Ok people, I don't know if anyone has noticed, but my fic 'Every Step She Takes' is turning into a bit of an abandoned WIP. But I promise it will get finished, I just don't know when. I am in the middle of 4 weeks of AS level exams so everything's a little hectic and the inspiration just hasn't been there. I would rather finish it and enjoy it than force myself to bang out an ending, so… I'm afraid there may be a wait.

I did get a sudden moment of inspiration, however, when listening to an album I just bought, 'Fires' by Nerina Pallot (which I would sincerely recommend). The fact that one song is called 'Geeklove' (not actually one I've included in this story but hey, it has the line 'We're geeks but we know this is love', it has to be written for us) was just too much for me to resist and my mind went into overdrive. As such I procrastinated, stopped revising, and this happened… I'm posting all the parts at once. I hope you enjoy it… please review, it makes this insignificant girl from London feel a little special.

Love, Em xxx

'Flames' by emj

Set post 'Way to Go'. Well, Grissom and Sara are together, anyway, and have been for a while. The magic's wearing off…

Each part based on an individual song from the album 'Fires' by Nerina Pallot, as demonstrated by the parts in italics.

Damascus

Years ago, you said to me,
"I think I'm losing the fight,
or the fight's losing me, I'm not certain."

Grissom wandered into the living room, a steaming cup of tea cradled in his hand. Sara was curled up on the sofa, her beauty still striking him like an arrow even though she was wearing casual sweatpants and an old T-shirt. Her hair was scraped back into a messy ponytail and he noticed the way a strand hung loose, a brown curl against her beautiful clear skin. In her hands was a book but she looked up from it as he walked in. Immediately as their eyes met her peaceful façade was shattered. Grissom felt a flutter of nerves in his stomach and chided his body for this reaction. It was not right that he should feel this way about Sara. Not Sara, whom he loved so dearly. He had seen this happen before; it was a cycle he feared was inevitable. Recently she had been disappearing within herself, only emerging to pick an argument. He had tried to talk to her but she had retreated into her shell, closed up and looked so close to tears that his own emotions allowed him to push her no further.

And here we are – the closing scenes
and all the house lights come up.
Oh, the falling of our final curtain…

"Did you make me one?"

"Sorry?"

"A cup of tea."

Grissom moved over towards the sofa but Sara immediately adjusted her position, making it clear that she was not inviting his company. Reluctantly he sat himself down in an armchair instead, holding out the mug.

"Have this one."

"No." Sara returned her eyes to the book. "I didn't want one." Grissom sighed deeply. "Don't sigh at me!" Sara snapped. "It would just be nice to be asked."

"Sorry, honey."

There was no reply.

I've played a role for so long that I've forgotten myself –
But I said I'd be there, and I'm keeping my word.

A few minutes later, as Grissom was feeling his still full cup of tea grow cool in his hands, Sara suddenly stood up. "I'm going out."

"Where?"

"Just for a walk."

"A walk near any alcohol-serving establishment?" The minute the words had escaped Grissom's lips he knew he should not have said them.

"What is that meant to mean?"

"I think you know, Sara."

Sara threw the book down onto the sofa. "No, Gil, I don't. Why don't you explain?"

"I'd rather not."

"If you don't trust me to go for a walk and not come back drunk, then please tell me."

You've played yourself so well
and now I want to be you:
A great imitation of losing my nerve.

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

"No, Sara." Grissom placed his mug on the ground next to the armchair and stood up slowly, his muscles objecting. How ironic it should be that the woman who had once made him feel so young should have recently caused him to age so greatly, both physically and mentally. He reached out a hand cautiously to Sara's arm. For a moment their bodies connected, his hand feeling the coolness of her pale arm, and he saw a glimpse into their past. He remembered the loving, affectionate woman who he had fallen in love with. But then he also remembered the difficult times he had supported her through as best as he knew how. And even as she stepped back from his touch he knew that he could not leave her now, when she needed him most even though she would not admit it. He watched sadly as she stalked into the bedroom and shut the door behind her. Stepping backwards he felt his foot connect with the mug on the floor and cursed as the tea formed a murky brown stain, spreading out on the carpet.

Oh it's over.
And everything is wrong, everything has gone.
And I know that everything means nothing.

He bent down and picked up the mug. Making his way into the kitchen he felt a strange sense of despair wash over him. He wanted to curl up into a ball, like Sara was probably doing in their bedroom right now. He wanted to escape life. But he knew he could not. To do so would mean personal destruction and, most crucially, destruction of Sara. She needed him. He needed her. Maybe she needed him to need her. Maybe he needed her to need him. He didn't know any more. They had co-existed for so long that she was an extension of his being. When she hurt he hurt too. He needed to fix her because if he did not they would both stay broken.

Oh, it's over.
But I don't want to fight, I don't want to be right
I know that everything means nothing.
On the road to Damascus they fell.

I saw the light – I saw the light!
But hey, it never saw me –

As Sara lay awake in bed she tried to remember whether Gil had slept in their bed the previous day. It was a rare occurrence these days and each day seemed to blend into the next. Once upon a time it had been her work that had kept her going; had given her a focus. Then it had been Gil. He had been her reason to live. Hell, he still was. If she had not known he was always there, sitting in the next room waiting for her to be ready to talk, even though he knew he could be waiting forever, only God knows what she might have done.

