Peace
By: Allison and Manda
Disclaimer: Don't own them…blah blah, CBS owns them…aren't they lucky? The song is "God of Wine" by Third Eye Blind.
A/N: Written over AIM in the wee hours of the morning, we present the first ever Allie-wan and Manda co-authorship. Now let's see if the GraveyardShift groupies can figure out who wrote what…hee hee. Have Fun.
Spoilers: Hunger Artist, A Little Murder
Rating: PG-13
~
Every though that I repent, there's another chip you haven't spent
And you're cashing them all in
Where do we begin- to get clean again, can we get clean again?
I walk home alone with you, in the mood you're born into
Sometimes you let me in, and I take it on the chin
I can't get clean again, I wanna know, can we get clean again?
~
The suns first rays are filtering through the semi-drawn curtains, illuminating the room. Silence fills the air; she's sitting stiffly on the couch stirring her drink mindlessly with her index finger. At this hour, and in this present state, you know she shouldn't be drinking; but for now, she seems content only to stir, as if the drink wasn't quite to her liking. Never, has one room ever been this quiet when she's been in it.
Since the moment she'd shown up at your door, stark red deep cut on her forehead glaring madly at you, she hadn't said a word. You knew what she wanted—something that only you could give her, peace.
~
The God of Wine comes crashing through the headlights of a car
That took you farther than you want to go…
We can't get back again, We can't get back again…
She takes a drink and then she waits,
The alcohol it permeates
And soon the cells give way, and cancels out the day
~
Never once, had you questioned her motives during her years with Eddie. When she would stands there, tears streaking down her face, while you surveyed the damage he'd done; both physically and emotionally.
You were her haven, this townhouse the one place her demons could not follow her. And now, when she came for her white knight to swoop her into his majestic arms…you allow her only to have a drink, and stir it idly in the corner; demons yet to be vanquished as she played with the magic potion. The potion that so often in the past had been the choice to soothe her weary soul. Clearly, the events of the night warranted something much stronger.
Or rather, someone much stronger. Something, that on the inside, you knew you weren't.
~
I can't keep it all together
I know, I know, I know, I can't keep it all together
~
Staring momentarily into the yellowish-orange liquid, she hesitantly takes a small sip. It does nothing to lessen the pained expression on her face. In fact, it soured more as she got up and dumped the remains of it into the sink. Taking both the juice and the vodka once again, she measured out her own drink.
"Bitter?" You ask, without a hint of hesitation. With the look of scorn upon her face, you guess that perhaps the arrow you've shot has not yet struck the fair maiden in the heart, but wounded her in a vital spot…her already aching cache of agony. Without a word, she fills three-quarters of the clunky glass with clear liquid, the fumes reaching your nose even from where you stand. A splash of orange only adds a dash of color, and she sips the slow acting poison.
You know it's had the desired affect when, as she returns to her spot in the leather chair, her muscles relax, and a small ironic smile creeps upon her face.
~
And the siren's song that is your madness
Holds a truth I can't erase…
All alone on your face
~
"I never thought I would fall for the sheriff of Nottingham," she says off-handedly, lifting her glass into the air and peering at the ice cubes within, each dancing carelessly on the waves. "Didn't you imagine you'd be the next Pierre Curie, working side by side with the resurrected Marie? Or John M. Sivinski, living out your life in the jungles of Africa, with your jars of two-headed scorpions, and Billy Bass guarding your tree house in the palms?"
"I don't speak French," you say simply, shrugging your shoulders in the way you often do. She raises her eyes and smiles, in that way that she often does, bordering on the line between 'come hither' and 'go wither' when she wishes you'd either agree with her or rot in hell…whichever you'd most prefer.
"You know eventually it'll come back."
"What's that Grissom?" She asks as if she doesn't already know. Another third of her drink gone as it disappears down her throat. She winces, and you know the poisonous liquid burns as it hits her stomach.
~
Every glamorous sunrise, throws the planets out of line
A star sign out of whack, a fraudulent zodiac
And the God of Wine is crouched down in my room
You let me down I said it…
And now I'm going down, and you're not even around
~
"The fear. The pain. It won't just go away. You have to deal with it."
"Ah, advice from the master of 'Sharing'…Yea, sure, I'll take a page out of your book."
