Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.
Clarity
He propped himself up on one elbow, listening to the sounds of even breathing beside him. His eyes wandered over her still form, taking in her delicate features. He watched her wiggle back until she was against him. It had surprised him. She slept, needing to be in contact with him, touching him at all times. It was almost like she needed to be reassured of his presence while she slept. Once she was against him again, she let out a long sigh and resumed resting peacefully. He'd figured her for a light sleeper; at least that was the impression he got when she spoke of her nightmares, and even more recently, her past. He'd imagined she would be afraid to fall into a deep slumber lest she succumb to the horrifying nightmares that plagued her sleep. Yet, here he was, awake, and watching her sleep as the morning light filtered into the room. Careful not to wake her, he slid back and moved to the edge of the bed. She rolled over, reaching for him, trying to feel for him with her hand. He knew, even in her sleep, she needed to know that it was real.
It was real and it scared him. He pulled the pillow from beneath his head and placed it under her arm, hoping the feel of his pillow would be enough to still her roaming hand. He watched as she pulled the pillow to her chest and held it. Satisfied, he carefully lifted himself from the bed and tip-toed to the door. He paused in the doorway, taking one last moment to gaze at her beautiful body as she lay curled, naked, on his bed.
It was supposed to be an affair, a simple affair. She'd asked for nothing, only the chance to be with him. "It is what it is," she'd told him when he was finally ready to give into his desires. She promised him secrecy, to protect his reputation, his job, his life. She'd offered him a beautiful affair, a chance to just feel, and damn it, it was supposed to be just an affair. Only, it would never be just an affair with them. It terrified him. The intensity of the moment, of the emotions released, filled him with a profound fear. He'd given of his body and she'd taken his soul.
He couldn't ignore it anymore. This was the second time they'd been together, the second time she'd slept in his bed. No woman had ever been in his bed before. He'd taken every woman he'd ever made love to before back to her house and to her bed. No woman had ever invaded his inner sanctum. His house was a temple, epitomizing his integrity, his morality, and yet, he'd taken Sara there…twice. It was ironic how it was the forbidden fruit that had finally destroyed the temple he'd created. He'd taken the one woman he could never fully have, to his home.
He found himself in his office, shuffling through drawers, searching for something, although he didn't know what it was. He was trying to clear his thoughts. He could no longer ignore the feelings that emerged when they made love. After the first coupling, he managed to convince himself that those feelings, those emotions, were merely the culmination of years of built up tension and desire. Once released, they would eventually fade away. He'd left the bed that night too. He spent that first night, wandering his townhouse and convincing himself that the emotions he'd felt were merely the release. Making love the second time shattered that notion. Everything he'd experienced when they'd first made love, ran even deeper the second time. They grew even more connected. No, there was no way it would ever be just an affair.
When he thought about it, he decided he had a choice between two options. He could continue to walk on the edge and hope he didn't fall or he could end the affair. While the first option was definitely the most frightening, he wasn't sure if he could ever go through with the second. Not now, not anymore, not after having her. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to let her go. He hadn't been able to in all the years he'd known her, and now he knew her intimately. He had to keep his distance, keep what they had an affair or she would destroy him. He was terrified.
He continued to rummage through his drawers, still unsure of what he was searching for. He tried to rummage quietly, not wanting to wake her. When he realized what he was searching wasn't in the drawers, he moved to the closet and thought back to that moment, four mornings before, when he found her in the locker room getting ready to leave for the day. He wasn't sure why he chose that moment to give into his desires. He wasn't even sure why he migrated to the locker room. Maybe it was hearing Catherine talk about the need to be touched, the need for human contact that had led him to Sara that morning. No, wasn't likely. Catherine's comments about his hermetically sealed home were not the catalyst. He'd worked hard to make his house that way and none of Catherine's comments could change that. What was it then? He tried to remember the moment. He remembered finding himself in the locker room, not conscious of how he got there. He remembered Sara's questioning look when he stared at her and he remembered giving her a confused shrug. Then, he remembered her smile, that beautiful smile she'd given him before softly saying goodnight.
It was the smile. The smile was the catalyst. The smile told him that she was okay. It was filled with love and longing and reassurance. She'd given him a smile and he'd taken her home. He remembered taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom, sitting next to her on the bed. He remembered kissing her tenderly, reverently. Then, he remembered stopping, pulling back as Sara's lips moved forward, trying to resume their contact. He remembered how he raised his hand to stop her and she pulled the hand down. In that moment, she eased his fears and offered him everything, asking for nothing in return. It was the sweetest moment of his life and it had taken far too long to come about.
