DISCLAIMERS: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Jerry Bruckheimer and the wonderful writers for CSI: NY. Any resemblance to scenes from the episodes is included for clarity and continuity and I do not claim any of those as my own work. However everything else is mine.

Part III: There is Hope!

What a sincere ‘touch’ can evoke in a human being

Is worth the risk of rendering such a ‘touch’

- Sally Jetson

YOU ARE MY HOPE!

The four words of the text message reiterate in his mind, replacing the cursed chant. He lies down on the couch and stares at the ceiling. The words of the new chant mimic the rhythm of the reflected lights, flickering on the ceiling, from the street lights below.

As the rhythm of the new chant hammers away at the wall of numbness that surrounds him, each repetition removes a brick of bleakness and desolation until one thought, then a feeling, then another and another finally slips through, crashing down the remainder of the wall. The thoughts and feelings tear through his mind and heart like a wildfire on a parched, dry prairie. He doesn’t know which feeling and which thought is right… or real… or true. His heart wants to feel it, the tentative hope and joy, but his mind still denies it, when he remembers the deadened look in her eyes, the deadened look that had finally cast his heart into stone and obliterated his hope. Her deadened look swirls through his mind’s eye like a nightmare. How does she look now? Then it becomes clear to him what he must do. He must look into her eyes and judge for himself, judge for himself whether he has the nerve to hope.

But he must physically get to her first. Where is she? He hurriedly punches in a text message, unable to trust his emotions in hearing her voice just yet.

WHERE ARE YOU?

He quickly changes his clothes and gathers his keys, wallet and glasses replacing them on his person, returning himself, somewhat, to his former identity. He paces to expend the angst that is building in him, while awaiting her reply. The anticipated beep sends a tiny arrow of doubt into his heart, because his mind is still reeling from the abrupt change of events. His breath stills in his throat as her reply niggles its way into his consciousness.

HOME… PLEASE COME

He rushes out the door and down the steps. The night is cold, the wind is still but the moon is full and bright, guiding his footsteps to her door, where soon all will be revealed to him, whether there really is hope.

--

While she awaits any communication from him, her new found source of hope, her breath and her heart struggle against each other as one sticks in her throat while the other tries to pound its way into her throat. Maybe there isn’t hope; maybe she is kidding herself; maybe she has already dashed her hope with the heartless actions of the past several months. Her actions were heartless, because she could not… would not… feel her heart or his heart… reaching out to her. The angst is overwhelming and paralyzing.

Then the beep heralds a message that will destine her future to either continued heartache and misery, or genuine hope and healing. The three words, displayed on the screen, release the angst of the unknown from her body and mind. After she keys in her reply, her eyes close momentarily, her hands cross over her chest, the phone slips from her grasp as it relaxes and her breath and heart become allies once again.

Finally in a dreamlike state, she rises, dresses in something clean, from her closet, splashes cold water on her face and brushes her hair and teeth with an attendance that reflects the lift in her spirits. She waits in the living room, gazing out at the full moon, soaking its iridescent beams into her being.

The knock at her door is not loud and abrupt, but gentle and beckoning, reassuring her to place her trust in what lies just beyond. Can she really do it? Can she be courageous enough, to be vulnerable enough, to claim happiness for herself and enable it in another? She will only know the answer to that question when she sees his eyes. His eyes will tell her the outcome of her fate.

She opens the door slowly and meets his piercing blue eyes with her own soulful, doe-brown ones. He looks the same, with his sandy brown hair cropped close to his head and that handsome scraggle around his lips and chin, the glasses that can never dim the intensity of eyes, and the taut muscles that, even when relaxed, look poised for action at a moment’s notice. And yet he looks different, as he gazes at her, with the question in his eyes that she longs to answer for him and confirm for herself.

He sees her as someone he once knew, before the light went out of her eyes. The light is present once again, reflecting the connection to her heart and soul, while her hair curves playfully around her face which ends at her chin that sports the characteristic cleft. Her petite body never looks frailer than it does at this moment, but he knows the strength which lies within.

He has met her halfway by coming to her threshold, with little more than a whisper from her and it is her turn to close the remaining distance between them physically, mentally and emotionally. Holding his questioning eyes, with her own beckoning ones, she pulls him into her apartment gently, by clasping one of his strong hands in one of her own soft, delicate ones. The sensation that tingles through their bodies is immediate upon the skin to skin contact and his breath quickens as her skin warms with a soft flush. He stares down at her as she looks steadily up at him, neither one still quite comprehending what is passing between them. And with her other hand she returns the touch that caused the glimmer of hope in her own being not more than an hour ago, as she lightly brushes her fingertips across his cheek, igniting the same sweetness and longing in his heart that she now feels in her own. His eyes close in blissful ecstasy, as his forehead leans against hers and he purses his lips against her fingers which have stalled upon his lips. The hands clasping at their sides, intertwine and he brings them to rest upon chest, over his heart. She can feel his breath upon her cheek and his nostrils are filled with her sweet fragrance. He wants to gather her into his arms in fierce joy but he knows that even though the connection has been made the path is newly laid; therefore he needs to let it be traveled slowly, with patience and understanding. But at least, There is Hope!

Author's Note: Whew... not sure if there is going to be an update to this or not... it takes a lot of emotion to write this piece even though I quite enjoy it. Please let me know what you think! SJ