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Dec. 21st, 2004 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helsinkibabyFic! Two CSI Warrick/Sara ones, for those of you who like that sort of thing.
Title: The Worst Part
Spoilers: Season 5 (if you don’t know who Mia is)
Rating: PG
Notes: For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
warricksara jealousy challenge
As the party goes on around her, Mia watches Warrick. Not that she’s the only person to be doing that, certainly not the only female. After all, he’s standing there, deep in conversation with Nick and Greg, and while all three are good-looking men, there’s something extra special and eye-delicious about Warrick.
Not that this is the first time she’s noticed it. She noticed it the very first day she met him, her first day at work at the crime lab. That was also the first day that he flirted with her, and the first time that she rebuffed him.
Little did she know so many would follow.
Which, she thinks now, is part of the problem, and why she’s standing here, staring at him.
He used to flirt with her all the time when she first started work at the crime lab, but he doesn’t anymore, and, much to her surprise, she misses it.
The almost-worst part is that she only has herself to blame, because she did everything but tell him outright that she wasn’t interested in him. And it wasn’t because just she didn’t want to start dating someone from work (although she really didn’t, because that could get messy) or because she was afraid what people would say (even though she was, just a little bit.) And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t think he was good looking, because the man was damn fine.
Her problem with Warrick had always been that he knew how hot he was, knew the effect he had on women. She’d pegged him as a player the second she’d laid eyes on him – even before that, if the truth be known – and there was no way she was going to get caught in a player’s game.
No matter how amazing his body was, no matter how arresting his eyes, no matter how many times he hit on her.
She wasn’t that girl.
Then he’d stopped turning his charm on her, and she’d suddenly realised that she was.
But of course, by then, as in all the best fairytales, it was too late.
Because by the time she realised that, he’d already found someone else, and the most unlikely replacement of all.
That’s the worst part of this whole story, and Mia knows she only has herself to blame.
She’s reminded of that now when Sara comes up to the three men, greeting them all warmly, but standing beside Warrick. Nick and Greg nod and smile at her, as does Warrick, but Warrick’s smile is just a little bit warmer than Nick’s or Greg’s, and his whole body language seems to change. He focuses on her completely as she talks, and Mia’s struck with the sure and certain realisation that, for him, Nick and Greg could have just disappeared into thin air.
He only has eyes for Sara.
What tale she’s recounting makes the three men laugh, makes Warrick say something that has her rolling her eyes at him. It’s a fond gesture though, nothing impatient about it, and the grin that she flashes at him makes something strange twist in Mia’s gut. It twists again she looks at them as they listen to Greg telling some sort of story, his hands waving crazily to illustrate his point.
Because as they listen, Sara takes a step closer to Warrick, and slides her hand into his.
Warrick doesn’t even look down at her, but he grins, and Mia sees him adjusting their hands, so that their fingers are intertwined, and that’s how they stand together, in the middle of the party, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And the thing is, Mia realises, for them, it is the most natural thing in the world.
Just like for her, the most natural thought in the world is, “I wish that were me.”
>*<*>*<
Also,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nekosmuse wanted post apocalyptic fic... and this is what I came up with, despite the fact that I know she doesn't read het. In my defense, it's more a friendship fic than ship-ship fic... read into it what you will!
Title: Got ‘Til It’s Gone
Rating: PG
Someone, somewhere, is humming.
It’s slightly off-tune, but still recognisable as Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” and being as Sara’s never liked that song, hearing the chorus over and over and over again is really getting on her nerves.
“Sara?”
There’s a voice saying her name, and it sounds like it’s coming from very far away, further than the humming, even. It’s a voice she recognises, but can’t place, and she frowns, because she knows she should be able to.
“Come on, Sara… come back to me…”
This time, the voice is closer, right beside her ear, and there’s a warm weight around her shoulders; someone’s arm, she thinks. She frowns again, and somewhere deep in her brain makes the connection, that the voice is connected to the arm, and “Big Yellow Taxi” is replaced by “Dem Bones,” and the voice doesn’t seem to like that much.
“Look at me, Sara…”
The arm around her shoulder has a hand at the end of it, and the hand tightens on her shoulder as the arm gives her a shake. That, combined with the worry in the voice, has her turning her head, and it’s hard to focus at first. When she does though, really having to put her mind to it, she finds herself looking into a pair of green eyes that she knows well.
Warrick’s eyes.
