Title: Diary of a Stranger
Author: Battus philenor
Disclaimer: None of them are mine, except the character from which this pov is written.
A/N: This is a look at GSR from another's pov. I would like to thank both Caro2 and Marlou for their wonderful beta work on this one. Ay remaining errors are all mine.
They come for her again, these demons she can't seem to shake. Haunting her for different reasons I think, but no matter the sort they come almost every night. Some nights aren't as bad, those are the times when she dreams of him, the man I'll never be.
The one man who I compete with every time I see her. I could never live up to her version of him, the godlike way in which she views him. Even having a Doctorate in Literature doesn't put me in the same intellectual category as the impressive Doctor Grissom. To hear her speak of him, one would think he's more intelligent, better read than I, and seems to be an expert in almost everything no matter how obscure.
I met him once, her Gil Grissom, though at the time I don't think he knew who I was, that I was sleeping with his protégé. The way he looked at her, it was obvious that he wanted her. I can't believe the good doctor doesn't realize he can have her, that she wants nothing more than to be with him. I guess he doesn't know everything after all. So I cling to her side for now, hoping that in time she'll get over him. That there will only be the two of us when we're together, and his presence will finally leave us.
He always fills her mind, preoccupies her being. No matter the circumstance she seems to have a story at the ready, a cute anecdote regarding his cleverness. Even as she relays instances of his faults, she makes excuses for him. Tries to give reasons for his errors in judgment, and this seems to endear him to her even more. The humanness in him after she'd built him up suddenly makes him more attainable and closer to her somehow. And I sit and listen to it, biting my tongue and feigning an appearance of intrigue.
I find I can barely look at myself in the mirror because I'm pathetic. I come when she calls, a body for comfort only. Not just a sexual comfort but a physical one, merely of close proximity, void of any true emotion. But I'm not alone in my pitiful existence, for she insists on saying the words to me, the ones that I know she doesn't really mean. I love you; she could never mean those words for anybody but him. But she says them anyway, trying to fool herself I think, because it certainly doesn't fool me. Sometimes it works, and she doesn't dream of him while lying with me, but those are the times when the other dreams come.
The nightmares which cause her to shudder and sweat; born from things that I can only assume happen at her job. Something which I'm unfamiliar with, and that's the way she likes it. She doesn't speak of her job that often, and most times that's the way I like it. From the little she has said, I know enough to know I don't want any details.
She saves the world from evil-doers, along with Gil Grissom and their pack of fellow protectors. Using science, they beat out the scum and save the innocent. She's so good at it that I would never tell her so, but I wish she would leave that job, and him. I fear both are killing her and it hurts so much to watch it happen.
Tragedy and horror fill her work; denial and suffering fill her personal time. I don't fit into that pattern, yet here I am. Ready to roll over to her now, putting an arm around her while she stirs fitfully. If I ask she'll deny any dream's existence, so I've learned only to provide quiet comfort, a silent soothing which we won't discuss later. This is my life, my curse, as it seems we've both fallen for someone unattainable.
End
Battus philenor
