Letting Go

Title: Letting Go

Author: Satisfied Frog

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: NCIS/CSI

Pairing(s): It’s a Secret

Disclaimer: Not mine in a sock, not
mine on a rock. Not mine
under seas, not mine under a breeze. Not
mine now, not mine if I bow.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>

Summary: A death causes someone to grieve

Notes: One shot.

It was quiet in the church. It always was, dark and
solemn, lit only by the faint light struggling through the old windows with
their tired stained glass, lighting up motes of dust that drifted lazily
through the silent church.

He began to walk down the aisle, noting to himself the lack of people insideclass=GramE>. One, perhaps two dark lumps sat on the hard pews, heads
bowed as they prayed. A small, soft ray of light crept
softly into the dark church aisles, created by the small tea candles placed to
remember someone; someone loved, some gone, someone lost. That
was where his footsteps, normally so noiseless, now echoing with all the force
of a gunshot, led him; led him into that small ray of light to kneel quietly
and reflect for a moment.

He thought of her. He thought of her innocence, of her
determination, of how she told the whole family that she was going to follow
family tradition in her own way. He remembered
swinging her around, hands held tightly, her hair in braided pigtails, as she
cried out "Don't let me go!" and his own promise of "I won'tclass=GramE>. I won't let you go."

He recalled standing in uniform as his goddaughter walked across the stage and
accepted her diploma, eyes alight with dreams, face all aglow, first from high
school, then from college, then from the Academy. He
thought back on the late night phone calls, the early morning emails and the
mid-day panicked emergency. If he cared to bring to
mind, he could call forth the first love, and the subsequent first heartache
(and his subsequent offer to hunt the offending male down).

He could also evoke the shock he felt when he got The Call, as his lover had
taken to calling it. The heartbroken sobs in the
background, and his buddy's broken voice saying she was dead – shot by a
suspect. At first nothing- how could he feel something
when the world had tipped over? She wasn't supposed to
die, dammit! She was, just-
a- just a child. Just a child. It
wasn't fair and he dealt with death every day. It just
wasn't fair.

A sharp pain in his hand brought him back to reality. He'd
clenched his hand too hard and driven the long match into his palmclass=GramE>. He closed his eyes. Then opened
them again as he began reached over to select another one and light it.

Moving carefully, he chose a white candle for her. Watching
as it burst into light then settled down into a steady flame, he softly spoke,
telling her of his life, his lover and all the things he wished he could show
her. He told her that she would adore his lover and
would wonder at the labs Abby got to work with. Minutes
later- it felt like hours to him, he stood and whispered a goodbye to that dear
spirit.

Outside of the church it was sunny, nary a cloud in the sky, and under the old
beech tree leaned his lover, shades on, facing the road. As
he drew near Tony spoke up, shattering the picturesque illusion of
Rockwell-like contentment that had been there a moment before.

"Hey Boss. Mind if I walk with you for a
while?"

He nodded and waited.

"SOB got thirty to life for her, Boss. Holly's
got justice."

He nodded again. "She was my god-daughter, Tonyclass=GramE>. She'd wanted to be a CSI ever since I first showed her the
Navy's CIS unit. She wanted to be known as Holly class=SpellE>Gribbs, CSI. Not as the innocent
victim of a homicide who'd been in the wrong place."

"I know Boss. I
know."

END