Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, any of the characters or storylines. I will
receive no profit for this piece of work, though I would like to.
Authors Note: Ok this is my first fanfic, I have been dying to write one for ages so I though I would give it a shot. Feed back would be really appreciated so that I know whether or not to continue. If I do it will be G/S. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------
The Las Vegas night was excessively warm - the air thick with humidity - walking through it was like walking through water, giving the night a surreal look of languidness. The flavours and smells of the surrounding area were trapped in the pocket of humidity like flies in a web, so that the air tasted like liquor and smelled like champagne. It was a night for relaxing by the pool gazing at the stars which were making their presence known, their light streaming through the light years of space to twinkle, laughing at the antics of the world below. They looked decidedly mischievous as they gazed at down at the strip, laughing at man's futile attempts to mirror their own sparkling beauty.
But this night was not one for beauty, and the ugliness of man had already reared its head. The yellow crime scene tape that outlined the latest atrocity in Vegas drew a small crowd of people. Wide eyed, starring people laughing at the thought of seeing a real dead body, a smear of blood. Women turned into their boyfriend's arms to hide their faces while men stood tall fulfilling their role of protector and saviour - first time knights in suits of glory. Their own feelings of trepidation hidden away.
But there was nothing to thrill the captivated audience. The body had been removed, sombre in a suit of black, taken to the realm of the morgue. All that remained were three figures moving silently around the crime scene, crouching, standing, and pausing. Three figures moving in a silent dance they had clearly done before. Collecting and processing their thoughts turned inwards.
The first, a female, hair like brazened brass, tilted her head to the left as she reached forward, the cotton bud in her hand rolling through the smear of blood that had stayed behind to tell its own story. Her thoughts strayed to her daughter, at home in bed, lying innocent as a world of lost good intentions roamed the streets outside.
Slowly standing her eyes strayed to the man a few feet away who was prying a beetle from the soiled ground, tugging at it gently till it came away in his hand like toffee from a pan. A flick, a twist and dull thud saw his new friend feeding in its own private jar stowed quickly into his bag. A smile tugged at the mans lips, pleased at a job well done before his face returns to a look of concentration as he steps forward reaching for his friends mate.
At the other side of the crime scene, camera clasped in her slender hands, the final member of the ensemble gazed slowly at the crowd massed behind the yellow tape like fans at a concert, vying for a front row seat. A brief look of puzzlement scurried across her features as she questioned the sanity of man and the existence of a conscience in her fellow humans.
Turning around her brown eyes came to rest on the man a few feet yet a whole world away. A wash of emotions tore through her as she watched him collect a small object from the ground, an artist at work. Pride, fondness, frustration.......sadness. A foolish longing to be the object he had collected and turned so lovingly in his hands blew through her mind and she shook her head to clear it of such folly.
Using the back of her hand to brush a strand of chestnut hair from her eyes a small gasp of shock ran though her as she saw a figure emerge from the crowd. A tall man with a look of fire in his eyes, he pushed his way through the throng of people bringing his weapon up to the level of his chest, his gaze fixed solely on the man still calmly collecting his insects.
As a murmur ran through the crowd, all thoughts left her head, the camera clattered to the ground and her lithe figure ran towards the two figures, one approaching with harsh indistinguishable sounds emerging from his throat the other only just looking up. With a speed she didn't know she possessed she ran forward, vaguely registering the movement of police from the corner of her eyes. The steely gun in the unknown assailant's hands rose and with a final burst of energy she collided with the man still clutching the bugs to his chest, his name bursting from her lips, pushing him to the side as a searing pain ricocheted through her chest.
She froze, a puzzled look flashed across her face as her knees gave way. Her eyes looked to her chest and a small sound whispered through her lips as her vision turned to black and she fell to the ground not hearing the screams of her name from the man who ran to her. Not seeing the look of anguish that tore through him as he fell by her side, as he cradled her in his arms, her blood spilling onto his fingers. Tears spilled from his eyes as her name poured from his lips over and over again. "Sara, Sara, Sara", the mass of humanity and noise, fading into the background as he sat holding her in his arms, praying for a response.
------------------
The faint touch of a hand on his shoulder had him flashing back to reality. Following the arm up to its owner he was faced with the waterlogged eyes of Catherine. Rivers of mascara flowed down her face as she sat in the empty chair beside him, in the sterile white of the corridor.
She didn't ask how he was, what he was feeling, didn't say that it would be ok and give him empty words. For the first time since she had known him his emotions lay bare for the world to see, stripped of the defences and walls they hid behind. His anguish, terror and hope could be seen shining through his eyes, in the tremor that had taken residence in his hands, in the ashen look of his skin.
Not a word passed between them as she took his left in her own and joined his silent vigilance. Waiting side by side in the stark corridor, the blank tunnel of white, waiting for the words they were so anxious to hear. She waiting for her friend, he waiting for the women he had only just realised he loved.
