Title: She restores me
Genre: CSI – Romance /Angst.
Pairing: Sara and Grissom
Rating: Eventual M
Timeline: reflective to end of series
Spoilers: Many… and once again used without discretion.
Summary: A thousand conflicting thoughts enters his mind on hearing her name, and predominantly one emotion that fills him – regret. Regret for the decisions they had made, closely followed by fear, fear that she regretted their time together. Fear that she had moved on, and above all the fear that she was indifferent to him now.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but fun to play with, sigh.
A/N: I have been away from this fandom for a long time…. So any ooc moments – please forgive. This mutated into something else whilst written.
Started: October 2015
Language: International English.
Word Count: 2,100

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Sara, her name alone could conjure up a multitude of memories and a thousand conflicting thoughts. One would think that after sixteen years and everything that has happened that his pulse would not virtually double in response to the thought of seeing her again. That he could be rendered nervous, exited and petrified at the same time. However that was how it felt and he was not even in Vegas.

Two years had passed since their divorce. Two very silent, lonely years and he still had difficulty in understanding how things had gotten to that stage, why he had made the decision he had. Well he knew the reason, knew what had brought it about, but he had not thought that she would simply allow it. He had hoped that she would fight for them, as she always had.

But then he always seemed to be in the dark when it came to Sara. The thing with her was that she could throw a barrier up, faster that fast, whenever she felt threatened, and in many ways he could understand the reason for it, although he had no idea how to access her then, he had always waited for her to come back to him, only last time she hadn't.

Even with the time that had passed, their scattered meetings, the infrequent moments, they had made it work.

They had grow apart after her return, not that his feelings had changed but it had in the end felt as if their relationship was the one thing holding them back, keeping them in suspension, always waiting for the other to call, well that and – no, he had no desire to go there. Their interactions, meetings had grown more and more irregular, until it became difficult to call, difficult to consider them a unit…

The memory of her passion, how it had buoyed him with its intensity, always pushing him a little farther every time. The possibly that their relationship could be waning, because he was not there, she wasn't there, and that their interests had become incompatible is what made the decision for him in the end, that and… he shook his head not wanting to be reminded.

In the most fundamental of ways, he felt e had been failing her, that she deserved to be happy. Making the decision had not been hard, they had not seen each other in months, spoken rarely, and he had just felt so lonely, so alone in the world. It had been that which had brought on the decision… and, years later, the numbing ache still remained lodged in his chest; there in the region his heart should be.

At times, it was crippling, at best it receded to a dull numbing sensation, when he was too busy to think about it. As a scientist he understood the function of the heart, but science still had to effectively explain the ache he felt there whenever he thought of what they had had, and what they had given up.

He understands why he had done it, felt the need to set her free, to let her have the opportunity to find herself someone closer to her own age. But he had no idea why she had, and he had often wondered if she had simply moved on, since their lives had grown too much apart.

While part of him had hoped that she would fight for them as she used to, that she would not give up on them, that she would understand what he had meant, but instead she had not contested the divorce, had signed the papers, had set him free – yet he had no desire to be free. And although there never was a moment's doubt in his mind that she really loved him, he knew she could also have grown detached from him – distance and time slowly chipping away at their relationship. The fact that he knew that she needed more, he needed more from their marriage, was what eventually made the decision. One he still regretted, but had learnt to live with.

Yet, as he made his way back to Vegas, it was the results of that decision he feared most, the fact that he would come face to face with the reality thereof. The chance that she had moved on, while his life – personal life – remained in stasis. He too was a lonely whale, singing, calling for his love – hoping she would hear him and again share her life with him.

He had considered the repercussions of joining them, knew that Heather had always been a sore spot in their relationship, knew it could open scars that had not healed properly, even given all the time. He knew the possible repercussions, but at the same time he wanted to see her, longed to see her, talk to her. Which was why it had not taken a great amount of convincing to accept the invitation to Vegas, to the lad, where he would have a reason to see her. It had been enough to open the door, create an opportunity where he could see her again, talk to her, where he could see for himself whether she was indifferent to him, if she had in fact moved on, and that it would then be time for him to seek closure. Also that they could be close again, without his desires being obvious… that didn't make sense… but then nothing with Sara had ever been easy. His desires and his need to fight them or act on them had always confused him. The only time things actually made any sense was when he just allowed things to happen.

