These characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker and many other people who are making a profit from them. I don't happen to be one of them. No copyright infringement is intended. In fact, AZ and company should be pleased, as imitation is the highest form of flattery.
Thanks, as always, to my betas Alison and Margaret, without whom I'm not sure I would have tried my hand at a WIP (when it was one). Their wisdom also convinced me to have the entire fic completed before I began posting it – definitely a smart move considering how long this has taken. You two are the best!
~*~*~
"Map?"
"Check."
"Full tank of gas?"
"Check."
"Bags packed and in the trunk?"
"Check"
"Cell phones and pagers left on the kitchen counter?"
Grissom, seated behind the wheel of his Mercedes, grinned and winked at Sara in the passenger side. "Double check."
Returning his grin with a full-fledged smile, she declared, "Then let's hit the road."
Grissom turned on the ignition, put the car in gear, and took Sara's hand in his. Kissing the back of it as he pulled away from the curb, he commented, "I'm glad you talked me into this."
Sara laughed. "It's about time. I can't believe you were so worried about it."
"It's not that I didn't want to go away with you, you know. It's just that I wasn't exactly comfortable lying about why I was taking the time off."
"Oh, like you haven't told a single un-truth about your actions in the past seven months?" She still couldn't believe it had been that long since the wall that surrounded Grissom's heart finally crumbled and let her in.
"Not really. People gave up asking me what I do with my days off a long time ago."
"That's because no one wants to hear about the mating cycles of your cockroaches, hon."
He glanced quickly at her, "You know, if you'd have just let me take the kids along on this little trip, it would've saved me the trauma of having to lie to anyone."
"Do not even try that argument again, buster." Grissom had attempted to get Sara to agree to take his hissing cockroaches – she shuddered when he referred to them as "the kids" – with them on their visit to the vineyards in Pahrump. He wanted to feel less guilty about telling their coworkers that he was taking the weekend off for a roach race out of state.
"Doesn't it bother you, lying to everyone about why you needed the time off?" Sara's story was that she was going to a family function in California.
"Nope, not a bit," she responded without a second thought. "Not if you're the reward." She flashed him a wicked little grin. "Besides, people will believe what they want to believe regardless of what I do or don't tell them. You should have learned that lesson by now, Gil."
Even after seven months, it still struck him when she called him by his first name. She did not use it most of the time, afraid to get too much into the habit that she might slip at work. She had continued to call him "Gris" or "Grissom" for several weeks after they began dating. It was not until the first time they made love that he realized he wanted to hear how his given name sounded on her lips. When he asked her to say it, she chuckled lightly, but complied. To this day, whenever she called him "Gil" he was brought back to that moment in time. Giving himself a few seconds to savor the rush of warmth that suffused him, he eventually replied to her dig. "Touché. Which is why I relented and allowed you to drag me to some vineyard in Pahrump."
Not satisfied, Sara wanted to hear him say the rest. "And the Pahrump Valley Winery is…"
Grissom sighed. "Where you were, alone, the time I called you in from your night off and then gave you the cold shoulder because I'd thought you were there with… someone." He said this like a student reciting a rule about which he was tired of being quizzed.
"Good boy," she replied, squeezing his hand and reaching over to kiss his cheek. "Besides, you picked this weekend because the winery is having its annual jazz festival. Oh, that reminds me, did you pack your older dress shoes? You said the new ones weren't comfortable the last time we went dancing."
"Check, Mom."
Dancing was an activity he never would have guessed Sara would like, much less know how to do. Grissom had always taken pleasure in partner dancing, particularly the smooth ballroom dances. His mother, even after having gone deaf, taught him many of these dances in their living room, music blaring so she could feel the beat. He believed she wanted to teach him to dance because it was something any hearing mother could do. Sara, on the other hand, was forced to learn by friends of her parents who could not afford to pay for a stay at the B & B. Willing to take their payment in barter, her parents thought it would be nice to have Sara and her brother be proficient in the "real" dancing they themselves had shunned in their hippie days. Her favorite style was the Lindy Hop, and she also knew the Jitterbug, the Foxtrot, and the Waltz. Unfortunately, she drew the line at letting Grissom teach her how to Tango unless he agreed to take Salsa lessons with her. While they were no Fred and Ginger, they enjoyed spending time in each other's arms.
