A/N - Thanks to the always awesome GSFanatic for the beta. And if this story hurts your brain, well, it hurt mine too. Suspension of disbelief is a very good thing, y'all. Just sayin'. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
There was something about midnight. It was the way her stomach bottomed out every time the clock hit 12 AM and the shift was ready to start. Of course, on most days, she was there much earlier than that, and so was he. But midnight was officially the time where their attention turned to each other. It was the time of hidden looks, secret longings, of things always left unsaid. When the shift was over and they'd part ways, she'd always go home frustrated. Years of the looks and the longings and the things unsaid left a part of her always craving more, and she wondered if that part of her would ever be realized.
And before she closed the curtains to the sunny, outside world, she'd close her eyes and wonder. Her hand would travel ever so slightly down her body until it met its destination. For 5, 10, 15, 30 minutes, her body would sway in a rhythmic world she wished he could be a part of; and maybe someday he would. But for now, it was just her, and her thoughts of chasing midnight.
March 2003
The sun was setting and fatigue was ready to take over Sara Sidle. She'd been up for nearly 24 hours now. But fatigue was the least of her problems. She was The Other Woman, and this was not making her happy.
She took 100 of the blame. Hank was a nice guy, but he was human. This is what happened when you let yourself trust someone else, and she knew that. But he told her he loved her, showered her with attention and affection, and she fell for it. She'd be beating herself up for a while over this one, but that was okay. The happiness was what made her nervous. This sadness; this feeling of desperate sadness was one that made her feel comfortable. She was at home in misery.
They'd been seeing each other for nearly a year when she came across this mysterious Elaine, and almost every day she'd wonder when the other shoe would drop--or, you know, something less of a cliché. And now she was a cliché. She was the one he came to when he was bored; his backup, his savings for a rainy day. This is what she got for trusting people. She wouldn't do that anymore. It was so much easier not to anyway.
After her unfortunate hallway conversation with this man she'd hopefully never have to see again, she did the walk of shame back to the Denali, where Catherine was waiting. Catherine knew. She knew everything. Sara was so intrigued by her only female co-worker; how Catherine talked to every person, every walk of life with such ease. How she managed to get things done, doing things Sara would never even dream of doing. Frankly, Sara was a little jealous, a little intrigued, and not to mention vaguely disgusted by Catherine's overt sexuality. The older woman just had it oozing out of her sometimes, and she did turn a lot of heads.
Not that Sara thought of herself as undesirable. No, Greg Sanders made sure of that. Greg had a crush on her, and she was well aware of the situation. She just thought it was harmless, like he was. He was a nice guy, but not her type. No, her type was someone else entirely. Someone who never quite caught on that he was, in fact, her type. Or maybe he did, and just couldn't do it. Or maybe he did, and just didn't want to do it. There was really no way of knowing at this point.
In the car, Sara sunk into her seat, avoiding Catherine's careful eyes. She didn't know what to do; what to say. Really, what could she say? It was over. It was over before it ever really began.
"You got plans?" Catherine asked her.
"Nope."
A cover of the Rolling Stones song "Wild Horses" was playing on the radio. She never hated a radio more. The song didn't remind her of Hank. It reminded her of someone else. Most songs did; she was used to it. This particular song reminded her of the fact that if she ever happened to be in a compromising situation with this someone else, wild horses would never be able to drag her away.
"You want to get a beer?"
Sara thought about it. What she wanted to do was go home and hide under the covers for weeks on end. That was her favorite coping technique when she was in foster care. It would drive her foster parents crazy. But she wasn't a teenager anymore, and Catherine rarely offered to help her with a problem anyway. She decided to take her up on the proposition.
"Drive," Sara said.
Catherine smiled and started the engine. Sara didn't know where she was taking her, and she didn't care at all. She wanted to be as far away as possible from the 2 men in her life--the one who had just rejected her to her face, and the one who rejected her every day with just his eyes. God, his eyes. It was the eyes that melted her into goo when she first met him back at the conference 5 years ago. She never even had a chance after she took one look into those eyes.
