A/N: This story has been kicking around in my head ever since my husband decided our last trip out of town was a good time to play his new Hall and Oates CD several times, and I had to borrow (okay, steal) a song title, although I'm sure someone's used it before. (And if they haven't, well, they should have!) The problem came in the ending - but Thursday night was gracious enough to provide me with one.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'll return them when I'm done… maybe.
When Sara smiles, the world is a beautiful place.
It is enough to erase a bad day, to overshadow the most horrific scene, to make him forget everything except the simple joy of being with her, of being the one to receive those smiles.
He spent so many years watching her, even when she didn't know it. The shift would end, and he would go home and close his eyes, reliving each moment he had spent with her that day. Even when he knew he hadn't given her a reason to smile – he could never let go, not completely. His heart still skipped a beat when he saw her, no matter what.
And when she did smile – everything was brighter.
The first time had been in San Francisco, after one of his lectures, when she had followed several other students in peppering him with questions. She was the one who lingered the longest, until they were finally standing alone at the front of the lecture hall. She had kept up a steady stream of questions about anthropology, of all things, until she finally ran out of inquiries.
"Well, thanks," She said, hesitantly, "I've really enjoyed your lectures, Dr. Grissom."
"Most people don't say that," He smiled, "I've heard I'm not the most captivating speaker."
"Well," She said, "I think you're pretty good." She gave him a nervous smile, and he couldn't help but return it.
"It's been nice meeting you," He wasn't sure how to respond to her. His instinct was telling him to walk away, that she wanted something more than to compliment him on his speaking ability, and it was dangerous to go there with a student.
"Sure," She nodded, "Um… I was wondering… how long are you in town?"
"Only for a few days," He said, turning away from her to pack his briefcase.
"Have you seen much of the city? It's beautiful, you know."
He already knew he had discovered something beautiful in San Francisco, but it wasn't the Golden Gate.
"No," He said, "I haven't."
That nervous smile again.
"Would you like to?"
It was already impossible to resist.
"Norman pushed. Norman jumped. Norman fell."
"Wouldn't you, if you were married to Mrs. Roper?"
Sara.
And when he turned around to greet her, when she had lowered her sunglasses and smiled at him, the stress of the previous day was suddenly a little easier to bear.
But now she was his subordinate - an invaluable member of the team. He couldn't pursue the relationship they'd so tentatively began in San Francisco, not without risking his job. He could suggest that Sara transfer, but then his team would suffer. They needed her.
And, if he had to admit it, he was selfish. He wanted to spend time with her, even if it was only in a professional capacity, even if it meant he rarely saw that smile.
She pulled up to a scene one afternoon, a rough case that was already getting on his last nerve. He'd been desperate for some help, despite the fact that he knew she was busy.
"You know you pulled me away from a forensic anthropology seminar, right? It's required, part of the continuing education program…"
She had a teasing tone in her voice, but he wasn't in the mood for it.
"Well, I'm sorry, but everyone seems to have something to do today. I have a teenager who was run over by a taxi. Wasn't hit by it, that's not what killed him. He was stabbed, fatally. For now, I have no ID, no suspects, and no primary crime scene." He paused slightly, "I need you."
Sara's eyes were hidden by her sunglasses, but it was only a moment before she smiled.
"How can I help?" She asked, and he knew that no matter how difficult the case, having her along was always better than working without her.
Greg had finally passed his proficiency – he'd needed an extra chance, but he'd done a good job, and he had every reason to be proud. It was Catherine's idea to bring him champagne to celebrate, and Nick and Warrick had contributed their "jello man." They all crowded into his office, and Sara handed Greg a glass of champagne as they all started toasting him.
Everyone was smiling. It was a great moment, and he indulged himself in just watching for a beat – they had all had a rough time recently, with the team separating, and Ecklie's promotion, but right now none of that seemed to matter.
More importantly, Sara was smiling.
He hadn't seen that in a long time – she hadn't had many reasons to smile.
He knew that most of that was his fault, but he wasn't sure what to do about it.
Right now she was happy, and he didn't care about the reasons why. He joined in by taking the glass Catherine handed him, and when his eyes met Sara's, she didn't look away.
Maybe he could make her happy. Maybe it wasn't too late.
Monday morning, 7 AM. Sun streaming through the curtains. The comfort of a cozy bed, a soft blanket, the muted sounds of an awakening world.
She had opened her eyes and realized he was watching her sleep.
And she smiled.
"Good morning." She'd said.
"It is now," He'd replied.
"You know," Greg was saying, "I'd settle for a birthday breakfast."
"Now that is a fantasy," Catherine replied, rising from the table. Greg followed her out of the room, taking the conversation they'd been having about fantasies along with them. Sara was reading through some paperwork on the other side of the table, and after they left, she looked up at him, smiling.
He looked her up and down, thinking of a few fantasies he'd had over the years.
"Best kept private?" Sara asked, referencing something he had said a few moments before.
"There are things I'm thinking of right now that are probably best kept private." He replied.
She looked back up at him, and the smile she gave him this time was different than most – a smile she reserved only for him, one that never failed to bring out the most suppressed of desires, the most secret of fantasies.
He was glad that the shift would be over soon.
It had been four weeks – four long weeks since he had last laid eyes on Sara's face. He had decided to leave a full day early, and he'd even paid the airline's ticket change fee without flinching. It was worth it.
He'd gone straight from the airport to the lab, scanning the hallways for her. He'd followed Warrick to a scene hoping Sara would be there, too. It felt like a long time before he finally spotted her, walking through the lab in her blue jumpsuit.
"Sara."
She whirled around, surprised – which was what he was hoping for. He had wanted to surprise her.
"Hey. You're back."