"Smart-ass." With this, she declared the conversation over by turning on the stereo. Since they were in Grissom's car and he was driving, he got to select the music. He tended to prefer the classics: either classic rock or classical music. She hit the Play button to see what CD he had been listening to last. As the first notes of Edvard Grieg's "Morning" from Peer Gynt trickled out of the speakers, Sara glanced at Grissom. Seeing him nod his approval, she sat back, drew their hands over to rest on her thigh, and closed her eyes to get lost in the soothing sounds.
Exiting I-15 at the Blue Diamond Road ramp, Grissom prepared to set the cruise control. This road would turn into Route 160, which they would follow west over the Spring Mountains and into the Pahrump Valley. Stealing a look at Sara, he knew she would be asleep soon. When shift had ended this morning, she had to rush home to pack. Knowing Sara, she probably also cleaned the apartment, checked her e-mail, and surfed the 'net for a while before arriving at Grissom's place early that afternoon. Grissom, who had not worked the overtime that Sara had in the past few days, was already packed and spent several hours sleeping before they left Vegas.
It was rare that he had the opportunity to watch her sleep. Whenever they shared a bed, he often dropped off before she did, and she almost always woke first. He had known that she did not require much sleep even before they became involved. It astonished him, however, the things he had learned about Sara Sidle since they'd been together. Like knowing how to dance. And cook. Not only did she like to cook, but she was actually very capable in the kitchen, particularly with breakfast foods. She had told him that having grown up in the B & B, it was inevitable that she would learn how to cook. The problem, she later explained, was that she hated cooking just for herself because it reminded her that she was alone. Needless to say, cooking was now something they enjoyed together frequently.
As the next track on his "Best of Grieg" CD began, Grissom could not help but smile. Looking at Sara, he noticed a small grin on her lips as well. It was "Wedding Day at Troldhaugen," a piano piece. One day at his condo, Sara was perusing Grissom's music collection and came across this CD. Putting it in and immediately skipping to this track, she announced, "I can play this."
He had regarded her suspiciously, waiting for the rest of the joke. When it did not come, he decided to play along. "Of course you can. You just did. I play it all the time myself… just put the CD in and press Play."
"Ha. Very funny, Gris. No really, I can play this on the piano. Or at least I used to be able to. It's been a while since I've practiced it."
"Uh huh. But let me guess, after the damage to your hand in the explosion, you couldn't play anymore." For some reason, Grissom refused to believe she could play the piano well enough to perform a complicated Grieg piece. By now, he knew how she learned to dance, and he should have suspected that a similar arrangement earned her several years of piano lessons. Ultimately, Sara finagled him into a wager about it and then promptly dragged him to a piano and organ store in the mall. There, she impressed Grissom with her rusty but recognizable rendition of Grieg. After finishing, she just as quickly drove them back to his place, where she demanded his payment on their bet. It turned out to be one of the more fun and energetic times he had ever spent in bed.
~*~*~
Less than two hours later, they had checked into the Best Western in Pahrump and were on their way to the winery. Deciding where to stay had been an easy task, as this was the only hotel in town. Given the choice, Grissom would have preferred something a little fancier for his and Sara's first weekend away together. He knew Sara did not mind, however, having said she would sleep in a hogan in the desert as long she got out of Vegas with him.
"So tell me why we're going to the vineyard now, when the jazz band doesn't start to play until seven? Didn't you say we were going to do the tour tomorrow?"
"Yeah, but you can walk around the vineyard without being on the tour, and there are some things I wanted to see. Things I didn't get to see last time I was here because I was called back to work." She gave him a pointed but loving look. "They have Nevada's only registered time capsule here, you know." After a few moments she added, "Why? Something you'd rather be doing?"
"I don't know. I'm sure we could figure out something." He winked at her.
