A/N: This is me just blatantly whining. I apologize.
ANOTHER POSSIBLE ENDING OF IN THE DARK
"OH MY GOD! WHY WON'T THIS STORY END?!"
The gratuitous use of exclamation points only made the writer more angry at herself. "Two years. Two years and still not done with this damn story. I haven't even finished one of the storylines. Honestly, how do I still call myself a writer?"
After writing a prologue and 116 chapters — some 390,000 words — the monster story just kept looking more and more like Jabba the Hut. And not the prequel version of Jabba when it was still on Jenny Craig. We're talking full-fledged, haven't seen my cankles, delivery take out on speed dial, Carrie Fisher in a bikini chained to it for whatever "George Lucas is a weirdo" reason, worst third movie in a trilogy, Muppet Movie nightmare, Jabba the Freakin' Hutt.
"THAT'S IT!" The writer screamed to absolutely noone in particular because no one in her physical immediate circle cared about this story or knew she is writing it. Her sons knew about the story, but teased her with jokes. They built figures of a bearded entomologist who gets caught in the shark pit. And created Wii Miis of the same dude so they can beat him up in some Mario Smash Brothers game. "We killed Grissom, mom," they would say. "You can stop writing the story now."
"It's time," the writer said as she sits at her computer and types out the following…
They parted ways. It was the only course of action. There was too much hurt, too many secrets, too much silence, too much distance, too much darkness. And too little too late.
Sara delved into her work. CSI became her life. Case after case. It didn't matter. She didn't know how Grissom was faring. Tried to tell herself she didn't care because they parted ways.
He wasn't doing well. Unable to face charges in France, he abandoned his work, much as he agreed to abandon his marriage. His few friends sought him out to help, but he simply turned into himself. The only human contact he had was with hookers, some who robbed him. He didn't care. Nothing mattered. He would try to catch glimpses of Sara, even go to scenes in the wee hours of the morning knowing she would be on shift.
Perhaps that's why he did what he did.
It was a Sunday, 2 a.m. Sara was called out to a hit and run. A pedestrian, possibly a john who was drunk, mowed down by a car. When she got to the scene, the coroner, a new person on staff was there. He didn't know recognize the face. But she did. God she did. …
"Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. What the hell doing?"
The writer's inner voice. Ugh. I hate that inner voice, the writer thought. "What am I doing? Something I probably should have done a couple of months ago."
"You're divorcing Sara and Grissom, and then killing Grissom and letting Sara find the body?"
"That's right. The story needs to end. Right now."
"Right. You're going to just write the ending like that," the inner voice said. "Just leave it like that with absolutely no resolution whatever."
"It happens on a Sunday. Full circle."
"Oh, give me a break," the inner voice said. "There is no way you are writing the word 'Fin' after Sara finds the body."
"Am too."
"Are not."
"OK, fine. I had thought about a few more lines after that."
"Of course you did. What does Sara do? Yell an extended 'Noooooo!'"
"No, it's … it's much more thought out than that."
"Do tell."
"OK, so, Grissom is run over a truck and dies, and that really gets Sara to realize maybe CSI shouldn't be her only focus in life. I mean, she can't love him forever because, well, he's dead and probably had an STD from the hookers. I figure she's going to find out about the hookers. That won't take long to write.
"So, yeah, she moves on and meets this really nice guy. He's actually a couple of years younger, but he's got an old soul, you know? Anywho, so the two of them fall in love and she meets the parents, who at this point is just the mother. See the father was an older man but he died when the boyfriend was in his 20s. The boyfriend said he and his father seemed like such two different people. In fact, he always felt more accepted by his dad than loved by him.
"So then Sara is talking with the alive mother, and Sara is really melancholy. The woman tries to find out why and Sara tells her this is the second anniversary of the death of her first husband, which kind of floors the mom because she didn't know Sara was a widow. See, after finding Grissom, Sara always connected herself as a widow rather than a divorcee because she never truly stopped loving him even after abandoning the marriage.
"So, the woman says, 'I'm so sorry. I'd like to put him on our prayer list at church. What's his name?' Sure, Sara is kind of uncomfortable but a piece of her told her to share the information because perhaps Grissom's soul needs prayers, so she says with a tear streaming down her face, 'Gilbert Arthur Grissom.'
"And the woman just breaks down. Like almost having a heart attack. Or maybe she should have a heart attack. Why? Because when she was in her 20s desperately trying to have a child with her husband, she knew a young man in the neighborhood. Shy and studious, he would do errands for the husband and especially did yard work for extra money. One time that young man was in the yard and the woman was so distressed from realizing once again she wasn't pregnant so she seduces the 18-year-old. They have sex several times until finally she gets the news she wanted. She moved soon after she found out about her pregnancy, something only her husband knew. But no one, not even her husband and certainly not the young man she seduced, knew that the chid was not her husband's…."
"Are you kidding me?" The inner voice did not seemed pleased. If anything, the inner voice sounded sarcastic and condescending.
"What? It's a viable ending. Sara ends up with Grissom's love child. And I can end it easily and like right now."
"REALLY? You know in the time you molded this 'quick ending' you could have ended your damn story the original freaking' way you dummy!"
"That's not true."
"Are you kidding me? This is soooooo complicated!"
"Well, I mean, yeah, it might be a little complicated…"
"You have subtexted everything like you always do!"
"No. No. It won't be like that. Quick and easy ending."
"How is any of this quick and easy?" the inner voice asks. "Tell me you haven't written out about 14 pages of Sara talking to the hookers to find out the whole dark side of Grissom?"
"I have not… Well… I haven't written it out…"
The inner voice figuratively pulled on the collar of the writer's shirt. "OK, dummy. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to suck it up and write the story like you originally planned it. Remember that ending you thought of when you were raking leaves and a year and a half ago? Yeah, you're going with that."
"NO!" The writer shows a little spunk. "I'm losing my … I don't know… love or faith in the characters. They aren't the same anymore. I'm doing this ending."
"You do to love the characters."
"No. They're icky, and TPTB agree with me."
"But you're readers don't." The inner voice pulled the card that always wins. "You really want to do that to the readers? Those people have been kind enough to read your dreck for years. You really want to do that to them?"
"No," the writer says sincerely.
"You still love your Grissom," the inner voice said. "If it wasn't for GSR you never would have met such cool people and from all over the world. And here's a bonus, some of them read your stuff."
"That is nice," the writer said. "But… I just feel like this story will never end, and that's not fair to the readers."
"You know what you need?" the inner voice said. "You need a Duvel."
That softened the writer a little bit. "No. I'm not much of a drinker, and that beer is no good unless you share it with someone."
"Well, think about the time you did share one with someone and move forward to your 'raking the leaves' ending."
So the writer wrote chapter 117, awaiting for the beta to complete a look. The inner voice was right. Why divorce them now? Isn't there enough angst in this piece.
Of course, there is still room in the story for Grissom to frequent a hooker. It could happen.
FIN
A/N: OK, what was that all about? I just needed to remind myself not to stray. I never thought I would be writing this for so long, and it really gets me down. It truly is hard to continue to love the characters at this point. And I think I understand now why TPTB did what they did. That does not mean I agree with what they did. In my humble opinion what they did was absolutely pointless. That's why I posted this. I don't want this kind of pointless ending. Sure, it might be plausible, but would what be the point of the entire story if I ended it like this?
So bear with me, dear readers. I appreciate you more than you know.