Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2006-08-26 12:31 am
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2006-08-26 12:31 am
Nick/Catherine - Written in the Stars
Fandom: CSI
Title: Written in the Stars
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Catherine Willows/Nick Stokes
Prompt: N/A
Content Warning: death of canon character
Summary: She still came to visit him. Not as frequently as it used to be, because it had become so emotionally draining, sitting there, begging silently for an answer to why things had to end so soon.
Author's Note: AU for if Nick didn't make it out during "Grave Danger." Written as a present foriheartnickcath (you love your angst). Now, I'm not a member of any Catherine/Nick communities, nor any for just general csi fiction, so if you like it enough to pimp this out to the CathNick fans, or know of a place where i can post CSI fiction of all kinds please let me know.
Disclaimer: I don't own Catherine or Nick. They're owned by CBS.
“Or some god’s experiment
In which we have no say.
In which we’re given paradise
But only for a day.”
-“Written in the Stars” from Aida
It had been a year since it happened.
She still came to visit him. Not as frequently as it used to be, because it had become so emotionally draining, sitting there, begging silently for an answer to why things had to end so soon. So she started coming less frequently. It was easier on her, easier on Lindsey, easier on everyone around her.
Doesn’t mean she ever forgot about him.
Yesterday, the anniversary of their first night together she was haunted by the memories. Visions of his body and the feel of his skin, his hands on her, the sound of his voice, his scent, the way he had just completely overwhelmed her senses. They all danced through her dreams, and she wished she never had to wake up and live in reality. Because reality meant that he was gone. In her dreams, she could relive that one night over and over again, and she could be happy. She could feel happy. She could feel something other than heartbreak or pain.
He would have never wanted her to be like this. So bitter, and angry. He would have wanted her to move on and find a way to smile and flirt and be herself. But whenever she tried, it was as if the part of her heart that felt that way had been taken, stolen from her. And as desperately as she wanted it back, she felt that in that same respect, it was good that it was gone, because it meant that wherever he was, whatever plane he was on, heaven, limbo, whatever it may be, that he had a piece of her to remember him by. But she knew, deep down in her heart, that if she didn’t have people depending on her day after day, she would have crashed a long time ago.
Today had been hell. Any energy not devoted to the case was devoted to saving her tears. Saving them until this moment, where she could be alone and show her grief for what it was. She wasn’t just shedding tears for a co-worker or a friend, she was grieving for the man she loved. As her gaze fell on the headstone, the tears had already started to come, blurring the letters etched into the stone in front of her:
Nicholas Stokes. Son and Friend. 1968-2005.
The tears ran down her cheeks like a torrent, like a black flood, staining her fair skin with the remnants of her mascara. Blond hair fell into her face as her shoulders heaved, as she dropped to her knees, her legs failing to support her, the sound of her soft sobs meeting the ground as the tears ran off her chin and into the dark ground beneath her.
She had wanted to be alone. She had just wanted to be alone, and cry her piece, and see if maybe, maybe this year, she could start to smile again. Start to find a little happiness in the simple thing again. She would get up in the end, dry her tears, and go back to life as she had known it, maybe feeling a little bit stronger.
“I love you, you know that?” His whispered words as they had lay in bed together, just wrapped up in each other, comfortable, safe, came to her like a bittersweet dream. That was before all hell had broken loose, before she had to watch him suffocate to death, trapped in a plexiglass box that they couldn’t find, tortured, broken and scared. She clung to those last few moments of happiness between them like a toddler clings to a beloved blanket, because it was memories like that that got her through the night when she couldn’t sleep. Those little moments between them were what she treasured the most.
Because that was all she had left of her day in paradise.
Title: Written in the Stars
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT
Pairing: Catherine Willows/Nick Stokes
Prompt: N/A
Content Warning: death of canon character
Summary: She still came to visit him. Not as frequently as it used to be, because it had become so emotionally draining, sitting there, begging silently for an answer to why things had to end so soon.
