed with feelings for each other, of discovering the other person inside and out, relishing every inch of skin over and over.
'I love you.' Those three words that had made the universe grind to a halt. She could recall the first time he had said it as if it had just happened. Outside, in the pouring rain, after an argument that had consumed them almost as much as the passion had. The inevitable argument about telling their colleagues, admitting to a love affair that had carried on for the best part of a year with no one detecting it. And they called themselves investigators. She had been all for keeping it that way. Enjoyed the secret buzz of having this entire life that no one else was aware of it.
He had accused her of being scared, or being ashamed of him, of what they had together.
And she had tried to explain the truth, that there was no way she could ever be ashamed of something that felt so right, that felt so real. It was the sense that if other people knew about it, then it wouldn't be as special, it wouldn't be as intense as it was.
He had looked at her, that serious look softening to a twinkle in his eye as he had drawn her close, brought his lips millimetres from her ears and whispered that nothing could ever take away the intensity he felt when he was with her. That the more people knew about it, the more he could show her off, show off their relationship, show the world what she meant to him. That he loved her.
She swore she melted in his arms, melted into his body, his strong arms stopping her melting to the ground.
The passion had boiled down, but still simmered, even after all this time, boiling under the surface. There wasn't that intense need to show it, but it was still there, in a single look, in the briefest of touches.
She thought about telling the others. The giggles that had consumed her for minutes at their shocked faces, as they realised how long it had been going on without even Grissom cottoning on. As they had all started talking at once, denying that it could have been, denying that they had missed all the evidence. She hadn't been able to speak, but he had confirmed it all, turning to face her, his look bringing calm to her in an instance. His serious, loving intensity that had quietened the others in an instant. That had told them all they needed to know.
She turned in his arms to look at him now. His look turned to hers in questioning, as she searched his eyes, finding the love there in an instance, as she knew she would. It was all she had ever needed to do to find the reassurance that he was still in love with her.
A single look.
The day he had proposed, she couldn't look away, searching his eyes for something that she knew would be there forever, that wouldn't fade, wouldn't falter. There was no other answer that she could think of.
Down here, on this very beach, the lake stretching out into the blackness of the dead of night, the water lapping gently at their feet, the moon the only light. His arms around her, keeping the cold at bay, as they were now.
Fifty years ago she realised with a gulp.
Memory was a strange concept. She could remember the significant parts of their relationship with little trouble, but the days of the week, the months, she had difficulty remembering which one they were in. But the date he had proposed, the day they had finally got married, those dates would be etched in her brain forever.
Their wedding day, she could quite easily forget. The split seam in her dress, the lost rings, the alcoholic band member that had decided to hold the whole of reception hostage because he was having issues.
But as he had said, it wasn't the wedding that was important, they were married, they were together, that was the important part. She could look back and laugh now, tell the story to grandchildren to make them laugh at Nanna and Gramps chaotic day. Then it had felt like a disaster, an omen. Only his words had stopped her from giving it all up then. The simple 'I love you' he had whispered in the midst of it all.
They had argued of course. Many arguments, passionate long drawn out fights; screaming, yelling. The good thing about arguments? Making up afterwards which was just as passionate, just as intense. What had they argued about? Anything and everything. They were in love, but they were also two different people, two headstrong people. And she was very headstrong. They fought about work, inevitably. About bringing work home with them, getting too involved. They worked on the same shift of course, which caused its own arguments, although, as they got more involved, the less they worked together on cases. They argued about having children. She was against it, far too much the career minded girl for her own good. Till the month she had been late, fallen pregnant by accident, resenting it, resenting him till that first ultrasound, the first time she had heard the heartbeat and known that this was something as amazing as their love for each other. This was something that their love had produced. Something that she never gotten her head around, even with the four children they had had.
Grandchildren, growing old, the midlife crisis he had suffered, or so he had told her which had necessitated in buying a Thunderbird. She had wanted to be mad, but the image of him pining for his youth was too funny, and she had ended up in fits of giggles instead.
The laughter was the best. She had never laughed as much until she met him, started really getting to know him. He wasn't a comedian in the classical sense, but he could point out the smallest detail about something, could spot the irony, be as dry as a desert in summer. Laughter filled their house most of the time, their children learning to laugh before they could speak.
There had been troubles. Mostly minor, a few with lasting impressions. Finding out their youngest child had a genetic problem with her heart meaning hospital visits became a way of life. The day it had become terminal. She could never consolidate losing a child before she was even an adult. You weren't meant to watch your child die. It was a dull ache inside of her, that had never been erased even though time had made it easier to live with, to remember her for the good times.
Looking back, reminiscing, brought a smile to her lips, an aching to her heart, a satisfaction as she looked at him, knowing on this day, that she wouldn't change a thing, because through it all, through out the tragedy they had grown stronger, had the privilege of knowing all their children, even if one had died. Had the privilege of having the child even for a short time. She wasn't that religious, but at the funeral, the words that Maddy was a gift from God had echoed in her heart, brought a calm to her soul.
The beach was bright with afternoon sun. The family spread out on the beach front, picnicking under umbrellas. They stood apart from them now, watching their brood with a pride and passion. Reminiscing in their hearts of what had started all this.
A simple 'I love you' floating from Warrick's lips brought Sara back from years gone by. Made her look at him and echo his words, no other words being suitable to describe what she still felt for him.