Catherine took her to some shitty dive bar way off the strip. Sara had been a resident of Las Vegas for only a few years and hadn't quite had the time to explore the city yet, with all the dead bodies and everything. But Catherine knew everything about the city of sin, including where the best places were to commit it.
The bartender greeted Catherine like an old friend. A few of the men, the regulars that were ingrained in this bar so much they probably had assigned seating, smiled and nodded. She gave one of them a kiss on the cheek. Sara was fascinated by the ease in which Catherine ran her life. It couldn't be that easy for her. It was never that easy for anyone.
They both ordered beers, and drank in solitude for a few minutes. Finally, Catherine asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Sara shook her head.
"No. Well. Maybe in a beer or two."
Catherine smiled knowingly. To cut what would be the awkward silence, she told a story about meeting Eddie at a bar like this many, many years ago. There was sadness in her voice, an intimacy Sara had never gotten a chance to experience with anyone. She also couldn't help but feel those familiar stirrings of guilt. Only a few weeks ago she had been unsuccessful in finding justice for whoever it was who killed Eddie Willows and left behind an ex-wife and a young daughter. She tried, she really did, but it was just one of those things. She was frankly surprised Catherine was still speaking to her at all.
Sara was leery of opening herself up to her co-worker for many different reasons, but 2 hours and 2 pitchers of beer later, Sara was talking. A lot. They were soon covering the subject of Hank, and what a disgusting, sick bastard he was, and how big his penis was. Sara insisted it was tiny, barely enough to work with at all.
"It was like a pencil!" She said, and Catherine laughed loudly. They were attracting attention from quite a few of the gentlemen at the bar by this time. "And he wasn't even good at oral to make up for it!"
It took a few more swigs before Sara really got into it.
"I thought he loved me," she slurred. "He was nice to me, Catherine. He bought me this necklace once, this beautiful necklace that must have cost him a lot. Nobody's ever bought me anything that expensive before."
Catherine shook her head wisely.
"Just because he bought you some bling doesn't mean he's a good man. We all knew he wasn't right for you, Sara. He was an arrogant asshole, and you bought it because you felt like you didn't have any other options."
Sara felt like she should be offended by that, but she wasn't, because obviously Catherine was right.
"Why didn't you say anything, then?"
Catherine chuckled and shook her head. The beer made Sara just a little more confident in her next question.
"Come on, Cath, tell me!"
Catherine sighed. Sara was afraid she already knew the answer.
"Because we were all so relieved that you took your attention away from...well, you know. It was at the point where we hoped you guys would either fuck and get it over with, or one of you would quit and leave the other behind. I'm glad this happened. I'm glad you at least had someone else to keep you busy for a while."
Sara shook her head. Normally she would have spent the rest of the evening trying to prove she wasn't in love with Gil Grissom, but tonight she was too tired to deny it any longer.
"No...no, that's not it, Cath. Because Hank didn't keep me busy. All he did was remind me what I was missing. Is that sad?"
"No, it's not sad. But Gil's a strange guy, Sara. He doesn't do things like the rest of us. He doesn't feel things the rest of us do. Bugs turn him on. Solving a case turns him on. You know that, so why do you continue to do this to yourself?"
Sara wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to cry. Was not going to cry.
"Because I'm in love with him. I mean, what else can I say? From the moment I met him, Cath."
"Oh, yeah? What do you like about him? I'm curious."
Sara thought about it.
"His eyes. His intensity. I love that moment right before he puts his glasses on, when he acts like he's totally blind without them. I love--"
"No, Sara. Tell me what turns you on about him. What do you fantasize about? What really gets you going?"
"You don't get it. Those ARE the things that turn me on about him. Because it's everything. Everywhere, everything, every day. When the clock is getting closer and closer to midnight, I can feel it. It's a tangible feeling in my body. Midnight means it's time to work; it's time for him to tell me what to do, and it's time for me to do my job. Even right after a shift, when its noon and I should go home and go to bed, I still can't wait until midnight. It's like I'm chasing it down, you know?"
