A/N: Well here we are… season nine! I can't believe I wrote all the way from season ONE!
And here's my thoughts: I plan to end this series at 9x11, "The Grave Shift", after Sara and Grissom have their happily ever after in the jungle. I considered doing the rest of season nine, and maybe into ten and eleven, but there's really just not much to go on. Seasons ten and eleven could be a little better with Sara back, but even then, I feel like the post-eps would get repetitive.
And so I'd rather just leave it here, which also leads us very nicely into the brand new season twelve! If you enjoyed these stories, watch this space, because I may change my mind and go back and do seasons ten and eleven at some point, and maybe even do a few post-eps for season twelve, if TPTB give us anything to go on. And of course, I'm sure I'll post other stories in the near future.
So with that said, here's the beginning of the end, spoilers for episode 9x1, For Warrick.
I'd held it in until then, but as I watched Gil struggle not to break down right there in front of all of us, my tears came flowing out. My heart broke as I watched him stand there, choking on the words he was trying to say, the things he needed to tell Warrick. That he would miss him. That he loved him.
He stepped down from the podium and slipped back onto the bench next to me. My hand went straight for his.
I looked up at him, wanting to find the right words to make that look of pain on his face disappear, but falling short. I offered him the best smile I could manage, and he gave one back to me.
In front of us, the priest motioned for the processional to begin, and we were the first out of the church, following right behind Warrick's casket. I couldn't bring myself to look at it. Instead, I looked straight at the ground, trusting Gil's grasp on my hand and the closeness of his body to guide me out of the church.
The sun outside was blinding, unnecessarily harsh. Cars drove by us on the street, occasionally slowing down to watch us walk past. Dozens upon dozens of people, carrying on with their ordinary lives, not knowing what kind of man the world was now missing.
The whole team piled into a Denali, Gil and I in the front, Nick and Catherine in the middle seats and Greg stuck in the back. None of us could bring ourselves to speak, fearing that the emotion would claim us the moment we opened our mouths.
So we drove to the cemetery in silence, pulling up with a cavalcade of cars behind us, and stood alongside Tina, and Warrick's beautiful son, Eli. The priest spoke more, and the others around me were saying Bible verses in response, but the words and the sounds and the people swirled around me like a dream. None of it felt real. Not the priest, not the funeral, and not Warrick's casket. All that was real was Gil's hand in mine.
And just like that, it was over. People started filing out around us, but we stayed where we stood, not wanting to leave Warrick. Not ready to say goodbye.
Gil was the first to move. I felt his fingers slip from mine, and I glanced up in surprise. He moved towards Tina, who was clutching her son like a lifeline, unable to tear her eyes away from the grave. He paused in front of her, then together, they enveloped each other into a hug.
"I'm so sorry," I heard him murmur as they embraced.
As they broke apart, Gil lingered in front of Eli, his hand on the baby's back.
"Your father was one of the greatest men I ever knew," he said softly before looking up at Tina. "Make sure he knows that."
I choked back a sob, feeling Nick's arm stretch around my shoulders. Gil came back to us, looked at each of us in turn, and nodded. It was time to go.
I slipped my hand back in his.
"Everyone from the lab is going to Catherine's," I told him softly. "Do you want to go?"
He looked at me, broken and distressed.
"I don't think I can," he whispered.
I pulled him into an embrace, feeling him cry into my shoulder under the hot, hot sun, and whispered into his ear.
"Let's go home."
It wasn't until we were home – or at least, back at his townhouse – until we were alone, that he allowed himself to really crumble. He had held me so many times, wiped away so many of my tears, and this was my chance to make that up to him in the smallest way. Warrick's voice echoed in my mind.
You're a tough cookie.
I had to smile. I would be strong for Gil, and for Warrick. So I held him when he cried, dried his tears when they stopped, held him as he was silent and, finally, looked into his eyes.
"I… I'm s-sorry," he choked.
"Hey," I said soothingly. "Don't be. Warrick wouldn't have wanted you to pretend."
"Sara," he whispered, breathless.
"Hmm?"
I stroked his curls.
"I need you."
I looked at him in surprise, unsure. But his steady gaze told me what he needed. He needed me, and as soon as I felt him move closer beside me, I realized how much I needed him. Through our touches, we offered each other the comfort words could not provide. Our bodies and souls sought solace, and found it, in each other. In the moment, loving each other didn't feel wrong, on the contrary, it made perfect sense. It was as if we were carrying out the message and legacy Warrick left – the overwhelming belief in the beauty of life.
And after, we held each other as if the world might end if we let go. I loved and had missed this man more than anything in the world.
"I don't think I know how to deal with this," he said softly into the darkness.
I reached out to stroke his forehead, and felt his face turn towards me. I pressed my lips against his.
"There is no good way," I replied. "You just… do."
"Thank you," he murmured. "For being here. I don't know what I would have done without you."
I just pressed another kiss to his lips, and pulled his head to my chest, cradling it there. I held him until he was fast asleep, and hoped that he remained so until the morning. I settled into the covers, sighed and closed my eyes, feeling sleep beginning to claim me too.
But even in the moment of deepest peace, with Gil sleeping beside me once again, I knew what was inevitable.
And I didn't know if I could survive leaving him again.