Disclaimer: Characters in story – not mine and quite frankly insulted by the insinuation they are owned by anyone…
Author Notes: Okay, I know I shouldn't be starting another work in progress when I haven't finished my other three, but as per usual this short fic has beaten me down, and has become longer than I intended. I first had this idea back in October and haven't been able to re-work it since then. It is nothing like it was when it started, but that I'd imagine is part of the fun!
Believe It!
By Rianne.
Grissom
Nick had caught him staring at Sara.
And not just looking.
Hypnotised.
She'd had him captivated.
And the younger man had actually been cheeky enough to give him, his superior, a knowing look and nod before he had scurried away to the Denali parked up in the distance, keys in hand.
That had been hours ago.
Nick had returned, the DB had been processed; they had scoured the surrounding desert for trace, Super Dave and the Cops had headed back to Vegas.
And it was time for them to follow suit.
And those keys…?
Now they were nowhere to be seen.
And that it seemed, after a double shift in the desert sun, was the final straw, his final nerve fraying beyond repair and then before he could consider, or hold the words back, something inside him had snapped and he was yelling, mindlessly spouting some meaningless tirade about there being no room in the already stretched budget to replace expensive car keys lost by careless employees, that sending locksmiths out into the Nevada desert was going to cost the earth and on and on and he couldn't seem to stop himself.
Nick flailed for a moment, deer in the headlights, before something in him visually snapped too, and he retaliated.
It had stunned him for a moment. Nick had never done that before. Had never spoken to him like that.
But the aggression took over, both of them were speaking at once, fighting to be heard over one another, their voices rising until they were yelling and it was completely out of all control.
The tiny remaining rational part of his brain recognised that this outburst was utterly insane. That he sounded like he was loosing his mind. They had only lost the car keys for goodness sake, it wasn't the end of the world, it wasn't even a splash in the ocean but he was just suddenly so angry, and once he had opened that shook up bottle of emotions he just couldn't get them crammed back into the vessel again.
And what made it worse was that he knew full well that the missing keys weren't the root of his anger. In fact he was more annoyed at himself, annoyed that he had let his attentions be caught by something (someone) other than the case. And that equated to only one thing, that he was not providing the very best service for this poor deceased soul found ravaged by animals and the elements.
That to him, was unforgivable.
And if he was more honest than he would like, he was damn annoyed at being caught.
And that all just compounded.
He was ashamed, and feeling sorry for himself, tired and pissed off, and very frustrated.
And Nick was not helping.
He swore that he had handed those keys to Nick when the younger CSI had begged to borrow them so he could have a few minutes rest and a return to the car to pick up a bottle of probably warm water.
In self-protective retaliation, Nick turned around and claimed that Sara had used the keys to return her jacket to the car as the sun had come up, just before they had trudged to check the land surrounding their DB.
But even as he had tried to blame Sara the flaws in his crime timeline were dawning across his face, the sun had risen some eight hours earlier. Sara had borrowed the keys at daybreak, earlier than he had.
And honestly Sara's attitude wasn't helping either as she was instantly defensive, as always, and had flown at Nick, more than emphatically reminding him in a retort so curt and determined that both men present flinched, that she had handed those keys right back to Grissom, and Nick had borrowed them after her, just as Grissom had deduced, and she would just like to know exactly what Nick had done with them and she'd also just like to see him try and blame her.
Her hands were on her hips, her ponytail was bouncing, her ire raging, no one dared mess with a pissed off Sidle, it wasn't worth loosing your appendages.
But neither of them were admitting fault.
All of them growing redder and redder in the face as they battled it out. Lord help him if he and Nick came to actual blows over this as the younger CSI had pounds more muscle than he did, and a good fifteen years on him.
But stubborn and righteous as ever neither was backing down and for some unknown reason he couldn't let it go.
He couldn't get back that calm control he always prided himself on.
It was incredible to actually feel. To act out this violent rage in this chest. Delightfully cathartic.
His issues on restraint had got him into this mess.