"Yeah, the pools at the hotel looked nice. Maybe we could take a dip if we have time before the festival begins. I'd even be willing to soak in the hot tub if you really want to."
"That's not exactly what I had in mind."
"No?" Sara asked, feigning ignorance. "You want to go golfing instead? Not exactly a 'sport' I think I'd enjoy, but if you're up for it, I guess I can be too."
"You don't think you'd like golf? Lot of physics to consider in that game." Grissom didn't care for the game himself, but wondered now if Sara would find the mechanics of it interesting.
"Nah. If I want physics fun, I play pool. Now there's a thought! Maybe we can find the local pool hall and - "
"I was thinking more along the lines of a nap."
"A nap? Or a nap?" They could never just lie in bed together without it getting physical.
"That'll probably depend on how much you wear me out this afternoon at the winery." He sent a knowing glance at her.
"Then I guess this will be a short visit." She responded with a smile.
Pulling into the parking lot of the vineyard a few minutes later, Grissom found a space but did not turn off the ignition. Eyebrows raised, he asked, "You want to head back to the hotel?"
Sara laughed. "We're here now, Gris. We may as well make the best of it. We'll be quick, though. I promise."
Creeping his fingers gently up her arm, he lowered his voice. "Sure you don't want to reconsider?"
Sara opened the car door to escape his roving hand before she changed her mind. "Positive. Gil Grissom, get a hold of yourself! You're acting like a horny teenager," she teased.
"You make me feel like one," he grumbled as he exited the car and walked around it to meet her.
"Oh, so now this is my fault?" She took his hand and started leading them toward the entrance.
Not satisfied merely holding hands, Grissom drew Sara closer and tucked his arm around her waist. He nestled his hand under her shirt where it met the top of her jeans, and rubbed her skin absently. "Well, you did seduce me. Coming to my office with your hand all bandaged, looking beautiful, asking me to dinner to 'see what happens,' telling me you knew what to do."
"You said no!"
"Like that was going to stop you." In truth, it had. Sara had delivered her warning about it being too late by the time he figured out what to do about "this," and left it at that. Grissom had his surgery a short while later, and thought a great deal about Sara and her ultimatum during the week he stayed home to recuperate. He decided that at a minimum, he needed to repair their friendship and get their working relationship back on an even keel. When he was sure he had regained his equilibrium at work, he began pairing them together again, letting her take the lead on several cases. When he attempted to revive their long-missed manner of interacting – which bordered on flirting at times – Sara did not respond at first, choosing instead to keep things more formal. With consistent effort, he wore her down, and she eventually returned the banter.
A few months later, happy that they finally seemed to have restored the balance to their professional relationship and hopeful that their friendship was on the mend, Grissom realized there had been a major flaw in his plan. The more comfortable he became around Sara, the more time he wanted to spend with her, the more he wanted to touch her, kiss her. Another several weeks passed before Grissom asked Sara to breakfast at his place in order to reveal his feelings to her. He told her he would be willing to forsake any thought of a romantic relationship with her if he was indeed "too late." They discussed the subject at length, dissecting it as scientists should, examining each aspect with logical and objective eyes. When that failed to yield a clear-cut solution, they let their hearts decide. Two days later they went on their first date.
"You just keep telling yourself that, Gris," she kidded. "Maybe one day you'll get over the guilt of having an 'inappropriate relationship' with a subordinate." Though she said it lightly, Sara knew this was an issue he still struggled with at times. Grissom did what he could at work to keep any appearances of impropriety at a minimum. He had begun keeping track of whom he partnered together and rotated the teams as regularly as possible; he had not worked with Sara any more than any one else had since they started dating. They also kept their behavior strictly professional at work. There were no furtive touches even when they thought they were alone, no longing glances. They kept their interactions as normal as possible, the rule of thumb being to act is if each was just another CSI. To the best of their knowledge, Catherine, Warrick, Nick, and Brass were none the wiser.
"I've never regretted it, though," he whispered in her ear.