They are Warrick’s eyes and Warrick’s hand on her shoulder, and Warrick’s arm around her, and it is Warrick’s lips that turn up in what might just be something approaching a smile. “That’s it,” he says, his voice low. “Come on now… talk to me…”
The humming stops suddenly, and she realises belatedly that it was she who’d been doing that, just like she realises where she is; in a small apartment on the outskirts of Vegas, sitting on the floor in the corner of a dirty, dusty room. Her knees are drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around them, and she is rocking back and forth, and Warrick’s arm is around her, and he is staring at her, worry written all over his handsome face.
She takes a deep breath, tongue reaching out to run over dry lips. “I thought you were gone,” she tells him, and understanding flares in his eyes, along with dismay.
“No… Sara, no… I was out looking for food… trying to find someone who knows something…”
She knows, after all this time, that it’s futile to hope, but hope, it seems, really does spring eternal. “Did you?” she asks, and she doesn’t need to see the shake of his head, reads his answer loud and clear in the silence that follows her question.
She sighs, drops her head onto his shoulder, and he pulls her into his embrace. Once upon a time, she never would have let him hold her like this, but that was before, and this is after, and she needs him, needs the strength he has to offer. He rests his head against hers, his cheek resting on top of her hair, one hand reaching up to play with the unruly curls. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispers, and she swallows hard. The last thing she ever wanted to do was make him feel guilty, but he’d never been gone for that long before, and she’d been seized with the fear that something that happened to him, that she was never going to see him again.
She’s lost everything that mattered to her more than once in her life.
She couldn’t stand to lose him too.
“It’s ok,” she whispers back, and it strikes her as crazy that they’re whispering, because, after all, who is around to hear them?
There’s a long silence, then his other hand, the one that’s not playing with her hair, the one that had been resting on his leg, reaches up, touches her chin. He tilts his head up, looks into her eyes, and for a second, she finds it hard to breathe. “I’m not gonna leave you Sara,” he promises. “Whatever happens… we’re in this together.”
They are exactly the words that she needs to hear, and tears flood her eyes, because for the first time since the world ended, for the first time since this whole nightmare began, it dawns on her that he might need her just as much as she needs him.
Swallowing hard, she nods, before she returns her head to his shoulder, and his returns to its pillow against her hair. His hand, the one that had been on her cheek, has returned to his knee, and she reaches over, takes it in hers and entwines their fingers. Her other arm slides across his chest, and it might not be the most ergonomically sound position, but she doesn’t care.
The song is in her head again, but this time with words.
“You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”
Sara’s never been a fan, but she thinks Joni’s got a point, in more ways than one.
Title: The Worst Part
Spoilers: Season 5 (if you don’t know who Mia is)
Rating: PG
Notes: For the
warricksara jealousy challengeAs the party goes on around her, Mia watches Warrick. Not that she’s the only person to be doing that, certainly not the only female. After all, he’s standing there, deep in conversation with Nick and Greg, and while all three are good-looking men, there’s something extra special and eye-delicious about Warrick.
Not that this is the first time she’s noticed it. She noticed it the very first day she met him, her first day at work at the crime lab. That was also the first day that he flirted with her, and the first time that she rebuffed him.
Little did she know so many would follow.
Which, she thinks now, is part of the problem, and why she’s standing here, staring at him.
He used to flirt with her all the time when she first started work at the crime lab, but he doesn’t anymore, and, much to her surprise, she misses it.
The almost-worst part is that she only has herself to blame, because she did everything but tell him outright that she wasn’t interested in him. And it wasn’t because just she didn’t want to start dating someone from work (although she really didn’t, because that could get messy) or because she was afraid what people would say (even though she was, just a little bit.) And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t think he was good looking, because the man was damn fine.
Her problem with Warrick had always been that he knew how hot he was, knew the effect he had on women. She’d pegged him as a player the second she’d laid eyes on him – even before that, if the truth be known – and there was no way she was going to get caught in a player’s game.
No matter how amazing his body was, no matter how arresting his eyes, no matter how many times he hit on her.
She wasn’t that girl.
Then he’d stopped turning his charm on her, and she’d suddenly realised that she was.
But of course, by then, as in all the best fairytales, it was too late.
Because by the time she realised that, he’d already found someone else, and the most unlikely replacement of all.
That’s the worst part of this whole story, and Mia knows she only has herself to blame.
She’s reminded of that now when Sara comes up to the three men, greeting them all warmly, but standing beside Warrick. Nick and Greg nod and smile at her, as does Warrick, but Warrick’s smile is just a little bit warmer than Nick’s or Greg’s, and his whole body language seems to change. He focuses on her completely as she talks, and Mia’s struck with the sure and certain realisation that, for him, Nick and Greg could have just disappeared into thin air.
He only has eyes for Sara.
