| Happy christmas, y'all (a day late) |
[Dec. 26th, 2008|06:57 pm] |
I just got my christmas present today: a BRAND FUCKING NEW HDTV, 19" AND WIDESCREEN. WIDESCREEN, PPL. Now I just need my next paycheck and HELLLLLLOOOOOO WII!
![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) iconographer For once, when I say your commission is almost done, I really and fully mean it. I actually have one last page to draw and color and I'll send you parts 2 and 3 via teh emails.
Ummm, CSI fans:
“Gilbert, you're not actually thinking about going with them,” Sara said sternly, a certain tone of you're-too-old-to-be-chasing-criminals dripping from her voice. She was there, leaning against the door frame, arms folded across her chest and an eyebrow raised as watched her husband. Gil was on the bed, laying on his stomach, reading a printed out e-mail he'd received from Nick Stokes.
He took off his reading glasses and looked inquisitively up at Sara. “The only evidence they have is entomological. They need me.”
“Gil, the kids need you.” Sara gestured behind herself to the two small bedrooms down the hall, then placed a hand on her stomach, which had been growing for the past five months. “I need you.”
“Sara-”
“Re-read that first paragraph,” she demanded, then, in her best impression of her husband, “A serial killer whose methods of operating are identical to the miniature killer's. A detailed scale model of each crime scene found at the scene or delivered to a neighbor of the victim.”
“Sara, just because it's all similar to that case, it doesn't mean it is the exact same.”
“Uh, hello? Gil? Identical means the exact same! Or has your age rattled your vocabulary loose of your brain?” Sara asked, teasing him softly. He sat up.
“If you're worried about the kids, we could move into a hotel-” he began, but Sara shook her head.
“I'm worried about my husband who believes he's still a young man who can still chase criminals.”
“What if I stay in the lab? They can bring all the evidence to me, I'll just test it and let them know my findings.”
“You're forgetting that the original miniature killer worked at the lab, Gil.” Sara strode slowly across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, turning to face him. The willingness to help their former co-workers and the eagerness to perform forensic tests on an actual crime again shone through in his eyes. Sara sighed and looked at the bed spread. “Gil, we've been living here, happily, for two years. We're retired.”
“What are we talking about?” a tired voice came from the doorway. Gil smiled a small smile.
“Shouldn't you be sleeping, Luna? That big science test is tomorrow, after all,” he asked. Luna Moth, their twelve year old daughter, shook her head.
“Couldn't sleep. You guys are fighting, I know you are,” she pouted.
“What? We're not fighting,” Sara protested with a forced smile, “Your dad and I were just... discussing something.”
“The lab wants me back to help with a case.”
“Ooooh oooh oooh! Daddy! Does it have to do with bugs?” Luna squealed, hopping up on the bed, “Can I help? I wanna help with the case!”
“Daddy's not going to do it, sweetie,” Sara interjected before Gilbert could say anything, “Daddy's too old to be playing with lab equipment anymore.” Gil shot her a look and turned back to Luna.
“Actually, daddy is going to be helping with the case, because daddy doesn't need permission to do something for a friend,” he interjected. Sara snarled. Luna shrieked with glee and hopped up onto the bed, hugging her father as Sara threw her hands up in frustration and left the room. Gil sighed but hugged his daughter. “You should get back to bed, sweetheart. Tell you what, tomorrow, after school, if you do good on your test, I'll take you on the New York, New York coaster. How's that sound?”
“THE NEW YORK, NEW YORK? I LOVE THAT ONE!” she shrieked, her voice shooting up an octave. Gil kissed her forehead and shooed her off down the hall. Once he could be certain that she was in her bed, he walked quietly down the hall and into the kitchen, where he found Sara slumped over on the counter, shoulders shaking, the arm of her robe stifling the sobs that escaped her throat.
He crossed over to the chair next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, which was quickly shrugged away as Sara cringed away. “Honey?” he whispered.
“Leave me alone,” Sara muttered incoherently through her sobs. Gil's face was a mix of shock and sadness.
“Sara, I- I know you're worried about me, but really, I won't be involved in the interrogat-”
“It's not just you I'm worried about!” she hissed, “Think about the kids!” She bit her lip and looked away. “How am I supposed to sit by here and watch Luna get all excited about how her daddy's out fighting crime again? What am I supposed to do when that bitch decides to come and finish what she started back there in the desert?”
Even if you aren't a CSI fan, couldja take two minutes, read that through, and see if it makes any sense whatsoever? |
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