Sara exhales. Catherine watches her closely. There's something that passes between them, and they both acknowledge it silently, briefly. Catherine inches closer to her younger colleague and whispers in her ear.
"I've been in his bed, Sara. It's amazing."
Sara stares at her incredulously.
"What--why--"
"It was when we first met, almost 15 years ago. God, Sara, you think he looks good now? You should have seen him then! You know how it goes, right? One thing led to another and I talked him out of his pants. I know, I know, but I couldn't help it. I was very promiscuous in those days. He was very tender and giving, and I showed him a few things. I know these things worked, and that he still uses them because, well...Lady Heather likes to talk, if you know what I mean."
Sara was not hearing this. Was not.
"Cath, when...when did that happen?"
"Well...recently. I'll just say that. But you can't blame him, Sara. You were all wrapped up in Hank, and he was lonely and--"
"That's such bullshit! Even when I wasn't involved with Hank, Grissom wasn't exactly showing up on my doorstep with fucking roses in his hands!"
She kept talking, and Catherine kept listening, except there was a devious plan developing in her mind. When Sara paused halfway into her rant and ordered a Long Island Ice Tea, Catherine opened her phone and called someone.
"Get him drunk and take him home. I know you don't, but do me this one favor. I'll make it up to you. Come on, you know I'm a woman of my word. Look, he had a tough day with that kid who somehow murdered his mother, and I think it'll be easier than you think. Do it. And bring the handcuffs."
Sara drank her Long Island Ice Tea and listened to this strange conversation. She figured Catherine was talking about Grissom, but who the hell was she talking to? And what was this about handcuffs? Catherine acknowledged the confusion merely by stating, "I have a plan."
"Oh?" Sara asked curiously.
Catherine nodded.
"What is it, dare I ask?"
Catherine shook her head. Sara stared at her until she talked.
"Okay, fine. You and Grissom have been doing this weird little dance for half a decade now. It's about time someone did something about it. Tonight, we're going to do something about it."
"Catherine, seriously--"
Catherine shut her up by putting her firm lips on Sara's. Even in Sara's drunken haze, she knew something interesting was happening here.
"Don't ask questions. Tonight, you do as I say. It'll be fun. It's like a game. And you'll make up for all the orgasms you didn't have with Hank."
She was intrigued, Catherine licked her ear and she shivered in spite of herself. Well, okay. It was just one night. She was drunk. And she didn't have to be in charge for once. Why the hell not? It's not like she didn't have her wild days in college. Somewhere in Massachusetts, there was still a fraternity that referred to her as "Sara the Snake."
"Just one question," Sara said. "What do you get out of it? What's your motivation?"
Catherine snorted. "I just lost my ex-husband. My daughter's an emotional wreck. My mother calls me every 5 minutes to check on me, or to tell me that Lindsey's crying again. Eddie's will is a fucking mess, and paying for the funeral put me even more in debt. Escapism, Sara. That's my motivation. I want to focus on you. So this asshole had you on the side, so what? You'll get over it. You'll use Gil to get over him, I'll watch, it'll be fun."
Sara was slightly horrified and yet totally fascinated at the same time. Which described, more or less, how she always felt about Catherine Willows.
"So drink up. We're leaving in an hour. It'll be easier if you're drunk."
"I am drunk, Catherine."
"Well, more drunk. Just do it."
Sara had no choice but to obey. By the end of the hour, she couldn't even see straight. Catherine had to lead her out to the car by her elbow, and they both had to stop a few times so Sara could collect herself. This amused Catherine more than it should have. Then it amused Sara. It amused both of them, and for 10 minutes, nothing could be heard but the sound of two women shrieking with ill-advised laughter.
Catherine, who stopped drinking hours ago, drove them to Grissom's place. Sara used the 15 minutes to think about him and Lady Heather. What the fuck was that about? She'd never met her before, but the woman was a fucking dominatrix. Was that what he was into? Was that why he wasn't into her?
