Title: Confronting Fears
Rating: Strong PG-13, for mentions of a suicide.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own it. Just playing.
Summary: Unbound Challenge response. First and last lines given. A photo, a death, and a ring. Vague enough?
A/N: Do you trust me?
An upside down photo lay tattered on the floor.
"I can't do this anymore!"
"What do you mean?"
A picture was taken; then the mangled bit of paper was carefully turned over with a pair of tweezers.
"This. We never go anywhere. We never talk. All you do is watch stupid movies and listen to your god-awful classical music."
The picture showed a man and a woman. He was older, perhaps in his early fifties, though his hair had not yet gone completely gray.
"I-I thought you didn't like going out."
"Just because I'm not into wild parties doesn't mean I'm a hermit!"
He looked as though an impossible dream had become reality.
"I love you."
"Yeah? Well, it's not enough."
Her expression could not be seen; the photo was torn across her face.
"Please don't hang up."
The dial tone was humming before he finished his sentence.
An empty bottle of Scotch was on the coffee table, along with an empty glass.
His coworker called when he didn't show up at work. He told her he was feeling sick.
It was true.
It was neat, for a bullet wound. Just a little hole in his right temple.
In the second before he pulled the trigger, a montage of images flashed through his mind. All of her.
He never heard the gun go off. He was listening to her singing.
"You okay, Grissom?" A presence at his side, comforting and frightening at the same time.
"Looks like a suicide."
"Not what I asked." A hand on his arm, a brief moment of contact before a return to professionalism.
"I'm okay."
"I won't leave you. You're stuck with me." Brown eyes meeting his, love and concern and stubbornness radiating.
A glimpse of her hand, the sapphire sparkling even in the dim light, and his fear was eased.
"So it would seem."