Authors Note: Ok this is my first fanfic, I have been dying to write one for ages so I though I would give it a shot. Feed back would be really appreciated so that I know whether or not to continue. If I do it will be G/S. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------
The Las Vegas night was excessively warm - the air thick with humidity - walking through it was like walking through water, giving the night a surreal look of languidness. The flavours and smells of the surrounding area were trapped in the pocket of humidity like flies in a web, so that the air tasted like liquor and smelled like champagne. It was a night for relaxing by the pool gazing at the stars which were making their presence known, their light streaming through the light years of space to twinkle, laughing at the antics of the world below. They looked decidedly mischievous as they gazed at down at the strip, laughing at man's futile attempts to mirror their own sparkling beauty.
But this night was not one for beauty, and the ugliness of man had already reared its head. The yellow crime scene tape that outlined the latest atrocity in Vegas drew a small crowd of people. Wide eyed, starring people laughing at the thought of seeing a real dead body, a smear of blood. Women turned into their boyfriend's arms to hide their faces while men stood tall fulfilling their role of protector and saviour - first time knights in suits of glory. Their own feelings of trepidation hidden away.
But there was nothing to thrill the captivated audience. The body had been removed, sombre in a suit of black, taken to the realm of the morgue. All that remained were three figures moving silently around the crime scene, crouching, standing, and pausing. Three figures moving in a silent dance they had clearly done before. Collecting and processing their thoughts turned inwards.
The first, a female, hair like brazened brass, tilted her head to the left as she reached forward, the cotton bud in her hand rolling through the smear of blood that had stayed behind to tell its own story. Her thoughts strayed to her daughter, at home in bed, lying innocent as a world of lost good intentions roamed the streets outside.
Slowly standing her eyes strayed to the man a few feet away who was prying a beetle from the soiled ground, tugging at it gently till it came away in his hand like toffee from a pan. A flick, a twist and dull thud saw his new friend feeding in its own private jar stowed quickly into his bag. A smile tugged at the mans lips, pleased at a job well done before his face returns to a look of concentration as he steps forward reaching for his friends mate.
At the other side of the crime scene, camera clasped in her slender hands, the final member of the ensemble gazed slowly at the crowd massed behind the yellow tape like fans at a concert, vying for a front row seat. A brief look of puzzlement scurried across her features as she questioned the sanity of man and the existence of a conscience in her fellow humans.
Turning around her brown eyes came to rest on the man a few feet yet a whole world away. A wash of emotions tore through her as she watched him collect a small object from the ground, an artist at work. Pride, fondness, frustration.......sadness. A foolish longing to be the object he had collected and turned so lovingly in his hands blew through her mind and she shook her head to clear it of such folly.
Using the back of her hand to brush a strand of chestnut hair from her eyes a small gasp of shock ran though her as she saw a figure emerge from the crowd. A tall man with a look of fire in his eyes, he pushed his way through the throng of people bringing his weapon up to the level of his chest, his gaze fixed solely on the man still calmly collecting his insects.
As a murmur ran through the crowd, all thoughts left her head, the camera clattered to the ground and her lithe figure ran towards the two figures, one approaching with harsh indistinguishable sounds emerging from his throat the other only just looking up. With a speed she didn't know she possessed she ran forward, vaguely registering the movement of police from the corner of her eyes. The steely gun in the unknown assailant's hands rose and with a final burst of energy she collided with the man still clutching the bugs to his chest, his name bursting from her lips, pushing him to the side as a searing pain ricocheted through her chest.
She froze, a puzzled look flashed across her face as her knees gave way. Her eyes looked to her chest and a small sound whispered through her lips as her vision turned to black and she fell to the ground not hearing the screams of her name from the man who ran to her. Not seeing the look of anguish that tore through him as he fell by her side, as he cradled her in his arms, her blood spilling onto his fingers. Tears spilled from his eyes as her name poured from his lips over and over again. "Sara, Sara, Sara", the mass of humanity and noise, fading into the background as he sat holding her in his arms, praying for a response.
------------------
The faint touch of a hand on his shoulder had him flashing back to reality. Following the arm up to its owner he was faced with the waterlogged eyes of Catherine. Rivers of mascara flowed down her face as she sat in the empty chair beside him, in the sterile white of the corridor.
She didn't ask how he was, what he was feeling, didn't say that it would be ok and give him empty words. For the first time since she had known him his emotions lay bare for the world to see, stripped of the defences and walls they hid behind. His anguish, terror and hope could be seen shining through his eyes, in the tremor that had taken residence in his hands, in the ashen look of his skin.
Not a word passed between them as she took his left in her own and joined his silent vigilance. Waiting side by side in the stark corridor, the blank tunnel of white, waiting for the words they were so anxious to hear. She waiting for her friend, he waiting for the women he had only just realised he loved.