Vicoden, Vodka, and Marlboro Cigarettes
By: Allison
Disclaimer: No I don't own them. This fic was inspired by the song "Freshmen" by The Verve Pipe, and by the song "Bittersweet Symphony" by the Verve. I don't own those either.
Rating: R (may be toned down to PG-13, just covering my bases.)
A/N: Told myself I wouldn't post anything until I had At least one of my other stories done…well I guess I was wrong. Don't know when I will update this, hopefully sooner rather than later. Thanks to Manda for the pre-read, and to GraveShiftCSI for all the wonderful encouragement. If it weren't for you all I wouldn't get anything done…PS…Ann, this is not the evil fic… enjoy.
Prologue
The room was stark white, barren; only she lay in the middle of it, swallowed whole by the hospital bed that consumed her. Eyes fluttered and she set her gaze upon him as he entered. She opened her mouth to speak, but he touched a finger to his lips motioning for her to stay silent.
Painkillers, he thought to himself. She'd overdosed on vodka and painkillers. In his mind he tried to rationalize this newfound knowledge. But he couldn't. Divorced from Eddie for over a year now, he had thought things were calming down in her life. And then this happened.
Sitting down, he slid his hand into hers. He could feel it shaking. They needed to talk, but not now. For the moment he was content on just watching her. Making sure she didn't attempt something else, though he highly doubted that she had the energy to try again.
"I'm sorry Gil," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.
"Shh..."
Again he placed his finger upon his lips. Neither of them needed the emotionally draining conversation that would have followed those few words.
The tip of the stark white cast poked out from under the covers at the end of the bed. He remembered distinctly Catherine's call three weeks prior, telling him she had broken her ankle. Two nights later she hobbled back to CSI, prescription of Vicoden in hand, ready to work---even if it meant doing paperwork all night.
Near the end of shift nick had mentioned something about Catherine's cast looking something like a steel-toed boot. The entire break room had chuckled, including some workers from days; it was the last time he had heard her beautiful laugh.
Now she was attempting to blink away the sleep that was consuming her, and he could tell she was losing the battle. He traced his finger along the beautiful features of her now pale face.
He'd never suspected there was a problem.
To Be Continued…