And that only made him more ashamed, his feelings for Sara had caused trouble again, this time he had somehow got so distracted that he had lost track of their keys, and more importantly allowed himself to be caught in an act of very un-supervisory indiscretion.
But really he had shot the supervisor role to hell when he finally asked Sara to go out with him, completely trampling all over every official rule.
He shouldn't be angry about that, he should be joyous, he was at long last dating Sara Sidle, he should be on his knees crying it to the heavens, but he wasn't.
And that made him angry too.
He was still worried about what others would think.
And that had him so riled he wanted to scream.
He could see Sara staring at him right now, eyes wild.
Damn, even in a moment of mind-boggling breakdown he couldn't stop looking at her.
He had to stop this. To walk away. To bring his pulse down and think rationally.
God, he had only kissed her once.
Only once, two days ago and that one moment of happiness had sent his whole life into a tailspin.
Nick
It had to be the heat, spending all day in the heat, that was the only thing he could blame for the complete breakdown that was going on right now.
He had never in his life screamed at his Boss. He'd never screamed like this at anyone, not even his family.
This was madness. All they had done was loose the keys, and Grissom had lost his mind, and so had he.
Why hadn't he walked away from confrontation? He wasn't this easily riled. What was going on with him? What was going on with Grissom?
And for that matter why hadn't Sara stepped in to stop them?
After initially defending, and clearing herself she had fallen quiet. Why was she just staring at both of them in some sort of horrified trance?
She probably thought that they had lost their minds, that was most likely why.
In all honesty he had no idea how the keys had been lost.
All he could say for certain was that it must have been an accident.
But why wasn't he saying that, how come he couldn't get those calm and sane sounding words into this argument?
He could safely vouch that not one of them had intended to strand them all out here in the middle of wherever here was, without going far wrong.
No one in their right mind would wish themselves stranded miles from anywhere, with night approaching and Grissom doing some kind of crazy man rant, whilst Sara was quiet, way too quiet in an oh shit, this was really happening kind of way.
She hadn't even stepped in as the usual voice of reason; she just stood there gawking.
It didn't seem like any of them could be called upon to get them out of this mess.
But what to do, some investigators they all were, they could timeline a crime scene in minute detail, but they couldn't figure out the whereabouts of those keys, or a way to get themselves out of this that didn't require a long walk, or waiting until daylight.
But whatever the excuses, between the three of them they had only thought to bring one set of keys to the company issued Denali.
One set of keys that were not to be found anywhere.
Pockets had been rooted.
Kits had been ransacked.
He had even shaken his jacket so hard bits of lint had formed a dust cloud.
But those damn keys had vanished.
Or more likely been dropped somewhere out there in the thousands of miles of desert that surrounded the three of them.
So in his rational mind there were three options:
One: split up and search for them, which in the setting sun looked the most daunting task imaginable.
Two: ring for help and a locksmith and a ride back to Vegas, which seemed a great option until they realised that his cell had no battery, Grissom's no signal and Sara's was tucked away in her jacket pocket snug and safe inside the damn car.
Or three: sit and wait for someone, anyone to drive down the lonely desert road that snaked past them into infinity, and hadn't seen a car besides theirs in hours.
It wasn't looking good.
And he could feel Grissom's displeasure growing more irritated by the second as he began ranting even louder, orally cataloguing everything that was wrong with this current situation.
Or at least that was what he hoped was causing Grissom to look that way… and that his boss wasn't currently plotting which of the countless ways he could loose a C.S.I out here in the darkness.
Sara
Her mind never did stop working, and anger and frustration only cranked up the power.
This was ridiculous.
What was happening here?
What had they done with Grissom and Nick and who were these men at one another's throats over a simple set of lost keys?
They were squaring off against one another like cowboys in Monument Valley.
What was going on with these two? Had they lost their minds?
Was it contagious? Grissom had been acting crazy all day; saying odd stuttering things, acting distracted and every single time she had looked in his direction he had been watching her. Yet hidden behind his dark glasses she hadn't been able to read him.