Ten minutes later they found themselves in a gazebo in the middle of the winery's rose garden. Surrounding the structure were glorious displays of over a dozen varieties of roses. Beyond that, they could survey the acres of vineyard that filled the valley. Looking east, the view was further captivated by the Spring Mountains. Sara leaned against the railing of the gazebo, and Grissom wrapped his arms around her from behind. They stood silently for a while, absorbing the view, enjoying the peace. Their attention was drawn occasionally by a tour group going by further down the path: tourists with their kids and video cameras, wine enthusiasts, other couples holding hands and taking in the sights.
Grissom spoke first. "Thank-you for bringing me here. It really is beautiful."
"And I know how much you appreciate beauty." He could hear the playfulness in her voice.
"It pales in comparison to you, though."
"Such a smooth talker."
He began nibbling on her ear. "I mean it."
Turning in his arms, Sara backed away some and hoisted herself up so she could sit on the railing. She rested her arms on his shoulders and ran her fingers through his hair at the back of his head. Grissom positioned himself between her legs and touched his forehead to hers. His hands fell to her waist. "I didn't come up here last time." She spoke so quietly he barely heard her.
He chuckled. "I know, because your mean old boss made you - "
"No," she interrupted him. She pulled her head back so she could look him in the eyes. "I wouldn't have come even if I'd had the chance. Every time I passed it, I could see couples wrapped up in the romance of it. I wouldn't have wanted to be in here alone. But I made a promise to myself that night that if I ever came here again, it would be with someone I loved. I wanted to come back here with you, Gil. I came here in the first place because of you, because you told me to find some distractions, to get a life. I think I realized then that I didn't want to do any of those things without you." She gently kissed his lips. "So thank you, for coming here with me, for closing this circle with me."
"Sara…" He did not know what to say. Tears threatened to overflow. He had had no idea what this trip meant to her, to this particular place. He remembered that after she had solved the case, she said that he was confusing her, by telling her to get a life and then seeming to punish her for it. Then, as now, he was completely overwhelmed by his feelings for her. Saying "I love you" would seem to minimize the significance of the moment.
She smiled. She could see the love in his eyes and knew it was reflected in her own. There had been times like this in their relationship before, when the emotions were so strong that putting a name to them could simply not do them justice. "It's okay…I know." She pulled him to her and they held each other as the intensity of the feelings subsided.
They decided to skip the time capsule and head back to the hotel.
~*~*~
At 7:05 that evening, Grissom and Sara returned to the winery for the jazz festival and dinner-dance. The path leading to the tented area where dinner would be served was lit with Chinese lanterns. The exterior of the Pahrump Valley Winery Restaurant, the tent, the gazebo, and most of the trees they could see were decorated with miniature white lights. Adjacent to the dining area was the outdoor amphitheater, from which they could already hear the band playing.
"Wow. This looks fantastic!" Sara wore a black slip dress with a subtle red floral pattern. The night was still warm enough that a matching sweater hung over her arm. Prepared to dance the night away, she had on her Capezio shoes, which, with their two-inch heels, put her eye to eye with Grissom.
"And the band sounds good." Grissom's black clad arm was behind Sara, his hand resting on her lower back. Under his blazer he wore a silvery-gray shirt, tucked neatly into his black slacks. He'd had a tie on initially, but Sara talked him out of it, and further convinced him to open the top two buttons on his shirt. She also hoped he would be out of the blazer before the end of the night.
Shown to a table, they placed their drink orders and were presented with an abbreviated menu from the Winery Restaurant. After selecting eggplant parmesan for Sara and cashew nut cod for Grissom, they were told by their waitress that the first course would be served in about a half hour, so that they could spend some time dancing if they wanted.
"Shall we?" Grissom stood and offered his hand.
The band was currently playing the Blues, so Grissom and Sara settled in for some slow dancing. They did not speak much, both preferring to lose themselves in the magic of the night. Ironically, their individual thoughts followed the same path. Each was recalling the afternoon spent in the hotel room after returning from the gazebo. Precipitated by the heightened emotion of Sara's disclosure, their lovemaking had been incredibly passionate. They had indeed napped for a while afterward, and then woke to get ready for their night out. They decided to shower together, allegedly to save time, although that was not the result.
