Summer Bits: Seven Ficlets for the CSIverse
A general note about all of these fics. They were written for the
summer_bits community. Each author had to take seven different characters and write a fic for them. These are the fics I came up with. Enjoy.
Title: Bury your head in the Sand
Author:
lieueitak
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Yelina Salas/Horatio Caine, Ray Junior thrown in for good measure
Warnings: None
Word Count: 871 words
Other Notes: Horatio and Yelina take Ray Junior to the beach. Set before the series begins. Fulfills
fanfic100 prompt #081, How?
The little boy with fingers outstretched reaches down to grab the sand, and Yelina can’t help but watch her son, fascinated. He grasps two small fistfuls of sand, but unsatisfied, Ray Junior opens his hands again, and reaches down for more. His feet bounce up and down on the uneven ground. At one point, his big brown eyes meet her hazel ones, and she meets his childish giggle with a maternal smile.
When he’s happy with the amount of sand he has, she watches as he giggles once more. And toddling a few feet to the right, Ray Junior drops the sand on Horatio’s head. The redhead sputters, wiping sand out of his mouth as Ray squeals with delight.
“Ray… that’s not what I had in mind when I said bury me in the sand…”
But her son is already fist deep in sand getting more.
Horatio looks to her for help; she grins. “You didn’t say which end you wanted…”
He starts to say something, but Ray Junior strikes again, dropping another small mound of sand on Horatio’s red hair.
“Yay!” Her son cheers, claps his sandy fingers together, and Yelina doesn’t bother to suppress her laugh. He scampers back for more sand, but by now Horatio has caught onto the game.
The redhead looks between mother and child, the amusement dancing in his eyes. He stands up, brushes extra sand off the back of his legs, and when Ray notices that he’s no longer laying down, the little boy frowns.
“No,” he whines, the grains of sand slipping through his tiny hands. “Back down, carrots,” the little boy orders, and Yelina snorts loudly. She hadn’t wanted to go to the beach, but Horatio insisted, and now, she’s glad she said yes. For a moment, she wonders when she had last felt this happy.
But the thought is immediately pushed aside, as Horatio looks at her confused. “Carrots?” he asks. And then as an afterthought - “Is that a new word?”
She doesn’t need to say a word; the surge in maternal pride is answer enough, and Horatio smiles back.
Seconds later, the uncle is chasing his nephew in circles around her. Ray Junior laughs as he runs from the Tickle Monster (“I’m gonna get you,” Horatio growls). She smiles again, but the pang of Raymond not being here hits her.
Yelina has tried to ignore this fact, has tried to pretend for months now that nothing is wrong. It’s a task she’s usually good at. Between work and a toddler intent on getting into everything, there hasn’t been much time to dwell on what her husband was doing.
But as Horatio snatches Ray Junior off the ground and begins tickling him, Yelina can’t help but think that her husband is missing something. He’d only joined narcotics six months ago (much to her dismay), but already… Ray came home less and less, was increasingly uncomfortable with their baby.
And just this week, their son called Horatio “Daddy.” Thankfully, she thinks, neither Caine brother was around at the time. At the time, Yelina did her best to teach Ray Junior who Daddy was, but she’s still not sure it worked.
When Horatio plops the sandy toddler into her lap, she’s convinced it hasn’t worked - and won’t work because she herself is beginning to see her brother-in-law in a completely different way. She’d always thought he was attractive, sure, and part of her is convinced that the feelings are reciprocal.
But lately… she has found herself depending on Horatio in a way she used to depend on Ray. When her son threw up in daycare last week, Yelina called, not her husband, but her brother-in-law to pick the toddler up. The truth is Horatio was quickly becoming what Raymond used to be.
Which makes her problem all the more apparent; how is she supposed to convince Ray Junior that this man isn’t Daddy?
“Mommy!” She has no time to think as the little boy tugs on her hand. He points towards the ocean. “Water!”
Standing up, Yelina hoists her son up onto her hip. “You want to go in?” His head bobs up and down enthusiastically. “All right.”
But only a few steps forward and Yelina turns to Horatio who remains sitting on the beach. “You coming?” she asks him.
“Do you want me to?”
She’s not exactly sure what he means by that. Though given that Horatio is uncomfortable at times with his new role, she isn’t entirely surprised; he does like to give her space. “Of course” is her answer, and he follows her into the water.
They stop when she’s knee deep, but Ray isn’t satisfied. His feet kick excitedly.
“More,” he orders.
Yelina looks to Horatio, and he shrugs. The current isn’t too strong, but she still hesitates and says, “I don’t want to drop him.”
Her brother-in-law smiles and leads them into deeper waters, his hand close to one of her elbows. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I will never let that happen.”
There is a lot of conviction in his voice, she thinks, and she believes him. And with that fear disintegrating, all that’s left is the question: what exactly does her unequivocal trust mean?
Title: Fishing for Truth
Author:
lieueitak
Rating: PG-13 for naughty language
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Horatio Caine
Warnings: Again, bad words. A bunch of them. Blame Ray Junior. :-)
Word Count: 996 words
Other Notes: Horatio and Ray Junior go on a fishing trip, but a fight reveals more than Horatio could have expected. Set after the 5th season. No spoilers. Fulfills
alphabetasoup prompt, O is for Olokun.
"I’m only here cause Mom made me.”
There was the truth, Horatio thought. His nephew had uttered it with as much sensitivity as a blunt ax.
The redhead looked out over the lake, watched the sun’s reflection in the rippling water. A breeze passed through the grass. Horatio had wondered, in the hour they’d been there, why Ray Junior was upset.
“Okay,” he said, trying to be as gracious as he could be, despite the hurt feelings. “We can go if you want.”
“Shut up, you know we can’t,” Ray said miserably.
“You said you don’t want to be here, so we can -“
“No. We can’t.” There was a pregnant pause, the only sound coming from ducks quacking nearby. Horatio looked at his nephew, noticed the way the teenager seemed to hesitate. But Ray said, “We can’t go back cause Mom wants to spend time with her boyfriend.”
Whatever Horatio had been expecting to hear… it wasn’t that, and he wasn’t sure what to say immediately.
He settled for nodding his head, smirking, and then looking out over the lake again.
“When did this happen?” he eventually asked. It didn’t sound too desperate, Horatio thought.
“I don’t know. A while ago.” Ray cast his line out again half-heartedly.
Horatio did the same thing before saying, “She never mentioned it.”
Pushing a curl out of his face, Ray Junior laughed. But it didn’t sound like any laugh Horatio had heard from Ray before. The boy sounded mirthless. Behind each chuckle was something dark, and Horatio plucked his sunglasses out of his pocket. He easily slid them on, and then looked at Ray once more. His veiled eyes met his nephew’s dark ones.
“Why would she have mentioned it to you, dude?” Ray asked.
Horatio was at a loss. He had wanted to give her boundaries, didn’t really expect to be informed, but still, “We’re family,” he told Ray.
The laugh filled the air once more, joining in on the chorus of quacks and flies buzzing. “Is that what we are?” the boy asked. Before Horatio could say anything, he added, “You know… I know I don’t know much about what a normal family is like. But I’m gonna go ahead and guess that real families don’t have parents who die and then come back to life.”
“I’m sorry.” Horatio knew the words weren’t enough to soothe the torment in Ray, but he offered them nonetheless. “I’m sorry,” his voice lamentable. “If I could give you your father back…” He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying more.
“It’s not just Dad.”
“Well, I know you and your mother -“
Ray shook his head angrily. “No, you don’t know. In order to know, you’d have to be around.” He started to reel the line back in furiously.
And Horatio felt the guilt rise up in him, like an unused muscle, felt it tighten in his throat. “I wanted to - after everything that happened, Ray, I wanted to give your mother some space.”
