Title: Untitled
Author: Nuwoman
Author's e-mail: Nuwoman_1@yahoo.com Disclaimer: I don't own them, just using them for my own personal pleasure/pain.
Pairing: G/W
Archive: I don't know why you would want to, but just let me know where if you do.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: (Grisson comes back to an empty house)
Feedback: yes please - but be gentle is my very first CSI fic and only the second fic I have ever attempted to write.

What a difference twenty-four hours made!

Yesterday, Gil had been impatient to get home; knowing that someone would be waiting there for him. Today, he dreaded it. Hated the knowledge that he was going back to an empty house.

He was gone!

How had it come to this? Gil wished he could pretend he was clueless; but he knew the blame was his. He had done this. Made it so that he had no choice but to leave. Even after six month together, it had been too hard for him to allow the man into his life; to allow him to take his place in his heart as well as his bed. The risk had been just too high.

Allowing him into his bed had been the easy part: once he had begun his pursuit, Gill hadn't been able to resist. Who could have when this beautiful, intelligent, sexy as all hell, man launched a full out campaign to woo you?...yes woo; an old fashion word but so applicable in this instance.

****

It had started with the flowers (anonymous of course) a new arrangement everyday, sparking off gossip throughout the team as they tried to figure out who Gil's secret admirer might be

Then the presents (also anonymous) arriving every Friday, they had hinted at the giver without revealing their identity; only someone that knew him well could have picked out these gifts, and so the field had narrowed and he had begun to look at members of team - immediately suspecting Sara.

About 3 weeks into the campaign came the music; but these had arrived at his house for his eyes only and they had given the first solid clue as to the sender: Anita Baker, Sarah Vaughn, Julie London - jazzy/bluesy style music. The direction the evidence had pointed him in amazed him; but it also intrigued him. He had quickly found himself addicted to the sultry, almost sleepy, voice of Anita Baker; keeping the album in his cd player and listening to it most evenings.

Over the next week he had observed, acting as though he still hadn't the slightest clue, wanting to be absolutely sure and needing the time to decide what he was going to do about it. And it had been there right in front of him: how he stood so close to him whenever they spoke; that extra sparkle in his eye when he looked at him. It was all there for anyone who cared to see it, and his own response to it surprised him. Intrigue had turned to interest - he hadn't even realised when he had started to flirt.

It had all come to a head on the Friday. Gil had awaited the arrival of his next present eagerly. It hadn't come! He had seen and spoken to him that day; his manner had not changed towards him. Was it possible that his own inactivity had made him give up his pursuit? Did he think I wasn't interested? He couldn't allow him to think that.

As he'd contemplated this, the object of his thoughts walked passed his office. Gil had been out of his chair and across the room before he'd realised. "Warrick, a word in my office?!"

****

That had been the real start of their relationship. Six months of being loved unconditionally. Of being treated as though he was the most precious thing to every come into this man's life, of amazing, mind-blowing sex..and still he hadn't opened his heart. Warrick had given Gil everything he had and he had taken it; gratefully, eagerly, but without giving it back.

The house that had been just a dwelling had become a home with Warrick; the life that had consisted of work and more work had suddenly become filled with laughter and joy, song and dance (God, could that man dance, up close, slow and sensual) and love - he couldn't remember ever being loved with such open honesty.

But he had ruined all of that. Warrick was gone; no longer able to tolerate loving and not being loved in return. It had been twenty seven hours since Gil had seen him. He had left the house last night. He hadn't been at work today; having contacted Personnel and arranged for two weeks annual leave. He wasn't answering his cell. No one knew where he had gone.

Gil stood on threshold of his house, key in hand, dreading going inside.

"Just do it, you coward!"

Squaring his shoulders, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, flicking the light switch as he went. About to drop his keys on the sidetable; he notice as set already there. Warrick's! Warrick had been back while he was at work.

A quick look around the living room told him everything he needed to know. Those small traces, the little reminders of his lover's presence were gone; Warrick's music collection, the snapshots the two of them had taken over the last six months together, the selection of action movies that he had to bring over - claiming that the foreign language films that Gil collected bored him to tears.

Gil felt his knees weaken and slumped onto the sofa; head back, eyes closed. Warrick was really gone! He didn't want to venture into the bedroom, knowing he would find the same emptiness there.

He sat there; how long he didn't know. Tried to keep his mind blank, so he wouldn't have to think or feel. But Warrick kept slipping through. `I would have given you everything...did give you everything. Why couldn't you love me?'

That had been one of the questions Warrick had asked him last night. Gil had answered that it was too hard. But that had been a lie. Loving Warrick was the easiest thing in the world. He did love him, with everything he had inside - he just couldn't tell him or show it. Couldn't make himself vulnerable in that way.

"I'm sorry baby, so sorry. I just couldn't".

He wondered how it could hurt so much. It wasn't supposed to hurt so bad. Hadn't that been the point! Keeping his heart closed meant that when it ended; as he had always known it must, it wouldn't hurt. But it did anyway!

So what was the point of holding all of this inside? How much more was it going to hurt in two weeks when Warrick came back to work and he had to see him every day? See him and not be able to touch him, not see that sparkle in his eyes that was only for him.

Salt stung his eyes. I can't think about this, not now, not tonight. It's too much. Tomorrow I'll speak to Nick again, he has to know where Warrick is. Yeah.tomorrow it'll be easier - it has to be..

Rising from the couch, he reached for the remote on the coffee table and pressed it on. Walking over to the window, he watched the sun come up. Tomorrow was today.

He wandered into the bathroom, moving through his bedroom without looking, and started the shower.

The sound of Anita Baker filled the other room:

This heart of mine seldom lies, you see
It's often said you don't care for me no more
You took so long, how could you lead me on
Left me wondering where and how we went wrong.

(chorus)

Come on baby, (make it alright)
Oh, baby (say it's alright)
Would you baby
And I'll be alright if I could only see you
Baby, make it alright
Please baby, say it's alright
Would you baby
And I'll be alright if I could only see you
Won't you please do this for me.

Heart of mine please just let him go
Always knew you'd leave
Honey, many times I told you so?
Yesterday it was when you walked out my door
Hopes and dreams of mine lay scattered on my floor

(chorus)

Holding on to your memory is what I've done
Baby, see what I've done
Baby, see what I've done
Oh yes, holding on to my pillow, it's all I've got

And the power of your thunder belongs to someone new
Is it any wonder I cry the whole night through
How we every made it's a mystery to me
Fire and water where never meant to be.

Baby by Anita Baker 1994