A/N: This is a collection of drabbles that kind of popped up when I over-hydrated my muse. Super chocolate kudos to my beta, Sara. This has 3 depictions of death, and2 just random angst things. If angst is not your thing, turn away. Like now. CSI doesn't belong to me. etc. etc. Read, review, enjoy.
i. Moth
At first, he had imagined that everything was just an illusion. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. She wasn't just some random corpse. It was her, and she couldn't be dead. She couldn't. But it had happened. She just wasn't Debbie Marlin's lookalike anymore. She was Debbie Marlin. The good Dr. Lurie had followed her. Not that they had any evidence to catch him this time around. He was much too cautious. She had been raped, and drowned. And at the crime scene? A note. In her handwriting. Sara is already in love. His heart broke…and he wept. Goodbye.
ii. Placebo
He tried to convince himself it meant something. It wasn't just meaningless sex. Not that he actually believed it. She didn't love him. She never had. He had offered her his heart, and she broke it. Not purposefully. Never purposefully. It was just clear as crystal to him that she loved Grissom. And there's no avoiding love. Not when it's fucking made-for-Hollywood unrequited love. So when he touches her, he pretends that she loves him. When she moans, it's him she's thinking of and not Grissom. So he'll take the sex, because he can't get her. Not when Grissom's around.
iii. Drip
He doesn't love her. She knows. He's pretending for both their sakes. She's trying so hard not to cry, not to drink herself to death. Her mind is wandering, and she can't help but think. She's not going to do it. So when she goes, it's a shady clinic on another side of town. She sits with her legs spread, and when they anesthetize her, they don't do it well. She's half conscious when they use unsterilized instruments. She's half conscious when they stab the wrong place with the scalpel. She's conscious when she's bleeding. She dies with a smile.
iv. Binge
She thinks about everything he's said or done. Every thought he has seems to have some effect on her. And she hates it. She hates him. She hates how he can say something that's the world to her and treat it as if it were nothing. She hates how he thinks she's there for his fucking pleasure, for him to abuse on a daily basis. So she drinks. Large quantities. So when she gets in the car, she doesn't think about it. And when she drives, she thinks she's fine. And when the eighteen-wheeler slams into her, she doesn't react.
v. Fault
You sit in the front row during the ceremony. You try to look as comfortable as possible, but you can't. You can't help but think that it's your Sara getting married. And she shouldn't be. You bite your lip to prevent yourself from doing something stupid. Sara stands at the altar, happy, face bright and beaming. "I, Sara Sidle, do promise to love, honor, and cherish…" You can't stand to hear her speak any more. But this is the damage you've caused. You sent her these signals. And all you can think is…you didn't know it would hurt so much.
Shiny button? Oui? Non?