"If you keep taking pages out of your book, Catherine, you could be dead from the grief before it gets published." Had your chest been a canon, your heart would have been shot out and beating in her hands long ago. Rather, you watched as she stared unblinking, with the snap, crackle, and pop, of her demeanor slowly dying under the milky white of her skin. She was exhausted, and took another sip of the bitter mix, shuddering silently.
"Why did you come here if you didn't want to hear an excerpt from 'The Wit and Wisdom of Gil Grissom'?"
She'd once commented on how she'd never want to be like you. Doppelganger she was not, yet she emulated you without knowing. A beaker of bodily fluids, a tumbler of vodka and orange juice; they were one and the same if only for the fact that they accomplished the same objective…aiding in the escape of reality.
Only beakers of bodily fluids couldn't kill you.
~
I can't keep it all together
I know, I know, I know, I know, I can't keep it all together
~
"Cath," you say, walking over to her and wrapping your hand around the glass she'd just now refilled. "I think it's time to stop." A haze had developed over her sad blue eyes as you gazed into them.
"Don't…Please…"
She was crumbling before you, the pieces strewn about you on the floor. Her fingers slipped from the tumbler she was holding, allowing you a window of opportunity to take it from her.
"Grissom…it's all I have left. Don't take away the only constant I have…"
~
And there's a memory of a window
Looking through I see you,
~
The tumbler makes a hollow sound as it lands on the floor, not breaking, as you'd imagine, but spilling its own woes and sorrows in the form of liquid sunshine; Catherine's sunshine, causing a cancer deeper than the skin.
"One of the definitions of 'constant' is 'steadfast in purpose, loyalty, or affection; faithful'… If you're getting loyalty from that drink Catherine…or affection…then I'd rather see you with Eddie. Faithful he was not…but affection he could give you, no matter how crass and careless it was. If you'd rather have that, then I'll call you a cab."
She moved away from you stumbling slightly, steadying herself only after placing her hand on a stool that seemed to have found itself far from its original spot in the kitchen. "At least on some occasions, it seems as if it's the only peace, the only thing that listens, and doesn't answer back. It can't lie Grissom. I know you've been lying…or maybe well…hiding may be a better word for it."
Inebriated she may be, but she did have a point. You'd made it a mental note everyday to be careful, to not let anyone notice your own demons; and apparently you'd failed miserably.
~
Searching for something,
I could never give you
~
"What have you been hiding from me Gil Grissom?" The world had to have been spinning very fast for Catherine Willows at that moment, and not just from the vodka she'd consumed; for as she hit the couch, her hands were immediately drawn to her head, and she rubbed her temples violently, trying to make the dizziness stop. "maybe I should just go…"
It was all you could do not to join her, put your hands on her temples and make the headache go away. If the magic you possessed was alchemy, and you could turn the substance she turned into, something warm, something tangible. Or maybe…you could. It was all within your grasp, all you had to do was take hold.
"Catherine…you're not going anywhere, yet" You drop to the couch beside her, and she doesn't move an inch, fingers still working furiously at her skin, as if driving out the agony. Your world isn't spinning, but you feel as if you may fly from its axis, your heart beating faster than the fastest creature living. "Tag you're it."
She looks confused, and you manage a weak smile, continuing. "I've hidden and now you've found me, and now I'm tagging you. I won't hide anymore Catherine…but you've got to stop running, or I can't be there to hold you."
Slowly her head turned so that it was facing you. "I can't get him out of my mind, Gil. Every time I blink I see his face." Tears were forming in her eyes, but they never spilled over. She wouldn't let them. She never did.
"It's understandable, Catherine. If you hadn't been capable of handling yourself…" Then your white knight would be a failure, for not teaching you everything, he knew. The words were as loud as if you'd spoken them, and you knew then that you blamed yourself. "You did what you could…and you're here now. You've got Lindsey at home, waiting for her mommy to protect her from monsters under the bed…and you have your own to conquer first. I'll be with you for that."
"What about yours?" she asked laying her head on your shoulder affectionately.
"My what?"
"Your demons, your monsters… whatever it is you've been hiding from me."
"Tomorrow. I promise," you assure her as she yawns. Right now, your problems seem meaningless, a tiny glimmer drifting in an endless sea of stars. Right now, she was more important than any obstacle you would, or could, ever face. And you intended for it to stay that way.
~
And there's someone who understands you, more than I do
But the sadness I can erase, all alone on your face.
~
The End