Reconciliation
Being reunited with the one you love after a long separation is often a moment of great joy, but it can also be one of rife with trepidation, fear and regret. Yet, Grissom and Sara discover that somehow the love and the longing always win out in the end.
Part of the Time series. Follows "The Good Fight" and "Closing Arguments" and takes places post season eight, circa the end of January 2009.
XXXXXXX
He should have known, Grissom thought as he clicked his phone shut and clambered out of his car.
When he was a growing up in Southern California, he had always found the seaside to be a place of quiet comfort and sure succor.
It hardly surprised him to discover that Sara would too.
Upon catching sight of her familiar silhouette off in the distance, he smiled slightly. Despite the growing dimness, he would recognize her profile anywhere.
Although he was slightly alarmed to find that that presently she appeared slighter than he remembered and her posture seemed to be burdened by a defeated sort of air, one that he couldn't recall seeing her bear since he had run out of excuses to not allow himself to at least attempt to freely love Sara Sidle.
His smile faltered slightly as he noticed, too, that she seemed to be hugging herself tightly. Whether it was due to the biting Pacific wind or from something even more chilling, he didn't know.
He stood there, simply watching her for a long time, before he said the hell with fear and uncertainty and quietly made his way to her side.
"Cold?" He asked gently, slipping his jacket over her shoulders. It was the only word he could seem to heave past the lump in his throat.
As she slowly turned to face him, Grissom could see that he was not the only one who suffered from long hours spent lying awake when sleep refused to come. She was, however, and he was relieved to see it, less pale than when she had left, and her eyes had lost a little of that haunted look he had briefly glimpsed when she had pulled away after kissing him goodbye.
A ghost of a smile twitched at her cheeks as she peered wide-eyed up at him, but he noticed that it never grew into a grin.
"You're shivering," he explained, taking another step nearer, before hazarding to reach out and lightly rub her arms in an attempt to warm them.
When she made no response to his touch, he thought for a moment that perhaps she was angry or upset at him for coming, or that she did not welcome his sudden presence here.
But it was with sadness and not reproach in her voice when she answered him, "I've been cold a long time."
So had he.
Sara's sudden and wholly unexpected departure had with the attendant shock and disbelief, also brought with it the return of that dread chill, the one that had first began to eat at him the moment he had realized why Natalie Davis had taken Sara.
It was the same chill that the passage of time had not yet managed to chase away.
Grissom struggled for a moment to find just the right words to say in response.
In the end, he only found that all of his carefully rehearsed speeches and his endless encyclopedia of notable quotes and quotations seemed to desert him now that he was finally standing before her.
He shouldn't have been all that surprised at this particular finding, he reasoned; Sara had quite often rendered him completely speechless. It was a rare feat that he could only remember her as ever quite managing.
So instead of struggling to find the right thing to say, he simply decided to yield to the truth in the fact that there really were some times in life when there were just no words.
XXXXXXX
Even now, Sara still shivered slightly in his arms. Grissom tugged his jacket little more snugly about her shoulders before drawing her closer to him and leaning in to breath in deep the reassuring fragrance of her -- that soothingly sweet scent of lavender that was now mixed with the slight tang of sea air.
The two of them lay stretched out upon the couch in Sara's tiny one room flat, Sara having fallen asleep on his chest a few hours earlier. Grissom, for his part, was too absorbed in relishing in the too long absent nearness of her to surrender to sleep, even after the very long and very tiring nine-hour drive from Las Vegas to San Francisco.
Besides, a part of him genuinely feared that the last few hours were nothing more than a passing dream, one that he would soon wake from only to find himself once again alone and back in his own bed with Hank as his only sleeping companion.
For a long time after Sara had left, Grissom had wanted nothing more than after the long fatigue of the day to collapse into the warmth of her arms again; and each and every afternoon during those long lingering months without her, just before wakefulness completely claimed him again, a part of him would still believe that he would wake up beside her.
Now that she was back in his own arms again, Gil Grissom was simply content to find comfort in the nearness of her.
XXXXXXX
Sometime later, Sara stirred.
"Gil?" She murmured sleepily.
"Go back to sleep." Came his soothing whisper.
"What about you?" She asked, sitting up slightly to peer into his face. "You look tired."
"You're still beautiful," he replied with the faint hint of a smile on his lips.
At this unexpected compliment, Sara could not help but return the grin. Though after a moment, the warmth there turned to concern.
"Have you slept at all?" She persevered.
He hesitated before he half-heartedly shook his head in response, ultimately seeing no point in denying the fact when he knew that Sara knew better than anyone how to read the truth from merely looking at his face.
She slowly uncurled herself and gingerly got to her feet before extending a hand to him.
