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Oct. 2nd, 2006 10:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helsinkibabyTitle: Regrets, He Has A Few
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Warrick/Sara ish if you squint. Allusion to Sara/Grissom.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 399
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mini_miss’s prompt, used as a last line. Depressing story, but I read it as a depressing line!!!
He knows he shouldn’t be coming here, yet he does it anyway. The nurses all know him by now, nod him as he walks the halls, letting him pass uncontested. They know where he is going, the same place he always goes, and the only reason they stop him now is if the coast isn’t clear – that’s a lesson that was learned the hard way.
Not that he can blame Grissom; he knows the older man blames him. Which is fair enough, after all, Warrick blames himself. He knows why they’re here, just like he knows that it was all his fault.
He should have protected her.
The hell with that, she should never have been there in the first place. He hadn’t wanted her to, but she’d insisted. Another pair of eyes, she said, before extracting a promise from him that this would be the last time, the last payment, because the people he owed money to weren’t exactly the kind of people you wanted holding a grudge against you.
She was there because she was trying to save his sorry ass.
And now she’s here because of it.
He makes the drive to Haven View every day, timing it just right so that Grissom isn’t there, has gone for lunch or dinner, or just gone back to the lab for a couple of hours. That’s when Warrick slips into her room, sits down beside her and tells her how sorry he is, how he wishes he could go back in time, how he’d never place that one last bet.
He talks to her about his resignation from the lab (jumping before he was pushed), about his failing marriage, about how he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with himself now.
He tells her that he hasn’t placed a bet since that day, that every time he even thinks about it, he just remembers her pale face, the crimson pool of blood spreading from beneath her skull, and the impulse vanishes quickly.
He begs her to wake up and tell him with more than a hint of asperity that it’s too little too late.
He wouldn’t care if she never talked to him again if she’d only wake up.
But Sara sleeps on.
He knows he shouldn’t be coming here, knows it won’t change anything. But then again, it's not like she has anything better to do.
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Warrick/Sara ish if you squint. Allusion to Sara/Grissom.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 399
Notes: For
mini_miss’s prompt, used as a last line. Depressing story, but I read it as a depressing line!!!He knows he shouldn’t be coming here, yet he does it anyway. The nurses all know him by now, nod him as he walks the halls, letting him pass uncontested. They know where he is going, the same place he always goes, and the only reason they stop him now is if the coast isn’t clear – that’s a lesson that was learned the hard way.
Not that he can blame Grissom; he knows the older man blames him. Which is fair enough, after all, Warrick blames himself. He knows why they’re here, just like he knows that it was all his fault.
He should have protected her.
The hell with that, she should never have been there in the first place. He hadn’t wanted her to, but she’d insisted. Another pair of eyes, she said, before extracting a promise from him that this would be the last time, the last payment, because the people he owed money to weren’t exactly the kind of people you wanted holding a grudge against you.
She was there because she was trying to save his sorry ass.
And now she’s here because of it.
He makes the drive to Haven View every day, timing it just right so that Grissom isn’t there, has gone for lunch or dinner, or just gone back to the lab for a couple of hours. That’s when Warrick slips into her room, sits down beside her and tells her how sorry he is, how he wishes he could go back in time, how he’d never place that one last bet.
He talks to her about his resignation from the lab (jumping before he was pushed), about his failing marriage, about how he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with himself now.
He tells her that he hasn’t placed a bet since that day, that every time he even thinks about it, he just remembers her pale face, the crimson pool of blood spreading from beneath her skull, and the impulse vanishes quickly.
He begs her to wake up and tell him with more than a hint of asperity that it’s too little too late.
He wouldn’t care if she never talked to him again if she’d only wake up.
But Sara sleeps on.
He knows he shouldn’t be coming here, knows it won’t change anything. But then again, it's not like she has anything better to do.
