Irreversible
By: Manigault
Rating: PG
Category: SASG
Disclaimer: These characters belong to CBS, Atlantic-Alliance, and Anthony Zuiker.
Summary: Grissom is faced with life altering facts that lead him to seek comfort.
"The condition is irreversible, but it is treatable."
Grissom heard the echo of the words float through his mind as he left the doctors office and stood outside on the street, his face reflecting the sense of loss the confirmation of his fears had brought to him. It was a possibility that he had lived with since he was eight years old and his mom had gently but firmly informed him of the genetic odds not being in his favor. He had spent a lifetime preparing for the first symptoms, but the years of expectation could not compare with the fact of a doctor staring him in the eye and telling him what he already knew. Fear gripped his mind as he stood on the street and tried unsuccessfully to realign his mind into some sort of logical pattern. Without consciously willing his feet to move he found himself walking along the strip, then climbing into a taxi where he gave the driver directions that he did not himself hear, unknowing where the driver was taking him. A roaring filled his ears as he leaned against the window and felt the vehicle glide along the streets taking him somewhere that would soothe the fear. When the taxi pulled to a stop, he looked out of the window, wondering at the unfamiliar landscape, shaking his head as he turned to the driver.
"Where are we?" He asked the man, who was staring back with wariness not lost on Grissom.
"The address that you gave me." The driver replied. "You owe me fifteen, sir, unless you would like me to drive you to a hospital?"
Grissom pulled out his wallet, withdrew a twenty, and handed the bill to the driver with a shake of his head. "No thanks. This is fine."
Climbing from the taxi, he turned to survey his surroundings, noting the apartment complex that stood before him. He looked back at the street sign and tried to make sense of why he would give this address to the cab driver. He did not recognize the street, did he? Furrowing his brow, he turned back to the apartment building and took a step towards it, not sure what he would do when he reached the entrance.
"Grissom?"
The familiar voice swept through him, filling him with a calmness that eased his doubt and made him long for something more, something he could not define. He turned towards the voice, and said with a nervous laugh.
"I'm not sure why I'm here."
Sara held the grocery bag tight, her arms wrapped around it as her eyes scanned Grissoms face searching for the clues he found elusive. Stress etched every corner of his face, and his usually sparkling eyes held something she was not used to seeing, not on him-fear. Grissom was afraid, but of what?
"Come inside, Gris, and I will pour us a glass of wine."
He did not answer, simply followed her towards the apartment entrance, inside the building, and to a door with the number 312 etched on its center. He watched Sara as she sat the grocery bag on the counter, pulled out a bottle of red wine, then ignored the remainder of the contents as she reached for two wine glasses.
"You must have expected me."
"Eventually." Sara smiled back at him, "Only not so soon and not today."
Grissom arched one eyebrow as he reached for the wine bottle, taking it gently from her hands he pushed aside the fears that had drawn him here to her side. "Why don't you finish putting the rest of your groceries away and I'll pour the wine."
He felt her smile, as he concentrated on uncorking the bottle. He sensed her questions as she moved around the small kitchen placing a few items in the refrigerator before moving back to stand beside him, her hand reaching for the glass he held out in her direction.
"Grissom," Sara began, never taking her eyes from his. "Why are you here?"
How could he explain to Sara the reason that he was here in her home, the fact that he was losing a part of himself that he found crucial to his way of living, to his ability to scope out every aspect of a crime utilizing every sense possible. Would she look at him in a different light, think less of him? He watched her set the wine glass on the counter, then froze as she reached up to run her fingers lightly over his right jaw, allowing the tips of those warm fingers to linger on his chin.
"I'm happy that you decided to come here." She removed her fingers and he felt their absence with a profound emptiness. "I admit that when I bought this wine I was thinking of you." Sara held her breath as she made this admission, wondering how he would react, hoping it was not too soon.
He took a sip of the wine as he digested her words, letting them soak into his mind, the evidence of her intentions clear. He had come here for solace, but was he fair to seek that comfort without informing Sara of the reasons for his anguish. She was backing away from him, doubt clouding her lovely eyes. She was thinking that she had stepped over the line and he was upset. Grissom took a couple of steps towards her, knowingly trapping her between himself and the counter that was pressed against her lower back. Reaching around her he placed his wine glass on the counter beside hers, and then leaned the palms of his hands on the counter on either side of her body, effectively trapping her within his embrace. A flush crept up her neck and he could feel her heart thumping beneath the sleeveless pink shirt that she wore. He leaned into her body and stared at the lips that were breaking into that wide beautiful smile. "I needed to be here, Sara." Grissom heard his voice catch as her eyes widened. "I'm not sure if it's fair to ask this of you, but I wonder if we could talk later."
