Letting Go

by Joan Powers

Sometimes if you love someone, you have to be willing to let them go. GSR

Letting Go

By Joan Powers

A/N: This is a companion piece to "The Journey" which was told from Grissom's POV. Once bluebeyonder, lovalley and Rinus put this idea in my head, I couldn't get rid of it. Special thanks to Dreamsofhim and Michele aka griot for beta help!

Type: G/S angst, G/S romance

Summary: Sometimes if you love someone, you have to be willing to let them go. GSR

Spoilers/Timeline: Post "Way to Go" Season 6 finale

Ratings: T/R

The moment I saw him in that lecture hall, everything changed. I couldn't tell you exactly how. I didn't hear any rumble of thunder or see lightning flash. It wasn't an immediate or dramatic process. But no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise, I knew at that moment that something significant had happened in my life.

To me, Grissom was the embodiment of the perfect man. I couldn't have cared less about his age. Unfortunately most intelligent men are more smitten with themselves than anyone else, their egos so huge that they only want you to join their minions in worshiping them. Or the ones who are more personable frankly aren't as sexually appealing. Grissom had it all: brains, personality, looks - an irresistible combination for me. I'd never met a man like him.

My track record with men hasn't been the greatest. During my college years I was involved in several different relationships. After walking about on eggshells due to my parent's mercurial mood swings and then being bounced between foster homes, I'd fled half-way across the country to attend school in Boston, eager to shed my reputation as 'the girl whose mother stabbed her father.' I was young, lonely and a little too needy of attention; longing most of all to be held in order to feel loved. Looking back, perhaps I wasn't as selective as I should've been.

Eventually I realized that sex wasn't the equivalent of love. Though being with those men felt good it never lasted. Over time that type of relationship made me feel empty I needed more - more than a warm body to give me fleeting moments of pleasure. I craved to be known for who I truly was and loved anyway. In my limited experience, this didn't seem possible

When you don't get unconditional love at home, you find yourself searching for it in odd places. Perhaps that's partly why I threw myself into my studies at such a young age – to please my teachers and receive their praise. An effective positive reinforcement loop. Yet this all hinged on my academic performance. And in a weird way that went along with what I'd learned from my family.

Love was conditional. It had strings.

I never understood the rules about love. They seemed capricious and only suited to those who made them. They could also change on a whim. The formally stated rules weren't nearly as important as the unspoken cues: facial expressions, vocal intonations or the faint whiff of alcohol which warned me to immediately take a walk or hide in my room, ducking for cover. At the very least I'd keep my head down and my mouth shut, trying to avoid inadvertently provoking anyone who had a short fuse that day.

My studies had always been my refuge. My escape into a better brighter world. A way to flee from my dreary existence. I enjoyed submerging myself in classical literature. Much to my pleasure, I discovered that science and math were logical; they actually obeyed their rules and made sense to me, unlike other aspects of my chaotic upbringing. Was it the positive attention from my teachers that encouraged me to study more? Or did I just have an intuitive leaning toward learning? Considering I was motivated to read Moby Dick on my own in fifth grade, I tend to believe the latter.

Those first nights I spent with Grissom, talking for hours in that open air café over coffee were magical. I'd thought I'd been in love before, but the connection between the two of us was so powerful, on so many levels, it was unnerving. I was strongly attracted to him yet confused when he ignored my subtle signals. He didn't hold my hand when I casually brushed mine against his. He didn't try to kiss me when I stepped closer to him. That didn't make sense to me. I thought he liked me, that he found me sexually appealing. His insistence that we keep in touch after he left only added to the mystery.

Although I'm embarrassed to admit it, I had high expectations when I arrived in Vegas per Grissom's request. However, while Grissom warmly welcomed me and seemed genuinely glad to see me, he didn't offer to show me the town or even invite me out to reminisce over a cup of coffee. It was puzzling. I was disappointed, but I took it in stride. I assumed that it had been my mistake, that I'd read him wrong. At the very least, working with Grissom professionally would be an exciting experience; there would be a lot to learn from his expertise. It would be a great opportunity to advance in my field

As we worked together Grissom continued to send me contradictory signals. He'd flirt with me, though for the most part his behavior toward me was professional. He never asked me out. Far from being intimidated by my intelligence, he seemed intrigued by my insights and hungry for my feedback. Our connection as we worked together was almost spiritual, on an entirely different level than between ordinary people. I was convinced that he'd noticed it as well.

His endearing smiles and subtle glances toward me were feeding my hopes that he had feelings for me. After all, my parents and even working as a CSI had taught me that words could be false; actions were a better measure of the truth. While I managed to safely ignore those feelings at work, once I arrived at my apartment my restraint disappeared and I indulged in elaborate fantasies about Grissom. All centered around him showing up at my place finally confessing his undying love for me.

