The Misfits
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sara/Warrick
Feedback: Makes my day
Word Count: 495
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site Checkmate (http://helsinkibaby.ahkay.net) , Fanfiction.net; anywhere else, please ask.
Summary: You’ve always known she thinks she’s never fit in anywhere.
Notes: For the LiveJournal CSReports Marilyn Monroe titles challenge
You’ve always known that she thinks she’s never fit in anywhere.
Not growing up, where her parents, ex-hippies, were the most permissive souls you were ever likely to meet, fostering an environment that most kids would have died for. Not her though, not the girl who was more of a parent to her parents than they were to her.
Nor in high school, not in that small town, where she was seen as the freak genius, destined for great things, high and scholarly and most stern.
Nor even in college, where she tried to fit in, partied with the rest of them, but always, always held herself just slightly apart from everyone else.
Not even in Vegas, where she spent her time alone while the rest of them had families, friends, lives outside the CSI lab.
She’d never say it, but you know that’s how she feels, because you feel the same way.
You’ve never really felt like you fit in anywhere either.
It’s not Grams’s fault; she did her best for you. But you never let her know about the other kids, how they taunted you for not having a father, how you felt even more isolated at the age of seven when Mom went out for the night and never came home. It was completely out of your control, but kids can be cruel and they used to tease you about living with your grandparents, about your hand-me-down clothes and your thick glasses and about how your nose was always in a book. Like her, your brains set you apart, a source of pride and embarrassment all at once, but unlike her, when you hit college, you hit your stride and you had the time of your life.
Of course, that’s also where you developed your gambling habit, and now you find yourself living in a city that’s geared towards gambling, while you’re unable to make a bet. You could move, but this place is your home, your Grams still lives here, and you’re pretty sure it would kill her if you left. So you stay, even though you’re not quite sure you belong here anymore.
She doesn’t think she belongs here any more either, not after that thing with Grissom. You’re not sure what happened between them, but you know she’s given up hope of them ever being together, because she’s told you so. Of course, she’s told you that before, in various stages of sobriety, in various stages of undress, but this time, she’s stone cold sober and fully clothed, in your living room, on your couch, her hand in yours. She looks as if she means it, and you want to believe her, know that you won’t until you lean forward, press your lips to hers.
So that’s what you do.
She kisses you back, and that’s when you know.
That for the first time in a long time, you’ve finally found somewhere that you fit.
And so has she.