Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.
Author's Note: I'm currently working on a new version of this story. Until it gets finished, this what I have. Oh yeah, and it takes place from Lady Heather's point of view.
"Yes, I would." He replies to my question. I smile at him but notice something is wrong. "But I'm afraid I'll need a warrant."
He stand up from the table, pulling out his cell phone and dialing a phone number. Warrant? Why would he need a warrant? I furrow my brows in an attempt to understand why he had said such a thing when it clicked. His current case, the victims were killed by a high pressure insulin injection. I swallow; Surely he doesn't think that I killed them? He shuts his phone off, a grim expression covering his face.
"I think I just heard you say stop," I say, my cheeks flushed crimson. I'm embarassed, more so than I have been in a long time. I did the one thing with him I had vowed to never do with anyone; I gave him my power. It wasn't what I wanted to do at first but he was just so mysterious and intriguing I had to; To see what he was capable of and how far he would go to please me.
He remains standing up, watching me discreetly from the corner of his eye. I no longer want to be near him, no, I can no longer stand to be near him. Without a word I stand up and leave the room, my boots clicking angrily as if to tell him he'd be better off not to follow me.
The door to my personal quarters slams hard, so hard the table next to the door frame rattles noisily. I betrayed my judgement and I'm have a hard time coping. Had I stopped things before they went far, he and I would not be in this situation. I would be looking over the paperwork for the week and he would be at his home, wondering what he had done to make things end so quickly. Why couldn't I have just followed my instincts?
It's not long before my chest begins to ache from my slightly labored breathing. With a sigh I gather myself and step out onto the balcony just off of my room. The moment I'm seated in the black iron chair one of girls, Lily, steps into my office.
"Lady Heather?"
"Yes?"
"The police are here. They need to speak with you." She awaits an answer from me, as she aways does whenever we speak.
"Please tell them I will be down in a moment."
She exits, leaving me to convince myself that if when I finally reach the first level of the dominion I'm not going to have a meltdown. "No. You will not allow him to see you in any sort of pain," I tell myself with astounding determination. I won't allow him to see what he's done to me.
The entire way down the stairs I had to fight the urge to turn around and run right back up them. It didn't take long for me to reach the bottom of the stairs; Captain Brass, a police officer and Mr. Grissom were standing by the front door, conversing quietly. The captain and officer looked up as I took a step toward the three men; Mr. Grissom kept his eyes focused on the ground.
"Lady Heather, we have a--," Captain Brass started but I quickly stop him.
"I know." I cast a glare in Grissom's direction but he still isn't looking at me. Expressionless, I hand Captain Brass my pressure syringe kit, my opened bottle of insulin included.
"We will need to do tests on these. Do you have an alternative way to get your insulin until we are finished with everything?" This time the police officer was speaking.
"Yes."
"We'll return these to you as soon as we are finished with the tests."
As they start to leave, I have a half-hearted hope that Grissom will turn around and apologize. He closes the door behind him and doesn't even glance back at me.
Three Days Later
"Lady Heather, you have a visitor," Lily tells me with a hint of worry in her eyes. She's been keeping a watchful eye on me since what happened. I don't converse with her about my personal life but she knows I am deeply hurt by what happened.
"Send them in."
She opened the door to my office all the way and in stepped no one other than Mr. Grissom. He had my insulin kit clasped in his hands. He looks like he'd rather be any other place in the world than standing before me.
"We're finished with your kit, so you can have it back." He closes the short distance between my desk and himself by just a few steps, then hands me the kit. Our hands briefly touch and he hastily pulls away.
"Thank you." I stand, walk around the desk to put the kit away, and watch as he listens for my heeled boots to click. I can't help but smile at him.
"Wearing boots all the times can damage your back and spine," I tell him as I gesture to the black socks covering my feet. I place the kit on the table near the doorway, unsure of what to say or do next.
"So I've heard," He replies to my comment about heels. I turn around and he looks me in the eye. "Heather, I owe you an apology."
I want to forgive him. But how doe sone forgive someone who accuses you of murder? Using every ounce of strength I have not to cry, I whisper to him, "Apologies are just words." I leave the room, fearing my unability to supress my emotions.
Later That Night
I assume Mr. Grissom left just shortly after I exited the room. My girls saw the state I was in but didn't say anything. I appreciated that; I wasn't one for opening up about my personal life to just anyone. It took months to get me to talk about the most simple things that had occured in my life. I'm sitting in my office, contemplating everything that had happened, when someone knocked on the door.
"Yes?"
"Lady Heather, you may want to look outside." A voice calls through the oak.
Look outside? I didn't want to but it appeared my legs had a mind of their own. I stood and walked over to the French doors, the ones that lead to the balcony. I spot a car parked across the street from my dominion; It sparks my curiousity and I step outside, the cool air making me pull my sweater more firmly around my body.
In the car, Grissom was seated, occasionally glancing up at the house. He obviously hadn't spotted me, for I think it is safe to assume that if he had, he would have driven away. Well, I thought he hadn't seen me.
He gets out of the vehicle, walks across the street and stops in the circle driveway. He glances up, at me and he smiles.
"May I come up?" He calls. His voice is much more sincere than it had been earlier.
"I told you before; Apologies are just words."
"No apologies. I realize that no matter what words I use, you aren't going to forgive me."
Well, he's got that right. "I was hoping we could just talk." The hopeful tone in his voice makes me smile.
I don't want to be hurt again, especially not by him. But there was just something about him that led me to believe he wouldn't dare give up until I at least listened to what he had to say.
"Tell whomever answers the door that I have agreed to speak with you."
He nods quickly before finishing his walk to the porch. I can hear the doorbell ring and I suddenly have the feeling that it's going to be a very long night.