Author's Note: AU for if Nick didn't make it out during "Grave Danger." Written as a present for
iheartnickcath (you love your angst). Now, I'm not a member of any Catherine/Nick communities, nor any for just general csi fiction, so if you like it enough to pimp this out to the CathNick fans, or know of a place where i can post CSI fiction of all kinds please let me know.Disclaimer: I don't own Catherine or Nick. They're owned by CBS.
“Or some god’s experiment
In which we have no say.
In which we’re given paradise
But only for a day.”
-“Written in the Stars” from Aida
It had been a year since it happened.
She still came to visit him. Not as frequently as it used to be, because it had become so emotionally draining, sitting there, begging silently for an answer to why things had to end so soon. So she started coming less frequently. It was easier on her, easier on Lindsey, easier on everyone around her.
Doesn’t mean she ever forgot about him.
Yesterday, the anniversary of their first night together she was haunted by the memories. Visions of his body and the feel of his skin, his hands on her, the sound of his voice, his scent, the way he had just completely overwhelmed her senses. They all danced through her dreams, and she wished she never had to wake up and live in reality. Because reality meant that he was gone. In her dreams, she could relive that one night over and over again, and she could be happy. She could feel happy. She could feel something other than heartbreak or pain.
He would have never wanted her to be like this. So bitter, and angry. He would have wanted her to move on and find a way to smile and flirt and be herself. But whenever she tried, it was as if the part of her heart that felt that way had been taken, stolen from her. And as desperately as she wanted it back, she felt that in that same respect, it was good that it was gone, because it meant that wherever he was, whatever plane he was on, heaven, limbo, whatever it may be, that he had a piece of her to remember him by. But she knew, deep down in her heart, that if she didn’t have people depending on her day after day, she would have crashed a long time ago.
Today had been hell. Any energy not devoted to the case was devoted to saving her tears. Saving them until this moment, where she could be alone and show her grief for what it was. She wasn’t just shedding tears for a co-worker or a friend, she was grieving for the man she loved. As her gaze fell on the headstone, the tears had already started to come, blurring the letters etched into the stone in front of her:
Nicholas Stokes. Son and Friend. 1968-2005.
The tears ran down her cheeks like a torrent, like a black flood, staining her fair skin with the remnants of her mascara. Blond hair fell into her face as her shoulders heaved, as she dropped to her knees, her legs failing to support her, the sound of her soft sobs meeting the ground as the tears ran off her chin and into the dark ground beneath her.
She had wanted to be alone. She had just wanted to be alone, and cry her piece, and see if maybe, maybe this year, she could start to smile again. Start to find a little happiness in the simple thing again. She would get up in the end, dry her tears, and go back to life as she had known it, maybe feeling a little bit stronger.
“I love you, you know that?” His whispered words as they had lay in bed together, just wrapped up in each other, comfortable, safe, came to her like a bittersweet dream. That was before all hell had broken loose, before she had to watch him suffocate to death, trapped in a plexiglass box that they couldn’t find, tortured, broken and scared. She clung to those last few moments of happiness between them like a toddler clings to a beloved blanket, because it was memories like that that got her through the night when she couldn’t sleep. Those little moments between them were what she treasured the most.
Because that was all she had left of her day in paradise.
no subject
I don't read or write angst much because I like my happiness too much, and Nick/Cath isn't one of my favoritest pairings, but I'm really glad I read this. It was very powerful, very touching. Amazing job.
As for communities? Both
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when i'm in the right mood, i love writing angst, but fluff is way too much fun. i'm glad you liked it though. and running over to those comms sometime soon.
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no subject
i'll go pimp it on talk. i'll run in on your thread and then run out fabulously.
no subject
You know your always welcome in my thread, even though you ship those that shall remain nameless.
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i won't mention those that shall remain nameless while i'm in your thread, i promise.