Other times I wondered if I was being a fool. Was this all in my head? Did the evidence honestly support my conclusions? Was I reading far too much into this?

Looking back, I should've clued in earlier. Much earlier. But then again I was used to interpreting contradictory signals. I was accustomed to people who claimed they loved me one day and then the next hit me hard enough to break my arm. I was used to making excuses for the people who claimed to love me. I didn't realize that I could or should expect more. That was part of the problem.

When he turned down my dinner invitation, I was humiliated. But at least I knew. I could end the misery of my uncertainty. He wasn't interested. I could finally move on, or at least concentrate on advancing my career.

Only a few months later I listened to him sharing his private thoughts with a complete stranger in the interrogation room. It was one of the worst moments of my life.

Somebody young and beautiful. Somebody we could care about. She offers us a new life with her but we have a big decision to make, right?….I couldn't do it.

Up to that point, my anger had insulated me, kept me warm at night, kept me motivated. I'd clung to the thought that Grissom had tricked me; that he'd led me on and never really cared about me. I could no longer embrace those flimsy excuses. My anger was replaced by resignation, which rapidly turned into near depression.

He couldn't do it.

Not that he didn't want to do it, he couldn't.

I wasn't worth the risk.

Was I worthless? Unworthy of love? Even at their best my parents had been unsteady and woefully unreliable, my college boyfriends had primarily been interested in using me for sex, and then Hank had used me for god only knows what cheap thrills as he cheated on his fiancée. Or maybe we'd used each other, fully aware that neither could ever fully commit to the other. And now Grissom had been added to the list.

I started drinking more than usual to try to escape my thoughts and dull my senses. I was tired of feeling. I was even failing at my job. Cases were getting under my skin far too easily and I just couldn't get away from the victims' anguished faces.

Being pulled over by the police for a near DUI was a mortifying experience. It was only made worse by Grissom showing up. Yet, as terrible as that was, the PEAP counseling started to set me back on track. Although I never addressed my feelings about Grissom, I was able to discuss some of my family history and how it may have affected me.

I also started to see that Grissom had been right. As much as his words had infuriated me, I had been seeking that promotion for the wrong reasons. Once again I'd been looking for validation in the wrong places. I half-heartedly tried to work on these issues only to get bogged down by Ecklie's undeserved promotion, the separation of the team, and the addition of Sofia to our staff.

Seeing Grissom flirting with Sofia was painful. It set me back.

After I lost my temper with Catherine and then Ecklie and nearly got fired, I had to re-evaluate. Over the years I'd paid lip service to the idea that I needed diversions - that the job or the love of a man wasn't enough to validate my existence or to make me whole. Now I needed to own that; I had to actively search for my own peace.

As much as I loved Gil Grissom, he wasn't going to rescue me from all of my problems. Although I was flattered that he'd stood up for me before Ecklie, I had to deal with my issues by myself. My mother had tried to rescue me years ago. I know she did what she felt she had to, but I can't help wishing that there had been another less painful option available to her.

Holding on to my dream of Grissom loving me was slowly killing me, I had to move on; my life had to mean more. What's that saying, if you love something set it free? As corny as it sounds that's what it finally boiled down to. I stopped chasing; I stopped dropping subtle little hints. Even though my thoughts were difficult to rein in, I had to let him go. Not that I wasn't interested anymore, but I wasn't going to keep making excuses for him or try to force it. If a relationship between us was meant to be, it would happen. I couldn't make him love me.

Shortly after I decided this, my resolve was brutally tested. Grissom asked Sofia out to dinner. I can't even tell you how much that stung, like poking a sharp metal skewer against a raw wound. I had a decision to make. Give in to my despair and let my emotions control me, or let it go. That was the biggest hurdle of all for me, being willing to let him go.

Surprisingly, once I made that decision and stuck with it, my life improved. I no longer looked to Grissom for his approval. I was finally enjoying my work. I took better care of myself, exercising on a regular basis and attending yoga classes. I even went to the mall to update my wardrobe. Grissom and I started working more cases together, yet it was on more of an equal footing than it had been before. We were getting along well and perhaps growing closer, but I didn't question anything. I accepted it for what it was for I'd put away my magnifying glass.

When I was attacked in that hospital for the criminally insane, I caught a glimpse of Grissom that I'd never seen before. Although outwardly he didn't seem different, he still appeared professional and in control; his eyes revealed that he was terrified. For once I was seeing him as an emotionally engaged man rather than the detached scientist he always strove to be. Things were changing.

