Spoilers : MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE FINAL 7x24 !!!! If you are spoiler free or don't want to know anything about the final, DON'T READ IT!!
A/N: Okay, I say it again, because I really don't want to spoil someone accidentally. This fic contains HUGE spoilers about the season final, so don't yell at me if you read it thinking it's spoiler safe, because it's not
I wrote this story because I needed to get the angst out of my skin. The wait is killing me, really :(
Huge thanks to Mingsmommy for her work and words on it, she's amazing!
Enjoy, and don't forget…it contains SPOILERS!!!
Category : Angst/Romance
Pairing : GSR
Raiting : Teen
Disclaimer : 'CSI' and all its characters belong to Anthony Zuiker, CBS and Alliance Atlantis. No copyright infringement is intended.
Any Other World
She was warm.
Still drifting in the confusing state of mind which separated dreams from reality, he still had the odd feeling of floating. Odd, yes, but not really unpleasant, truth be told. He didn't know what was really there, and what was a remainder of his dream, and he didn't care.
But the first real sensation he had felt that day, was the warmth of her body against his. A sensation he had enjoyed many, many times before, but that he will never cease to love.
Please God, let him love her warmth again.
Yes, he had felt her body, as she was snuggling, her back against his chest.
But...Did he really savour the moment?
He wished he had memorised it more thoroughly. Even if he seemed to remember the tiniest detail, he knew he could have done better.
He could have done better.
But he remembered…
The arm he had slid around her waist, the palm of his right hand, resting casually on her stomach.
The slow stirring of her foot, almost unconsciously, brushing her cold toes against his calf, before her foot slipped beneath his leg, warming it up.
If she had seemed to emerge slightly from her sleep, it was only because he had moved too, when he'd buried his face in her hair. He had breathed in, deeply. The fruity perfume of her shampoo. The sweet aroma of her soap. And above all, her scent, emphasized as always at this hour of the day, after a good sleeping session. A warm scent, deliciously intoxicating.
A wonderful scent.
She had mumbled something, stirring again softly. He had been tempted to wake her up. It would have been so easy. All he had to do was to brush his fingers against her stomach. She was so ticklish, it would have had an surefire effect.
But he hadn't brush his fingers against her skin. He had stayed still. Listening to her deep breathing.
He should have awakened her..
Did he love her?
"Tell me where she is. Please."
She was hot.
And above all, she was in pain.
She could feel the pain, as the opacity of the unconsciousness started to fade away. She wasn't able to say where exactly she was hurting, though.
But she knew the pain was there. Lingering. And as soon as the fog vanished, it would overtake her and overwhelm her.
But for now, she was floating. A very unpleasant sensation. She was dreading the light as much as she was dreading the darkness, actually.
It was so hot around her. She felt it.
Her eyes fluttered open, and the first jolt of pain hit her. Right inside her eyeballs. The message ran through her brain, waking up her nerves, and she began to be more and more aware of what she was feeling, rather than what was surrounding her.
Her throat was so tight, so dry. The sensation was almost unbearable.
She opened her mouth slightly, and tried to swallow.
But she was too dehydrated, she had no saliva to swallow. Her tongue felt like a dead weight between her teeth.
And this simple attempt caused a new wave of pain to break, stronger than the previous one.
Another reflex, she tried to breath.
The pain was so sharp and violent that she would have moaned, if her vocal chords hadn't been immobile.
Burning stings were digging into her lungs, her throat, her mouth, spreading through her whole body, like a poison.
It was sharpening her mind, but numbing her limbs. Her body was so heavy.
And she couldn't see a thing. The light was too painful, and every time she tried to open her eyes, the wind hurt them. Why?
Sand…a voice whispered in her ear.
She must keep her eyes closed, then. Focus on her breathing.
Oh God, her chest hurt.
No matter what she tried, it was killing her.
Small and quick breaths were like whetted blade drove into her chest, again and again and again. And it seemed to make easier for the sand to seep in her throat.
Slow breaths…Slow breaths weren't less painful. It simply gave her all the time she could have wanted to feel the pain sprawl, as it followed the path of the air.
She couldn't even think clearly. She couldn't remember how she'd get here, or why. But it wasn't really important anymore…
She had to isolate herself from the pain. To protect her mind.