"Come on," she urged. Grissom looked bewildered by her actions, but quietly acquiesced. He took her hand and followed her to the bed.
She pulled back the covers and gestured for him to lay down before she took her place beside him and drew him close.
"It's okay to sleep," she whispered, almost as if she could interpret his very thoughts and knew all too well his fears. "I'll still be here when you wake up." She slid a hand around his cheek and smoothed his hair tenderly before snuggling closer and saying softly, "I promise."
Then she held him tightly in the way best reserved for conferring comfort, gently tracing shapes on his back through the thin fabric of his shirt until the tension in his spine finally relaxed and his breathing slowed into the deep, even rhythm of one at last at peace.
XXXXXXX
The abrupt and insistent jingle of a cell phone suddenly roused Sara from sleep.
Though as she blindly reached for the offending item, she was relieved to find Grissom still sound asleep and slightly snoring beside her.
She hurriedly pushed Talk and gave the caller a rather groggy greeting.
"What? Did I dial the wrong number?" Jim Brass asked and Sara could hear his grin even through the phone.
Sara sighed and shook her head, distinctly recalling the first, last and only other occasion upon which she had inadvertently picked up and answered Grissom's phone.
The mix-up was probably bound to happen at some point with the two of them being in possession of department-issued phones that both looked and sounded identical. That seemingly inevitable blunder had occurred not long after the Six Dead Green Valley Showgirls' case.
Sara had been having a more difficult time than usual sleeping as it seemed that every time she tried to rest, Cammie Brookston's wide and pleading eyes stared back at her.
While she never exactly mentioned this fact to him, Grissom seemed to have sensed her disquiet and need for comfort.
More often than not during those subsequent difficult days, Sara would find at the end of her shift the key to Grissom's apartment casually sitting on the top shelf of her locker. The reassuring presence of that particular key and its tacit invitation for her to come and find rest or perhaps even some slight measure of peace within the comfort Grissom's company seemed to signal to Sara a further deepening of their ever-growing relationship and she treasured the gesture accordingly.
Ever since Grissom had returned from his sabbatical, he seemed a great deal less reserved about the two of them and more frequently showed signs of desiring to develop and foster a state of further intimacy and closeness between them.
That late afternoon when Brass had called, both Sara and Grissom had been up for most of the day, Sara's nightmares having kept them both awake -- Sara from out of the fear and terror and horror of them and Grissom from the attempt to soothe her anxieties. They had both just barely drifted off to sleep when the phone rang.
Without thinking, Sara picked it up, only to have her very drowsy "Hello?"be answered by Jim's rather amused chuckle and a "Well, good morning to you, Ms. Sidle."
Never particularly fond of being woken up after struggling for so long to finally fall asleep in the first place, Sara was in no mood for Brass's occasional jocularity.
"What can I do for you?" She asked rather testily.
"I was trying to get a hold of Gil actually," he replied in a matter of fact tone.
"Huh?" She asked rather confused.
"This is his number the last time I checked," Brass explained patiently.
Sara took a moment to take a closer look at the phone in her hand and had to suppress both a groan and curse as she realized that it was indeed Grissom's phone that she had mistakenly answered.
Damn, caught. Unless she could quickly come up some plausible explanation for why she was in possession of Grissom's cell.
"I put my phone down in his office," she began, creating as fast as her still half-asleep brain could muster upon such short notice, "when I was looking for my keys this morning. I must have picked up his by mistake," she continued, hoping that she sounded at least vaguely convincing.
Brass seemed to have bought her story, because he merely said, "Then I guess I should try him on your phone, then?"
"If you want to get a hold of him right away, yeah."
"Thanks, Sara. Sorry for waking you."
"It's no problem," she replied, feeling slightly relieved to have so easily gotten rid of him.
After she clicked the phone shut, she nudged Grissom's sleeping form. "Gris," she called gently. When this failed to rouse him, she tried, "Gil --" in a slightly more insistent tone. As her own phone began to chime impatiently, she poked him pointedly and shouted, "Gilbert!" perhaps a little louder than she originally intended.
This, however, did in fact, finally succeeded in waking him, or at least managed to startle him enough for his eyes to flash open wide. He stared bewildered up at Sara for a moment until she pressed her phone into his hand and explained in a tone a great deal gentler and softer, "Brass."
Without noticing that it wasn't his own phone, he pressed the Talk button.
In the ensuing rush to get ready to head off to yet another crime scene, the slip up had largely been forgotten. Sara wasn't even sure if she had even mentioned it to Grissom at all.
Brass's soft chuckle brought Sara back to the present and the call currently at hand.