The boy shook his head again and stood up. Haphazardly, he began to collect his things. “You shouldn’t lie,” Ray said. “I used to believe that, but now I know that’s not true.”
“How -“
“You and I both know Mom doesn’t want space. She doesn’t do space - definitely not when it comes to you anyway.” Horatio began to reel his own line in, resigned to the fact that this trip was over, a disaster. “My mother being in love with my uncle is fucked up, yeah. Even without Dad, we’d be messed up, but you just make everything worse!”
Horatio sighed. “Ray… I don’t - I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Look, I can deal with you likin’ her. Why you would… but whatever. If you like her, grow a pair and do something about it. Stop pushing her away. Stop giving her fucking space. And stop only coming around when she wants to get laid -“ Horatio blushed at this - “or when one of us screws up.”
The redhead stood up, brushing his hands on his pants. He quickly packed his things away. “I didn’t realize,” Horatio said, the words lame but true. “I came over cause I thought you wanted to go fishing.”
Ray started to walk, Horatio following him. “I did - until I realized it was just a way for her to get me out of the house. I got forced onto you, so… thanks, but I won’t hold you up. Let’s go home.”
That ended the conversation. Even if Horatio wanted to stay, it was a lost cause. The boy climbed in the SUV, tossing his fishing gear behind him. The rod scraped against the ceiling.
As Horatio started to drive away, he looked over at his nephew who, with arms folded across his chest, looked out the window sullenly.
“She didn’t force you onto me.”
“Then prove it by coming around more and not just when she needs you to.”
“I will.”
“And maybe you’ll stop asking about her? I don’t like being a go between.”
“All right,” Horatio said.
“Really?” His voice almost sounded childlike.
“Yes, really.”
They fell into silence, only broken when Ray started snoring a half hour later. Horatio wasn’t sure what started this fight. He could only conclude that Ray had been holding this back for a while. But they were okay now.
And the guilt Horatio usually felt in the pit of his stomach eased. The uncle had always believed Ray would hate it if Yelina started dating him. But Ray seemed opposed to this more.
Which was what mattered. So while the rest of the world (and Yelina’s boyfriend) might not approve, Horatio had gotten an endorsement from the one person who mattered. As he drove, the redhead was comforted by this fact - he could act on his feelings without reproach. For the first time in a long time, Horatio felt himself smiling.
Title: Make Believe in Rio
Author:
lieueitak
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Ray Caine Sr./Yelina Salas
Warnings: Some language, sexual situations
Word Count: 998 words
Other Notes: Ray Senior had expected her to be angry, but this was far worse. A story about Ray and Yelina during their time in Rio.
With a pen dangling from his mouth, Ray sits at the kitchen table. He chews on the plastic cap as he puts together a Christmas list. So far the paper in front of him is blank. The menial task feels decidedly off to him, though it’s not hard for him to understand why.
He’d lived in Florida for years, but he can’t get used to Christmas popping up in the middle of summer. Ray glances away from his list and looks out the kitchen window. Though a tree partially blocks the view, he can see Yelina sunbathing. A wonderful sight, he thinks, but he’s always associated the holiday with snow and sweaters.
That this is his first family Christmas in years makes it all the more surreal. Maybe a new pair of socks… the dark-haired man scribbles it down. He’s not worried they’ll fight throughout the holiday. The conflict Ray feels towards the upcoming event resides solely, he knows, within himself.
They never fought these days. Since arriving, Yelina hadn’t asked why he left. She didn’t yell, didn’t even acknowledge the past. It was confusing - how disturbingly peaceful they were; she was barely recognizable to him.
At first Raymond thought it was for their son’s benefit. But that reasoning didn’t explain why she maintained the farce when Ray Junior wasn’t around.
Sighing, the husband pushes his list aside. If anything, their marriage appears to be happier now than ever. However Ray also understands that it’s not real. They may be together, but they are so far apart.
He even briefly believed that Yelina was faking it for him. It wasn’t like her, he thought at the time, but maybe she believed he somehow deserved her allegiance.
It’s completely ridiculous he now realizes, and he laughs, sitting there at the table, at his own stupidity. She had changed over the years - just as he had, but they were still essentially the same. What she’d been showing him for months, he has come to realize, is a painful truth. One that has been there since the beginning, nonetheless.
They’d been in Rio for a month, and it was their anniversary. Ray thought his wife would ignore the day completely, but she didn’t. Yelina insisted on celebrating the day; he couldn’t deny her. And when she presented him with a new wedding ring (his old one, he thought, in an evidence box), the truth came out.
He didn’t want the ring. Or rather he did, but he didn’t deserve it. Glancing down at it one last time, Ray tried to push the velvet box back into her hands.
“Take it,” she said.
“I don’t -“
“Deserve it?” Her voice became so cool then, smug. Expectant. “Obviously not. But…” She gave him the smallest of smiles. “The FBI used you because you can be someone you’re not… Take the ring. Not because you deserve it, but because having a wonderful husband, or at least the illusion of one, is what I deserve. Put it on, and later tonight, we’ll have sex to celebrate our blissful union.”
And Ray agreed because, aside from the promised sex, he didn’t see the difference between pretending to be a good husband and being one. He thought that if he did what she wanted, if he became that man for her, she would forgive him.
But he knows now that had been a mistake. He has tried so hard to be the perfect husband, but Yelina doesn’t trust it, Ray realizes. The day after their anniversary, he bought her several blossoms of purple orchids that she always loved.
And though she thanked him for the flowers, only when she thought he wasn’t looking did she tenderly finger them. The secretive gesture was enough to have him walking down to the florist each week for orchids. He isn’t trusted enough to receive an honest response, but that doesn’t stop him.
Part of him knows that she will never love him like she once did, will never see him as the man he tries so hard to be. But Ray isn’t willing to give up, cannot do so because then she’d leave. His only hope is to continue to do everything right, to never give her reason to doubt him, to never fail. So too is Ray aware that he isn’t capable of such a feat. His brother maybe, but the younger Caine knows that he is too flawed, too fucked up to be the man she deserves. How can he succeed in this when he can’t even give her a Christmas list?
And he knows it’s selfish, but the more she slips away from him, the tighter he wants to cling to her.
At that moment, Yelina comes inside. His list forgotten, his eyes cannot ignore the way the black bikini clings to her every curve. She does not smile at him as she grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
Before taking a sip, she asks him, “Where’s Ray Junior?” He doesn’t know and shrugs. “I see.” Her hazel eyes darken, and her voice husky, she says, “I’m… going to go change.”
Ray recognizes the look on her face, understands what she’s asking for, and the list lays abandoned as he follows her into the bedroom. The door closing behind them (in case Ray comes home), Yelina kisses him roughly. There is no love on her part, and his hands run through her hair, over her arms, grasp her warm hips. She does not love him anymore, but he can’t resist. Because he likes pretending this is a happy marriage also.
Because if he doesn’t pay too much attention, Ray can almost ignore the stiffness in her body, can almost believe this is love. Because he still hopes, if they do this enough, they’ll eventually end somewhere else - someplace where he never screwed up, where she loves him unconditionally. Likes to play make believe because he cannot accept that such a place doesn’t exist.
Title: Near Victory
Author:
lieueitak
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Rick Stetler
Warnings: some language
Word Count: 954 words
Other Notes: Stetler goes to New York looking for Yelina. But he'll settle for hearing about Horatio's past. Set after 3rd season but before the 4th.
Beads of sweat formed on his face. Stetler was relieved to escape into his hotel room, the air conditioning blasting once more. As the door clicked shut behind him, the impatient man ripped off his shirt, wet with perspiration, and jeans. And lying down on the bed in his underwear, Rick thought that he had clearly underestimated New York City weather.
