TITLE: Solitude and a Skylark
AUTHOR: Anansay
SUMMARY: It's New Year's Eve and Sara isn't working.
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: None.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Response to Unbound Challenge. First and last lines provided.
Must be no more than 1,000 words.
AN2: Wrote this while listening to Tea Party's
Walking Wounded being blasted into my eardrums.
Solitude and a Skylark
It was a quarter to twelve, just minutes away from the start of yet another new year. The sky was a shimmering pool of iridescent light as Vegas tried its best impersonation of the Aurora Borealis. It was a magical sight, even in its cheap mimicry.
Sara's eyes watered as she gazed upward, her neck craning painfully between her shoulders blades. It was her night off—unusual, but Grissom had practically forced it on her.
"You're taking the night off, Sara and that's that."
"Grissom," she said in her most patient voice, "I don't need the night off. I can work New Year's Eve."
"You do need it. And you're taking it. If I see you at the lab I'll..." Grissom blinked. There was no way he could sensibly end the sentence and still maintain his stoic dignity. But the cool hardness of his eyes spoke more than mere words and Sara merely turned around and left.
The bench was cold beneath her bottom and the park was a mass of bodies gyrating to the raucous music. The smell of booze and questionable smoking material permeated the air. For once, Sara didn't care about the logistics or legalities of the activities around her. No one spoke to her or looked at her and she was left mercifully alone in her solitude.
In the distance she could hear the cheering gaining in volume like a wave as it neared her. Someone had erected a makeshift clock in the center and the countdown was beginning—ten minutes sooner than it ought to have. Some people just couldn't wait.
A smile ghosted across her features as she tried hard to find some semblance of joy at the impending death of the year, and the coming birth of a new year. The coolness of the night didn't feel any different. And it wouldn't suddenly feel any different in ten minutes. It was just another day passing into another day. Nothing different.
Work would be the same: murders, burglaries, kidnappings and simple downright stupidity. Nothing would change.
So why, then, did she find herself amongst the revelers like one herself—only hiding in the horde of well-wishers. Perhaps a slim slice of her was still trying to find that good cheer that would welcome a new beginning…? New years had come and gone and nothing much had changed then, so why would anything change this time?
She sighed deeply and hung her shoulders. Her eyes closed against the suddenly painful glare of lights. The cacophony of sound assaulted her ears and in a rush of self-preservation she clamped her hands over them.
The sudden dampened noise was a singular experience. The din was checked and yet brought into sharp focus within the confines of her brain. From this vantage point, she was allowed to hear the very distinct sounds within the entire orchestra of dissonance.
A shadow fell across her and she felt a moment's indignation rise in her as her eyes closed against the threatened invasion into this personal experience. She jerked violently when a hand touched her shoulder. How dare anyone try to interfere in her singular sensory isolation. When a weight settled beside her, touching her, that was the last straw. She'd almost experienced joy in her solitary post on the bench surrounded by, and watching the people. But this blatant incursion on her inner self was just too much.
She spun around, perfectly ready to verbally blast the intruder with as much venom as she felt coursing through her veins. It wasn't hard to find; it'd been brewing for a while. And this poor soul was about the receive the absolute brunt of her wrath.
Sara spun around, her deep brown eyes flashing black in the glittering lights of the night. Before her indignation could fully explode, however, it was stopped by a wall of sensuous candor. Crystal blue eyes flickered with momentary unease before they were quickly shuttered behind a wall of such coolness, Sara had to wonder at what she'd actually seen.
Everything stopped. The din hushed to the background and the lights ceased their blinding array on her senses. Grissom wasn't supposed to be there. He'd had been scheduled to work that night. Quickly, Sara scanned the area but noticed no sign of any crime scene. She turned back and Grissom was still staring at her with a quizzical intensity that sometimes overtook him and which Sara so rarely caught. This time it was quite evident with no outward sign of disquiet.
Sara blinked and heard his name tumble from her lips before she could pull herself together again.
Grissom's eyes flickered to her lips and Sara felt an immediate pang of blatant lust. Here, in this ethereal place of boisterous bedlam, Grissom had found her, sitting alone on a park bench while half of Vegas lost themselves to the moment, once in a year.
And for once, Sara wanted to lose herself too. To join in the madness, and become one of them. To strip herself of all diffidence and toss herself into the throes of an unknown variable, that of pure, unadulterated exuberance.
Something must have shown on her face, for Grissom's suddenly changed. It softened and grew open, his eyes widening, his mouth relaxing and stretching. The thickness that had grown between them thinned to a veil and Sara breathed it away with one word.
"Grissom."
It fell away. Grissom's hand touched hers, his heavy fingers dancing lightly on her sensitive skin. It was electric, sending a surge of life through her system and setting her body atingle with anticipation.
In a blink and a sudden explosion the sound came back, surrounding them with its provocative pounding rhythms of stomping feet, clapping hands and hooting. It lulled them and pulled them, their bodies clinging together as they melded into the throng.
Above the impassioned crowd, the night sky blazed in kaleidoscopic radiance as the last of the fireworks displayed their brilliance in the sky.
THE END