Twists of Fate
By: Allison
E-mail: GeckoGal21@lycos.com
Archive: Beautiful Addictions, Shipperworld, Working Love Archive, and the Graveyard.

Disclaimer: I think CBS knows by now that I don't own their characters...I just use them for my own evil purposes.

Summary: She twists her ring, as angels fly.
Rated: PG

A/N: Stick with me, this is a little confusing at first... but it's more angst. And what really can I say? Flame away, maybe? I don't care. Just don't read this thinking that it's going to be happy...Kleenexes everyone. Enough said. Special thanks to Manda, my partner in crime, and beta for this fic...thank you for not killing me when I told you how I wanted to write this.

Chapter One: Memories

You found her in the parking lot. Sitting on the hood of her Tahoe, knees pulled up to her chest, mindlessly twisting the band around her left finger. She's been there for an hour. Staring out across the Vegas night sky, bits of shredded paper scattered around her. She did not cry. She only sighed, set her chin upon her knees, and continued to stare. She never cried.

And your heart breaks. As if it hadn't been already shattered into a thousand pieces, like hers, once before.

"Something you did will destroy me, something you said will stay with me, long after you're dead and gone," you hear her mumble, sorrow in her voice.

You don't respond, but are not baffled by her quiet sorrowful demeanor. You couldn't help but put aside you own pain to make room for some sympathy for her. Knowing that what she was feeling was so much worse.

"Why'd you leave me?" she murmurs once again, to no one in particular, hair whipping in the wind, the paper surrounding her fluttering and landing on the pavement like fallen snow.

Shoving your hands into your pockets, you step out of the shadows and stand beside her, leaning against the side of the car.

"Whitman?" you ask out of curiosity.

"Huh? What?" she asks turning around.

"That quote, whatever it was that you were mumbling, Whitman?"

"Oh hey, um, no it's not."

The wind kicks up, and her blonde hair masks her face like a veil. She turns away from you, but you can picture the haunted look her face holds. You pull your gray jacket tighter around your body in attempts to fight off the cold that had set in. She was clad in slacks, and a plain black t-shirt, unaffected by the chill.

"Sorry for startling you." Your reply was soft, but sincere, and you see her shoulders tense as you speak.

"It's okay, really... I thought you were Warrick."

"Are you alright? You wanna talk about it?"

She doesn't answer. An awkward silence develops, and hangs in the air between the two of you. Neither sure quite what you wanted to say. She had been okay an hour ago, that you knew. Working her cases as best as she could, considering the circumstances. It wasn't until Sheriff Mobley had approached her, that she had fled out the door, feigning sickness from her medication, and telling them that she needed some air.

"Isn't it funny how time slips away?" she chuckles nervously, breaking the silence between the two of you, and pulling you out of your recollection. "A year ago you wouldn't have found us like this."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Why does everyone ask me that question anyway? There's really nothing to talk about."

You watch as she shoots a cold glare to nowhere, and no one in particular, as if the entire world around her was somehow conspiring against her. You see her shift, revealing the stark white bandage on her forehead and a sling that held her left arm stiffly in place. "I'm fine...really...I'm....I'm just fine."

In all the time you've known her, you've never seen her like this. So closed off, so alone. As if she wore the aching in her heart like a badge on her sleeve, but was desperately trying to lock it up at the same time. Keep it safe; away from anyone who might want take it away, anyone who might want to try to make her forget.

"Am I not allowed to be worried about you?"

"There's nothing to be worried about."

"You've only been out of the hospital a few days, and you're back here, trying to be superwoman. We've all been worried.... You need rest, some time to heal. You don't need to be here right now."

"I want to be here." She pulled her knees up to her chest again, bringing her ring finger to her lips to brush it against them, breath misting over the cold band. Funny...she'd sworn it had been warm, the day it had been slipped onto her finger. "It was his home away from home...and if it's as close as I can get...then it's where I want to be."

"Where he wanted to be, was with you..." you reply, the words tumbling out of your mouth, as if it was the first time you had ever been able to say them. You don't have to be this strong for her; you realize...some deep voice within you wishing that she'd listen to you, instead of the other way around. He'd been yours once too, or so you had thought at one time. But, in the end however, it was her bed he had slept in, and her simple, yet beautiful ring that he had worn. And you accepted it, as any friend would.

The memories, they were jumbled, as they ran through your mind. All the things he'd ever said, flashing before your eyes. And as you stare out at the stars shining brightly against the pitch-black night, you know she's thinking the same thing.

Wishing,
hoping,
praying, as she twists her ring, that he'd fly back, as an angel would; and she'd wake up with him next to her once more.

TBC.