He'd known it was coming. It had been building up for years, but he'd only realized he couldn't fight his feelings a month before. Pausing in his rummaging, he sat down in the closet and closed his eyes, letting the memories of that day overtake him.
It was her intelligence that first captivated him, the way she could remember a thousand points, articulate a thousand pertinent and well thought out questions and listen to his every one of his long winded answers with genuine interest. He loved how her eyes lit up when she discovered a key piece of evidence and she smiled her enduring gap-toothed smile. His favorite feature, though, was her neck, long, slender, delicate, feminine. His eyes wandered to her neck numerous times over the years. Every time he leaned over his shoulder to look into her microscope, he had to fight the urge to lower his head to her neck rather than the microscope. He never found it odd that she didn't move out of the way for him. He never moved out of the way for her, instead savoring her nearness as she leaned over him to examine evidence under his microscope. At first, he thought it was the array of necklaces adorning her that drew his attention. She certainly had a variety, all beautiful, all unique, all Sara and all stealing his focus. He realized it wasn't her jewelry drawing him in when his gaze caught her bare neck and all his thoughts moved to burying his face in that neck and pressing reverent kisses on her delicate skin. It was her and when he overheard Greg telling her he never saw anything in the shower, he felt his stomach tighten. Greg and Sara showering together. But, it was a HAZMAT shower. Despite Greg's reassurances to Sara, he couldn't help but think of all Greg could have seen, might have seen. As much as he loved her neck, he wondered if the rest of her body could be as captivating. He tried to channel his concentration back to the evidence as they briefed him. Later, sitting in his office, his thoughts returned to Greg and Sara's shower. He tried to shake them from his head. However, when she stopped by his office after shift and leaned up against his doorframe, his eyes wandered the length of her body before coming to rest on her neck.
"We've wrapped up the case." She entered the office and sat in the chair across from him.
His eyes shot up to meet hers. "How'd it go? Did the DNA on the bullet match the prostitute?"
"Yeah." She ran her hand around the back of her neck. His eyes followed the movement.
"Good work."
"Thanks." Sara smiled. He returned her smile from across the desk. He watched as she sat back and closed her eyes.
"Tired?"
"Not really." She took a deep breath. "I'm trying to build up the nerve to say something."
"Oh." He stilled. "What is it?"
"I, uh, I wanted to thank you. You've been really supportive lately. If it hadn't been for you…" She fidgeted in her seat and looked down at her hands.
"Sara, I…"
"It's okay; you don't have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it." Sara rose from her seat and walked to the door.
"Sara?"
She turned to face him. "Yeah?"
"How are you doing?"
She sighed. "Good. I'm good."
"You'll let me know if you need anything?"
"Sure." She turned back towards the door and paused. Slowly, her head turned and she looked over her shoulder. She smiled wistfully. "Goodnight Griss."
His reply was soft. "Goodnight Sara." She turned and exited the office, leaving him to stare after her. It was getting harder and harder to ignore his feelings for her.
That was the night he knew he was going to break. It was as if he was given another chance. She'd come to him again and left with a wistful smile. He knew that smile. He'd received and given that smile a thousand times. He thought he'd lost his chance a couple months earlier. It wasn't long after the team had been split up when she came to his office and let him go. It broke his heart. Inwardly, he had begged her to hold on, not to let him off the hook. She let him go and he realized he didn't want to be let off the hook. He'd thought he lost her for good that night. While she was speaking, he had realized he was ready to take a chance and then she let him go. He knew, that night, he'd have to let her go too. He'd spent the next couple of months ignoring his feelings again. He continued to renew their friendship, but, at the same time, let her move on.
It had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. She'd been vulnerable and in need of a friend. She'd confided in him, and unlike the past year, she wasn't pulling away from him. He knew she'd still been fighting to move on, just as she had been the past couple of years. Seeing her need to move past everything that had hurt her, he had to fight with himself to allow her to move on, and he had to do it better than the last time. Three years ago, when he discovered that she was in a relationship, he had the same fight with himself. It had been a rough year following when he was faced with losing both her and his hearing. He had tried to let her go then, but met with no success. Instead, he tortured them both.
