Title: What They Never See
Summary: A series of One shots accounting how Sara and Grissom's relationship developed, set from "Committed" Season 5.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show.
A/N: This is actually my first fan fic in a long time, my first CSI fic and my first on this site. I'm writing as I publish so feedback would be really appreciated. It's generally a series of oneshots that could almost be viewed as deleted scenes, after I was fascinated to find how GSR developed without the audience knowing.
This is my first attempt, set after the scene where Sara claims Adam would be better off without his mother being alive. For me, it seemed the obvious place for the relationship to actually start for the both of them, after encountering a danger like in the episode. I hope you enjoy it! Reviews would be most helpful and really appreciated.
"Committed"
Sara walked away from the interview room, the clack of her heels echoing across the corridor underneath the hubbub of the lab as others walked past her. The other members of the team were busy in their own cases that had preoccupied them whilst she and Grissom had been working Robbie's case, any members casting her a quick smile of recognition as they tore about their work. The dark corridors, with the artificial light scratching at the burnished surface of the floor, reminded her of the institute, with its clinical feel and clinical workings. The whole time she was there she felt at risk, surrounded by insecure people. It struck her as ironic; to feel so uncomfortable somewhere like where her mother had lived, when in theory, a mother was the one person you're meant to feel safest with.
"Crazy people make me feel crazy." She had said. She knew that was true but in her line of work, she often encountered people she would consider crazy, even if the textbooks would argue otherwise.
Cases like these, where she could almost see herself in the situations framed by her horrific past, freaked her out. Violence was violence, it happened everywhere in so many forms, but recently, everything seemed a reflection of her past. Vulnerability was never acceptable in CSI; they were there to be unbiased and meticulous. Retaining her emotions made her feel false, and drained. Her hand crept to the sinewy line of her neck, her fingertips tracing where Adam had threatened her. Physically, there were no marks on her skin but mentally, it was another scar on her bruised life.
She needed some rest but at the same time, sitting alone in her house wasn't preferable for her now. Her ghosts were hanging around her, sleeping would be impossible and recently casual past times such as television seemed to be unable to distract her from her own torment. Of course she had a recent forensic paper that Greg had lent her to read, but in truth, she felt safer where she was. The lab was familiar with its busy offices that were constantly switching samples and evidence, she could possibly occupy herself here, find a case to help on, it was midday now and the lab was as occupied as it always was. New York was not the only city that never slept, as Sara was all too aware. There was always an open case somewhere, and nothing took her mind off her own life like pulling apart the threads of someone else's to get answers.
Pausing at her decision to find some work, then spinning on her heel, she made her way back to Grissom's office. She passed where Mia was working; Nick pressing her for some results from the case Catherine's team was working. This was why she loved CSI; it was never quiet or eerie like that institution with its single file inmates and strict routine. She reached Grissom's office, where he was just settling down to paperwork, a job he had expressed less than enthusiasm for, as she entered and leant on his doorframe. Sara paused to watch him, busying himself at his perfectly organised desk, shifting jars of botanical and bizarre looking experiments out of his way, before he had noticed her.
"Anywhere you need me?" she offered, light-heartedly.
"Sara..." Grissom started, placing a folder down on his desk and resting on his hands, supporting his weight along his broad shoulders.
"I saw that Warrick is still interviewing the suspect from the double shooting earlier, I could chase the trace results he's after, or I could help Greg out with his hit-and-run case, or you, I know I could help you out." she continued unrelentingly, hoping to persuade Grissom with her enthusiasm that she was fine to continue her work this evening, especially as he knew how tough a day she'd had. Or maybe to persuade herself. However, his quiet interjections of "Sara" as she spoke suggested otherwise. He paused and shook his head.
"Sara, go home." Grissom said simply, his steady unwavering voice suggesting this was not a request, rather a casual demand. She opened her mouth to protest but suspected that there was no point and closed it again. "You're obviously exhausted; you've had a rough day."
