Disclaimer: CSI and its characters belong to CBS, Anthony Zuiker and Alliance Atlantis. No copyright infringement is intended.
This work has been crossposted to Archive of Our Own, as SugarsweetRomantic.
Summary: After the events of Grave Danger, Sara finds herself running. Spoilers for 05x23, 05x24 'Grave Danger part One & Two'.
The sound of her feet pounding on the Las Vegas pavement barely reached Sara's ears as the midday sun scorched her back. Her clothing was damp and clung to her body while she ran as far as her muscles were willing to take her. If she wasn't going to be able to sleep, she might as well try to tire her body out physically. Her lungs felt like they were burning, dust and exertion acting like a filter on her airways. She had stopped paying attention to her surroundings a long time ago. She knew she was being reckless, but she didn't care. She needed to feel something. The first signs of heat exhaustion were starting to set in, she was aware of that. Suddenly out of breath, she took a moment to rest against a lamppost before continuing on her way, albeit at a slightly slower pace than before.
Nick could have died.
The statement kept running through her mind like a vicious mantra. It was driving her insane. It kept her up when she was trying to sleep, and plagued her during the few stolen moments of slumber her body did allow her to obtain when she collapsed out of pure physical fatigue. However, there was another thought that pounded against the inside of her skull like an incantation, one that made her feel guilty to the point where she could barely look at herself in the mirror.
It could have been any of us.
It wasn't that she doubted her colleagues' ability to locate her in time. It was that the next thought shook her to her core.
It could have been…
A sudden car honk pulled her out of her thoughts, and made her analyse her surroundings.
"Oh, for God's sake," she mumbled at no-one in particular when she realised she was standing at a crossing, only one block away from Grissom's townhouse. She had apparently managed to gravitate towards his presence on instinct, and it irked her. Her hand moved to her hip to grab her bottle of water, but as she lifted it to her lips, she noticed she hadn't closed it well enough the last time she drank from it, and it was now completely empty. Great, she had most likely been watering the asphalt instead.
"Might as well make use of the situation then," she muttered, crossing the small distance to Gil's home. He might not even be home, but it was worth a shot. Raising her hand, Sara knocked on the door, shifting her weight from one foot onto the other. She was suddenly becoming very aware of her current apparel: a loose tee and running shorts, her hair in a messy ponytail. She had picked them out of comfort more than anything. Soaked with sweat, she wasn't exactly the epitome of beauty. Before she could hide behind the nearest structure, though, the door opened, and Grissom was standing in his hallway, a surprised look on his face.
"Sara?"
"Hey." She cringed inwardly at her own awkward response. "I, uh, was running, and was wondering if I could bother you for a refill," she continued, holding up her empty bottle in an attempt at an explanation.
"Of course," he replied, taking it from her. He turned to go fill it, leaving her standing on his doorstep in the blazing heat. Gil returned quickly, giving her the bright blue bottle back. Hesitating for just a second, he asked: "Would you like to come in?"
"No, that's okay; I was on my way back home," she lied. He accepted it without protest.
It was only three days later that Sara found herself in the exact same position as the previous time, though this time she had remembered to close her water bottle properly. It was still half-full as she approached Grissom's home. Twisting the cap, she dumped the remainder of her water in a nearby planter before knocking on his door once again.
Sara hadn't meant for it to happen, but it turned into a routine. Every time she went running, she went to Gil's home for a refill. He would always take the bottle from her, and she would wait outside. Grissom would return it to her, and she would continue on her way, always running farther than the previous time, and never exchanging any words other than a soft uttering of: "Thank you." They never discussed it at the lab. If she hadn't seen the flowers in the planter thriving due to the extra hydration, she would have been able to convince herself it wasn't really happening.
Summer turned into autumn, and their pattern continued, though sweat and heat were replaced by thicker clothing and wind. As it went on, so did her thoughts.
On a dreary afternoon, Sara found herself standing in front of his open door again, waiting for him to supply her with water, when she suddenly called out: "Grissom?" Within a few seconds, he appeared in the doorway, tilting his head slightly.
"What are we doing?" she asked him, a hint of frustration in her voice.
"I'm getting you some water," he replied matter-of-factly. 'Of course,' she thought.
"Right." Sara crossed her arms in front of her chest. The silence in the air between them felt deafening until he asked: "Would you like to come in?" She felt a sense of déjà-vu come over her at his question. Just as he pronounced the last syllable, a loud clap of thunder crashed through the sky. Sara shrugged. Gil stepped aside, and she entered.