Before she could come up with an answer, they pulled up to his house. His Mercedes was in the driveway, and so was Jim's Charger. Sara briefly wondered if Catherine expected this to be a foursome.
Catherine put the car in park, and before Sara could figure out how to get out of her seatbelt, Catherine was already out and opening her door. She led Sara out of the car and up to Grissom's door. Catherine rang the doorbell; Jim came out to answer.
"He's drunk," he told her softly. He took one look at Sara and chuckled. "Maybe not as drunk as Sidle, but pretty drunk. You owe me. That guy is depressing when he's drunk."
"Thanks. I'll make it up to you later."
"You'll wear that outfit I like?" He whispered, not expecting Sara to hear.
"I'll wear it." He smiled, and tenderly touched her ass on the way to his car. Sara wondered just how many secrets Catherine Willows had.
Sara and Catherine stormed through Grissom's house, finding him with his head down on the table, a bottle of Jack Daniels standing by. He looked up, expecting to see Jim and instead finding the 2 women that caused such confusion for him on a daily basis. He groaned and put his head back down.
"Too tired to ask how you got it in, where Jim went, what you're doing here. Explain."
Catherine surveyed the situation. Sara watched her, wondering how she was ever going to make this happen. She didn't stop to wonder if she actually wanted this to happen, because even in her foggy mind, she knew that she wanted to have sex with Gil Grissom. She wanted to feel the man inside of her, taking her, marking his territory. Because when it came down to it, she was. It was always him, from the second she met him, and she was tired of not having sex with him.
"Jim's gone. He let us in. You'll figure out why we're here soon enough."
This intrigued Grissom long enough to look up and stare at his co-workers in confusion.
"Catherine, really, I'm tired and I'm not feeling like myself, and what is it, almost 8:00 already? We all have to be at work again in 4 goddamn hours. I think we all need to forget about this day. Go home and sleep it off."
Catherine laughed. Sara laughed because Catherine laughed. And Gil just looked miserable.
Catherine walked behind Grissom. He was sitting in a chair with 3 slats, 3 bars that could easily hold those handcuffs in Catherine's hand. In one swift move, Catherine grabbed Grissom's hands and handcuffed them to the chair. Now he was really confused.
"What the hell? Catherine, really, I'm not in the mood."
"You will be," she assured him.
She walked back to Sara and whispered in her ear, "Go sit on his lap. He can't do anything about it."
When Sara hesitated just a little, Catherine grabbed her ass just a little too hard and said, "Come on, we have a deal. And you know you're interested."
She was. So she stumbled over to Grissom and straddled him. He was still facing the table, and she was facing him. He was trying to avoid her eyes, and she was trying not to let him.
"I'll be back," Catherine said. "I've gotta...um...do something."
And they were alone. Two drunk people in a compromising situation, neither of them quite sure what to do next.
"Sara...what's going on?"
She shrugged, because she didn't know.
"Can you get off me, please?"
She shook her head.
"I've had a bad day. I know you did, too, with the kid and the mother."
He sighed. He really was too tired to fight.
"What was bad about your day?"
"Hank...this guy I was seeing...well, I'm not seeing him anymore. He already has a serious girlfriend. I didn't know. I didn't know, Griss."
She looked at him. He finally looked at her. She saw sympathy in his eyes. The comfort she found in those eyes was beyond measure; beyond anything she could have even managed to come up with herself.
"I'm sorry," he said, finally looking away. "You don't deserve that."
Beneath her, she could feel the heat of what was underneath his black dress slacks. Something was bulging down there, and she knew he didn't carry a gun.
"I know this is weird," Sara slurred louder than she intended. "But maybe we need this. Aren't you tired of this, Griss? Aren't you tired of not looking me in the eye? Aren't you tired of people talking about us, taking bets on when we'll get together? Don't you want...well, me?"
"Sara...I don't know what to do about this. You're sitting on my lap while I'm handcuffed to a chair. This isn't exactly the scenario I had in mind for our first kiss."
Sara couldn't help it. She smiled.