Sara could see he was concerned, even though any change within Grissom was difficult to detect. She knew him well, and she was a CSI after all, even though he was flicking through a file in a nonchalant manner and rarely meeting her gaze. Still, she understood that Grissom always protected his team. His bond with the entire group was evident, and even though she had felt distanced from Grissom since he promoted Nick over her, sharing her secret with him had made her feel included again. One of the team.
Since that, watching him today at the window of the station, hands pressed against the glass, she could see his need to protect her, tangible between them. Whether he knew she was mentally susceptible in a place like that because of her past or whether it was just Grissom's instinct to protect his team, Sara's gut still strained like hunger pains at the memory of Grissom's unwavering panic-restrained stare, his hands pressed against the glass straining to save her. Although when they did break in, Grissom stayed in the corridor, leaving the restraint to the experts. Typically Grissom, he stayed within the boundaries of his role despite his emotions.
So why didn't he understand that being alone was something she wanted to avoid? She'd stood there earlier that day and told him why she saw her own ghosts in that place; he knew that it was all on the surface for her. She wanted him to just accommodate her, to understand and to take her mind off everything. That's what her job could do, and it was always what Grissom managed to do.
"I don't need sleep" Sara attempted to argue.
"O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse." Grissom quoted. His way of finding evidence when there was no crime scene, to reference the literary world.
"Shakespeare?" Sara queried, partly infuriated at his aloof response to her situation but more endeared at his love of the arts. That was just part of Grissom, where you could see where he had once existed outside of his job which now was his entire life.
"Of course. Henry IV part 2 actually." Grissom informed her, as if knowing the source of his argument would convince her further. Then he suggested "You should try some, Shakespeare's always very engaging. I find his insight into human nature remarkable and even more remarkable how human's never change. No matter how many changes in technology, how many weapons we make, Shakespeare's account of humanity always rings true."
"I doubt Shakespeare ever wrote about mental institutions." Sara sighed, collapsing limply onto the chair across his desk, tired again of skirting around the issue that they were both aware of. Grissom's passion was admirable; she wished she had the intelligence of the man, a scientific thinker engorged on literature. It was just another thing that made him the man she based her work on, she had always modelled herself on Grissom's way of working, being entirely logical and never overlooking anything. Unlike Grissom however, she seemed to be finding it increasingly difficult to be unbiased in her work.
"On the contrary, Shakespeare seems fascinated with the mentally insecure. Lady Macbeth is insane by the time she takes her life, racked with guilt by her actions. Some argue that Hamlet is mad, driving himself to murder at his own theories, then Ophelia, she goes mad with grief at the murder of her father..." Grissom's words slowed then trailed off as he realised the similarities to Sara, dropping his eyes from her, the words stinging her consciousness. Is that what was happening to her, was she losing herself from the grief of that murder she'd witnessed as a child?
Grissom laughed shortly, not from amusement but bitterly. She knew he could tell what she was thinking.
"Sara, you can't compare yourself to everyone else that has experiences like yours." Grissom told her, his voice softening, moving from his large office chair to sit on the chair adjacent to her. Sara was always acutely aware of the distance, or lack of distance, between them, even proximity like this made her senses peak to her own embarrassment. Her affection for Grissom had been suppressed but at times, she infuriatingly couldn't prevent it.
The tension became even more evident, with Sara's eyes flickering to where his hand rested on the arm rest near to her elbow, with his gaze unfaltering, his blue irises sparking in the harsh artificial light reflecting off his glasses. She examined him rapidly, his broad shoulders, smart dress and dark hair peppered with distinguished sheen of his gracious age. She had thought about how he looked for so many years, spending every day with him meant that she often forgot, and it was moments like this that she saw what had attracted her to him all those years ago.
"Why did you bother?" Sara asked him suddenly.
"Bother with what?" Grissom wondered, clearly confused.
"Finding out. About me...about my life, before".
