I watched the kiss scene on youtube and before I knew it this piece had simply written itself. I hope it's up to par because I am sorely out of CSI practice.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable.
And he knows. He know that, if just for one moment, he should have let science slip through his fingers, pale in comparison, and not be the center of his universe. The way her lips fell upon his; insistent yet reserved, full of pain and love twisted together in a tale that was as old as time. She was leaving. He could feel it deep within his bones as he watched her walk down the corridor and out of his life. Every cell composing his body was ready to chase after her, yet his head said that if she needed time alone then he should give it to her. But was that really the answer?
Couldn't he have simply told Hodges that he'd catch up with him later? He could catch her in the parking lot and pull her into his arms, giving her a kiss that expressed every repressed emotion. He could pull her into his office, shut the blinds, and sit there on his couch with her in his arms until the end of shift rolled around. For once, he could have let her know that work paled in importance to her.
He should have let her know that every single day. Held onto her instead of letting the phone drag him from her sleepy embrace, kissed her a moment longer, and, mostly, not ignore the signs of the burnout she had been running headlong to and from since the incident.
She was tired. Exhausted. It was plain to anyone to see that she had been digging her own grave since Natalie had taken her. She had put on the happy face, the layer of confidence that was only skin deep. He lived with her every single day, knew the truth behind the fake smiles, and saw the pain in her coffee colored eyes. Yet, he had simply tried to place a bandaid on a knife wound that went straight through her heart. Proposals and living arrangements were grand gestures but they didn't make up for the words he never had the courage to say or the comforting hugs he lacked to give. He had been trying to protect her in ways that only lead to damage her more.
His feet were cemented to the cold tile of the crime lab. He couldn't get them to budge no matter how much he wanted to sprint after her, stop her from leaving, say the magical words that could get her to turn back around.
Judy passed him the letter a while later. He didn't have to read it to know what she was going to say. She loved him – that much he knew was truth. She was in pain – this also was a truth. She was going to find herself – and maybe she would, but that didn't ease the sting of abandonment. When he would leave the lab and travel home that night, there would be no light on in the bedroom where she had fallen asleep reading one of his books. Hank wouldn't be curled up into her side while she watched one of those movies that made her feel the deepest of empathy for a monster who couldn't fight his true nature. Her scent would linger on every nook and cranny, a few abandon items would still be in their rightful place, but she would be gone.
Maybe, they would find their way home again as time passed and wounds healed. The fact remained, however, that she had spiraled out of control and he blamed himself for not reaching out to steady her. Like a tornado building steam, they had spiraled so desperately out of control that air was sucked from their lungs and life tossed about in a chaotic storm of debris. He believed deep within, that this pain was temporary. They found each other once before, they would find each other once again. This time, Gil Grissom would make sure that Sara Sidle knew he was in it for good. That if life was a stormy sea of mass confusion, he would be her port on the darkest, deadliest night. He would be her home.