 | ShatterStorm Productions
|
| ShatterStorm Productions
|
A/N: There wasn't any specific definition of "sense memory" in regards to the challenge, so this is just my take on it. It's a departure from what I usually do, or at least it felt that way, so if it's not up to par that's why;) Lyrics from Melissa Etheridge's "I Will Never Be The Same"
Sensory 1/1
So you walked with me for a while
Bared your naked soul
And you told me of your plan
How you would never let them know
"I have to go."
Her voice was trembling when she told you, thick with emotions. You could hear each one, on its own frequency: the high-pitched, screaming anger; the low, keening regret; in between them, the calm, compassionate determination. And somewhere in there, love sang louder than all the rest.
The haunting memories filled her words as she told you about her mother, what happened to her father. About the sister she didn't know she had, born after Laura was let out on parole- long after Sara had escaped. The case against- she supposed he was her stepfather- for murder one. You could hear the sounds of war in her voice, a battle between anger and despair.
Anguish flooded your ears as she begged you not to tell anyone at work her reason for leaving. To let them think it was because she was homesick, or needed a change of pace, or, god forbid, because of Grissom.
Tears welled up in her words, spilling over as she explained that she might not come back for awhile. There was the trial, and CPS; and if the stepfather was convicted, there was the matter of custody, and raising a ten-year-old she'd never met before. There was no question that she would do it; she wouldn't subject this child to the foster care system, not when she was family.
You'd heard her voice many ways; low moans of desire, quick, ragged breaths; your name on her lips as she realized how you felt about her. In her voice you'd heard a world of sounds, from bliss to anger to pure love. At that moment, amongst the tears and pain, you heard the heartbreaking sound of goodbye.
In the morning of the night
You cried, a long lost child
And I tried, oh I tried to hold you
But you were young
And you were wild
Her back was tense, firm under your hand; the skin was warm through the soft cotton of her shirt. Her eyes spilled hot tears onto your neck as you ran your fingers through her tangled hair. Her arms clung to you, locked around your neck. It was familiar, the feeling of her body held tightly to yours, and you held on just as tight because you didn't know when you would get another chance to do it.
Her lips were soft and wet when she kissed you, desperate. Her hands were firm against your skin, under your clothes. You committed each touch to memory, burning the skin and fingers and tongue into your mind. When her naked body lay alongside yours, pressed close, feeding the fire, you felt you would die from the pain.
But I, I will never be the same
Oh I, I will never be the same
Caught in your eyes
Lost in your name
I will never be the same
You remember the taste of salt on her skin, sweat and tears. Her mouth tasted of coffee, cigarettes, beer, but most of all, that flavor that was distinctly hers. You'd become addicted to that taste, craving it every waking moment. It was bittersweet now, tainted by the knowledge that it could be the last time you would taste it.
Secrets of your life
I never wanted for myself
But you guarded them like a lie
Placed up on the highest shelf
The smell of despair and sex permeated the room as she curled into you to sleep. Her hair smelled of smoke and lavender, and you knew that in the morning she would be gone, and the sheets would still smell of her.
In the morning of the night
When I woke to find you gone
I knew your distant devil
Must be draggin' you along
The late afternoon sun stung your eyes as you woke, the pain sharp as you remembered the night before, saw the empty spot in bed next to you. You'd prayed it was a dream, that she would still be there. Dreading what you'd see, you stood, opened the closet door. Empty spaces here, and the dresser, where she used to keep spare clothes. In the bathroom, the toothbrush holder had an empty slot.
You could remember seeing her at the kitchen table, hunched over as she helped Lindsey with math; could see her on your doorstep, that half-smile teasing at her lips. You remembered sitting on the toilet watching her shower, the lines and curves of her body slightly obscured by the curtain.
There was a note, on the coffee table in the living room. Her handwriting was shaky, and there were spots where the ink had smudged. She'd cried as she wrote it.
"Cat,
I'm sorry I couldn't stay. It would hurt both of us more if I did. Give Lindsey a kiss for me and tell her I love her. I love you, too. I'll try to keep in touch.
Sara."
Your vision blurred with tears, mingling with Sara's on the paper. Your legs gave way and you crumbled onto the couch, eyes shut tightly against the emptiness of the house. But in your head you still saw her, concerned eyes searching deep into your own, her hand reaching to brush a lock of hair from your eyes. You could feel her arms around you, could smell her and taste her, hear her muttering assurances into your hair as you cried.
But when you opened your eyes, she was gone.
And you swore that you were bound for glory
And for wanting you had no shame
But I loved you
And then I lost you
And I will never be the same