It was a question that had plagued her ever since he'd come to her house, defying Ecklie and stepping what she saw as beyond the line of work. For it was true that Grissom cared about all of his team, or what had been his team, but the tenderness and concern he had expressed that day had seemed beyond that. She hadn't dared to think that but now, she decided she wanted to know where they stood. They'd zigzagged between colleagues and friends and maybe more and she was tired of feeling confused in the one place where she spent her time solving puzzles. It was time to solve this one.
"I told you. I care." Grissom told her simply, standing and moving back to his original seat. Instantly, the sensation between them was severed, Sara could feel his defences remerging. Sara watched him, feeling her rising frustration and exasperation. This was typical Grissom, when it came to his own life that's what it was, logic that worked in circles and baffled everyone that tried to get through to his emotions.
He sighed, putting his head in his hands. "I'm tired too Sara." He stated, clearly attempting to end the discussion. "I need to file this case as quick as possible and then go and get some sleep. Greg's capable with tying up the loose ends of his own case. Like I said, you need rest."
Sara watched him gather his papers and stand to leave, waiting by the door for Sara to follow. He beckoned to suggest her exit but she relentlessly wouldn't move, staring blankly at the desk.
"I don't get you Grissom." She said finally, standing up and approaching him. "I mean, since I started here all those years ago, it's like I think you want one thing and then you turn around and seem to say the opposite." She began pacing, cutting off anything that Grissom was trying to say, her anger and confusion escalating beyond her normal levels of restriction. "I ask you out, you say no, you then tell that Lurie guy that you can't risk your career and I think that's for me, but then I tell myself it can't be. Then you start becoming like, this figure who I am meant to rely on and then you switch back to being my boss in a matter of hours, so what the hell am I meant to think? Do Catherine and Sophia have this kind of bond with you, am I being egotistical to assume I've got special treatment?"
"Sara-" Grissom tried to interrupt her, leaning towards her, his arm hovering near her, close enough for her hairs to sense him but not quite touching her, boundaries undefined.
"No, it's like, one minute everything seems clear and I know where I stand and the next you uproot it, you alter totally without me receiving any notification of what's going on or what you're thinking," Sara continued. She was rolling now, her entire mixed up history of feeling and not feeling for Grissom all the hope and confusion and hurt streaming out of her mouth in an unstoppable torrent, like when she got rolling on the hypothesises in crimes, but now it was her own experiences. "I just think sometimes, you should update me, you know, hint at me what I'm supposed to be doing, how I'm meant to be acting with you, how I'm meant to..." her voice slowed as Grissom came to face her with piercing eyes, listening to the words that she suddenly realised were raw, too raw, her soul exposed. "...feel about you." Sara finished finally.
She could see Grissom studying her closely. He was so close to her face she could feel his breath, he studied her features in what expression, bemusement? Anger? Confusion? Sara couldn't tell, he avoided her eye line whilst being able to see her better than she'd felt anyone ever see her. Still, she felt that she'd overstepped the mark of what was acceptable for a subordinate and a supervisor. She thought back to what she heard Grissom tell Lurie, about not risking his career for her. She wasn't worth the risk, so why did she risk everything for him?
"I never told you how to feel Sara." Grissom eventually mumbled, breaking the silence. His blue eyes crept to meet hers, holding them unrelentingly. He sounded defensive.
"I know Grissom." Sara replied steely. "That's the point."
Grissom was exhausted. Cases were always tiring but the worst ones were in environments like that institution. The very air in the place seemed laced with fear and exhaustion, exhaustion at the monotony of the place. He would need to file paperwork on the case, it was getting lighter outside. He'd wanted to get out today, he had errands to run but more than anything, he wanted to sleep. Then Sara appeared at his door, enquiring about having a new case to work.
