7A/N: I've been a naughty, naughty authoress, haven't I? Well, figured it was high time to put up another one.. the day before school. I've had this written for a while. For almost an entire year now. Since the end of Season 7. Laziness has stopped me from putting it up. But no longer! :) Please, feel free to review after reading.. Oh.. I IMPLORE YOU to review. :) Please & thank you..
Disclaimer: Not mine.. Never has been, isn't now, never will be.. Got it memorized?
Warning: Per usual, errors may be found & I may not have all characters.. in-character. (Please let me know how I did with characterization.) So with that, I present for your reading pleasure (or displeasure.. who knows?..)..
I Miss You
By: MC New York
Brass's POV:
Gilbert Grissom always looked his best in a suit. Black... Blue... Didn't matter. But this was one occasion everyone hoped he wouldn't have to dress up for anytime soon.
I was ashamed to say it, but I had been one of the last to get up at the alter to say goodbye to one of my oldest and truest friends. It wasn't the idea that I didn't want to go up – though that tightening in my empty stomach that surfaced everything I caught sight of that damn casket didn't help the cause – but it was that I couldn't. Catherine had been brave enough to go first, grasping Warrick's hand for her sanity as they kneeled before their supervisor and best friend. Nicky and Greg had been directly behind. I was blown away to see Conrad Ecklie, Gil's sworn adversary, in line not far behind, his head hung solemnly.
More people than Gil probably expected showed up to pay their respects; the nightshift – as was expected –, the rest of the CSI shifts, the lab techs, the police department, past victim's families including Nick's parents, the family members the nightshift accumulatively knew about, and his own mentor. I figured Gil was probably tsking somewhere that we were making a fuss over nothing when we could be solving crimes in his place.
I choked up a laugh. Gil's priorities always had been work first, personal shit later.
Watery eyes scanned the room for the most important person I'd yet to see. The widowed Sara Sidle. Perhaps "widowed" wasn't politically correct seeing as how they weren't married, but an official document with the state of Nevada declaring their union couldn't have made them closer. Especially after the birth of their now five-year-old daughter, Alexia Sidle-Grissom.
I shrugged it off. Perhaps I'd been too wrapped up in my own thoughts to notice where she was, as selfish as that sounds. Someone had to have seen her.
The vacant seat next to me was soon occupied by one Nick Stokes, hands clasped together tightly and holding himself up by his elbows, though that seemed to be the only thing holding him up at this point. I had a lot of empathy, not only for Nick, but the entire nightshift. With the foundation given out, House Graveyard Shift was barely standing. But standing nonetheless.
"How ya holdin' up Nicky?" I wiped my tears and prayed my eyes weren't that red.
"I-I'm okay..." The Texan CSI swallowed hard. "Just coming out of that state of denial, y'know?"
I knew what he was talking about. I was in the coroner's office, another coroner from Day Shift filling in for Robbins and David who said they just couldn't cut into their friend, I hadn't believed it. Some sick joke, I'd thought. Figured the report that'd been dropped in my lap after the investigation was done was bullshitting me.
But I had checked the calendar and it wasn't April 1st and everything was too real to be a dream.
Time to face facts... I figured. He's dead.
"Brass, have you seen Sara?" Nick's words cut through my thoughts as I realized I wasn't the only one who hadn't seen her. And Nick wouldn't be one to miss his sister figure's appearance. "I haven't seen her or Lexi at all."
"Me either," was my only comment as I stood to exit into the foyer and then out the building entirely.
The sun was blistering hot as it always was, making me squint to search for her car. Sure enough, it was parked in the first row straight ahead of me. And there was no one in the car from what I could see.
She wouldn't keep Lexi out here in this heat. And she wouldn't keep herself out here in black clothes. My mind reasoned as I checked the perimeter.
I followed it until I hit a small garden in the back, like a small park. And sitting on the bench underneath a large tree was the least suspecting combo of two people.
Sara and Lady Heather. And they weren't at each other's throats.
I knew I should've left them to themselves, but I couldn't help but watch in fascination.
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Lady Heather's POV:
I may have envied the woman beside me for leading the life with the man I had once dreamt of being with, but I felt nothing but empathy for the younger woman for losing what was positive to be the love of her life.
And from the empty look in her eyes, it was silently affirmed that he was and is the love of her life.
A flashback to the sight of my daughter on the table in the coroner's office – the glossy and hollow eyes, the abnormal stillness, the pallor of her skin – reminded me of Sara Sidle. One would imagine she was hoping if she posed long enough, the morticians would embalm her and lay her to rest with Gil. Or perhaps she wasn't posing. She was dead in every other aspect beside the sole one that would reunite her with him.
Stitches, cuts, and deep bruises marred her once flawless skin. Her face, her hands... Sara's left arm was in a cast and sling. Undoubtedly she was on painkillers, but none of them would be strong enough to dull the pangs in her heart, save for if she took them all at once. The media had been my source of information, surrounding the facts that took one of Las Vegas' greatest criminalist; a torched crime scene that collapsed on both him and Sara. The other CSIs had made it out in time, but my guess was Sara had refused to leave him behind and Gil had saved her life by sacrificing his own to serve as her shield. That last part, however, was not my guess. The reports showed that they'd found the couple, Gil on top and crushed, while Sara lay beneath him unconscious, but still breathing.
A fitting end for the man who was the unsung hero to many. Though he would surely disapprove of the publicity he was getting.
"Mommy, are you okay?" Their five-year-old daughter tapped gently on her Mother's short sleeve.
Sara's grip on the little girl in her lap tightened. "I will be."
