| Remembrance - by kyrdwyn |
| Rated: PG Spoilers: None Synopsis: Grissom gets a letter that causes him to reflect on past events that created his current lifestyle, and will change his future. |
 |
| CSI, Gil Grissom and company, and places and etc are all property of Anthony Zuiker, Alliance Atlantis, CBS, and other companies. They did not condone this fic, and I am not getting paid for it. I write because I want to. All other characters not appearing on CSI in any way, shape, or form that appear in this story are my property. If you have any comments - good or bad, feel free to e-mail me at: toxicrev@yahoo.com |
|
| Gil Grissom sat alone in a corner of the bar, drinking. The shot glasses in front of him were a silent testimony to his thoughts. Eight shots, one for each month they had together, a ninth for that final night, and now he sat contemplating the tenth shot, for her. They'd met at college, been lab partners together by chance when he had arrived late for the first class. They became great friends, been a linked pair until graduation, though never romantically involved. They'd sporadically kept in touch even after he'd come to Las Vegas to join the crime lab and she had headed for medical school in Virginia. Ten years ago she had shown up on his doorstep, a box of chocolate-covered grasshoppers in one hand and her suitcase in another. 'Beware of doctors bearing gifts' she'd said in an ominous voice. She'd gotten a fellowship at one of the Las Vegas hospitals, but her hotel had lost her reservation, could she impose on an old friend? He had laughed and invited her in. They'd talked all that night, catching up on their lives. She had listened to his stories about his job and his co-workers, and he listened to her stories about patients and fellow doctors. It had been early morning when he showed her to his spare room. The goodnights between them had been awkward, until he leaned forward to kiss her. It had taken them both by surprise, but neither had retreated from the embrace. They made love for the first time that night, finding new discoveries in an old friend. The next afternoon found her canceling her hotel reservations and moving into Gil's town home. Gil smiled in remembrance of those eight months. They both worked night shift, spending their mornings sleeping in each other's arms and their afternoons exploring Las Vegas through lover's eyes. They rode the roller coasters, played in the casinos, went to shows and concerts, and sometimes just walked the streets hand in hand. The best times were when they both had the same days off and would hike up into the mountains at night, lie in each other's arms and watch the stars, idly talking about the future. The ending came like a tornado out of a clear sky. She'd been turned down for a permanent position at the hospital, but offered a job in Boston. She wanted him to go with her. He wanted her to stay, try for another position. He'd been in Vegas almost all his life, he didn't want to leave his job and move across the country. She didn't want to stay and live off what she considered his charity until she got a job. The volume and their tempers escalated, wounds slashing across the skin of their relationship. The final battle was fought between the sheets of their bed. When Gil woke up the next morning, she was gone. The only trace of her presence was the lingering of her perfume in the air and the pictures of the two of them. Gil packed those away and dove into his work. He managed to bury her memory under his job and other friendships, but always staying away from relationships that could turn into what they had shared, afraid to let someone else get that close. He never heard from her again. He had gotten the letter from a Tennessee law firm last week. It sat on his desk for a few days, lost amidst the paperwork of his latest case until he had knocked it onto the floor by accident. He opened it, figuring it was from a criminal defense attorney looking for some expert help to exonerate a client. Gil still couldn't believe the contents of the letter, even after he had called the Nashville CSI office and talked to the investigator. A local college student, apparently not very stable to begin with, had freaked after a drunk driver had killed his girlfriend. He took a gun and began shooting up the ER, trying to kill the driver. She had been on duty that night, had tried to protect one of her patients, and had taken a bullet to the heart. She'd died that night. Gil downed the last shot in tribute to her bravery. She'd taken being a doctor as seriously as he took being a scientist. He had loved that about her, just one of the many things he had loved. He stood up, a trifle unsteady on his feet from alcohol and sorrow. He paid his tab and walked out the door, hailing a cab. Late the next afternoon Gil stood in the waiting area of gate 6 at the McCarran Airport. He watched as the passengers deplaned. The last person off was a stewardess, with a child in tow. Gil walked up to the podium, showing his ID. He signed the papers and turned to the child. His heart broke to see the little girl looking so somber. She was almost ten years old, sandy blonde hair, and the green eyes staring up at him were -her- eyes, the same eyes he had seen in his dreams last night. She held in her hand a picture of Gil and his lost lover. Gil knelt down. "Gillian?" The girl nodded, tears spilling onto her cheeks. Gil reached out and pulled her close, hugging her tightly. "I miss her so much." She whispered. "I know, sweetheart, so do I." He held her close for a few moments more. Then released her and stood, holding out his hand. "Shall we go home?" Gillian nodded, smiling shyly. Gil smiled back. Father and daughter walked, hand in hand, out into the Vegas sunshine. |
|