She was being ridiculous, Grissom knew. She had already worked a double shift to solve this case with him, and it had been more than harrowing for her. Seeing her in a place that stirred up her inner torment changed her, Grissom could feel her tension and her strain, occasionally her eyes would unfocus as she studied something. He knew, of course, that she just wanted to be busy but he couldn't, as her supervisor, allow her to stay longer when she wasn't needed. He was afraid for her, afraid that if this carried on, she was going to burn-out, breakdown or do as she had before and expend all her emotion on those in authority. Next time, he wasn't sure he'd been able to support her so much.
He tried to evade her demands, pleas in disguise, tried to convince her that she would be better off going home to sleep. He unintentionally stumbled onto her past in his argument with Shakespeare, a mistake he mentally kicked himself for, she wanted to help her forget not go in full circle. He was exhausted, and every time he got involved with Sara emotionally he felt like he was walking a tightrope between them, trying to help her without embroiling himself with her, tangling his own emotions in. Then she asked why he had ever bothered.
Why had he bothered? How could he even begin to explain why he cared so much about her mental stability, about her in general? He always cared about his work colleagues, they were like his family, but Sara, Sara was something else. He admired her, her efficiency in the field, her independence and her devotion to the job. She was an excellent CSI and as a woman too, she was confident and strong. Yet recently, seeing her suffering, tormented, did not make him stop his admiration, but care about her even more. He wanted to help her, and not having someone that understood her past at work was the very thing that had caused her argument with Catherine and Ecklie, so he made it important to understand.
"I told you. I care," he explained. He'd said that to her the day he'd visited her at home, when he'd uncovered her history with her. It didn't really mean much in theory, but he hope she knew that it meant he truly did care. He did care, more than he cared about other people he met, encountered, worked with. More than almost anyone he'd ever met. He didn't want her to know that but at the same time, he wanted to know that someone cared, someone was willing to back her up and support her through a difficult time in her life. CSI was full of difficult times.
Grissom sighed. He didn't want to confuse Sara anymore if he could help it, he suspected she was becoming aware of his own internal struggle with his feelings for her. He began to gather up his papers, slotting his photos and files into the folder, reading to report back to Ecklie, who had expressed his concern at the news of the violence Sara had experienced. Gil hoped he could avoid the issue of Sara that was developing by making himself busy, then finally going home and getting some rest. He was looking forward to reading Joseph Conrad, which lay half-read on his nightstand.
"I'm tired too Sara. I need to file this case as quick as possible and then go and get some sleep. Greg's capable with tying up the loose ends of his own case. Like I said, you need rest."
She did need rest, she looked drained and tired. Still pretty though, Grissom thought to himself. She was always pretty, with her short gently curling hair and inquisitive brown eyes that always looked like she was curious about something. She was effortless, almost serene to Grissom. He always wondered how women that did jobs like Sara's could find the time to look as lovely as she did, and he wondered now as he made his way to the door, hoping to end the awkward morning they'd both had.
Sara instead spoke, ""I don't get you Grissom." She stood up and began to walk towards him, and he watched her, listening to her intently. She was talking, or rather, interrogating him, about what he'd been playing at for the last 5 years. She'd finally snapped, had enough of his bipolar ways. What he did expect, he asked himself, as he listened to her questioning him about what he'd been up to? Then she mentioned Lurie, what he'd told him, god knows how Sara even heard that or knew it was about her but still, that was something he was ashamed of. It was him admitting that he couldn't bring himself to put himself out on a limb to be with her. In truth, he'd messed her around all this time with his own struggle against his feelings, he thought as she paced and finally came to approach him at the door.
"...how I'm meant to feel about you." Sara finished her exasperated rant, her voice melting away as Grissom fixed his eyes on her. He didn't dare to think about it, what Sara did feel. Once upon a time he was confident, certain even, that she felt the same affection that she did but back then, she was a young woman with a lot to understand about what it meant to be a CSI. Now, he was faced with the same beautiful young woman but laced with a history that made her complex and even more important to him than he would have ever anticipated when their friendship began.
