A/ N: It would appear that after several months on a desert island, my muse has returned in time to write this piece of fluff. Many, many thanks to my betas chibiness87 and Keegan Elizabeth. They're awesome. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: These depress me so much. If they were mine, 8x07 would never have happened.
The warmth of the fire, now fully blazing, comforted Sara as she sat curled before it, sipping hot chocolate. Two hours ago, she had finished a very long shift. The Christmas ones were always the hardest, right up there with Valentine's. What were considered happy festivities in most places sometimes turned into drunken fights in others. The so-called festive time was also, statistically, the time of the year when most people committed suicide.
This particular shift had consisted of a drunken brawl just off the Strip. Two men, sitting in a bar quietly drinking, had begun scuffling. Security threw them out, naturally. With nowhere else to go and nothing better to do, the scuffle had turned particularly violent. One of the men had been stupid enough to have a gun on him. The inevitable had happened.
Yawning, Sara leisurely stretched as she got to her feet. For once on Christmas Eve, she was not going to think any more about work. She had close to thirty-six hours before she was on the clock again. It was the first Christmas that she had ever had off and she was going to enjoy herself.
She just had to wait until Gil came home. Sara's smile broadened. She still couldn't get used to that.
xxx
It had only been six months ago that he had shown up on her doorstep in the blazing heat of a June morning when she had been trying, and failing miserably, to get some sleep.
"Come with me. We're going somewhere."
Even after everything that had happened between them over the past five years or so, she still couldn't refuse him. There was something different in his eyes too, a look she had never seen before. It was almost as if he had come to a decision and was going to stick with it, no matter what the consequences were. So, she grabbed her purse and her keys from the counter and was out the door, following Grissom. Stepping out into the direct sunlight, she was grateful for her sunglasses. Vegas in the height of summer reminded her why she had loved living in San Francisco so much.
In the car, Sara was strongly aware that something had changed. The tension that had been between them these past few months had altogether evaporated. Deciding to ignore the obvious topic of where they were going, Sara remained silent. She felt oddly peaceful, in a strange way. Whatever would happen, she thought, would be somehow decisive.
It was only after about fifteen minutes that Sara realised where they were going.
"The body farm?" she asked.
Grissom nodded. "I know that you haven't been there. It's really very interesting."
Sara smiled faintly, remembering the case that they had had at the body farm several years ago. The smile faded slightly as she remembered the events that had followed it, and the plant that now adorned her windowsill.
When they arrived at the gate, there was an old man standing there, who was wearing a white lab coat and huge round glasses so reminiscent of one of Sara's high school science teachers and so incongruous in their surroundings that Sara choked back a laugh. He was introduced as Dr Hendrie. After giving them their visitors' passes, he nodded at Grissom and left them alone.
For hours, forgetting the sweltering heat, Sara listened to Grissom as he gave her a tour of some of the farm. She found it to be just as fascinating as she had anticipated. What she found even more fascinating was Grissom. He seemed completely at ease in her company for the first time since - well, ever. Since she had moved to Vegas, at least.
Pausing for a minute in the lull of conversation as they studied the body before them, Sara forced herself to stop contemplating where it all went wrong. There were a thousand different times. It could have been when they were searching for that body behind the walls and she had wiped "chalk" off his face. Or when Philip Gerard had busted her "relationship" with Hank to Grissom and she had been humiliated on the witness stand. Or when his hearing deteriorated, or the lab explosion, or the whole asking-him-out-on-a-date fiasco. She could easily pick any number of times.
Maybe it was just that they were two people who had been intensely attracted to each other since they had met and since one of them was too reluctant and the other was too pushy, things were just never going to work out between them.
"Urrggh!" Sara muttered.
"What?"
"I was just contemplating how much I hated psychology."
Raising an eyebrow in characteristic Grissom fashion, Grissom surprised Sara by continuing in the same vein.
"Well, it has often been dismissed as a soft science. I, personally, am undecided on the subject. People don't always react very well when a perfect stranger encourages them to reveal their innermost thoughts."
Sara was surprised. This was very un-Grissom like. Deciding to test the boundaries of this seemingly different Grissom, she asked:
"Have you ever been to a shrink?"
"Yes," he replied, astounding her. "When my father died –I was nine. And after the first shooting I was involved in. Neither of them were particularly pleasant experiences, I have to say."
Flabbergasted, Sara decided to respond in kind.
"I was in therapy for six months after my father died. Fat lot of good it did me."
"Have dinner with me."
Sara was stunned. Several things were racing through her head at the same time. One was a serious case of déjà vu. Grissom seemed to be repeating her words from years ago. She felt an irrational spark of anger and disbelief, but as she looked up into his eyes she saw that they were trained on her, bluer than she had ever seen.
"You mean...as friends?" she questioned, cautiously.
He hesitated and seemed to be searching her face for something. He looked like she would envisage a drowning man looking as he searched for something to help him stay afloat.
"Am I too late?" he asked her quietly, and she had her answer.
xxx
"Honey, I'm home. Sorry I'm a bit late"
Sara laughed slightly as she turned to face him.
"You're not late, don't worry. I started the fire"
Grissom smiled and walked over to join her, shedding his coat and dropping his briefcase by the kitchen counter. As he wrapped his arms around her, he placed a soft kiss to the side of her neck.
Nope, Sara thought. He could never be too late.