Because of the timing of their shower and the fact that they shared a single room, they ended up getting dressed and groomed together as well. It struck each of them at some point during the process that this had never happened before. In the past, if they slept at one of their houses and were getting ready for work, one tended to get dressed while the other worked on breakfast. As such, Grissom had never been witness to Sara putting on pantyhose or applying make-up, and she had never watched him fuss with his hair or put on cologne. It was oddly intimate, they concluded separately, and continued to ponder as they danced.
A little after 1 a.m., Grissom let them into their hotel room. The evening had been a complete success. Their meals were delicious, and the band and its singers kept the momentum going all night. When Grissom or Sara needed a break from dancing, they rested in the amphitheater bleachers and simply watched. They pointed more skillful dancers out to each other and debated whether they could manage similar moves. They noted a few people who were videotaping the dancers and wondered if anyone could actually learn new steps that way. Sara was thrilled when they played a series of swing and Big Band era music to which they could Lindy, including two of her favorites: Artie Shaw's "Begin the Beguine" and Glenn Miller's "In the Mood." The female singer had a soulful voice, and toward the end of the night, Grissom requested that she perform "At Last" by Etta James. While not a jazz piece, it did have a bluesy quality, and the bandleader could not resist announcing that the song was "From Gil, for his gal Sara."
~*~*~
They could have headed back to Vegas on Sunday after the tour at the vineyard. Loaded down with several bottles of wine and more information about growing grapes in the desert than Grissom thought he would ever need, they returned to the hotel and debated what to do with the remainder of their day. Aside from the winery, the town and surrounding area did not offer anything Vegas did not.
Except anonymity.
They ultimately decided to stay and walk through the town, stopping occasionally to visit shops that looked interesting. Unconcerned that they would run into someone who would know them as supervisor and subordinate, they strolled through Pahrump holding hands, or arm in arm, or with Grissom's arm around Sara's waist. This was another reason Sara wanted to get away from Vegas; they could behave like any other couple. There was no need to show up separately to the movies or a dance club, or scope out a restaurant and request a table in the corner. Neither of them enjoyed the clandestine behavior, so they tended to go out in public only rarely or drive out of Clark County to do it.
Early in the evening Sara and Grissom found themselves drinking another bottle of their newly purchased desert blush wine as they sat on their room's patio. She was reading a true crime novel and he was reviewing a chapter of an entomological text he had agreed to edit for a friend. His bare foot ran up and down her leg as his hands were occupied with the manuscript. When they were alone together, he frequently touched her. While it no longer surprised her, Sara often speculated about it. Before they became involved, Sara had imagined that Gil Grissom would be a passionate lover, and she had not been wrong. She guessed it had to do with the fact that he had to hold himself back at work. Not just with her, but with his emotions.
She had never thought, however, that he would be as physically affectionate as he was outside of the bedroom. No matter what they were doing, if they were together outside work, some part of his body was almost always in contact with hers. If he could not touch her for a while – maybe their hands were busy preparing a meal – he would occasionally stop what he was doing to hug her or kiss her and tell her that he loved her. She wondered if he needed to prove to himself that she was really there, in the flesh. Or perhaps he was just making up for all the time they had missed. Whatever the underlying cause, she was certainly not about to complain.
She caught his foot in her hand and began massaging it. When he looked at her, she asked, "You hungry?"
"For what?" He smirked.
"Well I was thinking dinner, but I could be flexible."
"You certainly can. I love it when you take your leg and put it - "
Laughing, she cut him off, "That's not what I meant."
"Maybe not, but now I've got this image in my head." He pulled his foot from her hands and crept it up the leg of her shorts. "And I'm not going to be able to get rid of it unless we do something about it."
"Oh? And what do you propose we do?"