"No, Jim," she finally answered. "I just answered Gil's phone by accident again."
"Again?" Brass inquired, ever nonchalant. Then the amusement in his voice gave way to rue. "Sadly, I don't think you mistakenly picked his up while in his office this time."
"That was a rather lame story, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, well in your defense, it sounded like you had just woken up."
"You seemed to have bought it at the time," she contended.
Jim laughed. "That was what I wanted you to think," he replied. "Besides, I wasn't surprised. I already knew about the two of you."
Sara had to fight back a small smile at this revelation. But it did not last long after Brass had said, "It's good to hear your voice, Sara."
"You, too," she answered truthfully.
There was a long pause before he asked, "You okay?"
"Better now," Sara admitted.
"You mean since Gil got off his ass and finally showed up?"
"Yeah."
"Good, because I was starting to get worried."
"About me?"
"No. Gil," Brass replied, the humor in his voice again giving way to gravity. "I think the man's pulled more doubles in the past few months, than he has in the past few years. Then I come in today and find out that Ecklie's suspended him and he's completely disappeared and..."
"Ecklie did what?" Sara cried in disbelief, her shout unintentionally causing Grissom to stir. After ensuring that he was still asleep, she asked Brass in a slightly more subdued tone this time, "What happened?"
"Ecklie slapped him with a two week suspension."
"For?"
"No idea," Brass answered. "That's why I was calling. Greg and Nick couldn't get anything out of him before he took off. All they could tell me was they hadn't seen Grissom look that happy in months."
Sara swallowed hard, not quite sure if she was ready to hear the answer to the question that troubled her the most. "Jim, how bad was it?" She asked. "Honestly," she insisted.
There were a long few minutes of silence during which Brass seemed to be carefully mulling over his response.
"It was bad in the beginning," he finally replied. "Then it got better for a while, but after Warrick... Sara, I've known Gil a long time. This is the first time I have ever seen him so lost."
She could feel her heart almost breaking all over again as she peered over at Grissom.
In the still morning light, it was easier to see the wear and care that their time apart and the aftermath of Warrick death had wrought upon his features. Even fast asleep, he still looked haggard and exhausted. There was a new tautness to the lines of his face and an angularity that hadn't been there before. His hair was grayer and thinner. Frankly, he looked as if he had aged years in the space of months.
At this realization, she had to choke back on her tears.
"Sara?" Brass's concerned query startled her slightly.
"Yeah?" She managed to gulp.
"I also know that I have never seen him as happy as when he was with you," he continued gently. "So don't beat yourself up, okay? That's the last thing he'd want."
Sara nodded, unable to get anything past the swiftly expanding lump in her throat. Brass seemed to understand this because he said nothing until the uneasy silence was interrupted by a beep on the line.
"Sara, I'm sorry," he apologized hurriedly. "The sheriff is buzzing me. I've got to go."
She was somehow able to squeeze out a few syllables that sounded vaguely reassuring before Jim bade her good-bye with an affectionate, "You take care of yourself, kid. And him."
With a heavy sigh, Sara closed the phone, slid her feet from under the blankets and placed them on the floor, before she buried her face in her hands and began to cry in earnest.
"Sara?" Came Grissom's sleepy, yet concerned query as he placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder.
Sara tried to quickly quiet her tears.
It never ceased to amaze her how a man who could sleep through thunderstorms, Hank's rumbling snores and the general hustle and bustle of the day, always seemed to be instantly awake at even the slightest sign of distress from her. It was almost as if he had some sort of innate sixth sense.
She hurriedly wiped the wetness from her face and attempted to rearrange her features into a less troubled mask. But both she and Grissom knew all too well when her smiles were just for show.
"Honey?" He asked.
"I'm so sorry," she said softly as she slipped from his grasp and retreated to the window.
His soft footfalls soon followed her, but he said nothing as he simply rested his hand at the small of her back, a familiar gesture borne out of the quiet intimacy and tendered care the two of them had long shared.
"I thought I was doing the right thing," she said finally. "I just didn't want to put you through having to watch me self-destruct again."
"I know," he answered.
"But in the end, I only succeeded in hurting you -- in hurting both of us," she stammered. "But by the time I realized what I had done, I didn't know how to undo it. I didn't know how to come back," she admitted. "Or if I even deserved to come back..."
"Sara..."
The warm hand on her back slid to her waist as Grissom drew her gently towards him.
"I'm sorry, Gil, I really am."
"I'm sorry, too," he replied.
At this, Sara turned to face him. "What the hell do you have to be sorry for?" She asked in surprise.
"I know I told you that I would come if you ever needed me," he began. Then saying it almost in a single breath he continued, "But I had to come now. I needed you, Sara. And I'm sorry that it took me so long to realize that."