And she knew how to do that. She had known for years, and years, and years…
To disconnect, yes…
Just like when she was curling up in the middle of her bed, hiding beneath the sheets, arms around her head, covering her ears so she couldn't hear her parents' screams.
When she used to think about the beach.
The beach on which she loved to run, head toward the sky, knowing that she was likely to trip and fall.
But when you fall, you can always stand up.
She stared at the kites, held by other kids.
And she wasn't jealous of those children, no.
She was jealous of the kites.
In her mind, she was the kite, flying in the air.
And her string always broke, so she could dance freely with the wind.
But being a kite wasn't enough anymore.
Not when she had known the calm ocean of his eyes. The gentleness of his touch. The tenderness of his kisses…
It didn't matter.
She could be a butterfly.
She would fly, fly, fly away…
And when he'd reach for her, she would come back and land on his palms.
Nestled in the warmth of his hands.
She was cold.
But…He had found her. She couldn't be cold.
She just couldn't.
And yet she was.
So pale, under the layer of dust covering her skin, her silky skin…And the wind, that nasty trickster, was moving her hair, creating in him a bleeding hope.
Hope was what kept him awake and efficient.
Hope was what made him believe, really believe, that he'd find her in time.
Hope was nothing but an illusion.
It was all gone now. Swallowed by the deepening abyss, growing fast inside his entire body and soul.
A single word was escaping his lips, again and again. He didn't even notice it.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…"
Her body was so motionless, except for the slight movements of her hair…
Kneeling beside her curled up form, his fingers were lightly touching her face. And he was terrified by the lack of warmth under his skin. He followed the shape of her cracked and damaged lips.
And it was so painful. Oh, so painful!
Wet drops began to fall on her colourless cheeks. The breeze played its part again, making them slide slowly down her skin, tracing dark trails through the depth of dust.
It would be so easy for him to let his mind embrace the trick.
He could almost believe that these tears were hers, and not his.
Next thing he knew, he had taken her in his arms. Her body was so heavy, and yet so light.
He held her desperately, tightly, as close as he could, burying his face in her hair.
He wanted to inhale her scent one more time. One last time.
Please, just one last time.
But it was gone with her.
Only dust and grief remained.
Only dust and grief remained.
Too late. He was too late.
Too late to save her.
Too late to save her.
The shivers running through his body increased, changing into jolts. He began to shake violently, as he rocked her body.
"I'm sorry…" he sobbed in her neck. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"
Never again would he hear her voice. Never again would he see her eyes. Never again would he hear her laugh. Never again would he see her smile.
Because she was…
She was breathing.
"Gil, she's breathing!"
Catherine's scream immediately pulled him out of the terrible vision he had created in his mind, out of the dark numbness where he had immersed himself when they'd arrived to the scene. He'd been forbidden to approach the wrecked car, as the paramedics tried to get Sara's body out.
Sara being freed from the wreck that was her prison.
Breathing. Hurt. Alive.
People shouting words, some were good, and some were less good.
Everything was so blurry and crazy after that.
Sara being put on a stretcher, Sara being put inside the ambulance, climbing in beside her, paramedics putting a mask on her face, paramedics shouting again, medical words this time, paramedics digging needles in her skin.
The only thing he really remembered about that moment was the answer he got when he asked if she was going to be okay.
"She's going to make it."
She was going to live.
No matter why, no matter when, no matter how.
She was going to live.
To speak, to laugh, to smile.
Hours and hours could have passed between this instant and the one when she looked at him again. Hours could be days, days could be a week. Who cared?
She smiled at him, weakly.
And when she spoke, her voice was croaky. But it was sweet honey to his ears.
"You reached for me…" she whispered.
No matter that he didn't really understand what she meant.
Or that he understood too well, somehow.
Because he could smile again. Even if this smile was slightly quivering and his eyes were too wet.
He could really reach for her right now.
Take her warm hand in his. Bring it to his mouth. Kiss her soft, warm, skin.
Breathe her scent.
"I will always reach for you, Sara."
A/N: I'm sure I scared some of you and made you believe for a second that Sara was dead, and I'm sorry about that. I personally don't care reading CD stories without warning, but I know some people hate that, so I would have warn if I had decided to be really mean. I can't even accept the fact that Sara's death is an for the end of this season, or the start of the next one, but sometimes, you just need to write what you fear the most.
I hope you enjoyed your reading! Reviews are always loved :)