Sara could not help but puzzle at his statement, but she inclined her head and could not resist teasing him. "Later? After we drink this bottle of wine? After we eat some of the salad that I could make for us? After-."
The sentence went unfinished as Grissom cupped her face and bent to press his lips to her own. It was everything he had imagined it would be, the electricity that sprung between them as their lips moved in perfect rhythm, their tongues dancing the age-old practice that grew more passionate with each second that elapsed. He felt her hands wrap around his neck pulling him closer and deeper while his own moved along her neck, then to her waist where he ran his thumbs along the waistband of her jeans. His senses were alert now, completely absorbed in the woman who was now running her warm hands beneath his shirt, sending shivers along his spine to ignite his mind. A warning signal flashed in his mind, growing more insistent as the passion grew between them. He tried to pull away only to have Sara do the unthinkable. She pulled her shirt over her head and flashed him that smile. He pushed away the warning signals and proceeded to investigate the woman before him.
"Gris," Sara whispered between kisses as he paused in his explorations. "Why don't we move this to my bedroom?"
He reached for her hand, as she led him from the kitchen to her room, deciding that later was going to be a long time from now.
Much later, Grissom stared up at the ceiling in Sara's bedroom, his thoughts unwillingly drifting back to the reason he had seeked her presence.
Sara ran her fingers along his chest and looked at him, her smile fading as she recognized the look on his face. "Please tell me that you don't have regrets." She said with a tone that startled him out of his reflections.
"No." Grissom shifted his weight so that he could wrap both arms around Sara, while keeping eye contact. "I was thinking of what led me to your door."
"Is this the 'later' that you mentioned?"
"I suppose it is." Grissom wondered briefly if it would be more beneficial for them both if they continued this conversation elsewhere, with clothes.
"Spill it Grissom." Sara said gently. "There isn't anything that you can say that will change my opinion of you."
Taking a deep breath, he told her of his childhood, of discovering that his mother had a hereditary disorder that caused her to lose her hearing when he was eight years old. He spoke of the little signs that she had ignored until one day she could no longer ignore them because she realized that she had lost the ability to hear her son cry for her in the night. His world had changed, but he adapted quickly, taking the sign language lessons, learning all of the particulars of the disorder.
"It is called Otosclerosis and is a progressive disorder." He felt her body tensing as he described the symptoms and then ended with the admission that he had the condition confirmed by a specialist.
"Is there anything they can do to stop it?" Sara ached for this man that made her whole, whose conversations she longed for and relied on more so than she did food or water to keep her alive.
"There are options that are effective in many cases, but there are no guarantees." He told her of the treatment options available to his disorder, of his future that would likely include hearing aids and the long process of having surgery on one ear then waiting to see if it worked before having surgery on the other ear. "I don't want the others to know about this yet, not even Catherine."
Sara frowned at the mention of 'even Catherine' but she was not jealous, she knew that the two were good friends. "When do you plan to tell them? When they start questioning you?" She stared at him for a few seconds as he failed to answer, then her face crumbled. "Grissom, please tell me that you are not planning on leaving? You can't leave."
The fear that sparked her eyes made him shudder and he held her closer to his body as he admitted that it was something that he had planned on doing someday when he could no longer hear the evidence as well as process it. "You promise me that you will not vanish from my life, Gil." Her voice shook with the thought that he could leave her alone, walk out of her life.
"I can't promise that, Sara."
Sara pushed away from him, turned her back and pulled the sheet up to her chin. "I didn't peg you for a quitter, Grissom."
Grissom felt a wave of anger that slid away as fast as it came. He stared at the long back that was shaking as Sara held back her sobs, her face contorted in pain. He leaned on his elbow and reached for her with his other hand, letting himself feel the soft skin that slid beneath his fingers as they trailed along her spine.
"I won't leave you Sara." He made the promise without any doubts stirring his mind. If he felt compelled to leave the crime lab then he would, but he could no sooner leave Sara than he could stop breathing. She turned to him then, a trembling smile on her lips.
"Is that a promise?"
"Irreversible."
Fini