FF: Phantasm Epilogue
Disclaimer et al see prologue
Epilogue: - Still. - Sara POV
I stir. I open my eyes, I look over my shoulder. Catherine's still asleep. I smile. I love watching her sleep. She's so relaxed. No one can hurt her. We've changed positions while in sleep, I've turned onto my side and she's snuggled up to me.
I nearly lost it when that guy - Ingles - punched her. It's so easy isn't it? Loose your temper when someone oversteps their mark. When your woman is hurt. You react instinctually.
I'm not possessive or jealous, or I try not to be. I've seen too much violence because of the little green eyed monster. My father never need an excuse, he'd hit my mother. Even when she hadn't done anything. He needed the violence to justify his 'love', his 'want', his 'ownership'. Even though his 'love' was just as fragile as she was.
I rub my temples, trying to chase my thoughts away.
But the jealousy was the cause of the cases. The Marlin and the Lurie/Tripton/Klose/Nichols and the Ingles case. Debbie the brazen flawed butterfly and her catchers. I half smile. I wonder what she would of said if we ever met.
It almost a skinful déjá vu. You look like me, or I look like you.
But I could never be her, she could never be me. We are two different people, just in some lights we looked like each other. A likeness deep enough to throw people, make them assume that we were the same person. I'm sorry that we had to meet like this. I'm sorry I had to ever meet your lovers, I'm sorry that I had to meet your killer. I'm sorry that I had to meet your flawed protector. I'm sorry that I keep says sorry for something neither of us could of controlled.
The two people that unpinned my life at one time or another reacted in two different but similar ways. Grissom played his confessor and became the empathic and compared, scratching the skin, playing the martyr allowing him to become him, trying to wound him with the words that he deemed to be true, but never could say. Catherine turned and bit, digging into the skin and raking it raw, lampooning everything that he deemed to be true. They rejected both of them, rejected their reasoning. Even though their rejections contrasted.
Gil wished/hoped. He wished and hoped that Lurie was destroyed by his guilt of robbing the world of Debbie and Michael, he extended his self into Lurie, trying to find the common ground that they both shared. Hoping that he could guilt the other man into something, he hoped the destruction of Debbie would make him confess, Lurie never did. All because of a younger woman finding him attractive and willingly wanting to anything for him. But unlike Lurie, he would of never over stepped. What ever his heart held for me, he would never take the chance. It may have once been mutual, but he was always holding himself away. I absently wonder if he was ever in love with me. I also wonder if Debbie was ever in love with Lurie. I can't speak for her, but I can speak for myself at one time yes, but not now. Now I found someone else.
Catherine destroyed. She turned around and fired a passionate defence. She riled Ingles up. Shredding him as easily as paper. The paper man. With the flawed heart. She didn't allow for a doppelgänger to blind her to the truth. She knew that he killed, all because he was rejected, this was not about Debbie's honour, Debbie's name... It was all about him. It was about his pride, his name. This was not eye for an eye, not when the world has already gone blind. The eyes are sightless, they can't see what he had done. Debbie was now his phantasm totem, or maybe his fantasy altar. He offered up three innocent men and one guilty to his flawed butterfly goddess. Catherine rejected that, she saw through him, like he was glass. She never extended herself into the killer, she rejected him as soon as she knew. She told him that she would never be like him. His flawed defence only papered over the cracks of his own life.
Gil Grissom the reason I came to Vegas, my mentor and at one time the only man I wanted. Catherine Willows, my sparring partner and sometimes bêtê noir now my lover. I wouldn't change it any way. I still have my mentor, and I still have my sparring partner but now I have a lover who loves me and a friend that I can turn to whatever is the problem and he will give me advice in his own personal way.
Lurie was too aggroant to even see how he was, he'd got away with murder. The spurned lover, the wronged knight, the voyeur, seeing someone else with the one he 'loved'. Love soured into hate, maybe. Ingles the almost Othello. He cast himself in the role of the ultimate avenger, slaying the dragons that soured his lady's reputation. Trying to redeem himself in her eyes, even though they are now unseeing and will not see what he's done, using her name to justify it. Even though he had caused it in a way. They used 'love' or at least 'lust' to justify their choices. Amazing what people with delude themselves into thinking because they think 'love'.