"You think about our first kiss?"
"Well...yes. I have since you sat in the front row of my lecture. Don't tell me you never thought about it."
"Of course I have. But you're so frosty all the time and you've made it clear that it could never happen, so..."
They both thought about this statement and how achingly true it was.
"Tell me how you pictured our first kiss," she said. She had to know.
He shook his head, but he was smiling.
"Tell me about it," she said, "or you may never get out of these handcuffs."
He looked worried. She laughed.
"It's always right before a case. It's when you first come in, since you're always first, and we're getting coffee together or something. You tell me how the case went the day before; I praise you on a job well done. Right before the others come in, I kiss you. Just a little. We're staring at each other when the others file in. And then when we're done with whatever it is we're working on that night, we come back here. I make you breakfast. And then we kiss a lot."
"Hmm." Sara said. The bulge underneath her was getting more swollen and hotter. This was all a little too much.
"You know, if I kissed you right now, there's not much you could do about it," she said.
"I know that," he said, smiling at her. And then he frowned. "But Sara, the repercussions of such a thing--"
She didn't want to hear about it. She didn't want to hear about the consequences or the reactions or the penalties. She wanted to taste him, his mouth and his tongue and his essence, and so she did. She kissed him. When he was too shocked to kiss back, she forced her tongue in his mouth. He gave an endearing moan, and finally kissed her back.
She wanted to feel his hands on her, but unfortunately, he didn't have the ability to do so at the moment. So she worked around it. She put her hands on him; all over him. Through his wavy hair, under his shirt, on his face, on his zipper. It seemed as though he still wasn't sure whether to give in or not, but when she unzipped his pants and stuck her hand in, he apparently made a decision to go with it.
"Sara..."
"Don't talk," she whispered. "Just don't." For once, he didn't.
She got down on her knees and eased his pants down. She liked what she saw, even if she was surprised. She didn't think it would be so big, but damn, it was huge. She stroked it lightly at first, and then harder. He responded. She liked it.
Helpless to what this young, beautiful woman was doing to him, Grissom closed his eyes and let it happen. He gasped when he first felt her mouth on his cock, and gasped again when he realized how good it felt. She knew how to suck a dick, that was for sure. She cupped his balls in her warm hands and lapped at his dick, her tongue guiding the way.
Before either of them knew what was happening, Catherine came back in from wherever she'd been and joined in. Catherine winked at Sara, and a silent agreement passed through the air again. At first they shared his cock, tongues meeting occasionally, working together towards a common goal. Then Catherine took the balls and Sara worked on his cock. And then they switched.
Catherine stopped licking and Sara picked up the pace. She barely noticed Catherine taking Sara's pants off, but she did notice when Catherine stuck a finger inside her panties. She noticed because it felt good, and she wanted more.
"Good, you're ready," she whispered in Sara's ear, her new favorite activity. "Get on top of him."
"But what about..."
"I had a vasectomy 20 years ago," Grissom said, scaring the shit out of Sara. "But that doesn't mean I'm exactly ready for this."
"Neither is Sara," Catherine said, "but you gotta do what you gotta do."
She took Sara's panties off and Sara got on top of Grissom--her boss, her friend, her mentor, her sometime confidante, and now her lover.
Oh, his dick felt so good inside of her. They both gasped as his sticky, wet cock met her glistening pussy. Sara knew he couldn't help much, so she did a majority of the work. She grasped his head and they kissed while she grinded, up and down, in and out.
Catherine watched the two of them. They both had their eyes closed. Sara was really working it. Gil was letting her. They both seemed so...satisfied. Sara with her lithe frame bucking against Gil's sturdy body, their sweat mingling together, their bodies fusing into one. Catherine butted in long enough to take off Sara's shirt so they could all look at her glistening breasts. Gil leaned forward instinctively and took one very pink nipple in his mouth. Sara cried out in bliss.
