A Last Final Goodbye

The ticking of the clock sounded loud in the silent room, feeling like a countdown. Like a quiz show, where time was getting short, and time would seem to get quicker, and excitement and fear, and anticipation would all increase along with the ticking past of the seconds.

Time, of course, doesn't speed up. Or slow down. It's constant, and as Sara stares at the clock she wants to curse it for that fact. Why can't it move slower? Allow time for him to get here. Why can't it speed up? Stop this longing that is destined to not be realised.

'I'm leaving.'

The words reverberated around her head, resonating like the remnants of a bad dream. Words said by her own mouth, formed by her own brain. How much regret, guilt, could two words create? A single thought, expressed out loud in the heat of the moment, two words that are set to resonate through both of their lives.

She sighs, the sound echoing through the empty apartment, adding a finality to proceedings. It's time to leave. Leave here, leave this place. Leave behind two shattered hearts that are entirely of her creating.

Outside, a car horn sounds, and for a moment Sara allows herself to imagine he's outside, waiting for her, waiting for the right moment to come and be here, ask her not to go. A quickening of her heart, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, sweat on the palms of her hands at the sudden anticipation. Words that she had imagined, over and over till she could plan out the whole conversation, all the mannerisms, the look in his eye, the clothes he'd be wearing, everything…

She stood up, cutting the image dead in her mind, blocking the images before they could be embedded into her brain again. She walked over to the window, glancing at the cab idling at the curb. She slowly turned round, taking in the empty room before her, the suitcase sat waiting at the door, a few boxes of rubbish the only remnants of her life left in the room. She slowly walked across the floor, picking up the keys off the side. She slid the front door key off the ring, laying it primly on the side, lining it up straight with the side. Realising that all the postponing in the world wasn't going to bring him to her door.

In a rush of movement, just wanting to get out now, just wanting to escape her life here, she picks up the suitcase, glances around one last time, before closing the front door behind her, walking with a purpose, a meaning that she doesn't feel.

'It didn't mean a thing. It wasn't meant to be.'

Her actions were as much a mystery to herself as him. In her brain, they made sense. They were rational actions to an irrational problem. A solution to a riddle. The answer to the puzzle. The one the world expected, but that he hadn't, and she didn't want to give.

'It's easier this way.'

Of course it was easier. That was what she wanted. She who had never failed; at school, at college, who was unprepared to fail at this. Looking for the easy solution rather than having to work at something that would be too easy to fail.

The cab driver greeted her with a grunt, looking but not expressing his displeasure at the wait. Sara didn't bother apologising, sat in the back, staring out at a city that she had grown to love, watching streets she knew so well disappear behind her. Feeling the ache of tears she refused to cry prick once again at the back of her throat. Cutting her eyes from the window, from the memories the pictures created, she stared resolutely at the seat in front, picking out the tiniest detail in the fabric coverings, anything to shut out the pain crying out for a release, for a voice, from the very pit of her heart.

The ride to the airport was endless. Or so it seemed. Like the morning wait, it was bound to come to an end, but the in between limbo of waiting dragged more than she thought possible.

Why hadn't he come? Rationally she knew that he had no good reason to know that today her earlier threat was coming true. That in the two weeks since those words were uttered aloud she'd managed to organise to move her whole life away from Vegas. She was a pro at fast moves now. Don't get established. Don't set down roots. Don't commit. The irony of those thoughts were lost in a pain she couldn't see ending.

Don't commit.

Because every commitment had to come to an end. Every relationship was going to finish at some point whether it be sooner or later. Why go through that inevitable heartache? What was worth so much to only have to say goodbye in the end. Life ended. Her job was more than enough to show her the truth of the frailty of the human condition.

The airport was a noisy intrusion on her internal musings. The noise and light seemed exaggerated, overbearing as she looked up at the bank of computers detailing the flights leaving Vegas. She picked out San Francisco, dismayed, and yet a little spark of hope as delayed flashed endlessly next to it. There was still time. Time to wallow and despair. Time for him to come and find her. She found a seat. Sat down to wait, a familiar action of the last two weeks. She wasn't sure what she had been waiting for.

Well that was a lie. She knew who she had been waiting; she just wasn't sure what she expected him to say.

Warrick. The man she had come to Vegas to investigate. The man she had fought and loved on equal footing. A man that she had shared a seemingly endless night of passion for him to only leave in the morning without so much as a goodbye.

It could have just been that. A night of perfect pleasure forever to remain in both of their memories. A set of memories never to be repeated, never to be forgotten.

Could that have only been two weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime; the passion, the pleasure, the mind-blowing amazement of a night spent like no other. It couldn't have been part of this nightmare, part of this pain that felt like a constant ache now.

Why had he uttered those words? Why had he come back, complicated matters with more words. Why hadn't he left it as just that night so she could have a memory untainted by thought, of reality, just the perfect event. Because surely, there couldn't be another night like it.

Did she want him to come back, take her off into the sunset, show her that the night wasn't just a one off experience. Or perhaps she was expecting a good bye, a final chaste kiss, a final look through the departures gate. Sara didn't know anymore. Her heart and mind had battled to stalemate and had both given up on the other. Rationality fought emotion, neither able to claim the victory. Because whilst she was leaving, she hadn't managed to erase the feelings she was meant to be leaving behind.

Perhaps either of the scenarios were more likely to work if Warrick was more aware of her expectations. Her words, sounding so hopeless, so final had fallen on ears that if not agreeing with them, and lived by them. He hadn't tried to talk her out of it, he hadn't been around once in the last two weeks to express any of his own feelings on the subject. He had watched her leave without one word of argument. What was she supposed to think? He had said that he had feelings for her, and yet, hadn't managed to come up with a worthwhile argument for her to stay.

Surely, he knew she was going today? Her resignation had been in with Grissom for more than two weeks. Her goodbyes to Catherine, Nick, Greg must have reached his ears by now. And yet here she was, alone, waiting for the delayed plane that would take her from this city, from his life. And he didn't seem to want it any other way.

A final look. A final, desperate search of crowds milling about. A final silent plea for him to have come, to rescue her from her own safety net. A single tear managed to escape past her rock solid defence as she turned, walked through to departures, saying a silent goodbye to her life here in Las Vegas.

Saying a silent goodbye to Warrick.

A love affair that wasn't meant to be.

Was that what he thought?