Title: Begging the Senses

Author: ScullyAsTrinity

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Unbearable… who knew… I mean really.

Disclaimer: If I owned ever a little piece of them… doncha think I would put my collection of cheesy porn music to good USE by now?

Summary: Scent is the strongest sense tied to memory.

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She sat in the locker room, suede jacket in her hands.

It happened so randomly sometimes. Being ripped from the present into the past, reminiscing at the strangest of times. This time, her memory was triggered by the buttery fabric between her fingers.

So smooth, so welcoming, you could just slip into it and be completely cocooned in sensuality. Index finger traced a path through the forest green, a light trail in the midst of the darker green. The smell, rustic and welcome wafted up from her hands and invaded her mind.

He'd smelled of suede once. Once when he'd brushed past her he'd smelled of suede and she'd spent the rest of the day wondering why. Had he worn a garment made of that material? If he had, what color had it been? If she caught him after shift, in the locker room, could she watch as he shrugged into his jacket? Would his voice sound the same, wrapped in that accepting fabric?

She hadn't gotten a chance to find out that day. He'd locked himself in his office, cutting her off from any more contact with him, her senses deprived of his splendor. Usually, it was just sight, sound and touch, if she was so lucky to touch him. Sometimes, rarely, she'd pick up on the real scent of him, but those moments were few and far between. She hadn't been close enough to him lately to pick up on his musk and revel in it. Then, with that smell on him, the smell of suede, she'd been pulled into a cyclone of aesthetic wonder, almost knowing what he tasted like with that scent lingering on him.

Raw nerves now, as she sat on the hard wood in front of her locker, jacket still poised in her hands. She couldn't bear to put it on, for some reason.

Sara was ripped from her memories when a sound signaled the entrance of one of her co-workers. She didn't bother looking up, she wasn't really interested in speaking to anyone at the moment. But then his low rumble of a voice cut through the steely silence of the locker room.

"I thought you left an hour ago." What a banal way to try and strike up a conversation, but at least it was something. Sara would have smiled if she thought it would have caught him off guard, but she felt it would have been too much of an effort to do so.

"I uh, had some loose ends to tie up." Non-committal. Remain unemotional. Don't let him know that you know. Don't let him render you helpless again. "I'm leaving now though. Greg and I are uh, going to get some dinner." There was no need to tell him that, he hadn't asked, but the need to show him that somebody cared about her, someone actually cared, was overwhelming.

"That's nice." He replied, his and voice obscured by the metal of his locker. She could hear him fiddling with his keys and smiled bitterly. Would he open the door for her, she wondered? Was he chivalrous and would he full out her chair? Order for her? Would he wax poetic on how her hair looked in the candlelight or how nice it was to finally talk away from work? And would she call him Grissom, or throw caution to the wind and utter the name Gil, a name that Sara could never speak.

Sophia could speak it, she was sure, because to Sophia, the name wasn't reverent.

He shut the locker door with a dull clank, and looked to her, wondering if she was going to speak more.

And she thought she saw something pass through his eyes, but she brushed it off. She didn't want to care, but she did. He'd shown her emotion, he'd proved to her that he wasn't simply a human acting out of necessity. He felt, and he needed, and he cried, just like she did. But then he closed up, and everything was back to normal. Status quo. Nothing had ever happened. She hadn't cried in his arms and she hadn't smiled when he'd pulled her into them.

And now, he too was allowing someone else in. Allowing someone else to see something that no one was allowed to. She'd share things with Greg, things that she'd shared with Grissom and maybe there'd be someone waiting for her there, in the long run. And he, he could connect with someone who lacked all the emotional baggage she'd lugged with her from California. And then it would be easier, for the both of them.

But she didn't want easy, she wanted him. And it really wasn't so much to ask when you got right down to it.

Sara cleared her throat, swallowed the lump that had taken up permanent residence in her throat, and looked up to him. "Well, have fun tonight." She regretted the words immediately, knowing that he'd understand exactly what she was talking about.

He paused in the movement to put on his jacket and looked at her. Looked at her, directly into her eyes. As frightened as she was, she looked back.

"Sara, why are you still here" He asked forcibly, almost sounding rather irritated.

She just gave him a half smile and shrugged into her coat, pulling her hair out of the collar, shutting her locker door. "Because a love like this just doesn't go away." And with that, she was gone.

He was left with the scent of suede.