Sitting in his closet, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. The internal debate, back and forth, left him tired. He was afraid of his feelings for her and even more afraid of her feelings for him. He could never measure up. He had to end it. It was too dangerous. His whole being was threatened by her. Their lives were already so interwoven. If he didn't break it off now and finally let her go, he would become consumed by her, losing himself in the process. It had been hard enough to distance himself before. He remembered how hard it had been. It would be harder now, but he had to do it before it became impossible. He didn't want to become any more vulnerable than he already was. Being with Sara could cost him everything. It became a debate, not of whether or not he should let her go, but whether or not he could. His next step was to summon up the willpower and tell her.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sighting of a box, buried deep in the back of the closet. He quickly moved the clutter out of the way as he hurried to get to that lone box. When he reached it, he crouched down in front and ran his hands over it. His hands ended the motion and came to rest on top. He knew what the box contained. It was what he'd been searching for. He slowly picked up the box and held it with great care. Once it was safely tucked in his arms, he carried it out to the back deck. He took a seat on the steps and placed the box on his lap. He began to sift through the contents of the box. He thought he'd made a mistake when he couldn't find it, but just as he was about to give up, he caught sight of it, stuck to the bottom of the box. It was tucked under part of the cardboard. He pulled it out and gazed at it, the first letter he'd ever written to her. It was a long time ago, back when he could express himself using his own words. He hadn't the nerve to send the letter. Instead, he'd sealed it in an envelope and placed it in a box. Looking at it that morning, he needed to see what he'd written. He tore open the envelope, unfolded it and began reading.
Sara,
I left you at the airport only two short hours ago. The tears that rested in your eyes as we said goodbye are fresh in my mind. I understand how you must have felt. I feel the pain of our departure too. Although we just met, I feel as though we shared a connection that went beyond our intellect and shared interests. You have captivated me like nothing before.
It seems impossible; I've only just arrived home and I miss you already. The memory of your youth and beauty intimidates me, yet still, I want to know you better. My thoughts were of you my entire flight home. In fact, when the plane lifted above the clouds, I saw your face in the heavens.
You are an amazing woman, Sara Sidle. I know I'll never be what you truly want or need. You have your entire life ahead of you. You have so much to offer the world and while I selfishly want you to give that up for me, I know it is the one thing I could never ask of you. I do hope we keep in touch. You will always hold a special place within me. You reside alongside my imagination, where beauty rests and dreams come true.
Gil Grissom
He folded the letter carefully and placed it back in the envelope. Sitting on the steps, he was struck by a moment of absolute clarity. She'd owned him, even then. All the emotions he felt, love, longing, desire, were born in her soul. Shocked by the epiphany, he dropped the letter in the box, hoping that he could close the proverbial Pandora's Box he'd opened when he reread the letter. The consequences of his emotions were too terrifying to consider. Hoping he could find something to help blind him of his new found clarity, he continued to sift through the box. Tucked along one side, was a folded up piece of paper. It was another letter. It hadn't made it into an envelope. He was almost afraid to read it. He summoned up the courage and unfolded the paper.
Sara,
Each morning I close my eyes to sleep, but am haunted by your beauty. You come to me in my dreams. Your passion and intelligence have been etched into my memory. I…
He'd never finished the letter. The strength of his emotions had confused him and while at the time, he knew Sara had felt something for him, he wasn't sure what it was. He'd never imagined her feelings to be as strong as his. He'd decided that it was better to have her as a friend than risk his heart and have it broken. It was that same reasoning that was guiding him now.
The sound of shuffling feet started him. He tossed the letter back into the box and slipped the box under the steps. He turned his head and found Sara standing in the doorway, watching him. She'd thrown on his shirt and tied her hair back. Her eyes were sad as they searched his. He stood up and faced her, unsure of what to say, or how to start, but knowing he needed to speak with her. He took a deep breath. "Hi."
"Hey."
"You're awake."
"Yeah." She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "What are you doing?"
"Thinking."
"Listen Griss, I know this is just supposed to be an affair. I promised I wouldn't complicate things. I just wanted to know…you left your own bed twice now. I can go home to sleep if you'd be more comfortable. I…I need to know what you want me to do."
He studied her for a moment. What he saw pained him. He'd only seen that look on her twice before. She looked so vulnerable. Her eyes were red rimmed. Her arms were crossed over her waist, closing herself off, protecting herself. "Sara, about this whole affair…"
"Oh. I see. This was a mistake. You don't want this. You want me to go." She was letting him off the hook again. He should have been thankful. He wasn't.
"No, stay. I want you to stay."
Fin