She simply stood there stunned at his admission.
I needed you.
In some ways, those three words were more meaningful to Sara than all the I love yous in the world.
Grissom waited for her to speak, for her face to reveal some measure of her mind or heart.
"Sa--" He began nervously, but she raised a hand to stop him.
"Shh..." she said softly. When he continued to look puzzled she added, "I'm just waiting for you to catch your breath."
Her response only seemed to further his confusion. "Why?" he asked.
She made no reply, except to narrow the distance between them, slide her hands around his cheeks, lean in and kiss him.
Just as the last kiss she had given him at the lab had been full of love and longing and all her best intentions, so was this kiss, but it was also full of hope and tenderness and more than a lifetime's worth -- two lifetime's worth even -- of dreams and desires.
As she pulled away, they both smiled -- slight, sad sort of smiles, but smiles nonetheless.
"Thank you," she whispered.
His smile widened as he asked, "For?"
"For not giving up on me. Or us."
He met her eyes. "You were always worth it, Sara," he replied. "Even when I was too foolish to do anything about it."
After a while, she hazarded to ask, "Did you really get suspended?"
She was surprised to see the grin grow on his face.
"Yes," he answered. "How did you --"
"Brass just called to check up on you. You had him and everyone else worried."
"Ah," Grissom answered.
"You have me a little worried," she admitted.
"Why?"
"It's not like you to get yourself suspended."
"I wouldn't worry," he assured her.
"Why not?"
"Because I did it on purpose," he explained patiently.
She goggled at him in disbelief.
"I knew Ecklie wasn't about to give me the vacation time," he supplied.
"So you had him suspend you?"
"For two whole weeks." Grissom sounded practically gleeful.
"How did you manage to piss him off that bad?"
"Let's just say I was a little insubordinate," he offered.
"A little?" She queried.
"Okay, a lot," he admitted. "I had a pretty good idea what would set him off and it worked."
"But why?" She persisted.
"Because I ran out of good intentions."
"What?"
Grissom shook his head, "Nothing. Just something Greg and I talked about before I left. You might want to thank him the next time you talk to him by the way."
"Oh?"
"He was the only one who really had the guts to tell me to my face to get my head out of my ass."
"He didn't," Sara said completely staggered by the thought of the Greg she knew even daring to do such a thing.
"Have you ever seen Greg loose his temper?"
She shook her head in reply.
"Let's just say that Greg has no problem expressing himself when he's angry."
Sara was still confused. "I don't understand. He was angry at you?"
"Yes," he answered. "But he was right to be angry with me," Grissom insisted gently. "I'm glad that he was."
"Is that why you're here? Because of Greg?" She asked in a faltering voice.
"No," he quickly replied, not wanting her to get the wrong impression. "I'm here because of you. Greg just gave me a not so gentle shove in the right direction. He misses you, you know. They all do."
At this, Sara's face fell. The two of them were silent for a while before she admitted softly, "I wanted to call, to write. I just didn't know what to say or how to explain or apologize."
"Do not waste your worry/ or your heart/ or words/ on how best to say you're sorry/ rather/ tender them/ in telling us/ when you will be returning home again," Grissom quoted softly.
"I don't think I've heard that one," Sara said with a sad shake of her bowed head.
"Doesn't make it any less true," he replied serenely. He slid a hand under her chin and nudged it until her eyes met his again. For a while, he just looked at her. Then after a deep breath, he said tenderly, "You taught me that the hardest thing anyone can ever do is love another person."
They both smiled slightly at this.
"These past months," he continued as he brushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear, "I've learned that the second hardest thing is having to learn how to live without that person." He paused, allowing his fingers lingered for a moment at the curls at the nape of her neck before he said softly, gently, yet earnestly, "Sara, I don't want to have to learn to live without you anymore."
"Gil --" she began, but he kissed her quiet.
"I know you'll come back when you're ready. Or if you want to stay here or go somewhere else, we ..."
He stopped suddenly, seeing her face cloud over again. Sensing perhaps that he had unintentionally said the wrong thing, he hurriedly added, "Not now. We don't have to talk about any of that right now," he assured her, his hold on her waist tightening slightly as if he was trying to reassure her not just through his words but also by his touch. "Later. We can talk about all of that later."
Sara nodded and rested her head against his shoulder with a grateful sigh.
There would be time for talk of hurt and sorrow and regret later. Time for forgiveness. Time for talk of tomorrows and a future. But right now, they both knew all to well that there was just the present, just this moment and the two of them -- two people who were both once so terribly lost, but yet finally found their way back home to each other.
Series continued in "Admitting Impediments."