Alexia, as she was called, curled up her lanky body into her Mother's embrace, facing me with puffy cobalt eyes harboring unshed tears. My hand reached out to tuck a stray lock of sable wavy hair behind her ear, revealing what must've been her birthstone in an earring; sapphire. A small familiar smirk rose to her lips, partially revealing the small gap behind her two front teeth. But like her Mother, I sensed a degree of lifelessness, her young heart forcing to steel itself against the loss of the most important man in her life as well. I pitied her; she'd only have distant and fleeting memories of a brilliant man that used to put her to sleep and tend to her when she was ill and protected her from her every fear.
I was useless to help either of them. Words of comfort, words of sympathy, words of guidance... Words were useless in this situation, which in turn made me useless. There was no reading into the mind of Sara Sidle. It was as pronounced as the black eyes she had.
"He would've been glad that you came, Heather." Sara's adopted monotone voice alerted me that she wasn't in as deep a trance as I'd estimated.
"And your feelings on my presence?" My eyebrows lifted.
Shrugging her shoulders, she twisted her head to look at me. "I'm indifferent to it. For Gil's sake, I'm glad you came though. No one is a threat anymore."
"Understandable."
"Are you one of Daddy's friends?" Alexia lifted her head up from Sara's good shoulder.
Eyes on Sara, I nodded. "I was a very good friend of your Father's."
The young miniature and feminine Gil Grissom stuck out her hand, making proper introductions. "I'm Lexi."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lexi. I'm Heather."
Alexia's head cocked to the side. "What's 'a pleasure to make your acq... acquai... acquaintness' mean, Mommy?"
"It means she's glad to meet you." Sara simplified.
"Have you gone in yet?" I inquired, my emotions warming up to the young woman, an ex-adversary by many's standards.
"Have you?" Sara faced forward once more.
Help her and help yourself, Heather... Please. I could practically hear Gil's pleading voice.
For you... I whispered, reaching out to take Sara's good hand in mine, squeezing lightly before standing.
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Catherine's POV:
All I needed was some Tylenol, a cold shower, and a reassurance that when I woke up the next day that I'd wake up to Grissom calling me on my cell asking why the hell I was two hours late to work. God knows I needed the sleep, but I just couldn't get the scene out of my head long enough to sleep. And the choice few times I had snagged sleep, the picture was more vivid.
Flashback
"Cath, get down!"
As if the thick, smoldering smoke wasn't weighing my body down already, Grissom crushed me to the ground with his. From my spot beneath him, a sea of embers floated past from behind us as what could've been a beam fell.
"C'mon Cath... Follow me."
When I didn't budge from the position Gris had put me in, he crawled back in front of me, squatting as he pulled me into a similar position. Gris gripped both of my hands. I turned my sights onto his cool blue eyes that embraced me when his arms didn't.
"Warrick, Nick and Greg are up ahead. Use the back stairwell to go out the back door; the front entrance is blocked by the fire." I heard him instruct. "Cath, I'm going to get you through to Warrick and they'll take you from there."
My hands tore back as if they'd caught fire. "Why aren't you coming?"
"Sara's still in here! I can't leave without her!" Grissom exclaimed.
I was selfish for even thinking of saying, "So what?" but I'd be a hypocrite since I'd be doing the same thing in his position.
"Grissom, don't die on me. You better not, you hear?" I blamed the smoke irritating my eyes for the falling tears.
He extended his hand. "Take my hand..."
"Damn it, Gil, promise me!"
"...I promise."
End of Flashback
You lying son-of-a-bitch, Gil. You promised me. My body cooled after I took myself out of the imaginary inferno of a house. And now here we are at your funeral.
"Hey guys..." A raspy voice interrupted my thoughts. "You're never gonna believe this."
The four of us – Warrick, Nick, Greg, and me – turned toward an approaching Brass, but we caught a glimpse of something far more interesting over his shoulder.
In the fifty years of my life, I'd seen so much that hardly anything had the power to shock me anymore. But I didn't know whether to be more shocked at the sight or surprised that anything still shocked me.
Coming through the doors, hands joined in support, was Lady Heather and Sara Sidle, Alexia at her Mother's other side. The two glanced at each other before heading toward the alter, backs straight and walking tall. It was the liveliest I'd seen Sara since before the incident.
My jaw couldn't stay shut as they kneeled together, Alexia joining at the end. Just a few moments, but it was enough to leave everyone in the room that knew of Heather and Grissom's past – as well as the unspoken competition Sara and Heather had over Gil for the longest of times without even knowing each other – completely and utterly dumbfounded.
The pastor finally made his way to the front to begin the ceremony as the three took seats up front, two rows up from us. His description of Grissom was brief... Too brief. Brief enough to piss me off. But I was taken aback and set silent when he called Sara up for the eulogy, and she also took Heather up with her at her side.
"Ladies and gentlemen... We all know who we're here for, but he was different things to all of us." Sara spoke, her voice eerily steady. "A supervisor, a colleague, a best friend, a mentor, a father, a hero, a role model, a brother figure, a mentee, and a lover." She fought against the urge to avert her gaze. "Now, I know you all may pity me for losing the most important man in my life and the father of my child... But there's people who are suffering just as badly." Her wet brown eyes found all of ours. "Two of those people stand beside me right now, and five more sit in the third row. Our makeshift family, his daughter, and one of his best friends, Heather Kessler."
Sara leaned away from the microphone and bent down to perch Alexia on her hip, glancing once at Heather before all three leaned in and said in perfect harmony,
"And we're here to tell you a little about him."
The End.
A/N2: What do you think? Give me something to look forward to upon my arrival home from the first day of school..
Peace out, One love,
MC New York