While the rain began pouring down outside, Sara followed Grissom into his living room. He motioned for her to take a seat and walked into his kitchen, retrieving her water bottle for her. The brunette laughed incredulously, staring at the plastic in his hands. He placed it onto the coffee table and took a seat across from her, grabbing a book that he had apparently discarded there when she had knocked, and resumed reading as if she wasn't even there. Sara pulled her knees up to her chest and watched the rain hit the windows for a while. She was brought out of her near-trance when Grissom closed his book, placing it back on the table.
"Why do you come here?" he asked, suddenly.
"You're on my route," she lied.
"You've never run through my neighbourhood before," he rebutted her statement. Shit. "In fact, you started coming here just after Nick…" Before he could finish the sentence, she shook her head.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"If you didn't, you wouldn't have agreed to come in." He got up, and walked away from the sofa, offering her some space.
Sara wasn't sure how much time had passed while she sat there, but before she knew it, the smell of food filled the room and Grissom was standing in front of her, holding out his hand. She frowned in confusion.
"It's six. I made dinner." He announced it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"You didn't have to do that," she protested.
"Too late." He gave her a soft smile as he spoke.
He pulled out her chair at the dining table, and served her a plate of stir-fry. Sara eyed the food with a suspicious glare.
"It's tofu," he stated before she could question him. She shot him a grateful smile. "I'd never serve you meat," Gil added.
"Thanks."
They ate in silence. Unlike before, it was a comfortable one, at least, until she had finished her food. She figured he deserved an explanation, but she wasn't even sure she knew how to put it all into words. Staring at her near-empty plate, she mumbled: "I can't sleep."
"I know," he replied quietly.
"You know?" She looked up into his eyes. His blue irises radiated a sense of serenity, acknowledgement. He nodded softly. Sighing, she continued: "Ever since Nick…" The brunette wasn't sure how to progress.
"It was a traumatic event for all of us," he added, trying to help her. "We nearly lost someone we both care about deeply."
"That's not what's been keeping me awake, though," she admitted. When she didn't continue, he silently reached out across the table and touched the back of her hand with his fingertips. Taking a deep breath, she found her words: "I keep thinking it could have been you."
"It wasn't me, though. And even if it had been, you would have found me." He made the statement without any hesitation audible in his voice, nor was there any doubt in his body language. Grissom obviously believed what he was saying.
"But if we hadn't," she began once more, but stopped.
"What has been plaguing you, Sara?" She could feel her own hands trembling against the wooden surface, under his gentle touch. Asking her what was bothering her directly wasn't something she had expected him to do, and the unanticipated inquiry made her do something she hadn't expected herself to do: she answered honestly.
"If it had been you, I would have never told you how I felt." She felt a flash of nervousness rush through her body, making her cheeks feel warm and her body heavy.
"Then tell me now," he prompted. At her shocked expression, he clarified: "Either of us could die at any given moment. It's a natural consequence of being human. So, tell me now." Sara stared at him for a brief instant, before nodding.
"Okay." He gave her a smile, trying to make her feel at ease, yet she had never felt more anxious in her life. Sara gathered all the courage she could find within herself, took a deep breath, and admitted: "If it had been you, I never would have told you that I'm not sure what love is, and that I'm not sure whether I'm even capable of loving another human being, but that what I feel for you is probably the closest I'm ever going to get." He lifted his hands from hers, and she cast her eyes downward again, taking his silence as his response.
Suddenly, she felt his presence to her side. Looking to her right, he was now kneeling next to her chair, taking her hands back in his once more.
"Oh, Sara," he sighed, unable to reciprocate the verbal statement, but attempting to convey his feelings for her by raising his index finger to her cheek to wipe away a tear she didn't know had escaped her lacrimal ducts. He let his forehead rest against hers, and tenderly caressed the soft skin of her hands. Sara nodded. She understood.
"What do we do now?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of the rain still pouring down from the Las Vegas sky.
"Now, we're going to sleep," he replied. "If you'd like." She nodded.
"I'd like that."
That night, instead of tossing and turning beneath damp sheets, Sara slept in strong arms. In the morning, they ate together, and Grissom drove her back to her apartment.
"Try to sleep a little more," he told her gently as they walked up to her front door. She entered her key into the lock and nodded. "Call me if you can't?"
"I will," she promised, angling her head to press a tender kiss onto his cheek.
"I'll see you tonight." With that, he left her standing in her living room, smiling a genuine smile. That afternoon, she slept. She didn't have to run anymore.
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