TITLE: Why

AUTHOR: Minttown1/Amber

RATING: PG-13, for later chapters

SPOILERS: none thus far, probably none at all

SUMMARY: Sara and Grissom escape on autumn vacation, though their destination may not be as tranquil as it seems. W.I.P.

ARCHIVAL: Once complete, feel free to ask.

DISCLAIMER: Oh, my... Anthony Zuiker's, CBS's, somebody else's, not mine. I know I'll never be sued, because most people don't have the same amount of free time that I do.

NOTES: Beaucoup de thanks to Laura for doing the technical beta, to Dev and Andi for nurturing this story in its baby stages forever ago, and to Marita for convincing me that it's still good all these months later. I definitely plan to get this done more quickly than my other WIP, which shall remain dead and buried, but I can't make a promise of a definite schedule. Rest assured that I'll dedicate history class to writing fic from now on.

~+~+~+~

Sara woke slowly, feeling the blanket over her shoulders and the sun on her face, both amazingly comforting. She could vaguely remember falling asleep shivering and exhausted the night before.

She stared across the small room, only to find Grissom's bed was empty and made, blankets tucked neatly back where they had been upon their arrival to the cabin the previous night.

The cabin. The thought still amused her, and she stifled a laugh in the pillow. On vacation with Gil Grissom. He had offered, she had accepted. Neither offered an explanation.

She really did not want to get out of bed, but the scent of coffee was invading from the small main room. She pulled the blankets back and sat up, looking around. Though she had failed to notice when they arrived, the bedroom was beautifully decorated; each side of the room was the other's perfect mirror image, right down to the handmade cloths on the dressers.

Grissom was nowhere in sight as she stepped through the narrow bedroom doorway, but a raspberry danish and a mug of coffee were waiting on the table. After a struggle with the door, she managed to carry both to the porch.

As she stepped into the bright morning, she took in the sight of her supervisor, dressed in jeans and a dark suede jacket, kneeling on the ground at the base of the front step. She would have laughed yesterday picturing this exact scenario, but instead of feeling humorous it felt right. "Beautiful," she murmured.

"Excuse me?" Grissom was staring up at her now, and she was suddenly struck by the picture he created.

She struggled to form a reply around the thoughts in her head. "The sun on the lake," she explained. "It's beautiful."

"I know." He turned back to whatever it was on the ground that was holding his attention.

"What are you doing?" she asked, once she felt the awkwardness clear from her mind.

"There's a bug here," he said, as if offering a full explanation.

"I'm surprised it's still alive." That weather at their destination was the only part of the trip that bothered her, aside from her curiosity at Grissom's motives.

"Some insects will survive until the first snowfall, some after that even." He stood and joined her on the porch. "Do you want my coat?"

"No." She was suddenly very aware of her appearance. She was still wearing the previous day's clothing, and she was sure that her hair was in its usual morning style. "I'm going to get a shower when I finish my coffee."

He nodded. "Dress warmly. We're going for a walk later."

"We are?"

"Yes." He walked past her into the kitchen, and she followed him.

"Why?"

"We can't just sit here for the next few days."

"Granted." She picked up her suitcase, and smiled at him. "But I get to decide what we do after we get back."

~+~+~+~

Grissom could feel her wet hair on his cheek before he heard her voice. She was kneeling on the floor behind the couch, leaning over his shoulder.

"What are you reading?"

He tried to ignore the feeling of her breath on his face. "Nothing."

"You're just sitting there holding a book?" she asked, leaning closer to see what he was reading.

"Yes." He took a deep breath, resisting both the urge to lean closer and the urge to pull away. "You don't have to stay back there."

"I'm fine." She sounded amused, but she stood and joined him on the sofa, making a point to keep an acceptable distance.

She was wearing faded blue jeans and a loose white men's shirt, a thick towel wrapped around her shoulders. He watched as she rolled up the cuffs so that her hands were fully free of the long sleeves.


After she pulled her socks on, she looked up and met his eyes. "What?"

"Where'd you get that shirt?"

"I bought it." She somehow managed to avoid showing either her amusement or her annoyance. "And you?"

"What?"

"Are you seeing anyone?"

He stared for a moment. "I wasn't asking --" He stopped, trying to decide how he felt about her question. Finally, he answered simply, "No."


In spite of herself, she felt relieved. "Neither am I," she volunteered.

He nodded in acknowledgement, but his gaze was trained on the fireplace, signifying that he was finished with the conversation.

"Okay." She stared at his profile, allowing herself a few moments to admire him. She had finally given in and admitted to herself that she had feelings for him, but it was still rarely that she indulged in this way.

He shifted nervously under her gaze. "What?"

"Nothing. When are we taking our walk?"

"This evening."

"Okay." She stared at her socks, then back up at his eyes. "What are you doing until then?"

"Reading." He held the book up for a moment, and she caught that the title was two very long words, the latter of which ended with -ology.

She nodded and stood. "I'm going outside."

"Why?"

Looking back over her shoulder, she offered him a smile. "It's a surprise."