"I never told you how to feel." Grissom said, offended that Sara felt manipulated by Grissom as if he'd intentionally confused her over their friendship. All he'd hoped to avoid was her realising his inner conflict, now it was clear he'd been awful at doing that. Maybe that was what made her so irresistible, that she was the one person he was incapable of hiding his feelings from.
How he'd hoped to avoid all of this, whilst at the same time making it inevitable. Suppressing his feelings was natural, instinctive for Gil. It was necessary with what he did, it had always been necessary for him to get by, even from when his father died. Suppressing his feelings for Sara had seemed achievable; hoping that with a manoeuvre away from an intimate friendship early on could ensure Sara would never be disillusioned about them.
Yet, that hadn't worked. He couldn't prevent himself from reaching out to her. Sure, when the team was working effectively, he could treat her like any of the others but recently watching her contest with her own past made him reach out to her. Instinctively, he felt compelled to not just protect her, but comfort her and nurture her. He'd lost sight long ago of what he was trying to stop himself doing. He'd made out he couldn't bring himself to risk his career and his lifestyle, but now it was like he couldn't bring himself to not to risk it. It had never been a question of whether Sara was worth it.
"I know Grissom. That's the point," he heard Sara say to him. The hurt in her voice was evident, the hurt he'd only tried to avoid.
He'd got this very wrong. Sara had seen, felt, with him, every emotional turn he had made over the past 5 years, the very thing he'd tried to conceal from even himself. She'd felt him soften towards her recently, seen the hellish fear he'd felt earlier that day. Watching that man threaten her life, with him trapped on the other side of the glass, unable to save her himself. Sometimes, he even wished he could fire her, get her away from CSI, get her away from all the dangers his team faced and just keep her safe. But he always stopped himself. Anyway, taking away her job would destroy her. She was just like him.
Grissom couldn't avert his eyes from her. The amber pain from her eyes that seared through into him, she wanted answers, like always. This time, he'd have to find them himself, with no crime scene to process, just his own decision that he'd been attempting to avoid for fear of facing it.
His arm crept from where it had lent on the doorframe, Gil aware of every inch it moved towards her. His fingertips dusted her palm and she flinched away slightly but he persevered. He could feel her trembling, for once he could physically sense her emotion instead of watching her battle them. It made him want to take her and hold her tightly, but the whole situation was so tense, every movement felt momentous. He could hear her breathing, as he slipped his fingers into the perfectly shaped space between hers. Slowly, her hand responded, moulding around his. He'd held her hand before, but this was different. He could feel her entire body next to him, her rising and falling breaths, her body temperature.
"Feel like this." Grissom whispered. "Feel exactly as you feel right now."
Grissom could feel his own heart pounding against his chest but he sought to retain himself. How he'd wanted her for so long and now, he'd made the decision. He could feel his own terror; he couldn't read in Sara's dumbfounded expression what she was thinking. Her skin was warm to the touch, from her heated expression moments before but he was conscious that his own hands were moist with the nerves he wished her to not see. He wanted to kiss her. She was inches away from his face, the woman who had induced feelings in him that he had laboured over for years, whose emotional hardships had tormented him as he watched them torment her.
Yet he stopped himself. He couldn't tell what Sara was feeling or thinking, whether her anger had genuinely subsided or whether she was simply shocked at him. Still, it was true. Whether she felt as he did, at this tiny connection between them, reeling with happiness and electricity and uncertainty, or whether she knew finally that he wasn't worth the risk, he wanted the uncertainty she had complained of to end. Even as he made this move, as he exerted himself he still felt the compulsion to move away
He loosened his grip and moved away, the ignition between their hands fading. Sara glanced down at his hands, as if to make sure she had not imagined him being to study her, knowing that she might never physically be as close to him as she was right now, he turned and walked away. His pulse slowed and he attempted to return to the normal retained man that was Grissom, whilst his entire emotional existence hung in the balance, standing at his office door, watching him walk away.