Love is a many splendid thing. But it can't be used for an excuse because you do something that is wrong.
I would never do anything to hurt my lover, I would never seek to inflict pain because I 'love' someone. Love isn't like that.
I learnt the lesson well over time. When I'm investigating a case, when I'm watching the TV shows, hearing their arguments. Even hearing my parents argue. Seeing the death throes because of someone else's 'love'. Seeing Nathan pleading for my mother's life. Do I hate him? No. Do I hate my parents? In many ways. But it would be a waste to go back and try and change it. After all an eye for an eye and the world goes blind.
Something's tickling my neck, then I recognise it. The press of lips against my neck makes me smile. Arms slide around my waist, pulling me gently into her.
Queen of my bittersweet musing.
I settle into her, she doesn't say a word. She continues to kiss my neck. She knows that turns me on, but it's not meant to be erotic, it's more a comfort for her... I can feel her nose nuzzling into the skin.
I smile, "You're in a tactile mood today Cath." I say gently. Smiling as I feel her lift her head up.
"I just feel like it today Sara." She whispers in my ear. "Do you blame me? You're naked and in touching distance." She rakes her nails down my stomach.
"Love is blind. Love is foolish. Love cares not for shape or skin. It cares not for age or time. It only seeks to bind and blind. Making fools of it's chosen few. The ones that are unlucky enough not to feel it mock it, hate it despise it. Because they haven't been touched by it." I murmur softly.
"Feeling a little philosophical Sara?" Catherine murmurs, kissing my shoulder.
I turn around smiling, "No. Just thinking about the cases." I tell her, "The emphatic, the knight, the innocent, the enabler, the fool, the vengeance seeker and the double goer."
Catherine looks at me, "What do you mean?"
I smile, "The enabler is slain with the innocent by the fool. The fool is courted by the emphatic, with the silence and pleader as protection, watched by the double goer. The double goer is saddened for the emphatic, but the knight has taken care of the double goer and stolen the heart of the double goer. The fool and his other jesters is slain by the vengeance seeker. The vengeance seeker pleads in the name of the enabler to be forgiven, but is rejected by the knight, while the silence and pleader watch. The vengeance seeker then turns to the knight telling them that they would do the same. But the knight knows that it is not way that they live. The vengeance seeker commits suicide holding the enabler as the reason even though the double goer and the knight know it a purely selfish motive."
Catherine smiles, "Are you sure that you didn't have a side line in philosophy or profiling?" She teases me.
I smile, "No, just a very twisted logic." I say.
"Tell me who is everyone." Catherine pleads.
"You tell me." I tell her, kissing her softly.
Catherine looks at me, "The enabler is Debbie. The innocent is Michael. The fool is Lurie. The emphatic is Gil. The science is Jim, the pleader the lawyers. The jesters are the other victims. The vengeance seeker is Ingles." Catherine replies. She kisses me softly. "The double goer is you. And I'm the knight."
"Doppelgänger is German. The meaning is 'double goer'." I say, "And you're my knight Catherine. You don't ride a white horse and slay dragons. But you protect me. I love you, and I don't know if I've told you enough times. You didn't stand back at let them attack you, you fired back your own attack. And I love you for it. You fought for my honour in your own way."
Catherine reaches up tangling her fingers in my hair, "I love you too Sara." She kisses me gently.
I smile, then snuggle into her. Smiling as she wraps her free arms around my shoulders, hushing me with tiny kisses as we just lie in bed together. Not caring about the world outside. It's just us, together, which is fine by me. I look towards the window, there's a small piece of open window which is odd because we usually close the curtains. I see a small little butterfly making it's way across the glass. It's delicate wings flapping madly. It's almost framed in the liquid amber of the early evening sunlight.
That makes me smile, "Flutter away little butterfly, go find your space in the sun. I've found my place." I whisper, "So flutter away my little butterfly, don't stop until you find what you seek."
