Light Of Saturnalia Chapter 3: The Ghost of Absence, a csi fanfic

Disclaimer: It's been a year; hopefully, by now, everybody knows CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me.

Author's Note: For Mr. Hathaway, b8kworm. I will resurrect another figure from my past, Magister Guderian, Salve! Thank you for the laughs. I bow to the beta goddess named Angie. ::shrugs:: There was never a stipulation that I had to make any sense to anybody other than myself. :) The inspiration is fairly obvious; a nod to great literature: A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

Summary: You have to decide where to go from here. You've just seen Cath die and then, happier than she's ever been in life.

Rating: PG-13

Archives: the Graveyard, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

Spoiler(s): Anything after LHB that involves Eddie.

Follows Business On Samhain and Conscious About Mabon.

***** ***** *****

Title: Light Of Saturnalia

Author: Laeta
Email: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

Chapter 3: The Ghost of Absence

Where the previous scene had been bright, golden, and lightly coated with sadness, this one was gloomy and cold. At first, Grissom could not make out any details of the room, but he could smell the neglect. Something scurried along the floor near his feet and kicked up dirt and dust.

The sudden lighting of a bare bulb lamp cut through the haze and Grissom threw his arm up to shield his eyes. Gradually, his eyes adjusted and he cringed at the dilapidated chaos of the room.

Wall studs were exposed wherever the drywall had crumbled from the downward pressure of water and gravity. Water marks pained all available vertical surfaces and some horizontal. The closet in the near corner was well-kept, however, and over flowing. Same for the two moderately sized dressers. A simple table and straight backed chair served as a desk. It was stacked high with literature; they seemed awkward being there. In the far corner, the lamp resided on the floor next to the bed. The sheets and blankets haphazardly covering the bed were worn and proudly sported faded designs.

A toilet flushed and Grissom knew the sink would run dirty water. He imagined cockroaches and other vermin to be companions in the grime. When the bathroom door opened, Grissom lunged towards Eddie; he would recognize that face anywhere.

"What the hell happened to her?"

Grissom could see pain in Eddie's eyes, too, at the barely passable hospitality of the room. One thing they had always agreed upon was that Catherine deserved the very best.

In Grissom's weakening grasp, Eddie turned his head to look at Catherine; Grissom followed, his volition lost unto himself. Catherine had managed to stagger from the bathroom to her bed where she stared at the wall with unseeing eyes. A precisely aligned line of cocaine lay on a tray, forgotten by her.

"How old is she here?"

"Same as she is now, if she even made it this far."

Stark pain effused itself into one word: "Why?"

Meanwhile, Catherine remembered the line of cocaine; she leaned over and snorted it in one practiced, smooth move. It was one line too many. She died utterly alone in a room off a back alley of the Strip.

In the blink of an eye, the image imprinted itself in his mind's eye, and he and Eddie were back in the gray room.

"Eddie, I think you better explain."

"What's there to explain? It's as simple as what if - what if she never met you? That's what would've happened to her."

"But I didn't help clean her up. You did."

"Right, but it was you who introduced me to Cath. If you didn't come to Vegas when you did, if you didn't let me stay a while with you, then this is the what-if."

"One chance meeting?"

"It wasn't chance. That was fate. You thought the one before was sad, then what about this one, Gil? Huh? You saved her from that!"

"I always thought she never needed me."

"Yeah. And you want to know something else?" Eddie simply ignored the negative response from Grissom's general direction.

"They called you. The Las Vegas Police Department called you in from Santa Monica because of Sam Braun. In this life, Cath has a chance to know the truth; in that one, Sam Braun, Cath - they never had the opportunity."

He walked to Grissom, to make sure he was paying attention.

"Sam Braun requested the best and that was you so nothing on that score has changed. You came and worked her case. You and Cath, again. She may not have met you but you sure as hell met her. That's fate in all its irony."

Grissom stared off into nothing, doing his best to assimilate information. Eventually, Eddie leaned almost companionably next to him, shifting his body from confrontational to conversation.

"Gil, I know you never thought I was good enough for Cath. I know that you never approved of me marrying her. But you're the one who gave her another chance at life. Isn't this proof?"

"What was there for me to object? You made her happy, that's all that mattered."

"But, you know what? I wasn't right for her. The divorce made sure of it and death reinforced it."

"What are you saying?"

"That it wasn't you who made her life difficult. Her life now is only one way it could've gone for her with you."

"There's another? I don't want to see anymore." His voice sounded so hollow.

"This is the last one, I promise. C'mon, Gil, look one last time."