For all she knew he could be looking disgusted at the state of her, all sweaty, sandy and exhausted and wishing that he had asked another woman out, one who didn't have a man's job, and spent time dolling herself up before she came to work.
Was he wishing he hadn't asked her?
Was he wishing he hadn't kissed her?
Her heart wavered over that thought.
But she squashed it down.
Now wasn't the time for a self-conscious pity party, she needed to find a way to calm this down and separate these two.
As she watched the display of male testosterone flare before her still in mild disbelief, she set her mind to work, trying to focus on the most important issues. After all it looked like she was the only one with working brain cells left and it might be up to her to find a way to fix this.
There were levels of importance.
There was the time sensitive evidence that was carefully contained within their forensics kits.
Her gaze tilted skyward to the fact that the sun was very low and in a few minutes the temperature was bound to hit the sand around them and they'd soon be as chilly as Grissom's mood.
They needed to find some way to shelter, but a quick sweep of her surroundings confirmed that the Denali was the largest object for miles.
A chill crept up her spine, sending goose bumps sprawling over her bare arms.
She didn't even have her coat; it was taunting her from the back seat with the sculptured bump of her cell phone in its pocket. They didn't have much water either.
She closed her eyes to shut out the fighting for a moment.
Today was supposed to have been her day off, why had she said yes, when she'd been called up to work today?
Oh yeah, because Grissom had called and she had wanted to spend time with him, even if it was only at work…
She was beginning to wonder if she needed to learn to say NO.
Grissom
The finger of blame was now pointing either at Nick or himself.
And none of this was helping anything.
They weren't shouting anymore, just bickering like children, whilst night crept in around them.
This was why he'd rather work with bugs than people.
Especially hot, bothered, hungry, tired, people.
If those two hadn't needed to return to the car earlier, and had passed the keys from confused hands to confused hands, they would be in that car right now, most of the way back to Vegas heading for much needed rest.
It wasn't that he begrudged them breaks, and they always worked so relentlessly, in truth it was the other completely unrelated episode earlier that day that had him so riled up.
And riled up in more ways than one!
He was frustrated and very reluctant to accept that he was in the wrong here, they both were.
Why was he still arguing?
The evidence was glaring even to him. His chest still tightened when he thought about it.
He was arguing because he was sulking. He didn't want Nick to know he had been objectifying Sara. He wanted to take his actions back and be more careful and respectful. But he couldn't.
He was embarrassed, and he was, for the first time in a long time, glad of the Vegas heat as it hid the pink tinge that tipped his ears.
It had been almost a day and he was still stinging about being caught out, the only word that could really be used was gawping at Sara.
In the past it would have taken a demolition ball to the building around him, and finding himself under a hill of rubble and a dust cloud, to shatter his concentration when he was in CSI Grissom mode.
But lately…
It was that kiss.
Sweet and gentle at first, a proper goodnight kiss bestowed by a gentleman to the woman of his affection, but this was Sara, boundary pusher extraordinaire.
And one subtle stroke of her sensual tongue against his lower lip had found him surging into full passion.
Standing at attention.
And he hadn't been able to shake her from his thoughts since.
The sultry smile as he had withdrawn, dazed and licking the taste of him from her lips appeared before him every time he closed his eyes.
And she was not helping him out here.
As if she hadn't dented his concentration enough just by being there, it was as if she was oh so innocently conspiring against him.
The case had started with a call to her, on her day off.
Sure he could have called Warrick or Catherine, but that kiss had encouraged him to call Sara.
Sleepy voiced and sounding cosy and lazy, she had agreed to meet him in thirty, and he had counted them down to the second.
She had been playing with her hair as he picked her up outside her place, the chocolate strands still wet from her shower. And as he drove she had dragged an elastic from her jeans pocket and bound it up in a messy and makeshift ponytail, lifting the weight of it off her graceful neck and revealing her ears and a little more of her face than he was used to seeing.
It was nice, and yet it made her look younger. Sinfully younger. She looked again as she had the day they first met.