The End.
Hope this is good enough
Epilogue: - Still. - Sara POV
I stir. I open my eyes, I look over my shoulder. Catherine's still asleep. I smile. I love watching her sleep. She's so relaxed. No one can hurt her. We've changed positions while in sleep, I've turned onto my side and she's snuggled up to me.
I nearly lost it when that guy - Ingles - punched her. It's so easy isn't it? Loose your temper when someone oversteps their mark. When your woman is hurt. You react instinctually.
I'm not possessive or jealous, or I try not to be. I've seen too much violence because of the little green eyed monster. My father never need an excuse, he'd hit my mother. Even when she hadn't done anything. He needed the violence to justify his 'love', his 'want', his 'ownership'. Even though his 'love' was just as fragile as she was.
I rub my temples, trying to chase my thoughts away.
But the jealousy was the cause of the cases. The Marlin and the Lurie/Tripton/Klose/Nichols and the Ingles case. Debbie the brazen flawed butterfly and her catchers. I half smile. I wonder what she would of said if we ever met.
It almost a skinful déjá vu. You look like me, or I look like you.
But I could never be her, she could never be me. We are two different people, just in some lights we looked like each other. A likeness deep enough to throw people, make them assume that we were the same person. I'm sorry that we had to meet like this. I'm sorry I had to ever meet your lovers, I'm sorry that I had to meet your killer. I'm sorry that I had to meet your flawed protector. I'm sorry that I keep says sorry for something neither of us could of controlled.
The two people that unpinned my life at one time or another reacted in two different but similar ways. Grissom played his confessor and became the empathic and compared, scratching the skin, playing the martyr allowing him to become him, trying to wound him with the words that he deemed to be true, but never could say. Catherine turned and bit, digging into the skin and raking it raw, lampooning everything that he deemed to be true. They rejected both of them, rejected their reasoning. Even though their rejections contrasted.
Gil wished/hoped. He wished and hoped that Lurie was destroyed by his guilt of robbing the world of Debbie and Michael, he extended his self into Lurie, trying to find the common ground that they both shared. Hoping that he could guilt the other man into something, he hoped the destruction of Debbie would make him confess, Lurie never did. All because of a younger woman finding him attractive and willingly wanting to anything for him. But unlike Lurie, he would of never over stepped. What ever his heart held for me, he would never take the chance. It may have once been mutual, but he was always holding himself away. I absently wonder if he was ever in love with me. I also wonder if Debbie was ever in love with Lurie. I can't speak for her, but I can speak for myself at one time yes, but not now. Now I found someone else.
Catherine destroyed. She turned around and fired a passionate defence. She riled Ingles up. Shredding him as easily as paper. The paper man. With the flawed heart. She didn't allow for a doppelgänger to blind her to the truth. She knew that he killed, all because he was rejected, this was not about Debbie's honour, Debbie's name... It was all about him. It was about his pride, his name. This was not eye for an eye, not when the world has already gone blind. The eyes are sightless, they can't see what he had done. Debbie was now his phantasm totem, or maybe his fantasy altar. He offered up three innocent men and one guilty to his flawed butterfly goddess. Catherine rejected that, she saw through him, like he was glass. She never extended herself into the killer, she rejected him as soon as she knew. She told him that she would never be like him. His flawed defence only papered over the cracks of his own life.
Gil Grissom the reason I came to Vegas, my mentor and at one time the only man I wanted. Catherine Willows, my sparring partner and sometimes bêtê noir now my lover. I wouldn't change it any way. I still have my mentor, and I still have my sparring partner but now I have a lover who loves me and a friend that I can turn to whatever is the problem and he will give me advice in his own personal way.
Lurie was too aggroant to even see how he was, he'd got away with murder. The spurned lover, the wronged knight, the voyeur, seeing someone else with the one he 'loved'. Love soured into hate, maybe. Ingles the almost Othello. He cast himself in the role of the ultimate avenger, slaying the dragons that soured his lady's reputation. Trying to redeem himself in her eyes, even though they are now unseeing and will not see what he's done, using her name to justify it. Even though he had caused it in a way. They used 'love' or at least 'lust' to justify their choices. Amazing what people with delude themselves into thinking because they think 'love'.
