CSI:LV, T, Romance/Family, Eli Trent & Sara Sidle
Disclaimer: CSI, its characters, places, and situations are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions. This story was written for entertainment not monetary purposes. Original characters, and this story, are intellectual property of the author. Any similarities to existing characters, fictional or real, living or dead, are coincidental and no harm is intended.
Just a quick Halloween fic, you will only understand what it's about if you're familiar with my other stories, if you're not I advise you to simply not read it, it won't make any sense. I have written snippets of what would have been had Sara never died now and then, since I was never able to let the initial idea go, despite the route the story took after 'Mistakes'. I just haven't had much time to write lately and this just came to mind when I scrolled through all the Halloween related posts on Tumblr today, so I thought why not give it a chance to publish this one as a first in what might be a series of Alternate Universe fics set after 'Mistakes'. It's rare I just have something flowing out so easily these days. Enjoy while it lasts. Will be two or even three parts, since I won't manage to finish today. Completely unedited, pardon any and all the mistakes.
All Hallows' Eve
"Ah, fu-fudge."
You hiss, the sharp intake of the cool morning air almost making your teeth hurt, but your focus is on your palm. It pulses as you cradle your left hand in your right, the carving tool responsible clattering onto the wooden floorboards of your back porch, along with some drops of blood.
A head, hair still damp and curly from a recent shower, peeks out between the sliding glass doors while you still ponder how to get inside without bleeding all over the carpets.
"You okay?" Sara's voice is still rough from sleep, but surprisingly calm as she takes in your state.
In two long strides she's beside you, prying your fingers off where they press on the cut while you look up at her, apologetic, all of this early morning work was supposed to be a surprise.
"It's not too deep, I don't think you need any stitches, but we gotta get this bandaged." She casts her eyes over towards the table, where your sorry excuse for a Halloween pumpkin, already hollowed out and with holes that, if you squint real hard, could resemble two eyes and the beginning of a toothy grin sits, a basket with lots of smaller ones in all shapes, sizes and colours beside it.
All she does is smile.
You rip off your beanie and carelessly fling it onto the couch as you cross the living room, blood flow now dampened by a kitchen towel Sara hastily retrieved and guided by her gentle, yet insistent touch you make your way up the stairs.
The white bandage is a stark contrast to your tan skin, it's been a long, hot summer and you spent so much time outside like you haven't until you've been a kid.
Soft lips cover your own and you're grateful for two more minutes of quiet.
"You needn't have done that. We've already decorated yesterday, the costumes are ready and there's a butt load of sweets in the bowl by the door already."
Her mouth is still close to your own and you can smell, taste the minty toothpaste on her breath as she speaks, breathe in the hint of vanilla of her body wash and you want to stop time.
"But I wanted to do this. I kinda promised, I guess, I just thought it would be easier, I haven't done this since I was little and it's always been my father who did the carving. He was real good at it. I'm just really not talented. At all. I wanted him to have a Jack O'Lantern outside the front door tonight, it's the best part."
She runs a hand through your rapidly graying hair, smoothing it, and smiles that indulgent smile you love so much. Like you're the strangest creature on this planet sometimes, an oddity, but the most beloved one she could ever imagine.
"I love you."
When she kisses you again, time does stand still. She's still in her robe and slippers and you wear rough cargo pants and work boots, a woolen sweater and she's soft, so soft under your touch that like so many times before you wonder how you ever managed to get so lucky to have her in your life.
An insistent knock on the bathroom door instantly stalls the movement of your hand inside the robe, but the hitch in her breath your touch caused is still hanging between you, sweetly, a promise, momentarily postponed as...
"Mommy? I really, really need to pee."
It's amazing to watch when Sara switches from woman, gasp breaking from her lips just seconds earlier and longing in her eyes into Mom, gathering bloody kitchen towels, bandages and tape swiftly and locking the medicine cabinet again safely before shoving you towards the still closed door, behind which your son is hopping from one foot to the other with both his hands holding his crotch.
"Urgent, urgent..." He moans as he pushes past you and slams the door, not even stopping to acknowledge that both of you just emerged from the room.
Bedazzled you look at each other before breaking out in wide grins.
Your uninjured hand cups her jaw and you lean in for one more quick, yet all the same heated kiss.
"Thank you." You whisper, your touch lingering, your fingertips reluctant to leave her skin, but you know your usual morning routine has just begun, like any other day and there's not really time left to dwell on what you'd rather be occupying yourselves with right now.
"Tonight?" She mumbles onto your lips and again you grin.
"Oh yes, Mommy, we'll do some trick or treatin' of our own."
Her eyes are alive with mirth and a fire you never wanna see extinguished in them.
"Mmmhh, I like the thought of that."
You quickly calculate the hours that lie between the right now and the moment you'll finally be able to sneak away from the annual SFPD Halloween ball without appearing impolite, and smirk before stealing one more kiss.
"I'm looking forward to what you're going to wear this year."
Sara bites your lip just hard enough to make you groan.
"You'll like it."
"I'd never doubt that."
Reluctantly you part then, glances still locked, at the sound of a five-year-old clearing his throat beside you.
"Can I have eggs instead of cornflakes today?"
You ruffle his hair before scooping him up easily, and he giggles into your neck all the way down the stairs as you tickle him.
" 'Course you can. Scrambled?"
"Uh huh! With lots of cheese!"
He draws out the word and you laugh, peeling your sweater off before opening the fridge, sticking your head inside.
"Good morning milk, good morning eggs!"
"You're weird, Ma."
"Guh!" Feigning shock, you holler. "Sara, our son thinks I'm weird!"
"Well, sometimes you are." It resounds from upstairs.
Again he giggles.
"You're talking to the food."
"I did, didn't I?" You shrug your shoulders as you start piling up ingredients on the kitchen counter. "So I guess I must be a little weird."