He had kept looking at her, glancing sideways at her silhouetted against the windowpane and the light beyond.
And when they had arrived at the scene he had still been looking, distracted by the new view of her ears, her throat.
And on top of that she had chosen a red vest top to wear that day, one that showed the freckles sprinkled across her shoulders, and across the intimate dip between her collarbones where the fabric clung to her hot skin. Sure it was a chaste expanse of skin on any other woman, but when it came to Sara, seeing that much skin, especially when it glowed enticingly with the heat of the sun and the strain of walking five miles from the road in daytime desert temperatures… it made his mouth dry.
He had found himself watching her slyly as she had reached the top of an incline keeping pace with him, watched her panting, watched the way it caused her breasts to rise and fall and had been captivated by her pulse beating tightly under the skin of her exposed throat. He had longed to press his open mouth to her, to dart his tongue over the thump, to taste the salt of her skin, and just the contemplation was almost more than his fatigued body could take.
He had been forced to close his eyes and had to take long slow breaths before he could continue after her down the decline.
He had made himself concentrate upon their search, his eyes visually sifting through the sand and weathered debris.
That had been working great for him until she had moved closer to show him something she had found and the scent of her, of her skin warmed sunscreen, had stiffened him so much his nose had practically quivered.
And she had noticed, she had put a hand to his moist forehead, confused and worried by his silence and pale face and that skin-to-skin contact had been almost too much for his yearning heart to withstand.
Her touch had been light and dreamily cool against his frustrated demeanour.
Yeah, that had been a hard one to explain!
He wasn't even sure what excuse eventually came stuttering from his lips, but she had kept glancing sideways at him every few minutes after that, waiting for him to keel over of heat exhaustion, or start jabbering like he saw hallucinations.
He did, he saw a siren processing evidence, sifting through sand dunes like a mermaid undulates through water, faintly blurred by the heat haze and the amber light.
The way she studied a piece of withered and gnarled wood, turning it over in her hands, running her long fingers along its surface and lifting it up to the light to study it further, was like a dance of temptation to him.
Everything sliding lower inside him.
To see her working so diligently at something he too loved, reinforcing their shared interests which seemed to have been thrown to the wayside during their recent arguments, misunderstandings and all the downright emotional entanglings which had befallen and confused him, derailing what had once seemed to be a satisfying friendship with the promise of more.
But things had changed; he had finally stopped stumbling over the wrong words in her presence and had been able to ask the right ones.
Had been able to halt the way that their relationship had been crumbling before his very eyes, and had begun to carefully rebuild 'them'.
Somehow she had found it in herself to forgive him.
Even to forgive the words and actions he couldn't understand himself ever making, nor control when he did.
He had prevented her, had convinced her that he couldn't be with her in anyway beyond the professional.
He had repeatedly forfeited his chances.
Broken her heart over and over again with his indecisiveness and nervousness and fears.
He had given up hope.
He had no chances left.
Berated himself over still entertaining thoughts like that about her when he kept turning her away.
But now he was working towards having permission to be with her, to touch her, to think about her in a more private way, he couldn't decide if he felt guilty or not, was he disrespecting her with his admiration of her beyond her intellect?
She'd be horrified if she could hear his thoughts, or maybe after all this time she might be thrilled to finally hear that he desired her.
Hey, he would remain hopeful.
After all, even through this crazed display of male aggression she was still standing there.
Curious brown eyes big and still not loosing their sparkle despite the troublesome situation they would soon be in and the tension in the air between himself and Nick.
He had been acting like he was crazy all day; it was no wonder she was looking at him so apprehensively.
It usually took a lot more to aggravate the grumpy Grissom beast.
But in meeting her eyes something was happening.
Something clicked.
It was like Sara burst back into life.
She was between them in seconds.
Palm to each puffed up male chest, pushing them apart.
Moving them so that the Denali was trapped in-between them as a barrier to their rage.
And at the exact moment that the sun hit the sand, silence fell.
to be continued...