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Fic: Stop
Title: Stop
Author: Erin (erinm_4600)
Characters, Pairing: Grissom, Heather, Sara, and Brass (mention of Catherine)
Rating: high-PG
Summary: For the last time, someone has to say 'Stop'.
Warning: my assumption on a possible outcome for the series finale ; CHARACTER DEATH *written for a Three Prompts at gameofcards. Prompts: THIS image; "You and I walk a fragile line/I have known it all this time/But I never thought I'd live to see it break" - Taylor Swift ; upward, grasp, mystery; and THIS image, from CBS
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to CBS and the Bruckster. The OCs are mine.
** NOTE: You guys know me - GRILLOWS until the day I die. But, I'll take Grissom/Heather Any. Damn. Day. I'm not sorry for what follows, because... well... I'm just not. But I am. gatechic, just remember that you love me. ♥
------
"You get away from me!" Heather Kessler spat as she moved past Grissom and out the open door.
"Heather!" Grissom called after her, trying to think of any way to get her to understand just how serious the situation was at that moment. The investigation was far from complete, but all the evidence pointed to the former dominatrix as the next target.
The rocks of the gravel driveway crunched under her boots with each step, and her heart was pounding in her ears. Fighting at the sleeve of her light sweater, Heather jerked the fabric back into place, cursing under her breath as the police cruiser pulled in behind her.
Great, here came more of them.
"Heather," she heard, not realizing that Grissom had caught up to her - when did he start moving so damn fast, she wondered - and he jerked her back. Heather gave him a murderous glare and yanked herself from his hold, only feeling a rage of fire swelling in her stomach as she saw the brunette getting out of the car.
It was bad enough that Gil Grissom had shown up at her door, but that she was here, too...
There weren't many people that Heather didn't like for good reason; but her dislike for Sara Sidle was anything but a good reason. She didn't like Sara because Sara had Gil.
The only time Heather had ever seriously considered a change in her way of life was the night she met Grissom. And, while it was hot and heavy for about a second, she knew it would never work out.
Still, it didn't keep her from wanting him.
"Gil!" Jim Brass yelled, moving around the driver's side door. Heather took his interruption as her chance to get away and spun around, once again aiming for her own car, which was parked only yards away.
"Damnit, Heather!" Grissom yelled, ignoring the calls from his former coworkers. "Stop!" he pleaded, managing to catch her, once again. Pulling her back, Heather stumbled as he spun her around, but before she could say anything, her car exploded.
The sound was deafening, and she curled into Grissom's arms as he blocked her from the blast. As soon as the roar of flames lessened, Sara raised the radio in her hand and called for anyone and everyone to respond. She was mid-sentence when she happened to glance up and saw Heather suddenly struggling Grissom to the ground.
"Jim," she managed, the color already draining from her face.
Heather had felt Grissom go rigid, dropping to his knees rather unceremoniously. Something didn't feel right, didn't sound right. "Gil? Gil?" she repeated, her hands pressed to his chest as she tried to keep him upright. He tried to suck in a breath, but couldn't get any air.
Heather turned her head and screamed at Jim and Sara to get help, but they both seemed frozen in place. Turning back to Grissom, Heather reached for his cheek. "Gil?" He slumped forward against her shoulder, trying to breathe, and Heather was able to see the shrapnel from the car lodged into his back.
"Gil?" she gasped, knowing that there was no way anyone would get there in time. Rather ungracefully, Heather managed to turn him in her arms and she dropped to the ground and looked at him. Grissom looked up at her, though she could already see the light was going out.
"No, Gil. Don't," she whispered, trying to fight the wave of emotions. "Please don't," she mumbled through tears. Grissom tried to move his hand, but he couldn't make it work. He wanted so much to reach up and wipe her tears.
He wanted to tell her that it had always been her.
He hadn't ever been good with people, but she had been different. She saw through his oddness and, somehow, saw him.
He wanted to apologize for messing things up between them; for pushing her away; for pulling himself away.
Heather had turned back to scream at Brass and Sara, again, but even if they had heard her, she wouldn't have been able to hear them over the ringing in her own ears. Sniffing before she looked down at Grissom again, Heather realized he was staring at her, at her mouth.
She had been the one to know his hearing was going; only her. He never told anyone else, though she knew that Catherine had known. Forcing herself, Heather gave Grissom the warmest smile she had ever given anyone and reached for his hand. Carefully, she moved his fingers into the sign for 'love' and placed her hand over his, covering his heart.
Grissom managed a blink, and somehow hooked his finger around one of hers.
"Gil," she managed, feeling her stomach flip. "Stop."