"Yeah," He started to walk towards her, unable to hide his excitement at seeing her again. But Sara suddenly held her arm up and started to back away.
"I've been out at a, um… I've been at a…"
"A garbage dump?" He wrinkled his nose, but in all honesty, she could have smelled like two-week-old decomp and he still would have wanted to be close to her. It had been too long.
"Yeah," Sara said, giving him an embarrassed smile, "It's so obvious, isn't it? Nice… you look good."
He raised his hand to his beard, which had grown back during his time away. She was still backing down the hallway, away from him, and he felt almost as if he were chasing her.
"Did you, uh – put the cocoon in my office?" He asked.
"Cool, dry, not a lot of light, seemed like the right place for it." Sara replied.
"I think you're gonna be surprised when it hatches." He smiled.
"I have no doubt." Sara smiled back, and she kept smiling as she gestured down the hallway.
"I'm gonna… go clean up now," She said, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't follow her into the shower – at least, not at work.
"I'll see you later," He called after her.
She stopped and looked at him.
"Yeah, you will," She said, and she smiled to herself as she walked away.
He watched her go, slightly uneasy – this was not exactly how he'd anticipated their reunion.
But no other woman in the world could look so beautiful straight out of a garbage dump.
"Oh, I love it when you dress up."
There was something strangely attractive about Sara in a bee suit. A smiling Sara, no less – he hadn't seen that too often recently. They were on different shifts now, since their relationship was a known fact around the lab, and the transition meant they were like two ships passing in the night – exactly what he'd been afraid of years before.
The fact that they weren't spending much time together worried him – it had been a difficult few weeks, and Sara was still suffering from the effects of her ordeal with Natalie. They shared a home, they shared a bed – how could he not notice? He wanted to be with her more, to keep a better eye on her, but work kept getting in the way, just like it always had.
He felt like he was failing her – she needed him, but couldn't tell him so, and he didn't know how to fix anything.
But here she was, smiling at him through her bee helmet. Like nothing had ever happened.
"Well, you know, whatever it takes to get some time with you," She replied, and she turned her attention to his bees.
"How's the study going, any sign of colony collapse disorder?"
"No, so far it's healthy." He pumped some smoke into the air, which Sara waved away with her gloved hand.
"Nothing too healthy about smoking." She commented, coughing slightly.
"Well, the scent confuses the guard bees," He replied, "They won't emit the pheromone that tells the colony there's an intruder."
He pulled a comb from the hive, and Sara leaned over to inspect the bees.
"Don't worry," She said, "He's harmless."
He smiled. She looked so much happier today, better than she had in weeks. He could believe at this moment that everything just might be all right.
"So who's who?" She asked.
"These are the worker bees. Infertile females."
"They don't sting?" Sara asked, looking up at him.
"Not unless you swat one, close one up in your hand or freak out. Go ahead, take off your glove."
"All right," Sara said hesitantly, "I trust you."
She removed her glove, and one of the worker bees landed on her. Sara watched as the bee crawled over the back of her hand.
"See, it's cool," He said, "The worker bees defend the hive, procure the pollen, make the honey, and nurture the larva and pupa in each of these brood cells."
Sara was watching the bee with a wide smile.
That smile. It was still impossible to resist.
He already knew he wanted to see it every day, forever. He had been toying with this idea for a while, but now – she looked so happy today. He decided this was the perfect day to suggest it.
"You know, maybe we should get married."
Sara's smile faded as she looked up at him, her two brown eyes staring at him through her bee visor.
"Ouch!" She said, suddenly, stung by the bee that had previously been calmly walking across her hand.
"Sorry." He said. He pumped smoke into the air, feeling guilty for causing this, even though Sara was laughing.
"Don't pick it out," He said, "Makes it worse. Releases the venom in the bloodstream. Better to scrape it." He took Sara's palm in one hand and gently scraped the stinger from her skin.
"So, uh… what do you think, about…" He asked, tentatively, now suddenly much less certain than he had been a few moments before.
"Yes." Sara said, and he looked up at her.
"Let's do it." She said, and the smile she gave him at that moment may just have been the best one yet.
Not again.
If he could throw that damn phone away, he would. Even Hank had been pestering him for his walk that afternoon. No one could give him a moment's peace?
The cell phone continued to ring insistently at him, and after cursing at it silently for a moment, he picked it up and glanced at the caller ID.
A smile spread across his face, and he felt the weight of the previous days falling from his shoulders. He flipped the phone open.
"Hi," He said, stretching out on the couch, making himself comfortable for what he hoped would be a long conversation, like all the others they'd had over the past several months.
"Hey," Sara said, "You feeling any better? You still sound terrible."
He laughed a little at Sara's matter of fact description.
"I feel better now that I've heard your voice," He said, "You can always make a bad day brighter."
"How sweet," Sara teased, "Distance always turns you into a romantic."
He hated the distance between them, but over the past few months he had learned to accept it. He'd been devastated when she left, even though, looking back, he'd known it was coming. That one glorious day – when she said yes – wasn't enough to make up for everything else that had gone wrong, and he knew that he couldn't fix everything. He could only love her, and hope that in the end, it would be enough.
For now, it was.
"What can I say," He said, "I'm afraid I've become sentimental in my old age."
"Don't apologize on my account," Sara said, and he could hear her smile over the phone lines that separated them, "I've always loved your sentimental side."
"You're the only one who sees it."
"That's why I love it," Sara said, "It's all mine."
"Well, I'm all yours, Sara," He said.
iI have been, really, from the moment I first saw you/i he thought. In retrospect, there had never been anyone else. Now, after nearly losing her, and across these miles of distance, it was easier to see what was really important.
And she had always been the only one who could really make him smile.