The bedspread felt cool against his flushed skin, and he closed his eyes. Victory was near, he thought, and that filled him with a definite happiness. While it was true he hadn’t found Yelina, he had received the next best thing: the power to take Horatio down. And that was a pretty damn good consolation prize; Stetler could barely contain his joy over it.
Of course, nothing had been confirmed yet, but everywhere the cop went, Horatio’s former colleagues had a lot to say. There were whispers of the redhead’s past, of a murder (which sent a chill up Rick’s spine), of a dirty cop. He had always assumed Caine had been hiding a past - there was no way anyone was that perfect. But this… was even better than expected.
This was everything Rick could have hoped for and more, and he decided over his morning coffee that he would figure this out. And Horatio would regret the day he had ever gone against him. The precious lieutenant, who could seemingly do no wrong, would be out of a job. No, Stetler mentally corrected, he’d lose everything. Especially if the rumors about a murder were true.
Stetler rolled out of bed at the thought, too excited to settle down, and stalked over to the mini-fridge. Reaching inside, he grabbed one of the beers. It was the middle of the day, sure, but this was cause for celebration. And so standing in his sweat-lined underpants, Rick chugged the cold brew down.
Horatio in an orange jumpsuit, he thought, seemed so appealing. And Rick paused mid-chug to laugh at the idea - Horatio in jail. The poor sonbitch wouldn’t make it in there a day. There were just too many criminals eager to kill the CSI. It’d be a fitting end for the bastard.
And with the meddling brother-in-law gone, Yelina would come back. Stetler would get her back. The thought (or maybe it was the beer) made him feel light-headed, and he plopped back down on the bed.
It had been almost three months since they had broken up, he realized. Three months. Reconciliation, at the time, hadn’t been completely out of question. This was simply what they did as a couple: they got along until they didn’t, and then all hell would break loose.
She would say something scathing, and he’d return the insult, and it would go back and forth until someone got a black eye. Horatio had sniveled about “abuse,” but that high-minded asshole had no idea. It was not abuse; this was just what they did. This was how they worked things out. What else could be expected of a relationship based on equal parts attraction and revulsion?
It wasn’t like Rick didn’t know; Yelina found most aspects of his personality irritating. She hated the way he looked at her. He “leered” too much, she thought, and hated how he insisted on spending so much time alone with her. She hated that he fought with Horatio. Just as he despised how close she was to the redhead.
They fought a lot about those things, but in the end, that had been why they were together. He thought that he probably wouldn’t have wanted her as much if she weren’t Horatio’s sister-in-law. And Rick also knew that, despite her protestations, Yelina liked that he was so forward. She hadn’t ever said, but the way he laid claim to her, the way he so openly wanted her, had been something she enjoyed.
Their relationship had gotten messy at times, sure, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t work through. A week after they’d broken up, he’d called her, and she hadn’t hung up or called the cops.
And then she disappeared.
That Horatio wasn’t concerned at all told Rick everything. He was behind this. Dudley-Do-Right must have found out that Yelina had taken the call, was gonna take him back, and forced her into hiding. It was the only explanation.
Stetler had briefly wondered if the idea was ridiculous - because since when did she take instruction?
But then… he knew she always did what Horatio wanted. Even if she hated it, she followed his advice.
And Rick had vowed then to find her. She wasn’t here, but this trip to New York had yielded other results, which was fine by him. Horatio would get his, that seemed to be inevitable, and Yelina would come out of hiding. Then she’d be his again.
Horatio would be behind bars with any luck, and the redhead would die there knowing that Rick had won. Would spend the rest of his days thinking about how it was Stetler fucking her. And for his part, Rick would make sure Horatio knew exactly what he wasn’t getting. Yes, he’d drop by the redhead’s cell and let him hear all the details…
There would be a lot of work to do to get to that point, but the sergeant could see the end in sight - could practically hear Yelina begging for his forgiveness already.
Not even the hot muggy weather could stop him from feeling the chill of near victory course through him. Yes, Horatio would pay. And she would beg Rick to take her back; he’d make her beg, and he grinned, in the hotel room, knowing he would show them no mercy.
Title: Stuck in the Backseat
Author:
lieueitak
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Catherine Willows
Warnings: None
Word Count: 616 words
Other Notes: The rest of the world wanted them to rot in jail, but she didn’t want to crucify them. Post Feeling the Heat.
She tried all week to not judge like everyone else had. An absent-minded father’s mistake, Catherine told herself. There was no punishment greater than losing a child, and she’d made mistakes with Lindsay so who was she to judge, etc. The rest of the world wanted them to rot in jail, but she didn’t want to crucify them.
And now…
Cath doesn’t think she’s as disgusted as she should be. As she grabs her purse from her locker, her eyes rake over the picture of Lindsay taped to the inside of the door. She asks herself if she would end her child’s life if Lindsay had a disease like Tay-Sachs. And the answer comes to the mother before she mentally finishes the question: no. Never.
Closing her locker door, she heads out to her car, and not for the first time, Catherine hates her job. Hates that she has lost count of overheated babies. Despises that these cases make her ask questions about her own parenting skills. She doesn’t know any other parents who do things like that.
The CSI passes her co-workers as she walks through the corridors. Some of them smile at her, and she is amazed at how young some of them look. Youthful and happy and maybe just a little naïve. Cath gives a few of them a sad smile in return; they won’t seem this innocent in a few years time.
Just by looking at some of them, she can tell that they’re new. Knows that anyone at this job long enough, anyone who has survived working an Indian summer day, looks older than they are.
Catherine isn’t sure she was ever that young looking. She didn’t need to put a dead infant in a body bag to lose her innocence. That part of her disappeared a long time ago. Perhaps she’d never really been as youthful and happy as these people are now…
But her dark thoughts are temporarily interrupted as the sunlight hits her face. Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the change. And she makes a mental note to lecture Lindsay about wearing sun block when she gets home.
Yet the short reprieve doesn’t last. As she closes her car door shut, the stale hot air hits her. She chokes on it, finds it hard to breathe, and she knows why she cannot feel disgust for that family.
Her eyes instinctively flick to the rear view mirror - as if the little baby is sitting in her back seat.
Was this what it was like for him?
She closes her eyes, doesn’t want to think about it, about that poor child. But this is where here mind has been since the beginning. Catherine had investigated the crime, but she hadn’t really left the backseat of that car.
Out of curiosity, she pushes the temperature gage on her SUV. 135 and rising, and she can feel her breathing deepen. It’s harder for her lungs to expel the air now than when she first got in the car. She’ll have to turn the engine on soon, she knows, or it’ll be too late. But Catherine wants one last look at the twelfth child this year to die in this way.
The sweat pools behind her knees, under her breasts, along her collarbone. It’s uncomfortable, gross, and she no longer wonders, but knows this is what that baby felt. And the disgust she’d been waiting for hits her full force.
Catherine relishes it for a moment. Heat and anger wrap around her tightly like a fleece blanket. Maybe there is still some innocence left. Then taking one last look at the backseat, she starts the car and drives away.
Title: Unfettered
Author: lieueitak
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Lady Heather, Gil Grissom (not romance)
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1000 words
Other Notes: Lady Heather deals with the loss of her daughter. Set after Pirates of the Third Reich.
His hand - not at all like Zoe’s, she notes - is clamped around one of her own. His touch is gentle and warm, but it does nothing to ease the chill inside her. As Grissom leads her to the rollercoaster, a wave of fear courses through her, makes her fingers twitch slightly against his palm. Her pace slows, and he looks at her, waits for her to say it.
But Heather keeps moving. She wants to finish this, knows she didn’t make it this far to run away. The rest of her may be hesitant, but her face is set, her eyes stubbornly eyeing the rollercoaster. So when she says nothing, he pulls her along.
