By: Cindy aka sg1phileshipper
Email: sg1phileshipperskynet.be
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were, never will be. Get over it that people are using them for plain fun. ;-)
Spoilers: Set after 'Nesting Dolls'.
Summary: Unbound challenge response. First and last line provided, 1000 words limit – um sorry, didn't make it.
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Keywords: Angst/Romance
Note: Un-beta'ed piece of fluff. All mistakes are entirely mine, so blame me.
"I believe that an apology is in order."
Sara flinched at the harsh words and turned around, her body on high alert. She stood face to face with Conrad Ecklie, and that on her first night back on the job after her suspension. He had a smug expression on his face and impatiently tapped his foot on the floor, his hand on his hips.
"Leave her alone, Conrad," a loud voice boomed from the hallway. "Don't you just love to torture people?" he grunted through his teeth as he approached the pair.
"I've always known she was your personal project," Ecklie said in a honey sweet voice, as he turned around to meet the angry glare of Gil Grissom. "She owes me an apology, Gil," he stated.
Grissom approached him wearily; his look ice-cold and his voice dangerously low. "I'm sure you have better things to do," he hissed, clenching his fists at his side.
"Have it your way, Grissom," he spat and left them standing in the middle of the hallway, a few heads curiously turning around to look at the display.
Grissom let out the deep breathe he had been holding, and unclenched his fists. He approached Sara and put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, as he gently squeezed her shoulder.
Her body tensed at his sudden display of affection and Grissom pulled his hand away as if he had been burned. "Sara," he whispered, taking a step closer to her.
"Don't," she mumbled as she held her hand up to stop him. "Don't act as if you care," she groaned.
A wave of emotion flickered through his eyes and he shuddered involuntary. "But I," he started, only to be stopped by Sara's angry glare.
"I'm sick of this," she motioned between them, looking at him defiantly.
"Sara, I," he tried, but again the fire in her eyes stopped him.
"Shut up, Grissom," she shouted, swallowing hard to compose herself. "Don't act as if you're my knight in shining armor, because you're clearly not," she whispered hoarsely, her emotions catching up with her. "I could have taken care of Ecklie myself, but no. Sweet Gil Grissom had to butt in and make a total fool of me," she spat angrily.
Something inside Grissom snapped and his eyes turned cold. "Fine," he said, taking a step back from her. "Have it your way, Sidle," he yelled. "If you want to know the truth; I don't give a rat's ass about you, so just get over yourself," he hissed through clenched teeth and stormed off down the hallway, slamming his office door shut.
All kind of thoughts went through Sara's head, none of them making sense to her. She tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat, failing miserably. She closed her eyes for a minute, fighting her ragging emotions. She controlled her breathing, just like her PEAP counselor had told her and after a while she walked to the break room.
Grissom was already there when she arrived. "You're late, Sara," he said matter-of-factly, and handed her a slip. "Trick and roll on Eastern Avenue. Come back when you're done and help Greg," he said coldly.
She looked at Greg and he shrugged his shoulders. "It's a slow night and he told me to go over the evidence in the Henderson case," he explained, rinsing his mug in the sink and leaving the room.
Shift passed by very slowly. Sara closed her case in less than two hours and processing evidence was spent in comfortable silence. She kept thinking about her argument with Grissom and had to bite on her lip several time to stop the tears from falling.
"Are you okay?" Greg asked cautiously near the end of shift.
"I'm fine, Greg," she whispered, forcing a smile to her face. "But thanks for caring though," she said and left the layout room. On her way to the locker room she stared at Grissom's closed door and sighed. She really had messed things up this time.
She fished her jacket and keys out of her locker and slammed the door shut. Sighing, she slowly walked down the long corridor towards the parking lot and closed the door without looking back. She had to get out of there before things got too ugly.
Sara slowly opened the door of her SUV and her mouth fell wide open; the inside of her car was embedded in petals of roses. White, yellow and red adorned the driver's seat; a single red rose sat on the steering wheel. She took it in her hand and read the small card that accompanied the long-stern rose. 'I'm sorry,' it read, neatly written in black ink. She was staring at the small card, while furiously blinking at the rising sun, its sudden clarity blinding her momentarily.
Sara was totally confused now. She knew whom the card belonged to, although it wasn't signed. She would recognize his handwriting out of a thousand papers. Was the heck was her trying to accomplish?
"He loves me, he loves me not," she mumbled while picking at the petals of the rose she was clutching in her hand. She cradled the petals in her left hand and wiped at the tears slowly trickling down her face.
She let out a sigh and continued picking at the petals. "He loves me, he loves me not," she sobbed and she picked off the last petal, unable to hold back her tears. Her whole body started shaking as her sadness took over.
She felt a soft rustle against her arm and a warm breath tickled her ear. "You missed one," the voice whispered and an arm came into view and picked at the lonely petal hanging on what once was a beautiful rose.
She turned her head and looked straight into baby blue eyes, the depth of feelings in them making her shudder.
"You should put this on," he said as he took the jacket from her arm and put it over her shoulders.
"I'm sorry too," she whispered hoarsely, her voice catching in her throat. "I didn't," she started only to be stopped by a single, warm finger on her lips.
Grissom looked at her in adoration for a few seconds and replaced his finger by his lips. He kissed her so tenderly and so softly, that she started crying again. He lifted her head with his finger under her chin. "Don't cry, Sara, please don't," he whispered, claiming her lips with his again, kissing her so tenderly she thought she was dreaming.
"Never again, honey," he mumbled against her lips, and she smiled into the kiss. He picked up a handful of petals from her seat and held them in front of her.
She smiled at him and he kissed her again. The wind picked up and the breeze blew the petals across the floor.
Einde