Title: Unspoken
Author: Kristina K
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sara/Sofia
Summary: Sofia is sorry.
Warnings: Character death

Disclaimer: The story is mine, characters are not.

Author’s Notes: A ficlet. Once again, there’s a mention of rain. And again, I gave into my (Muse’s) fondness of voyeuristic approach to writing. Also, I love angst. I thrive on it. So before all Sara lovers rise up to tar and feather me, let me blame the idea for this story on my Muse (again). It’s not how I wish for things to go down, I pwomise!

You never liked rain. It was a nuisance, especially in the desert, when all that dust gets muddled up into mud and it makes a disgusting noise under the soles of your shoes: splat, splat, splat. But, God, how you wished that rain would start falling, cold and hard, right that second and save you from trying so hard not to fall apart in front of everyone in the crowd.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” The priest slowly and solemnly spoke the words that cut right through your flesh and dug themselves deep into your heart.

Your jaw clenched so hard you were sure people next to you could hear the gritting of your teeth. Sudden silence echoed loudly in the crowded graveyard parcel and you begged once more for the rain, unsuccessfully, when the casket got lowered into the ground.

So many stoic, strong people stood beside you, all dressed in black, with their faces expressionless as if this wasn’t actually happening, as if it was only a dream. The paleness of Catherine’s face, making her look tired and old beyond her years. Greg’s blank stare into distance like he was there only in flesh, but not in spirit. Nick, Warrick and Jim, side by side, tough men, but devoted to their colleague and friend. And then there was Grissom. Lost, unaccustomed to a feeling of such sadness and defeat, he was a pale image of a sharp man he usually was.

The sound of a quiet thud of wood against the dark soil made you close your eyes. A strong shudder went through your body and then you went completely numb. You didn’t even feel how warm and soft the tear that rolled out of your eye and down your cheek was when the sound of first shovel of dirt fell on the casket, burying your feelings and awakening regrets because you were never brave enough to tell Sara you loved her. And now it was too late.


“Do you need a ride?” Two ladybugs were hanging onto a string of grass next to your feet and you seemed completely transfixed by how firmly they seemed to hold onto that swaying sanctuary. “Sofie?”

As if the slightly raised voice spooked them, the ladybugs uncovered their wings and swiftly flew away. Your eyes blinked and then looked up to meet your partner’s concerned eyes.

“Thanks, Jim,” you offered him a weak smile. “I’ll walk.”

“You live miles from here.” He said matter-a-factly.

Your smile grew wider and your eyes a bit clearer, “I really need the walk.”

He studied you for a moment longer, trying to pick up on anything that should cause any further concern for his young detective, but when he found none, he shrugged his shoulders.

“You’ll call me if you need anything?” You nodded and he squeezed your hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, kiddo.”

When he moved away you let out a sigh as heavy as the two ton rock that seemed to press on your chest. Everyone left except for you. You stood next to the six feet deep hole you had a feeling would swallow you whole if you stepped any closer. There, at the bottom of it, enclosed into perfectly polished mahogany, your heart found it’s final resting place.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered an apology. Why, you’re not sure. You just hoped somehow, she could hear you say it. And you hoped she would understand.

The end.