A/N: Thank you to everyone whose read/reviewed my first delve into true angst. I hope you've enjoyed the ride. Here is the last part.
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:NY or its characters.
Thanks to SallyJetson for the beta.
Chapter 3:
She stands and stares at him without really seeing. Her arms are wrapped around her body hoping to hold herself together as she knows she is falling apart. She feels warm, too warm, as microscopic balls of sweat break out over her body.
"You're shaking," he tells her as he steps forward. Is she? She can't even tell anymore, but she isn't surprised considering her heart is still trying to escape from her chest. He gently places a hand on her back directing her to the couch, causing the skin under his touch to cool, slowly breaking her fever.
She sits and he hands her water, which she drinks as if she has been in the desert for days without relief. Her heart begins to slow and for the first time that night she really sees the man in front of her. His face is a mask that she can't interpret, all except for his wide eyes that penetrate straight through her, and as she gazes into them she is careful not to lose herself. They remind her of his eyes before she went undercover, full of concern and, dare she hope, love. His posture is taut as he sits on the coffee table, his hands on the couch on either side of her, capturing and protecting all at once.
"Talk to me here Linds."
Her throat goes dry once again as she fights with herself for what to say, for where to began and what to reveal. He patiently waits her out and she feels his eyes never once leave her face as they continue to search her soul.
Eventually he breaks the silence, "This have anything to do with the stuff you had to put behind you?" he prompts, his voice cracking slightly and his eyes moving from her face.
At his words another event flashes through her mind as she remembers breaking his heart in the hallway. Her heart breaks too whenever she thinks about that day, and she has thought about it so many times in the past months that she is surprised there is anything left to shatter.
"I have to go to Montana," she finally divulges but her voice is raspy and barely above a whisper.
He waits for her to continue and the side of his hand brushes her own, but she doesn't know if it is self-conscious or not. She moves her hand to rest on top of his, gathering strength from the small connection.
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Her hand holds onto his and he squeezes back glad to have some part of her finally reaching out to him. She continues slowly searching for the words. "That night that we were suppose to…" she stops and looks at him for understanding before she continues and he realizes the night in question. The night he hoped they would finally acknowledge what they had and move past the casual flirting.
"I got a call to testify in an old case," she continues shakily, grabbing his hand even tighter and moving it to her lap to be encased in both of hers.
Feeling her insecurities, he tries to reassure her, "You've done this a hundred times. Just present the evidence logically and the rest will fall into place," but the only reactions he gets are frustration and sadness as her eyes fill and a solitary tear runs down her cheek.
"I'm …I'm not testifying as a CSI."
It's then that it dawns on him what all of this means though he doesn't know any details, and he begins to understand her actions. Even through his understanding, there's a small part of him that resents her for not coming to him at the beginning, for not trusting him.
Her solitary tear is solitary no longer as her floodgates open, and any resentment he has breaks away because at least she is here now and now is when she needs him. He gets up and joins her on the couch wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest, his shirt absorbing her pain.
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His arms hold her close as his hand runs up and down her back, his chin resting on her head dropping random kisses into her hair. She clings to him as months of tension and emotion are released. Even after all of her tears are shed, she just holds on, reconnecting herself to the world through him.
She feels herself calming and takes a moment to look up at him. "Thanks. Sorry about your shirt."
"Don't worry about it," he replies as he brushes away the last trace of her tears with his thumb. She settles back down against him and listens to his heartbeat, allowing it to set the rhythm of her own.
"Silver lining to all of this is at least you'll be going home."
She knows he is trying to encourage her but all it does is frustrate her more. "I HATE silver linings," she mumbles into his chest.
She feels more than hears the chuckle resounding through him. "Come on. You get your old bed and home cooked meals. What's not to love?"
She moves away slowly to look into his face, "I like my bed here and besides my parents live 2 hours from Bozeman, so I'll probably only get to see them on weekends," she states giving into some of her self-pity.
"Well when you are home you can get reacquainted with all of those animals you country folk seem to keep. You know all the baaing horses or whatever."
Trying to prevent a laugh she responds, "Horses don't baaa, they neigh. Get your animal noises right."
He lifts his hands defensively in the air, "Hey I'm a city boy. Why would I ever need to know that stuff?"
With a slight huff, she settles back down against him. He strokes her head a few times before asking, "Cows still moo though right?"
A small laugh escapes as she responds, "Yeah, cows still moo." She can't help the smile on her face and she wonders how long it's been since she's felt like this.
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He smiles after seeing some of his Montana reappear and her wall finally breaking. Her body relaxes and a few moments later he notices her breathing slow. Looking down on her, she appears to be sleeping peacefully and her panicked look is all but a memory. He gently brushes a curl from her face, and allows himself to relax. She is safe and that's all that matters.