They hadn’t planned this, but Heather is grateful for the chance meeting, nonetheless. As they pass a group of children eating cotton candy, she vaguely recalls comparing Grissom to her child. This seemed to be another similarity, she thinks. He had come here because he enjoyed rollercoasters.
Just as Zoe always had.
Her daughter loved carnivals, the past tense giving her pause. Her pace slows once more at the thought, but she does not say the word.
Does not want to say it because she came here to remember. Though her memories now tainted, the mother hadn’t been able to resist their pull. And maybe she had come here thinking - hoping - her child would come running towards her.
But the only one to appear out of the crowd was Grissom. He spotted her first, and now Heather realizes that she probably stands out in this group. Everyone else is filled with laughter and happiness, their sun-kissed faces filled with excitement. She, by contrast, is pale and radiates the cool misery she always feels.
Given that, she’s not surprised he found her. But Heather is grateful for his presence, not resentful of it. At the time, she was sure that he'd drown her in pleasantries, but he hadn’t. Perhaps he understood that she had spent too many years in the world’s underbelly to tolerate the notion of goodness. Whatever the reason, he placed her needs before his own.
She remembered telling Zoe to never give away her power. But maybe this was what it felt like to do just that. Only Heather was sure Grissom wouldn’t use this against her; she could trust him. So when they stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, looking out at the world, Heather told him the truth.
“I’ve never liked carnivals,” she said.
“I wouldn’t think so.” Her eyes slid over to his, and she could see the smile playing on his lips. She could easily read his thoughts: we both know you get your thrills elsewhere. And she knew he wasn’t judging her, and it made her smile - a little.
The light mood didn’t last. It never did; Zoe’s death was always on her mind. But she continued.
“I don’t know why I came.” She didn’t let her voice hitch at the admission. “Zoe loved them, and I guess…” Heather didn’t finish the thought, and Grissom didn’t push her to do so. After a few minutes of silence, he suggested they go on a ride. She agreed. Agreed despite knowing the danger of memory laying ahead.
Now, Heather isn’t sure she made a mistake, but she does feel uneasy. Grissom leads her past a mother applying sunscreen onto her daughter’s porcelain cheeks. Ever so briefly, the recognizable smell of banana and coconut wafts through the summer air. A memory playing in her mind, Heather feels a smile tugging at her lips; she doesn’t try to hide the emotion from Grissom.
Years had passed since she last brought Zoe here, but the mother can still remember rubbing sunscreen on her squirming daughter. Can remember sharing a corndog with the little girl before cooling off on one of the slower rides.
There is a lightness to the memories, Heather feels. The worst thing that could happen was taking a sudden turn on a coaster or dropping fifty feet.
She does not notice that Grissom has come to a halt, instinctively stands still next to him instead. She pays no mind to the way he intently watches her as they stand in line for one of the rides; Heather is too wrapped up in memories to be in the present.
There was a lightness then, and it’s still here now, but it’s different. She is unfettered, unleashed - and what is there to hold her back now? There is no child to keep her grounded, no one to look out for but herself. The childless mother looks up into the bright sky, looks at the rickety ride, and has no desire to get on.
She hadn’t ever envisioned dying on a rollercoaster, but then again, she never thought Zoe would - and Heather, unable to finish the thought, has to use all of her effort to crush the sob threatening to break in her throat.
She came to remember her little girl. Maybe even thought that Zoe would burst through the crowd. But the truth is: Grissom is here; Zoe is not, and that makes all the difference in the world.
The line moves forward inch by inch, but Heather isn’t ready. She doesn’t want the weightless feeling of being feet in the air on a shoddily made ride. She wants the weight of Zoe sleeping as Heather carries her to the car, wants to feel her daughter’s smooth skin - not Grissom’s rough hand. And she cannot move forward once the realization - this is wrong - sets in.
“Heather?” His voice is harsh to her ears, though he says her name in kindness, confusion.
“I…” her thought feels dry. “I can’t,” she lamely explains. “I can’t.”
He looks her over but tightens his grip on her hand. She hasn’t said the word so… he tries to pull her along, tries to do what he thinks she wants.
She doesn’t move. “Stop.” And he drops her hand, and she runs, tetherless from the world.
Title: Warm Against Cold
Author: Could it be...
lieueitak? ;-)
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sara Sidle/Gil Grissom
Warnings: None
Word Count: 783 words
Other Notes: Sara almost believed she lived alone. Post Living Doll. No spoilers.
They seemed to live in separate time zones, appeared to be living two completely different lives. And without Bruno and medication, Sara almost believed she lived alone. In her mind, the truth was their life had completely, maybe irrevocably, changed; he kept trying to reclaim what they had while she wanted to remove herself from that life completely.
It wasn’t that Grissom didn’t try. The brunette knew that he did. He was the one who found her, the one to pull at her tired body, the one who carried her out of the mud. Sara remembered very little of those moment, but she did remember that much - the feeling of wet on dry, of cold cheek against warm stubble.
Grissom hadn’t left her beside at the hospital, and she was quite certain that if she hadn’t pushed him, he wouldn’t have returned to work at all. These days the aging man preferred to dote on her, brought her her medicine, glasses of water, warm buttered toast - anything he thought she needed. And after work each week, he’d stop and buy her the latest science journals (even the ones about subjects she didn’t enjoy) for her to read over.
His bedside manner wasn’t perfect, but he was so sweet to her, tried so hard. And that made it all the more worse. Grissom was more open and honest about how he felt than ever before. He’d changed for the better, it seemed, but Sara couldn’t appreciate it at all.
She thought a lot while he was at work; that was the only time she felt safe enough to sort through her brain. And she had decided a week ago, on one of the hottest days of the summer, what she would love to change in her life. In the back of her mind, there had always been the cheating boyfriend and how she wouldn’t date him again or go through that in another lifetime. But now, Sara realized, if there was one thing she could change, it had to be this relationship.
It hadn’t always been that way. For a while, she had lay awake at night, the sound of the dog and Grissom snoring keeping her awake. The thrum of the air conditioning hadn’t stopped her from wondering why she had gone into that parking lot. Why hadn’t she fought her off?
But weeks of what ifs and whys had only led Sara to one conclusion: there was nothing to be done in that parking lot. Even if the CSI had successfully fought back then, she would have found another way. And if that were true, which Sara was sure that it was, then the only way to avoid any of this was to have never fallen in love with Grissom.
Any other path, and she still would have ended up underneath that car.
The irony of it all was not lost on her. She could finally have the relationship with Grissom that she always wanted. He still had hang ups, of course, but he finally realized what a world without her might be like. And yet, while he no longer took her for granted, she only wanted to escape, to end the relationship.
Naturally though, leaving him was easier said than done. During the day, even when Grissom was gone, she felt guilty about it. Never more stricken did she feel than when Bruno would come over to her and lick her feet or rest his head on her lap as she read. She would think, as the boxer settled down next to her, that it was impossible for her to leave. How could she when the dog depended on her for so much, including a jogging companion?
Not that they could do that anymore, the summer heat too dangerous for him, the possibility of being outside and defenseless too much for her.
And that surely had to be another obstacle. Sara was weary of Grissom, but there was nowhere else to go; she didn’t feel nearly as safe anywhere else.
Besides there were times when she would jerk awake in the middle of the night so sure she was watching over them. Then, when Sara felt so afraid and frozen, Grissom would reach out to her and pull her towards him. Just as he had that night, and his warm cheek would rest against her clammy forehead, and leaving became the last thing on her mind.
In those moments, she was content to let him hold her together, and afterwards, if only for a few seconds, there seemed to be some hope for them. The night would wear on, but Sara swore she saw nothing but the sun.