A moment later, he was gone.
Author: Erin (erinm_4600)
Characters, Pairing: Grissom, Heather, Sara, and Brass (mention of Catherine)
Rating: high-PG
Summary: For the last time, someone has to say 'Stop'.
Warning: my assumption on a possible outcome for the series finale ; CHARACTER DEATH *written for a Three Prompts at gameofcards. Prompts: THIS image; "You and I walk a fragile line/I have known it all this time/But I never thought I'd live to see it break" - Taylor Swift ; upward, grasp, mystery; and THIS image, from CBS
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to CBS and the Bruckster. The OCs are mine.
** NOTE: You guys know me - GRILLOWS until the day I die. But, I'll take Grissom/Heather Any. Damn. Day. I'm not sorry for what follows, because... well... I'm just not. But I am. gatechic, just remember that you love me. ♥
------
"You get away from me!" Heather Kessler spat as she moved past Grissom and out the open door.
"Heather!" Grissom called after her, trying to think of any way to get her to understand just how serious the situation was at that moment. The investigation was far from complete, but all the evidence pointed to the former dominatrix as the next target.
The rocks of the gravel driveway crunched under her boots with each step, and her heart was pounding in her ears. Fighting at the sleeve of her light sweater, Heather jerked the fabric back into place, cursing under her breath as the police cruiser pulled in behind her.
Great, here came more of them.
"Heather," she heard, not realizing that Grissom had caught up to her - when did he start moving so damn fast, she wondered - and he jerked her back. Heather gave him a murderous glare and yanked herself from his hold, only feeling a rage of fire swelling in her stomach as she saw the brunette getting out of the car.
It was bad enough that Gil Grissom had shown up at her door, but that she was here, too...
There weren't many people that Heather didn't like for good reason; but her dislike for Sara Sidle was anything but a good reason. She didn't like Sara because Sara had Gil.
The only time Heather had ever seriously considered a change in her way of life was the night she met Grissom. And, while it was hot and heavy for about a second, she knew it would never work out.
Still, it didn't keep her from wanting him.
"Gil!" Jim Brass yelled, moving around the driver's side door. Heather took his interruption as her chance to get away and spun around, once again aiming for her own car, which was parked only yards away.
"Damnit, Heather!" Grissom yelled, ignoring the calls from his former coworkers. "Stop!" he pleaded, managing to catch her, once again. Pulling her back, Heather stumbled as he spun her around, but before she could say anything, her car exploded.
The sound was deafening, and she curled into Grissom's arms as he blocked her from the blast. As soon as the roar of flames lessened, Sara raised the radio in her hand and called for anyone and everyone to respond. She was mid-sentence when she happened to glance up and saw Heather suddenly struggling Grissom to the ground.
"Jim," she managed, the color already draining from her face.
Heather had felt Grissom go rigid, dropping to his knees rather unceremoniously. Something didn't feel right, didn't sound right. "Gil? Gil?" she repeated, her hands pressed to his chest as she tried to keep him upright. He tried to suck in a breath, but couldn't get any air.
Heather turned her head and screamed at Jim and Sara to get help, but they both seemed frozen in place. Turning back to Grissom, Heather reached for his cheek. "Gil?" He slumped forward against her shoulder, trying to breathe, and Heather was able to see the shrapnel from the car lodged into his back.
"Gil?" she gasped, knowing that there was no way anyone would get there in time. Rather ungracefully, Heather managed to turn him in her arms and she dropped to the ground and looked at him. Grissom looked up at her, though she could already see the light was going out.
"No, Gil. Don't," she whispered, trying to fight the wave of emotions. "Please don't," she mumbled through tears. Grissom tried to move his hand, but he couldn't make it work. He wanted so much to reach up and wipe her tears.
He wanted to tell her that it had always been her.
He hadn't ever been good with people, but she had been different. She saw through his oddness and, somehow, saw him.
He wanted to apologize for messing things up between them; for pushing her away; for pulling himself away.
Heather had turned back to scream at Brass and Sara, again, but even if they had heard her, she wouldn't have been able to hear them over the ringing in her own ears. Sniffing before she looked down at Grissom again, Heather realized he was staring at her, at her mouth.
She had been the one to know his hearing was going; only her. He never told anyone else, though she knew that Catherine had known. Forcing herself, Heather gave Grissom the warmest smile she had ever given anyone and reached for his hand. Carefully, she moved his fingers into the sign for 'love' and placed her hand over his, covering his heart.
Grissom managed a blink, and somehow hooked his finger around one of hers.
"Gil," she managed, feeling her stomach flip. "Stop."
A moment later, he was gone.