He had even tried to convince himself – several times – that it would bring closure between them. Yet, a part of him, that part that could never gave up on her, on them, hoped that she still harboured some feelings for him. That they could rebuild the friendship they had shared, even if it was only that. He missed her, missed talking to her, missed sharing things with her, missed her presence her scent, they way her smile could light up her face, a room, his heart, his life.

He missed they way she would press up against him, at the most intimate of moments, the way her body would call to his, draw him in as she surrendered herself to his loving. The pleasure of losing himself inside her…. But those were also the memories that hurt most, along with the reality that someone else could be sharing that, experiencing that…. He did not even want to contemplate the possibilities.

He knew that there was a lot left unresolved that a lot needed to be said between them, yet he had no idea even where to start, or how to start; he could picture her standing there as he told her… what? That he missed her, that he still wanted her. That would be the truth, but whether it was the truth she would want to hear was a different mater.

Even so, he'd worked out a speech, had everything sorted, in order, knew exactly what he was going to say to her, what he wanted to say to her if they had a moment alone. A speech he had practiced a hundred, no, a thousand times already. It had even twirled round and around in his head as he drew closer to Vegas.

He knew they would run into one another, knew that she had been forewarned of his arrival, well Eklie had gotten his number from her so he expected her to know. So, at the very least, they would be civil.

Their relationship had never been the most stable, but then what is stable? What is normal? Everyone has a perception of normal, what they think it should be, but he no longer knew. Yet normal, right, home always seemed to be with her, even before they had become a unit, she had grounded him, shown him that there were still people out there who cared, that he should not give up on humanity entirely, no matter which side of it he saw.

Las Vegas, the city in itself remained both a blessing and a curse. It had been there where their relationship had blossomed. San Francisco will always remain the place where it started, but Las Vegas was where they had finally connected. It was there that he discovered an intimacy, a serenity, and a sense of peace that could make even the most gruesome crime scene fade into the background. It was also the place where their relationship had ended, begun, ended again.

They were like two magnets: at times, unavoidably drawn together but also capable of forcefully repelling each other.

He knew that when she had left that time she was not leaving him, she was leaving the city, the things that had happened there, yet it felt as if she was leaving him. That she could not trust him to help her, that she always needed to be strong, to be the one in control. It made him feel… inadequate. It had hurt, just as much the events that followed. Warrick, more than once he had brought her to him, and like magnets they were inexplicably drawn together, their connection allowing for moments of stability, familiarity, even moments of bliss. Yes, those were the words he associated with her, along with passionate, strong, desirable, dependable.

Entering the lab had seemed peculiar, familiar yet strange. It was almost like stepping back into the past; although no one came forward to greet him. There were several new faces, a great deal of new equipment and yet everyone seemed to walk past him… well everyone except the bubbly dark haired girl, whom he could not place. And then when he turned around there she was. The one person in Vegas he had wanted to see most but at the same time avoided whenever he was there, because he had no right to make any demands on her any more. And he still could not believe that he was actually there. Her name passed his lips for the first time in months, almost awe struck but at the same time hesitant. Her own greeting the same, but it was acknowledgement enough, if she was willing to call him on his name, not their one upon a time shared surname, she would be willing to act civilly.

He said the first thing that came to mind, and at the same time wanted to kick himself, because he was not back, not back the way he wanted to be, not with her but he was there, or maybe in a dream, he never knew anymore.

And just as she had done so many occasions before, she left him speechless. Leaving him grappling with words when all he really wanted to do was simply look at her, gaze upon her, burn her image to his mind. He had millions of images of her committed to memory. And in each she was strikingly beautiful, passionate and so full of life. Something that had not changed. It confused him, threw him back so many years when she had been the obtainable, within his reach, just not his. Their time together seemed even more painful, more haunting, a harder twist of the knife, because back then he had been able to simply embrace her, to draw in her warmth, her presence and support. Whereas he would have to appease himself with simply looking at her and longing for those things, longing for the freedom he had once had to claim her, to make it know tat she was taken, she was his. But no longer, it was like being in the cold and dark. No touch no connection, it was then that he realized the results of his decision, that he had in fact lost his best friend.

She called a silent truce, although he had wanted to speak to her, wanted to tell her what was on his mind and in his heart. Yet found that he couldn't. he would say things thins he really meant, in a unconventional way, had done so for years. Because of all the people in the world, she was the one whose rejection could sting the most, whose opinion mattered the most. Who still had his hear, and he did not really want it back. He wanted her to keep it nurture it, but it did not seem as if she would, which made off to a difficult start.

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