A General Disclaimer for all the fics: I don't own CSI or CSI: Miami, so don't sue me. :-P
summer_bits community. Each author had to take seven different characters and write a fic for them. These are the fics I came up with. Enjoy.
Title: Bury your head in the Sand
Author:
lieueitak
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Yelina Salas/Horatio Caine, Ray Junior thrown in for good measure
Warnings: None
Word Count: 871 words
Other Notes: Horatio and Yelina take Ray Junior to the beach. Set before the series begins. Fulfills
fanfic100 prompt #081, How?
The little boy with fingers outstretched reaches down to grab the sand, and Yelina can’t help but watch her son, fascinated. He grasps two small fistfuls of sand, but unsatisfied, Ray Junior opens his hands again, and reaches down for more. His feet bounce up and down on the uneven ground. At one point, his big brown eyes meet her hazel ones, and she meets his childish giggle with a maternal smile.
When he’s happy with the amount of sand he has, she watches as he giggles once more. And toddling a few feet to the right, Ray Junior drops the sand on Horatio’s head. The redhead sputters, wiping sand out of his mouth as Ray squeals with delight.
“Ray… that’s not what I had in mind when I said bury me in the sand…”
But her son is already fist deep in sand getting more.
Horatio looks to her for help; she grins. “You didn’t say which end you wanted…”
He starts to say something, but Ray Junior strikes again, dropping another small mound of sand on Horatio’s red hair.
“Yay!” Her son cheers, claps his sandy fingers together, and Yelina doesn’t bother to suppress her laugh. He scampers back for more sand, but by now Horatio has caught onto the game.
The redhead looks between mother and child, the amusement dancing in his eyes. He stands up, brushes extra sand off the back of his legs, and when Ray notices that he’s no longer laying down, the little boy frowns.
“No,” he whines, the grains of sand slipping through his tiny hands. “Back down, carrots,” the little boy orders, and Yelina snorts loudly. She hadn’t wanted to go to the beach, but Horatio insisted, and now, she’s glad she said yes. For a moment, she wonders when she had last felt this happy.
But the thought is immediately pushed aside, as Horatio looks at her confused. “Carrots?” he asks. And then as an afterthought - “Is that a new word?”
She doesn’t need to say a word; the surge in maternal pride is answer enough, and Horatio smiles back.
Seconds later, the uncle is chasing his nephew in circles around her. Ray Junior laughs as he runs from the Tickle Monster (“I’m gonna get you,” Horatio growls). She smiles again, but the pang of Raymond not being here hits her.
Yelina has tried to ignore this fact, has tried to pretend for months now that nothing is wrong. It’s a task she’s usually good at. Between work and a toddler intent on getting into everything, there hasn’t been much time to dwell on what her husband was doing.
But as Horatio snatches Ray Junior off the ground and begins tickling him, Yelina can’t help but think that her husband is missing something. He’d only joined narcotics six months ago (much to her dismay), but already… Ray came home less and less, was increasingly uncomfortable with their baby.
And just this week, their son called Horatio “Daddy.” Thankfully, she thinks, neither Caine brother was around at the time. At the time, Yelina did her best to teach Ray Junior who Daddy was, but she’s still not sure it worked.
When Horatio plops the sandy toddler into her lap, she’s convinced it hasn’t worked - and won’t work because she herself is beginning to see her brother-in-law in a completely different way. She’d always thought he was attractive, sure, and part of her is convinced that the feelings are reciprocal.
But lately… she has found herself depending on Horatio in a way she used to depend on Ray. When her son threw up in daycare last week, Yelina called, not her husband, but her brother-in-law to pick the toddler up. The truth is Horatio was quickly becoming what Raymond used to be.
Which makes her problem all the more apparent; how is she supposed to convince Ray Junior that this man isn’t Daddy?
“Mommy!” She has no time to think as the little boy tugs on her hand. He points towards the ocean. “Water!”
Standing up, Yelina hoists her son up onto her hip. “You want to go in?” His head bobs up and down enthusiastically. “All right.”
But only a few steps forward and Yelina turns to Horatio who remains sitting on the beach. “You coming?” she asks him.
“Do you want me to?”
She’s not exactly sure what he means by that. Though given that Horatio is uncomfortable at times with his new role, she isn’t entirely surprised; he does like to give her space. “Of course” is her answer, and he follows her into the water.
They stop when she’s knee deep, but Ray isn’t satisfied. His feet kick excitedly.
“More,” he orders.
Yelina looks to Horatio, and he shrugs. The current isn’t too strong, but she still hesitates and says, “I don’t want to drop him.”
Her brother-in-law smiles and leads them into deeper waters, his hand close to one of her elbows. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I will never let that happen.”
There is a lot of conviction in his voice, she thinks, and she believes him. And with that fear disintegrating, all that’s left is the question: what exactly does her unequivocal trust mean?
Title: Fishing for Truth
Author:
lieueitak
Rating: PG-13 for naughty language
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Horatio Caine
Warnings: Again, bad words. A bunch of them. Blame Ray Junior. :-)
Word Count: 996 words
Other Notes: Horatio and Ray Junior go on a fishing trip, but a fight reveals more than Horatio could have expected. Set after the 5th season. No spoilers. Fulfills
alphabetasoup prompt, O is for Olokun.
"I’m only here cause Mom made me.”
There was the truth, Horatio thought. His nephew had uttered it with as much sensitivity as a blunt ax.
The redhead looked out over the lake, watched the sun’s reflection in the rippling water. A breeze passed through the grass. Horatio had wondered, in the hour they’d been there, why Ray Junior was upset.
“Okay,” he said, trying to be as gracious as he could be, despite the hurt feelings. “We can go if you want.”
“Shut up, you know we can’t,” Ray said miserably.
“You said you don’t want to be here, so we can -“
“No. We can’t.” There was a pregnant pause, the only sound coming from ducks quacking nearby. Horatio looked at his nephew, noticed the way the teenager seemed to hesitate. But Ray said, “We can’t go back cause Mom wants to spend time with her boyfriend.”
Whatever Horatio had been expecting to hear… it wasn’t that, and he wasn’t sure what to say immediately.
He settled for nodding his head, smirking, and then looking out over the lake again.
“When did this happen?” he eventually asked. It didn’t sound too desperate, Horatio thought.
“I don’t know. A while ago.” Ray cast his line out again half-heartedly.
Horatio did the same thing before saying, “She never mentioned it.”
Pushing a curl out of his face, Ray Junior laughed. But it didn’t sound like any laugh Horatio had heard from Ray before. The boy sounded mirthless. Behind each chuckle was something dark, and Horatio plucked his sunglasses out of his pocket. He easily slid them on, and then looked at Ray once more. His veiled eyes met his nephew’s dark ones.
“Why would she have mentioned it to you, dude?” Ray asked.
Horatio was at a loss. He had wanted to give her boundaries, didn’t really expect to be informed, but still, “We’re family,” he told Ray.
The laugh filled the air once more, joining in on the chorus of quacks and flies buzzing. “Is that what we are?” the boy asked. Before Horatio could say anything, he added, “You know… I know I don’t know much about what a normal family is like. But I’m gonna go ahead and guess that real families don’t have parents who die and then come back to life.”
“I’m sorry.” Horatio knew the words weren’t enough to soothe the torment in Ray, but he offered them nonetheless. “I’m sorry,” his voice lamentable. “If I could give you your father back…” He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying more.
“It’s not just Dad.”
“Well, I know you and your mother -“
Ray shook his head angrily. “No, you don’t know. In order to know, you’d have to be around.” He started to reel the line back in furiously.
And Horatio felt the guilt rise up in him, like an unused muscle, felt it tighten in his throat. “I wanted to - after everything that happened, Ray, I wanted to give your mother some space.”
