So, I haven't watched CSI in a few years. To begin with, I was never someone who waited around for new episodes...no, I was the girl who Tivoed marathons off SPIKE and only became particularly hooked when I began wondering about the strange tension between Grissom and Sara. It was only after I had the confirmation that I'd been right all along that there was something MORE between them that I felt I could stop the TIVO madness. For reasons I really don't understand myself, yesterday I had the sudden urge to go look up their romance again. I watched clips. I enjoyed reading through some fanfiction. At 5 AM I thought myself satiated. HA! I woke up with this idea in my head, and decided "Why the heck not?" I believe it's set roughly around the episode Nesting Dolls, but that may or may not change depending on where it goes. I will say this: it isn't what you expect from what I have here.
Disclaimer: Oh, the usual applies.
- Confluence -
They had had sex. She wanted to call it making love, but really you couldn't say it was anything but quick, desperate sex, the result of one too many flirtations, too few actual acknowledgments. When it all came crashing down, when reality returned after those breathless moments, the pain of what they had accomplished and destroyed with a singular act weighed more heavily than if they had remained in limbo for eternity. It was so much easier for Sara to write him off as her unavailable authority figure, one whose love she desperately wanted and needed all for some deeply based, subconsciously psychological reason, before she'd found herself atop his immaculate desk, and him inside her, their bodies moving as though nothing else in the world mattered but that moment…
The sharp sting of her abdominal muscles brought her out of her reverie, and in what she hoped was not an obvious motion, she moved her hands, initially clasped tightly in her lap, to the offending muscle, adding just an ounce of pressure to ease the pain, make it bearable. She could only deal with one set of painful, and the man sitting behind that damn desk in front of her monopolized her body and mind's supply of it.
Rather than stare at him, she stared at the stacks of paper, the odd collection of objects, wondering darkly, Have I just been part of this collection?
Grissom cleared his throat, not yet daring to raise an eyebrow at her presence, but all the same curious why she was forcing yet another encounter on them. Her existence had seemed nothing short of an annoyance to him since… well, she couldn't really blame him. Or she could, but her own expectations had bottomed out so far that to blame him was to dismiss all she knew of him. His avoidance of her as anything but a respected coworker, his treatment of her as a pariah, that had all begun long before that singular contradictory event in his office months ago. It began the moment she agreed to stay in Vegas for him.
She swallowed hard as the weight of her loneliness swept itself up as bile rising in her throat. The acceptance of what they had done would never come. The acceptance of them was a fantasy she no longer had the luxury for.
Another contraction of her abdomen made her wince, and before he could raise that offensive eyebrow, before he could ask questions or draw conclusions, she broke the awkward silence.
"I have…a favor to ask of you."
Sara knew what she was. She was an intelligent, attractive woman, though long overdue for some personal care. She was a professional first and foremost, a workaholic, her drive for success so deeply ingrained in her that to do anything but accomplish everything was to fail. Perhaps this was a sort of neurosis, but to be honest, it had been that professionalism and work ethic and habit which saved her from the place she so desperately wanted to spiral down to.
If anyone noticed her weight loss, they didn't mention it. If anyone thought she seemed withdrawn, they seemed to appreciate it over her snapping, self-destructive other self which had dominated her on and off for four years, its presence more and more well-known in the last half year. Perhaps they thought she had finally gotten help. Perhaps they took the overtly strained, oppressive tension and silence between she and Grissom as something to smile behind their hands about, because it meant something rather than nothing.
Or it was possible that no one noticed, which Sara found herself more accustomed to and familiar with than anything. Because above all else, Sara was a loner.
And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was also pregnant.
Again, I swear to you, it's not what you think, I jut couldn't figure out how to better set it up... Thanks for reading! There might be more, there might not be, I will no longer assume I know what my writing will and won't do for me!
