You're Still Here
I know you're still here, Sara. We couldn't get you to take a break for lunch, how could a little thing like death ever stop you?
Sometimes, when I'm working a tough piece of evidence, or a bad scene, I can feel you guiding me. Just like old times, huh. I know I'm not the only one. We all sense your presence. Sometimes Nick will turn to your empty chair, with a question on his lips, or Grissom will pause when giving out assignments, like he was about to pair you off with one of us. We left your coffee mug on the counter, right there where you always put it and your watch is still on top of the TV where you left it that night.
Sometimes I swear I can still hear your half whispered songs echoing through the halls. I always expect to see you in the garage, wearing coveralls, grinning like a madwoman while you threaten some innocent car with a power tool. I see your phantom every time I turn around. I catch a glimpse of brown hair or a grin in the dim reflection off of the glass walls.
We all know you're still here, watching over us. You're our Guardian Angel, just like you were that little boy's. You were a hero. Grissom said that's how you would have wanted to go. I shook my head and grinned when he said that. Your ashes may be blowing in the wind, Sara, but you're still here.
Author's Note: I made myself sniffle a couple of times. A little bit of GSR, a little bit of CS and, of course, a lot of angst. I'd love to hear feedback on this. I rarely do first person, and it's even rarer I do Nick, Greg and Doc Robbins.
Thanks for Reading