The boy shook his head again and stood up. Haphazardly, he began to collect his things. “You shouldn’t lie,” Ray said. “I used to believe that, but now I know that’s not true.”
“How -“
“You and I both know Mom doesn’t want space. She doesn’t do space - definitely not when it comes to you anyway.” Horatio began to reel his own line in, resigned to the fact that this trip was over, a disaster. “My mother being in love with my uncle is fucked up, yeah. Even without Dad, we’d be messed up, but you just make everything worse!”
Horatio sighed. “Ray… I don’t - I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Look, I can deal with you likin’ her. Why you would… but whatever. If you like her, grow a pair and do something about it. Stop pushing her away. Stop giving her fucking space. And stop only coming around when she wants to get laid -“ Horatio blushed at this - “or when one of us screws up.”
The redhead stood up, brushing his hands on his pants. He quickly packed his things away. “I didn’t realize,” Horatio said, the words lame but true. “I came over cause I thought you wanted to go fishing.”
Ray started to walk, Horatio following him. “I did - until I realized it was just a way for her to get me out of the house. I got forced onto you, so… thanks, but I won’t hold you up. Let’s go home.”
That ended the conversation. Even if Horatio wanted to stay, it was a lost cause. The boy climbed in the SUV, tossing his fishing gear behind him. The rod scraped against the ceiling.
As Horatio started to drive away, he looked over at his nephew who, with arms folded across his chest, looked out the window sullenly.
“She didn’t force you onto me.”
“Then prove it by coming around more and not just when she needs you to.”
“I will.”
“And maybe you’ll stop asking about her? I don’t like being a go between.”
“All right,” Horatio said.
“Really?” His voice almost sounded childlike.
“Yes, really.”
They fell into silence, only broken when Ray started snoring a half hour later. Horatio wasn’t sure what started this fight. He could only conclude that Ray had been holding this back for a while. But they were okay now.
And the guilt Horatio usually felt in the pit of his stomach eased. The uncle had always believed Ray would hate it if Yelina started dating him. But Ray seemed opposed to this more.
Which was what mattered. So while the rest of the world (and Yelina’s boyfriend) might not approve, Horatio had gotten an endorsement from the one person who mattered. As he drove, the redhead was comforted by this fact - he could act on his feelings without reproach. For the first time in a long time, Horatio felt himself smiling.
Title: Make Believe in Rio
Author:
lieueitak
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Ray Caine Sr./Yelina Salas
Warnings: Some language, sexual situations
Word Count: 998 words
Other Notes: Ray Senior had expected her to be angry, but this was far worse. A story about Ray and Yelina during their time in Rio.
With a pen dangling from his mouth, Ray sits at the kitchen table. He chews on the plastic cap as he puts together a Christmas list. So far the paper in front of him is blank. The menial task feels decidedly off to him, though it’s not hard for him to understand why.
He’d lived in Florida for years, but he can’t get used to Christmas popping up in the middle of summer. Ray glances away from his list and looks out the kitchen window. Though a tree partially blocks the view, he can see Yelina sunbathing. A wonderful sight, he thinks, but he’s always associated the holiday with snow and sweaters.
That this is his first family Christmas in years makes it all the more surreal. Maybe a new pair of socks… the dark-haired man scribbles it down. He’s not worried they’ll fight throughout the holiday. The conflict Ray feels towards the upcoming event resides solely, he knows, within himself.
They never fought these days. Since arriving, Yelina hadn’t asked why he left. She didn’t yell, didn’t even acknowledge the past. It was confusing - how disturbingly peaceful they were; she was barely recognizable to him.
At first Raymond thought it was for their son’s benefit. But that reasoning didn’t explain why she maintained the farce when Ray Junior wasn’t around.
Sighing, the husband pushes his list aside. If anything, their marriage appears to be happier now than ever. However Ray also understands that it’s not real. They may be together, but they are so far apart.
He even briefly believed that Yelina was faking it for him. It wasn’t like her, he thought at the time, but maybe she believed he somehow deserved her allegiance.
It’s completely ridiculous he now realizes, and he laughs, sitting there at the table, at his own stupidity. She had changed over the years - just as he had, but they were still essentially the same. What she’d been showing him for months, he has come to realize, is a painful truth. One that has been there since the beginning, nonetheless.
They’d been in Rio for a month, and it was their anniversary. Ray thought his wife would ignore the day completely, but she didn’t. Yelina insisted on celebrating the day; he couldn’t deny her. And when she presented him with a new wedding ring (his old one, he thought, in an evidence box), the truth came out.
He didn’t want the ring. Or rather he did, but he didn’t deserve it. Glancing down at it one last time, Ray tried to push the velvet box back into her hands.
“Take it,” she said.
“I don’t -“
“Deserve it?” Her voice became so cool then, smug. Expectant. “Obviously not. But…” She gave him the smallest of smiles. “The FBI used you because you can be someone you’re not… Take the ring. Not because you deserve it, but because having a wonderful husband, or at least the illusion of one, is what I deserve. Put it on, and later tonight, we’ll have sex to celebrate our blissful union.”
And Ray agreed because, aside from the promised sex, he didn’t see the difference between pretending to be a good husband and being one. He thought that if he did what she wanted, if he became that man for her, she would forgive him.
But he knows now that had been a mistake. He has tried so hard to be the perfect husband, but Yelina doesn’t trust it, Ray realizes. The day after their anniversary, he bought her several blossoms of purple orchids that she always loved.
And though she thanked him for the flowers, only when she thought he wasn’t looking did she tenderly finger them. The secretive gesture was enough to have him walking down to the florist each week for orchids. He isn’t trusted enough to receive an honest response, but that doesn’t stop him.
Part of him knows that she will never love him like she once did, will never see him as the man he tries so hard to be. But Ray isn’t willing to give up, cannot do so because then she’d leave. His only hope is to continue to do everything right, to never give her reason to doubt him, to never fail. So too is Ray aware that he isn’t capable of such a feat. His brother maybe, but the younger Caine knows that he is too flawed, too fucked up to be the man she deserves. How can he succeed in this when he can’t even give her a Christmas list?
And he knows it’s selfish, but the more she slips away from him, the tighter he wants to cling to her.
At that moment, Yelina comes inside. His list forgotten, his eyes cannot ignore the way the black bikini clings to her every curve. She does not smile at him as she grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
Before taking a sip, she asks him, “Where’s Ray Junior?” He doesn’t know and shrugs. “I see.” Her hazel eyes darken, and her voice husky, she says, “I’m… going to go change.”
Ray recognizes the look on her face, understands what she’s asking for, and the list lays abandoned as he follows her into the bedroom. The door closing behind them (in case Ray comes home), Yelina kisses him roughly. There is no love on her part, and his hands run through her hair, over her arms, grasp her warm hips. She does not love him anymore, but he can’t resist. Because he likes pretending this is a happy marriage also.
Because if he doesn’t pay too much attention, Ray can almost ignore the stiffness in her body, can almost believe this is love. Because he still hopes, if they do this enough, they’ll eventually end somewhere else - someplace where he never screwed up, where she loves him unconditionally. Likes to play make believe because he cannot accept that such a place doesn’t exist.
Title: Near Victory
Author:
lieueitak
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Rick Stetler
Warnings: some language
Word Count: 954 words
Other Notes: Stetler goes to New York looking for Yelina. But he'll settle for hearing about Horatio's past. Set after 3rd season but before the 4th.
Beads of sweat formed on his face. Stetler was relieved to escape into his hotel room, the air conditioning blasting once more. As the door clicked shut behind him, the impatient man ripped off his shirt, wet with perspiration, and jeans. And lying down on the bed in his underwear, Rick thought that he had clearly underestimated New York City weather.
