Authors note: It's been so long since I wrote a CSI fanfiction, so I hope this one is alright. The first line just came to me and then it evolved from there. I saw the episode on Sunday and I could hold off the tears until the end, but that funeral scene tipped me over the edge. It was so sad! But what a way to go.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
To kill with intention is murder; so surely he murdered the whole team.
When he was alive he held her hand, kissed her cheek, rubbed her shoulder and smiled a smile that melted her very soul. He spoke to her gently, reassured her everything would be okay, even when they both knew it wouldn't be. He laughed at all her jokes, no matter how bad and he always, always had her back.
When he died she screamed. She held herself, alone. She gripped at her shoulders and she couldn't smile.
When he was alive he followed his directions with a smile on his face, a skip in his step and a feeling of love and respect held deep in his heart. He came to him with his problems, no matter their gravity or triviality. He would have picked him, if given the chance, to be his father from the very beginning.
When he died he ordered him to stay awake. He held him close to his heart. He cried tears for the son he had lost.
When he was alive he made her smile. He admired her persistence and dedication to the victims. He forgave her for their beginning and he always supported her defences and when things got tough there was no time when he wouldn't do all he could to comfort her. He drank with her and when she'd had enough he told her. He never let her drown, never.
When he died she felt like she was drowning. She drank in his memory, but didn't stop. She cried tears that burnt in their persistence to fall.
When he was alive he clapped him on the shoulder, pressed him harder to succeed and brought about a sense of competitiveness. He spoke his language, understood his game and laughed at his indiscretions. He spent hour after hour just listening to him and he was always, always on his six.
When he died he lost the game. He gave up. He never forgot to look over his shoulder again. He was on his own six.
When he was alive he taught him right from wrong. He showed him the basics and showed him the right way to grow up. He accepted him and all his strangeness. He held him in high regard and never stopped smiling at his simple enthusiasm for the smallest thing. He taught him to be a man and to believe in the world.
When he died he lost faith in the world. He stopped growing as a person. His enthusiasm disappeared and melancholy over clouded his eyes.
When he was alive he was their soul mate, their son, their brother, their friend, their mentor. He was part of their world. He was loved. He was theirs.
When he died they were murdered.
End.
Authors note: Let me know who you think each paragraph is about, I'm curious as to who sees the team's relationship with Warrick the same as I do.