What tale she’s recounting makes the three men laugh, makes Warrick say something that has her rolling her eyes at him. It’s a fond gesture though, nothing impatient about it, and the grin that she flashes at him makes something strange twist in Mia’s gut. It twists again she looks at them as they listen to Greg telling some sort of story, his hands waving crazily to illustrate his point.
Because as they listen, Sara takes a step closer to Warrick, and slides her hand into his.
Warrick doesn’t even look down at her, but he grins, and Mia sees him adjusting their hands, so that their fingers are intertwined, and that’s how they stand together, in the middle of the party, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And the thing is, Mia realises, for them, it is the most natural thing in the world.
Just like for her, the most natural thought in the world is, “I wish that were me.”
>*<*>*<
Also,
nekosmuse wanted post apocalyptic fic... and this is what I came up with, despite the fact that I know she doesn't read het. In my defense, it's more a friendship fic than ship-ship fic... read into it what you will!Title: Got ‘Til It’s Gone
Rating: PG
Someone, somewhere, is humming.
It’s slightly off-tune, but still recognisable as Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” and being as Sara’s never liked that song, hearing the chorus over and over and over again is really getting on her nerves.
“Sara?”
There’s a voice saying her name, and it sounds like it’s coming from very far away, further than the humming, even. It’s a voice she recognises, but can’t place, and she frowns, because she knows she should be able to.
“Come on, Sara… come back to me…”
This time, the voice is closer, right beside her ear, and there’s a warm weight around her shoulders; someone’s arm, she thinks. She frowns again, and somewhere deep in her brain makes the connection, that the voice is connected to the arm, and “Big Yellow Taxi” is replaced by “Dem Bones,” and the voice doesn’t seem to like that much.
“Look at me, Sara…”
The arm around her shoulder has a hand at the end of it, and the hand tightens on her shoulder as the arm gives her a shake. That, combined with the worry in the voice, has her turning her head, and it’s hard to focus at first. When she does though, really having to put her mind to it, she finds herself looking into a pair of green eyes that she knows well.
Warrick’s eyes.
They are Warrick’s eyes and Warrick’s hand on her shoulder, and Warrick’s arm around her, and it is Warrick’s lips that turn up in what might just be something approaching a smile. “That’s it,” he says, his voice low. “Come on now… talk to me…”
The humming stops suddenly, and she realises belatedly that it was she who’d been doing that, just like she realises where she is; in a small apartment on the outskirts of Vegas, sitting on the floor in the corner of a dirty, dusty room. Her knees are drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around them, and she is rocking back and forth, and Warrick’s arm is around her, and he is staring at her, worry written all over his handsome face.
She takes a deep breath, tongue reaching out to run over dry lips. “I thought you were gone,” she tells him, and understanding flares in his eyes, along with dismay.
“No… Sara, no… I was out looking for food… trying to find someone who knows something…”
She knows, after all this time, that it’s futile to hope, but hope, it seems, really does spring eternal. “Did you?” she asks, and she doesn’t need to see the shake of his head, reads his answer loud and clear in the silence that follows her question.
She sighs, drops her head onto his shoulder, and he pulls her into his embrace. Once upon a time, she never would have let him hold her like this, but that was before, and this is after, and she needs him, needs the strength he has to offer. He rests his head against hers, his cheek resting on top of her hair, one hand reaching up to play with the unruly curls. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispers, and she swallows hard. The last thing she ever wanted to do was make him feel guilty, but he’d never been gone for that long before, and she’d been seized with the fear that something that happened to him, that she was never going to see him again.
She’s lost everything that mattered to her more than once in her life.
She couldn’t stand to lose him too.
“It’s ok,” she whispers back, and it strikes her as crazy that they’re whispering, because, after all, who is around to hear them?
There’s a long silence, then his other hand, the one that’s not playing with her hair, the one that had been resting on his leg, reaches up, touches her chin. He tilts his head up, looks into her eyes, and for a second, she finds it hard to breathe. “I’m not gonna leave you Sara,” he promises. “Whatever happens… we’re in this together.”
They are exactly the words that she needs to hear, and tears flood her eyes, because for the first time since the world ended, for the first time since this whole nightmare began, it dawns on her that he might need her just as much as she needs him.
Swallowing hard, she nods, before she returns her head to his shoulder, and his returns to its pillow against her hair. His hand, the one that had been on her cheek, has returned to his knee, and she reaches over, takes it in hers and entwines their fingers. Her other arm slides across his chest, and it might not be the most ergonomically sound position, but she doesn’t care.
The song is in her head again, but this time with words.
“You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”
Sara’s never been a fan, but she thinks Joni’s got a point, in more ways than one.