A few weeks later the man who offered to take me home after Nick's brush with death was visibly shaken, and sweetly vulnerable. When Grissom kissed me that night in his car I didn't question it. I'd wanted it so badly. I enjoyed being with him, not allowing myself to dwell on any future implications. I greedily took what he offered, determined to revel in it while it lasted. Given his issues with commitments, I was pleasantly surprised to find him in bed beside me that morning.

While I was thrilled to finally be closer to Grissom, I knew things wouldn't be easy. Relationships never were. Aware that he'd overcome significant barriers getting to this point, I cut him some slack. Yet I was determined to stand up for myself and make sure my needs were being met as well. I wasn't about to make my mother's mistake of putting up with the unthinkable in the name of love.

I humored him when it came to his precious schedule, making extra effort to abide by it so he wouldn't feel 'suffocated.' It amused me that he tended to violate it more often than I did, showing up unexpectedly at my apartment. In some respects I understood his feelings, being a private person as well. We'd both been alone for many years and had our own individual interests and routines. And as much as we loved each other, we didn't need to be together all of the time. Yet his intense almost obsessive insistence for privacy seemed a bit odd. I couldn't help but wonder if he was hiding something from me.

Sometimes on those days ear marked as 'private' for him, I remembered the distant rumors about Grissom and Lady Heather, and the nature of her establishment. Although he'd given me no reason to suggest that our sex life was lacking or that he wasn't satisfied, it still made me a little uncomfortable. However, I didn't ask him about it. Communication in my household had been on a strictly need to know basis. Too much information could get you hurt, in more ways than one. And since there was no solid evidence to support such vague suspicions, I decided I was being insecure. I needed to trust him and leave it at that.

We did have a brief conversation about Sofia after I'd found her in his office about to compromise the reputation of the department during the officer shooting investigation. He knew it was wrong for her to be there but he admitted that he was inept when it came to distraught women. He couldn't understand why she was so insistent on talking to him in the first place. The evidence was the evidence; it would tell the story, he insisted. With a few words I was able to convey that he'd given her a false impression that he was entirely unaware of.

I wasn't pleased when Lady Heather came back into our lives. Grissom seemed more moved than usual by the plight of her daughter. But who wasn't? The poor girl had been abused obscenely. From his mannerisms I could tell the case was bothering him but he never said anything about it. He was intently focused on finding the suspect.

That morning after the mad doctor was arrested I didn't wait around for Grissom. I was sorely tempted since he was emotionally drained, but it was one of 'his' days. Perhaps he needed his bugs or his roller coasters or…needed to be with her? I trudged home and crawled into bed, too exhausted to entertain such possibilities. Imagine how thrilled I was to be nudged by Grissom as he slipped into my bed, naked, and held me tightly as he sighed with contentment. I was his safe place now.

Yet there were still times when he didn't show up at my apartment on a scheduled night. I didn't make excuses for him. I clung to my dignity and once even suggested to him that maybe we shouldn't be together. The final time he pulled that trick I gave him a dose of his own medicine. Although it was difficult for me, I didn't show up at his apartment for an entire weekend. I cleaned my place from top to bottom, organizing files and madly scrubbing tile grout with a toothbrush. I even cleaned my grossly neglected refrigerator, anything to keep my mind off of him and to keep me away from the phone. I had to, to maintain my self respect.

Getting through Monday's shift was even more challenging. Grissom's wounded eyes haunted me. They bored into me whenever he was near me. Even Catherine sensed that something was off with him. But we couldn't talk there, it wasn't appropriate. Toward the end of the shift, Grissom uncharacteristically cornered me in the locker room, then eagerly steered me into the parking lot to climb in his car. He said one thing. "Move in with me." Then he drove me to my apartment to pick up my stuff.

I know much more about Grissom than I did before. But in some ways he'll always be an enigma to me, like some marvelous jigsaw puzzle. I'll always be discovering new pieces. Just the other day he shocked me, telling me in front of half of the lab that he'd been intimated by my beauty and afraid of rejection.

After seeing the extravagant diamond bracelet Jeffery Powell had bought for a girl he just met, that night the always practical Grissom produced a small velvet box for me to open. With a sheepish grin he mumbled, "I hear men in love do stupid things." My mouth hung open a minute as I examined the costly necklace covered with diamonds. "Yeah, I guess they do," I grinned once I got my wits about me. I don't know where he thinks I'm going to wear such a stunning necklace without attracting boatloads of unwanted attention, though he did mention something about taking me to the opera. (Most likely we wouldn't run into anyone from the lab there.) However, it truly is the thought that counts most. It made me feel incredibly cherished and special.

Grissom will never cease to amaze me.

THE END