Love is a many splendid thing. But it can't be used for an excuse because you do something that is wrong.
I would never do anything to hurt my lover, I would never seek to inflict pain because I 'love' someone. Love isn't like that.
I learnt the lesson well over time. When I'm investigating a case, when I'm watching the TV shows, hearing their arguments. Even hearing my parents argue. Seeing the death throes because of someone else's 'love'. Seeing Nathan pleading for my mother's life. Do I hate him? No. Do I hate my parents? In many ways. But it would be a waste to go back and try and change it. After all an eye for an eye and the world goes blind.
Something's tickling my neck, then I recognise it. The press of lips against my neck makes me smile. Arms slide around my waist, pulling me gently into her.
Queen of my bittersweet musing.
I settle into her, she doesn't say a word. She continues to kiss my neck. She knows that turns me on, but it's not meant to be erotic, it's more a comfort for her... I can feel her nose nuzzling into the skin.
I smile, "You're in a tactile mood today Cath." I say gently. Smiling as I feel her lift her head up.
"I just feel like it today Sara." She whispers in my ear. "Do you blame me? You're naked and in touching distance." She rakes her nails down my stomach.
"Love is blind. Love is foolish. Love cares not for shape or skin. It cares not for age or time. It only seeks to bind and blind. Making fools of it's chosen few. The ones that are unlucky enough not to feel it mock it, hate it despise it. Because they haven't been touched by it." I murmur softly.
"Feeling a little philosophical Sara?" Catherine murmurs, kissing my shoulder.
I turn around smiling, "No. Just thinking about the cases." I tell her, "The emphatic, the knight, the innocent, the enabler, the fool, the vengeance seeker and the double goer."
Catherine looks at me, "What do you mean?"
I smile, "The enabler is slain with the innocent by the fool. The fool is courted by the emphatic, with the silence and pleader as protection, watched by the double goer. The double goer is saddened for the emphatic, but the knight has taken care of the double goer and stolen the heart of the double goer. The fool and his other jesters is slain by the vengeance seeker. The vengeance seeker pleads in the name of the enabler to be forgiven, but is rejected by the knight, while the silence and pleader watch. The vengeance seeker then turns to the knight telling them that they would do the same. But the knight knows that it is not way that they live. The vengeance seeker commits suicide holding the enabler as the reason even though the double goer and the knight know it a purely selfish motive."
Catherine smiles, "Are you sure that you didn't have a side line in philosophy or profiling?" She teases me.
I smile, "No, just a very twisted logic." I say.
"Tell me who is everyone." Catherine pleads.
"You tell me." I tell her, kissing her softly.
Catherine looks at me, "The enabler is Debbie. The innocent is Michael. The fool is Lurie. The emphatic is Gil. The science is Jim, the pleader the lawyers. The jesters are the other victims. The vengeance seeker is Ingles." Catherine replies. She kisses me softly. "The double goer is you. And I'm the knight."
"Doppelgänger is German. The meaning is 'double goer'." I say, "And you're my knight Catherine. You don't ride a white horse and slay dragons. But you protect me. I love you, and I don't know if I've told you enough times. You didn't stand back at let them attack you, you fired back your own attack. And I love you for it. You fought for my honour in your own way."
Catherine reaches up tangling her fingers in my hair, "I love you too Sara." She kisses me gently.
I smile, then snuggle into her. Smiling as she wraps her free arms around my shoulders, hushing me with tiny kisses as we just lie in bed together. Not caring about the world outside. It's just us, together, which is fine by me. I look towards the window, there's a small piece of open window which is odd because we usually close the curtains. I see a small little butterfly making it's way across the glass. It's delicate wings flapping madly. It's almost framed in the liquid amber of the early evening sunlight.
That makes me smile, "Flutter away little butterfly, go find your space in the sun. I've found my place." I whisper, "So flutter away my little butterfly, don't stop until you find what you seek."
The End.
Hope this is good enough