Work Text:
Tim
Of all people, Gil Grissom was the one who told me you were gone.
The understanding I saw in his eyes told me more about the man than anything I've seen in the past five years.
I was mad when they called you in, but I understood. So I went home a day early and now I'm barely off the plane and Grissom is sitting on my sofa telling me the man I made love with less than 24 hours ago is dead.
Surreal doesn't even begin to cover it. Somehow I suspect you'd have an acerbic comment worthy of the moment.
I've done this flight so often, the attendants know me now. They were sad for me when I told them it was likely my last time.
The Miami Airport sucks. Did I ever tell you that? Maybe I never noticed before. Coming in, all I could think about was seeing you. Going home, all I could think about was how long till I could get here again.
Your mother offered me a seat beside her and your dad. That stunned me. I knew they were very accepting of you, but it never dawned that they accepted us.
Or me.
In the end, I couldn't deal. I stood away, near the back, and watched.
I had so much I wanted to tell you. I was keeping it a surprise, but sometime next week I do my final evaluation. I'm going to be a real CSI, just like you.
I want to be someone you'd be proud to consider a colleague.
There are a lot of cops here today. Many who knew you, many who never met you. Respect. They've lost one of their own.
They all came. Caine, Delko, all of them.
I despise them. Your coffin was carried by an honour guard.
Strangers.
But your team, they are cops, and they are dressed as if it's any other day. No Dress Blues. None of them bearing your pall upon their shoulders.
Caine may have liked you; he may even have loved you. I know he would have fucked you.
But he didn't respect you. None of them respected you.
The hate I feel for them is palpable.
They were supposed to look after you. You were one of them; a cop, a CSI. One of them.
One of Us.
Why didn't they look after you?
Your mom said Horatio cried when he told them. That he sat with them and wept and told them how much he cared for you.
Bastard.
I wonder if you ever followed through and told them about me. I wonder if any of them ever rode on the back of your bike. I wonder if any of them ever knew how much you loved being a CSI, and how much you despised guns, and how awesome your white wine sauce is...
Was.
God I am going to miss you. Your voice on the phone after a bad day. Your joy at seeing me appear at your door on a whim. I am going to miss your touch, and I am going to miss your smile.
I am going to miss your eyes. You made love with your eyes as much as with your body.
I wonder if I ever told you that.
You showed a geeky, showy little lab rat that it was okay to want more. So quiet, so calm. You passed some of that on to me. Taught me how to respect myself.
Horatio is the last to leave. He lingers over your grave and I wonder what he is thinking. Is hey saying goodbye? Or is he saying all the things he never bothered to say when you were alive.
I'm going to linger awhile as well. I have a few more things I like to say. Private things. Lovers' things.
And try to find a way to say goodbye.