Disclaimer: It isn't mine. Period.
Thanks to my betas for this chapter, Nessa and Laura Katherine. Those two, along with Marlou, are great motivators and friends!
This is a response to mossley's Unbound Challenge. First and last line provided and within 1000 words.
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Grissom froze suddenly; the growl was soft, but dangerous, and coming from below his waist. Slowly, he lowered his head to locate the source of the threat but all he saw were the tops of his feet and the ground below. His heart was beating fast and his breathing was wild but the need to keep going intensified. One foot in front of the other, he picked up his pace and resumed running.
The miles of road that stretched out ahead of him were flat and barren. There were no twists or turns, no forks or bypasses – just an empty road that, anxiousness aside, gave him comfort. There would be no decisions, no obstacles, and no surprises.
The growl came again, this time louder and from above his head. Not taking time to stop, he glanced up at the sky, seeing nothing but a large expanse of gray that ended stretched to the horizon. Still frightened, but secure in his destination, he ran faster.
The third and final time was from behind. He slowed as he turned his head, shocked at what he saw. The road behind him was no longer straight, but curvy, and the sky was bright. He came to a complete stop and took a closer look at the road he'd already traveled. It had several turns and intersections he didn't see before and he felt a twinge of regret for missing them the first time.
A game of tug of war was going on in his soul at that moment – curiosity verses security. Curiosity won but as he took the first step toward bluer skies, the road began to disappear. Desperate to catch up to the path that was quickly fading, he began to full out run. The faster he ran, the quicker the road faded and the skies turned to gray.
The stitch in his side and the pain in his chest were what finally stopped him. He took deep breaths to help ease the ache in his oxygen deprived lungs while he watched all of those missed opportunities diminish before him.
Just as he breathing was back to normal and his pulse resumed its normal pace, a hand settled on his shoulder from behind. The sudden intrusion startled him and he turned to face the hand's owner…
Grissom shot up out of his bed, panting. Sweat poured from every gland in his body, soaking him and his sheets. His fingers instinctually reached up and lightly pressed against his carotid artery. Grimacing at the results, he laid back down, following the same breathing techniques he exercised in the dream that haunted him every day this week.
There was no question in his mind what the dream meant. Never had he dreamed of something so direct and so frightening that every morning he woke up in the same cold sweat, gasping for air as if his life depended on it.
Shivering as the chill from his sweat was taking hold, Grissom rose and stripped his bed of the damp sheets and then stripped himself of his clothes. The hot, relaxing spray of his showerhead beckoned and the need to warm his body and soul was great.
Depositing the pile of dirty laundry in front of the laundry room door, he made his way to the bathroom. The squeak of the shower knobs as he started his shower sent a new wave of chills through his body and he adjusted the water to an even warmer temperature, filling the small room up with steam.
Stepping into the shower, Grissom closed his eyes as the hot water and steam blanketed his body. The shampoo and soap remained untouched as his mind wandered back to his dream, or rather, his life. He knew that there were roads or opportunities that he turned down along the way. Some he regretted and some he didn't, but what worried him now was the possibility that he missed some choices he didn't know he had.
At forty-eight he had a house to come home to but not a home to live in; an occupation he loved but a job he despised and … bugs. Lots of bugs. Bugs on his wall, bugs in his books, bugs on tape and DVD and in magazines. Jim and Catherine became more colleagues than friends - more his doing than theirs. The same went for Warrick, Nick, and … Sara. Sara was different. Sara became more of a stranger than anything else. He knew the reason was his taking a left turn instead of a right somewhere along the way.
Suddenly the shower became too small and the air too thick as he wondered how many roads were happiness and how many were Sara and if the two were synonymous.
He quickly exited the shower, finding that it was no longer the haven he craved and grabbed his towel. Roughly rubbing the towel over his head and face and then the rest of his body, Grissom caught his hazy reflection in the mirror. He wiped the glass clean and stared down the man before him.
The man he saw in his dream.
A tired and lonely man. One that constantly hurts others – including himself. A man who deep down misses the camaraderie of his team and longs for after-shift breakfasts at the diner. A man that loves but fears his heart just as much as he fears hers. A man who misses his own smile.
"You're alone," he whispered to the man in the mirror. "How did this happen?"