Disclaimer i don't own CBS, CSI or any of the characters, i just like to write stories.
This is my first short story. i haven't seen episode 8.07 yet but have seen clips from it, and just felt like writing this story, so I hope you enjoy. Please R&R
She has to find Sara Sidle.
He walked through the lab to his office, closed and locked the door, shut the blinds and then dropped back hard into his chair and closed his eyes. The letter was still in his hand, so he opened his eyes and started to read it again, hoping he could find some clues in her words, but as he read further into the letter it just made him ask questions of himself.
Should i have insisted she take more time off after the kidnapping, and sought out a professional to talk to, hell should i have taken some time off with her?
Does she blame me for Natalie taking her, but couldn't tell me?
Did something happen in the desert that she never told me about?
Why didn't i notice that she was struggling with her past, of all people i should have known this?
Should i have proposed when i did, was it too much pressure, when she was already dealing with so much?
Is she going to be able to do this on her own, is she strong enough?
Will she be safe without me to help and protect her?
Will she come back?
Will i ever see her again?
As the last question hit him hard, he could feel the ache in his chest, the same one he felt when he was searching for her in the desert, but this time it felt almost debilitating to him. His heart rate sped up, his chest constricted slightly, his breathing was fast and irregular, he was feeling lightheaded, he was trembling and he knew what the symptoms were. Not a heart attack, no,although most people would think they were having one, no this was an anxiety attack or panic attack as most people know them to be, he had had one before when he poured the water over the miniature of Sara in the desert.
He closed his eyes and thought of the relaxation method that Sara had once taught him, when he was stressed after a case with a pedophile. He tried to slow his breathing and heart rate, taking slow, deep calming breaths, he could feel himself relaxing slowly, and his body becoming calm again. When he felt his anxiety lessen to a manageable level, he folded the letter and slipped it into his jacket pocket, stood up collected his brief case and locked his office, and made his way to his car.
I don't want anybody at the lab seeing me fall to pieces, i don't want their pity or sympathy, i just want to get home.
Will it ever be a home again without Sara.
As he started the ignition to the car, he could feel the familiar sting of tears trying to appear in his eyes. Don't cry, wait until you are alone back at the house. He swallowed heavily, and focused on driving home. No music filled the car, to much of the collection in the car reminded him of her, he knew this, and couldn't risk the journey being harder than it already was for him.
After lethargically opening his door dropping his keys and briefcase in the hall, he grabbed the bottle of scotch and a glass from the kitchen cabinet and made his way to the couch in the main living room. Removing his jacket and throwing it in the chair opposite, he sat and poured a drink, brought it to his lips to drink, when his eyes scanned around the room, a small sip and he sat back slowly still looking around the room. He looked at all the touches that Sara had added, and also at some of her belongings, a personal photo of her as a small child, her favorite Harvard sweatshirt draped over the chair near his jacket, her book she was currently reading on the coffee table. Then he spotted her journal, his eyes widened should i read it, to try and find any clues as to where she is going. No i trust her to have to do this for herself, i wont betray her trust.
He got up and put his glass down, made his way to the bedroom to see if she had taken any of her things from the bedroom with her, after a look around he realized that she had only packed cloths, and a few things from the bathroom. His UNLV sweat shirt that he wore around the house to relax in, was missing, she must have taken it with her, this made him smile at the thought of her wearing it, and taking some kind of comfort from it, he knew he would from hers, that she had left.
Making his way back into the living room, and retrieved the letter from his pocket sat, and began to read it again, his thoughts more optimistic now.
She is strong
She will find the answers she is seeking
Hell if she can survive her past and a serial killer, she can do this
I know she knows that i love her very much
I know she loves me, she has done for 9 years
I will see her again
And i will be waiting however long it takes
A knock sounded from the door, he got up and made his way down the hall, i know it's not her, she would have let herself in, no it's probably Cath or Jim hearing Sara has left the lab, and are here to check up on me. Opening the door, he was met with the nonchalant face of Jim Brass.
"hey Gil, everything okay" they probably all know at the lab now, and he will have been the designated person to find out more.
"come in Jim, i suppose you heard Sara left the lab tonight" he sighed
Jim looked at his friend "yeah, how is Sara, is she okay"
"she has gone away, out of town for a while, she has issues that she needs to deal with on her own" he tried to smile, but only succeeded in a fake one.
"you gonna be okay Gil" the detective asked.
"yeah, i will be, with friends like you and the rest at the lab, i wont have a choice will i" he smirked at his friend
"hows about we have a little drink eh" Jim motioned to the bottle on the coffee table.
"i am gonna have a coffee, your welcome to have a scotch if you want one" he walked to the kitchen to put the coffee pot on to boil.
"nah, coffee is good" Jim said taking a seat.
Gil sighed "we are getting married, we haven't told anyone yet" he paused "i love her Jim" he smiled in thought.
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