Withdrawing his foot, Grissom stood and took the two steps necessary to place himself directly in front of Sara. He bent over and placed his hands on the arms of her chair, effectively trapping her. Leaning in further, he nipped at her ear as he whispered, "It's kind of like when you have the same song running through your head all day long and you can't shake it. You have to listen to the song." He bit at her chin. "I think we need to go and recreate that position."
Sara's hands went to his waist. "Nope, sorry." She kissed the tip of his nose. "You listen to a different song. You know, to distract you. So I really don't think recreating the position is going to solve your problem, Gil."
One hand left the chair and brushed her hair aside. He nuzzled her neck and continued, "Well then I think we have our work cut out for us, love, because it's going to take some pretty spectacular…maneuvering to make me forget." His other hand snuck under her shirt and found her breast.
Her mind fuzzy from what he was doing to her body, Sara sighed. "Is that a challenge? You know I can't resist a challenge."
Straightening up and pulling Sara with him, Grissom replied, "Consider it whatever you want. Just come inside with me."
"I'm sure I will," she winked. "Multiple times, in fact."
~*~*~
Late Monday morning they left Pahrump behind and started back for Las Vegas. Sara drove, having convinced Grissom that after all the wine and activity the night before, he was not as alert as she was. She loved to drive his Mercedes, although she would probably never admit it to him.
They were discussing the highlights of the weekend when Grissom asked, "What do men and fine wine have in common?"
Unsuccessfully suppressing a smile, Sara responded, "Ummm, I don't know. What do they have in common?"
"They all start out as grapes, and it is your job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you'd want to have with dinner."
Sara laughed despite herself. "That was bad, Gris."
"You didn't like that?" Feigning insult, he complained, "I wracked my brain all weekend to remember a wine related joke." A moment later he added, "Okay, in light of our current activity, here's another one: A man and a woman are driving down the same road at the same time. As they pass each other the woman leans out the window, points and yells, 'PIG!' The man immediately leans out his window, shakes his fist and shouts back, 'WITCH!' They each continue on their way, and as the man rounds the next corner, he slams into a pig that had wandered into the middle of the road." Shaking his head, he concluded, "If only men would listen."
"Amen," she added, choking on a chuckle.
Before they started dating, Sara knew the serious and dedicated side of Grissom. She had also seen glimpses of the passionate man who sought justice for victims of crimes. It was not until a few weeks into their relationship that she was introduced to this funny, quirky, even silly Gil Grissom. At the oddest moments he would tell a joke, which, given his intelligence, would always be germane to the situation. Sara remembered she almost fell off her chair the first time he told her a joke. It was St. Patrick's Day and his story had the obligatory leprechaun, who Grissom imitated with a dead-on Irish brogue. Who would have known he had a knack for accents?
Warrick had once asked her what Grissom drank when he went out. The question served to make the point that neither of them really knew the man. While she now had the answer to that question – it varied depending on his mood and what he was eating – Sara found herself more than willing to keep such information to herself. Aside from the fact that people would question how she came by this knowledge, she wanted to be the only person who was privy to the details of his private life. Truth be told, she did not want anyone else to know that Grissom played poker like a pro, and in fact enjoyed playing many different card and board games with her. Though everyone knows he reads poetry, Sara wanted it to remain a secret that he also wrote it when the spirit moved him. And she had no intention of sharing the fact that he could be more adventurous in bed than even she would have guessed.
Sara smiled at that thought. Catching her look, Grissom offered, "Penny for your thoughts."
"They're worth more than that." She had just spent a wonderful weekend with the man she loved, and she was heading back to a challenging, rewarding job at which she excelled. Life, Sara thought warmly, was pretty damn good right now.
It would amaze her how much would change in the next few days.
To be continued…
A/N: In case you don't know the song, here are the lyrics to "At Last." Celine Dion does a decent job with it as well, but nothing compares to Etta James' original, in my opinion.
At last
My love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song.
At last
The skies above are blue
My heart was wrapped up in clover
The night I looked at you.
I found a dream that I could speak to,
A dream that I can call my own.
I found a thrill to press my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known.
Oh, you smiled. . .
You smiled and then the spell was cast
Now here we are in heaven
For you are mine at last.