But why? She asked herself that question for the umpteenth time and once again could not answer it. She remembered the last time this had happened; she had nearly lost her job. Gil had got her through that also. He was always there, her knight in shining armour. Metaphorically speaking. And she was the damsel in distress. Not so metaphorically.

Oh conversation has left me heathen.
And we could wait a thousand years,
perhaps a million or more,

She heard a tap running in the bathroom. Only seconds later it stopped. The television turned on but it took only a minute for Gil to establish there was nothing on that he wanted to watch. She heard the sound of his footsteps approaching the door, her ear picking up every sound acutely. The sounds stopped and Sara could have sworn she could hear the sound of his breath right outside the door. She held her own until the sound of footsteps moving away confirmed he had decided to leave her in peace. This was what she had resorted to; hiding, in every sense of the word, from the man she loved. And this was what she had driven him to; he felt uncomfortable in his own home.

"Sara?" The sound of his voice startled her. He sounded close. Apparently her ears had deceived her; he was on the other side of that door, only inches away from her. She closed her eyes and willed him to leave. She could not face him. Not now. "Sara?" Ever? She had a horrible feeling the answer was no. "I love you, honey. Sleep well."

If it's worth waiting for, but I'm leaving.
So on to a mecca of earthly delights –
Depression is only desire deprived.

After a few minutes, Sara got up and tiptoed over to the cupboard. As she pulled out a large travel bag, a box fell out, landing with a crash on the floor. She cursed herself and held her breath for a couple of minutes until she was sure Gil had not heard. Or at least he had chosen to ignore it. As she reached to place the box back in the cupboard a photo slipped out of it. Picking it up she saw her own face grinning back at her. She looked healthy. She looked happy. Her skin was glowing and healthy and her arm was outstretched, holding the camera out in front of her and her companion: Gil. He looked slightly awkward and uncertain, his eyes watching Sara as she smiled, but there was warmth in the look he was giving her. Devotion; love; they were blissfully happy. How far had they come since that photograph had been taken? It was one of a million beautiful memories, now tainted by less pleasant ones. Sara did not want the happiness to be tainted any more.

Once more unto the breach and fuck my getting it right –
We've died for so long, let's just get out alive.

Cause it's over.
And everything is wrong, everything has gone.
And I know that everything means nothing.

Grissom had made himself a bed on the sofa after wishing Sara goodnight, something he did every night. A week ago, whilst she had been bathing, he had entered their bedroom. It used to be a place they shared. Now it was Sara's sanctuary; her escape from him. That hurt. He had found a travel bag lying out by the bedside. In it had been a few items of clothing and a photograph Sara had taken of the two of them a year previously. He had panicked. He had not slept since for fear she would leave. Yesterday he had gone into the bedroom again and found the bag in exactly the same position and the photograph still lying on top. He wondered if he could allow himself some rest…

Oh, it's over.
But I don't want to fight, I don't want to be right
I know that everything means nothing.
On the road to Damascus they fell.
Well I've been to Damascus,

It's hell, hell is where I'm gonna be,

Sara pushed the door open as quietly as she could possibly manage. She peered through the gap, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the living room in comparison to the bright light of her bedroom. Gil was lying asleep on the sofa. Her heart leapt slightly at the sight of him. For a moment she simply stared. She had not allowed herself to face him much recently. It hurt too much. But now she allowed herself some time. Some time to say goodbye.

The devil my intimate friend.

After a moment she feared she would be unable to leave him and immediately picked up her bag, averting her eyes from the sleeping figure. With steps so light she was almost floating, she moved over to the front door. Gently she reached to the latch and slowly pulled it open; she awaited the creaking hinge that had always irritated her…it never came. Gil must have oiled it. He always said he was going to do it, she smiled to herself, but somehow never had time. She guessed he had had a lot of time recently.

And hell is other people's hearts

As she walked out of the apartment, she suddenly remembered something. With reckless abandon, forgetting her need to be silent, she rushed back into the bedroom. Lying on her bed was the photograph of her and Gil. It was the happiest time of her life encapsulated in one picture. But as she picked it up she realised that she did not deserve this. She knew her memories would never fade. Picking up a pen from beside her bed she wrote three simple words on the back of it. As she left the apartment for the last time she placed it on the table next to the sofa. And with silent tears she pulled the door shut behind her.

And knowing that everything must end.

When Grissom awoke he felt her presence was gone. He knew from the moment his eyes opened. As he walked through the open door into what had once been their bedroom he did not need to check the wardrobe for the travel bag. He knew it was gone.

It was only when he re-entered the living room that he noticed the photograph lying on the table. On the back was written, I love you.

Oh it's over.
And everything is wrong, everything has gone.
And I know that everything means nothing.
Oh, it's over.
But I don't want to fight, I don't want to be right
I know that everything means nothing.
On the road to Damascus they fell –
Well, I've been to Damascus as well.