Never taking her eyes off of them, she unlocked the handcuffs. Gil immediately took his hands out and explored all the parts that were normally covered in clothing. Sara moaned, and Catherine watched her younger friend have an orgasm the likes of which she'd probably never experienced before. Hell, Catherine wasn't sure if she'd ever had an orgasm like that. She was jealous.
Grissom, free from his handcuffs, suddenly got up, Sara still grinding on top of him, and took both of them into his bedroom. Catherine followed, not able to take her eyes off this spectacle in front of her. She watched as Grissom got on top of Sara and penetrated her, causing them again to gasp in ecstasy.
Catherine watched for a long time before jealously overtook her. She crawled on the bed, not noticed by either one of them. She again whispered in Sara's ear, "I want some." Sara shook her head vigorously, not wanting to share this kind of passion with anyone else.
"Come on, Sara. Be nice. Share."
Reluctantly, Sara slid over and let Catherine take her place. Grissom wasn't sure what to do. He looked at Sara.
"Go ahead. I'll watch."
Catherine smiled at him, an evil smile that made Sara a little angry.
"You remember that thing I used to do, Gil. Don't you remember how it used to drive you wild?"
He nodded hesitantly, and she did something or other with her legs that made him give off a high-pitched shriek. He didn't stop fucking her, though, and she didn't stop enjoying it. It didn't even bother Catherine that he wasn't looking at her all. He was staring into Sara's eyes even as he was pounding his rock hard cock into her at a furious pace. Sara watched, her fingers dancing on her clit, mesmerized.
When Catherine had her fill, she motioned for Sara to get back in the game. Grissom grinned as Sara hurried back over to the bed. He was inside of her before she was fully on the bed. He came up behind her, and they both bucked and thrashed and came and screamed and moaned until it was over. Catherine was gone by that time. Neither of them knew where she went, and neither of them cared. She was merely the catalyst for their tribal dance.
They took their showers separately, and showed up to work separately. None of them called in. Warrick and Nick took one look at the three of them and knew it would be a long night. Grissom handed out assignments, and Sara was relieved to find she'd be working a robbery on the strip solo. Grissom was taking Nick to a murder in Henderson, and Catherine and Warrick had suspicious circs at the Tangiers. Just another night. Just another midnight that she would never stop chasing.
April 2005
Sara hoped things would be different between her and Grissom after that. They weren't. For another 2 heartbreaking years, everything was exactly the same. Except now it was worse, because now she knew exactly how it felt to kiss him, to touch him, to make love to him. She knew his feelings for her existed, and as she would find out soon enough, he just "couldn't do it."
She developed a bit of a drinking problem, and then got in trouble for it. She mouthed off to authority and got in trouble for it. She did her job at a mental institution and got in trouble for it. Well, that bit wasn't exactly her fault.
After the incident at the institution, Grissom took her home. They sat in front of her house for a long time before anyone said anything.
"I could have lost you tonight," he said, looking straight ahead. "Adam would have killed you, he really would."
"I wouldn't have let him," she said hoarsely, trying to sound braver than she was.
"I could have lost you, though, and the thought makes me crazy. Goddamn it, Sara, you make me so crazy every damn day."
"I know the feeling."
He leaned over and kissed her. And it was nice, and it was sweet, and it meant something. It wasn't initiated by Catherine, and nobody was handcuffed. It was perfect.
"I know things have been off since...since, well, you know. That night was amazing, but it felt so wrong. I never wanted it to be like that with you. I wanted it to be sweet and innocent and everything that makes me think of you."
"I know. It wasn't the way I would have wanted things to start with us. I don't know what Catherine was thinking, but it wasn't about us."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"Every day I think about what it was like to be with you. It was such an incredible feeling that I knew if it ever happened again, I'd be toast. But I'm ready now. I know it sounds so strange coming from me; I feel strange saying it. But I'm ready. If you'll have me, of course."
"You know the answer to that," she said, gently kissing him.
Eventually, she led him inside. He made pancakes while she watched, grinning. Even if a thousand wild horses came stomping through her kitchen, she wouldn't have noticed. Because later, in her bedroom, it felt right, and it would never feel wrong again.