The bedspread felt cool against his flushed skin, and he closed his eyes. Victory was near, he thought, and that filled him with a definite happiness. While it was true he hadn’t found Yelina, he had received the next best thing: the power to take Horatio down. And that was a pretty damn good consolation prize; Stetler could barely contain his joy over it.
Of course, nothing had been confirmed yet, but everywhere the cop went, Horatio’s former colleagues had a lot to say. There were whispers of the redhead’s past, of a murder (which sent a chill up Rick’s spine), of a dirty cop. He had always assumed Caine had been hiding a past - there was no way anyone was that perfect. But this… was even better than expected.
This was everything Rick could have hoped for and more, and he decided over his morning coffee that he would figure this out. And Horatio would regret the day he had ever gone against him. The precious lieutenant, who could seemingly do no wrong, would be out of a job. No, Stetler mentally corrected, he’d lose everything. Especially if the rumors about a murder were true.
Stetler rolled out of bed at the thought, too excited to settle down, and stalked over to the mini-fridge. Reaching inside, he grabbed one of the beers. It was the middle of the day, sure, but this was cause for celebration. And so standing in his sweat-lined underpants, Rick chugged the cold brew down.
Horatio in an orange jumpsuit, he thought, seemed so appealing. And Rick paused mid-chug to laugh at the idea - Horatio in jail. The poor sonbitch wouldn’t make it in there a day. There were just too many criminals eager to kill the CSI. It’d be a fitting end for the bastard.
And with the meddling brother-in-law gone, Yelina would come back. Stetler would get her back. The thought (or maybe it was the beer) made him feel light-headed, and he plopped back down on the bed.
It had been almost three months since they had broken up, he realized. Three months. Reconciliation, at the time, hadn’t been completely out of question. This was simply what they did as a couple: they got along until they didn’t, and then all hell would break loose.
She would say something scathing, and he’d return the insult, and it would go back and forth until someone got a black eye. Horatio had sniveled about “abuse,” but that high-minded asshole had no idea. It was not abuse; this was just what they did. This was how they worked things out. What else could be expected of a relationship based on equal parts attraction and revulsion?
It wasn’t like Rick didn’t know; Yelina found most aspects of his personality irritating. She hated the way he looked at her. He “leered” too much, she thought, and hated how he insisted on spending so much time alone with her. She hated that he fought with Horatio. Just as he despised how close she was to the redhead.
They fought a lot about those things, but in the end, that had been why they were together. He thought that he probably wouldn’t have wanted her as much if she weren’t Horatio’s sister-in-law. And Rick also knew that, despite her protestations, Yelina liked that he was so forward. She hadn’t ever said, but the way he laid claim to her, the way he so openly wanted her, had been something she enjoyed.
Their relationship had gotten messy at times, sure, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t work through. A week after they’d broken up, he’d called her, and she hadn’t hung up or called the cops.
And then she disappeared.
That Horatio wasn’t concerned at all told Rick everything. He was behind this. Dudley-Do-Right must have found out that Yelina had taken the call, was gonna take him back, and forced her into hiding. It was the only explanation.
Stetler had briefly wondered if the idea was ridiculous - because since when did she take instruction?
But then… he knew she always did what Horatio wanted. Even if she hated it, she followed his advice.
And Rick had vowed then to find her. She wasn’t here, but this trip to New York had yielded other results, which was fine by him. Horatio would get his, that seemed to be inevitable, and Yelina would come out of hiding. Then she’d be his again.
Horatio would be behind bars with any luck, and the redhead would die there knowing that Rick had won. Would spend the rest of his days thinking about how it was Stetler fucking her. And for his part, Rick would make sure Horatio knew exactly what he wasn’t getting. Yes, he’d drop by the redhead’s cell and let him hear all the details…
There would be a lot of work to do to get to that point, but the sergeant could see the end in sight - could practically hear Yelina begging for his forgiveness already.
Not even the hot muggy weather could stop him from feeling the chill of near victory course through him. Yes, Horatio would pay. And she would beg Rick to take her back; he’d make her beg, and he grinned, in the hotel room, knowing he would show them no mercy.
Title: Stuck in the Backseat
Author:
lieueitak
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Catherine Willows
Warnings: None
Word Count: 616 words
Other Notes: The rest of the world wanted them to rot in jail, but she didn’t want to crucify them. Post Feeling the Heat.
She tried all week to not judge like everyone else had. An absent-minded father’s mistake, Catherine told herself. There was no punishment greater than losing a child, and she’d made mistakes with Lindsay so who was she to judge, etc. The rest of the world wanted them to rot in jail, but she didn’t want to crucify them.
And now…
Cath doesn’t think she’s as disgusted as she should be. As she grabs her purse from her locker, her eyes rake over the picture of Lindsay taped to the inside of the door. She asks herself if she would end her child’s life if Lindsay had a disease like Tay-Sachs. And the answer comes to the mother before she mentally finishes the question: no. Never.
Closing her locker door, she heads out to her car, and not for the first time, Catherine hates her job. Hates that she has lost count of overheated babies. Despises that these cases make her ask questions about her own parenting skills. She doesn’t know any other parents who do things like that.
The CSI passes her co-workers as she walks through the corridors. Some of them smile at her, and she is amazed at how young some of them look. Youthful and happy and maybe just a little naïve. Cath gives a few of them a sad smile in return; they won’t seem this innocent in a few years time.
Just by looking at some of them, she can tell that they’re new. Knows that anyone at this job long enough, anyone who has survived working an Indian summer day, looks older than they are.
Catherine isn’t sure she was ever that young looking. She didn’t need to put a dead infant in a body bag to lose her innocence. That part of her disappeared a long time ago. Perhaps she’d never really been as youthful and happy as these people are now…
But her dark thoughts are temporarily interrupted as the sunlight hits her face. Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the change. And she makes a mental note to lecture Lindsay about wearing sun block when she gets home.
Yet the short reprieve doesn’t last. As she closes her car door shut, the stale hot air hits her. She chokes on it, finds it hard to breathe, and she knows why she cannot feel disgust for that family.
Her eyes instinctively flick to the rear view mirror - as if the little baby is sitting in her back seat.
Was this what it was like for him?
She closes her eyes, doesn’t want to think about it, about that poor child. But this is where here mind has been since the beginning. Catherine had investigated the crime, but she hadn’t really left the backseat of that car.
Out of curiosity, she pushes the temperature gage on her SUV. 135 and rising, and she can feel her breathing deepen. It’s harder for her lungs to expel the air now than when she first got in the car. She’ll have to turn the engine on soon, she knows, or it’ll be too late. But Catherine wants one last look at the twelfth child this year to die in this way.
The sweat pools behind her knees, under her breasts, along her collarbone. It’s uncomfortable, gross, and she no longer wonders, but knows this is what that baby felt. And the disgust she’d been waiting for hits her full force.
Catherine relishes it for a moment. Heat and anger wrap around her tightly like a fleece blanket. Maybe there is still some innocence left. Then taking one last look at the backseat, she starts the car and drives away.
Title: Unfettered
Author: lieueitak
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Lady Heather, Gil Grissom (not romance)
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1000 words
Other Notes: Lady Heather deals with the loss of her daughter. Set after Pirates of the Third Reich.
His hand - not at all like Zoe’s, she notes - is clamped around one of her own. His touch is gentle and warm, but it does nothing to ease the chill inside her. As Grissom leads her to the rollercoaster, a wave of fear courses through her, makes her fingers twitch slightly against his palm. Her pace slows, and he looks at her, waits for her to say it.
But Heather keeps moving. She wants to finish this, knows she didn’t make it this far to run away. The rest of her may be hesitant, but her face is set, her eyes stubbornly eyeing the rollercoaster. So when she says nothing, he pulls her along.
