Rating: Trainee
Summary: Hands touch, eyes meetÖ
Disclaimer: I donít own CSI. And the summary is a quote from the musical "Wicked".
A/N: Angst. Pure angst. Thank you Alza for reading and reassuring.
Date: 08/04/07
His fingers brush mine as we both reach for the same piece of evidence on the table, and we freeze. Even through latex gloves I felt the sparks, the connection, long since seemingly lost as we drifted apart. Our hands lingering, I raise my eyes and find they meet his. And itís obvious right there that he felt it too.

Time is indeterminable and, for all I know, stands completely still, as we are caught in the otherís gaze, unable and unwilling to look away. Our whole relationship seems to pass before my eyes Ė the day we met, my first day at the lab, breakfasts at his townhouse, his arms around me when Iíve cried, the smiles, the glances; the million reasons why my heart attached itself to this man and steadfast refused to let go, no matter what.

It constricts now, my heart, as the memories only serve as a reminder that we had so much, and let it slip away.

He smiles Ė itís filled with sadness Ė and internally I crumble. He sees it too, feels it all. But, our mistakes lie before us, as they were evidence in a case, and we donít need hi-tech forensic tools to understand what they mean. The division is our own doing; this unresolved longing is of our own making.

I return his smile with equal sorrow and fingers brush again as our hands part, and we both blink and turn away. No words can be spoken, so much was said between our eyes that would fail to be conveyed through speech. So, we find other evidence to examine, each to our own, in silence.

When Sara returns, she pauses in the doorway then laughs, commenting that we look like weíve been arguing while she was gone. We laugh it off, Gil explains that we were concentrating, and though it isnít a complete lie, Iím flushed with a sense of guilt, that there are things that must be kept from her, lest another heart be broken.

She accepts this and asks him to go back to DNA with her to look at some anomalous results. I nod when he tells me heíll be back in a minute, and as he walks away, I lose the fight against my urge to watch him go. I lift my eyes to his retreating form, only to find that he is looking back.

A split-secondís connection, and my heart is screaming protest at the unfairness of it all. I look away, and determinedly fight the urge to release the screams out loud.

Unrequited love has burned my heart thus far in our friendship, but this hurts more. This is love requited. And yet divided.