They hadn’t planned this, but Heather is grateful for the chance meeting, nonetheless. As they pass a group of children eating cotton candy, she vaguely recalls comparing Grissom to her child. This seemed to be another similarity, she thinks. He had come here because he enjoyed rollercoasters.
Just as Zoe always had.
Her daughter loved carnivals, the past tense giving her pause. Her pace slows once more at the thought, but she does not say the word.
Does not want to say it because she came here to remember. Though her memories now tainted, the mother hadn’t been able to resist their pull. And maybe she had come here thinking - hoping - her child would come running towards her.
But the only one to appear out of the crowd was Grissom. He spotted her first, and now Heather realizes that she probably stands out in this group. Everyone else is filled with laughter and happiness, their sun-kissed faces filled with excitement. She, by contrast, is pale and radiates the cool misery she always feels.
Given that, she’s not surprised he found her. But Heather is grateful for his presence, not resentful of it. At the time, she was sure that he'd drown her in pleasantries, but he hadn’t. Perhaps he understood that she had spent too many years in the world’s underbelly to tolerate the notion of goodness. Whatever the reason, he placed her needs before his own.
She remembered telling Zoe to never give away her power. But maybe this was what it felt like to do just that. Only Heather was sure Grissom wouldn’t use this against her; she could trust him. So when they stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, looking out at the world, Heather told him the truth.
“I’ve never liked carnivals,” she said.
“I wouldn’t think so.” Her eyes slid over to his, and she could see the smile playing on his lips. She could easily read his thoughts: we both know you get your thrills elsewhere. And she knew he wasn’t judging her, and it made her smile - a little.
The light mood didn’t last. It never did; Zoe’s death was always on her mind. But she continued.
“I don’t know why I came.” She didn’t let her voice hitch at the admission. “Zoe loved them, and I guess…” Heather didn’t finish the thought, and Grissom didn’t push her to do so. After a few minutes of silence, he suggested they go on a ride. She agreed. Agreed despite knowing the danger of memory laying ahead.
Now, Heather isn’t sure she made a mistake, but she does feel uneasy. Grissom leads her past a mother applying sunscreen onto her daughter’s porcelain cheeks. Ever so briefly, the recognizable smell of banana and coconut wafts through the summer air. A memory playing in her mind, Heather feels a smile tugging at her lips; she doesn’t try to hide the emotion from Grissom.
Years had passed since she last brought Zoe here, but the mother can still remember rubbing sunscreen on her squirming daughter. Can remember sharing a corndog with the little girl before cooling off on one of the slower rides.
There is a lightness to the memories, Heather feels. The worst thing that could happen was taking a sudden turn on a coaster or dropping fifty feet.
She does not notice that Grissom has come to a halt, instinctively stands still next to him instead. She pays no mind to the way he intently watches her as they stand in line for one of the rides; Heather is too wrapped up in memories to be in the present.
There was a lightness then, and it’s still here now, but it’s different. She is unfettered, unleashed - and what is there to hold her back now? There is no child to keep her grounded, no one to look out for but herself. The childless mother looks up into the bright sky, looks at the rickety ride, and has no desire to get on.
She hadn’t ever envisioned dying on a rollercoaster, but then again, she never thought Zoe would - and Heather, unable to finish the thought, has to use all of her effort to crush the sob threatening to break in her throat.
She came to remember her little girl. Maybe even thought that Zoe would burst through the crowd. But the truth is: Grissom is here; Zoe is not, and that makes all the difference in the world.
The line moves forward inch by inch, but Heather isn’t ready. She doesn’t want the weightless feeling of being feet in the air on a shoddily made ride. She wants the weight of Zoe sleeping as Heather carries her to the car, wants to feel her daughter’s smooth skin - not Grissom’s rough hand. And she cannot move forward once the realization - this is wrong - sets in.
“Heather?” His voice is harsh to her ears, though he says her name in kindness, confusion.
“I…” her thought feels dry. “I can’t,” she lamely explains. “I can’t.”
He looks her over but tightens his grip on her hand. She hasn’t said the word so… he tries to pull her along, tries to do what he thinks she wants.
She doesn’t move. “Stop.” And he drops her hand, and she runs, tetherless from the world.
Title: Warm Against Cold
Author: Could it be...
lieueitak? ;-)
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sara Sidle/Gil Grissom
Warnings: None
Word Count: 783 words
Other Notes: Sara almost believed she lived alone. Post Living Doll. No spoilers.
They seemed to live in separate time zones, appeared to be living two completely different lives. And without Bruno and medication, Sara almost believed she lived alone. In her mind, the truth was their life had completely, maybe irrevocably, changed; he kept trying to reclaim what they had while she wanted to remove herself from that life completely.
It wasn’t that Grissom didn’t try. The brunette knew that he did. He was the one who found her, the one to pull at her tired body, the one who carried her out of the mud. Sara remembered very little of those moment, but she did remember that much - the feeling of wet on dry, of cold cheek against warm stubble.
Grissom hadn’t left her beside at the hospital, and she was quite certain that if she hadn’t pushed him, he wouldn’t have returned to work at all. These days the aging man preferred to dote on her, brought her her medicine, glasses of water, warm buttered toast - anything he thought she needed. And after work each week, he’d stop and buy her the latest science journals (even the ones about subjects she didn’t enjoy) for her to read over.
His bedside manner wasn’t perfect, but he was so sweet to her, tried so hard. And that made it all the more worse. Grissom was more open and honest about how he felt than ever before. He’d changed for the better, it seemed, but Sara couldn’t appreciate it at all.
She thought a lot while he was at work; that was the only time she felt safe enough to sort through her brain. And she had decided a week ago, on one of the hottest days of the summer, what she would love to change in her life. In the back of her mind, there had always been the cheating boyfriend and how she wouldn’t date him again or go through that in another lifetime. But now, Sara realized, if there was one thing she could change, it had to be this relationship.
It hadn’t always been that way. For a while, she had lay awake at night, the sound of the dog and Grissom snoring keeping her awake. The thrum of the air conditioning hadn’t stopped her from wondering why she had gone into that parking lot. Why hadn’t she fought her off?
But weeks of what ifs and whys had only led Sara to one conclusion: there was nothing to be done in that parking lot. Even if the CSI had successfully fought back then, she would have found another way. And if that were true, which Sara was sure that it was, then the only way to avoid any of this was to have never fallen in love with Grissom.
Any other path, and she still would have ended up underneath that car.
The irony of it all was not lost on her. She could finally have the relationship with Grissom that she always wanted. He still had hang ups, of course, but he finally realized what a world without her might be like. And yet, while he no longer took her for granted, she only wanted to escape, to end the relationship.
Naturally though, leaving him was easier said than done. During the day, even when Grissom was gone, she felt guilty about it. Never more stricken did she feel than when Bruno would come over to her and lick her feet or rest his head on her lap as she read. She would think, as the boxer settled down next to her, that it was impossible for her to leave. How could she when the dog depended on her for so much, including a jogging companion?
Not that they could do that anymore, the summer heat too dangerous for him, the possibility of being outside and defenseless too much for her.
And that surely had to be another obstacle. Sara was weary of Grissom, but there was nowhere else to go; she didn’t feel nearly as safe anywhere else.
Besides there were times when she would jerk awake in the middle of the night so sure she was watching over them. Then, when Sara felt so afraid and frozen, Grissom would reach out to her and pull her towards him. Just as he had that night, and his warm cheek would rest against her clammy forehead, and leaving became the last thing on her mind.
In those moments, she was content to let him hold her together, and afterwards, if only for a few seconds, there seemed to be some hope for them. The night would wear on, but Sara swore she saw nothing but the sun.
A General Disclaimer for all the fics: I don't own CSI or CSI: Miami, so don't sue me. :-P