Disclaimer – I do not own CSI; they belong to Alliance Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities. I just borrow them for fun; this story is not for profit.
Rating – T
Genre – Angst… I think.
Summary – No matter how messed up things are, there's always a chance to fix them.
Spoilers – Yes, this is a post LD. So anything up to that is fair game.
A/N – There are not enough words to thank Melody425 for fixing my many mistakes and for her kind words… Thank you. Still all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Also muchas thanks to louised, she knows why… D
One more chance
I remember I used to brag. I used to tell people that I was his best friend, and I am sure that a few yeas ago I was. I'm trying to remember exactly when things started to go down hill with us, and I can't place the exact moment. All I know is that three years ago he was like a brother to me, and now he's my co-worker. I don't like it, I really don't; I want him back.
I always protected Emma, since I was little. I was her older sister, it was my duty. When she ran off with that good for nothing boyfriend of her and my mother practically disowned her, I supported her. Then the scum bag left her and Jeremy, and I were there to clean up the mess. Eventually she got her act together and when Sam made his way back into mom's life, Emma took her son and left. After all, Sam wasn't her father; it wasn't her mess to clean up.
I never had someone to look after me; Our Dad died when we were little, Mom was always away from home, and my biological father wasn't in the picture, well not as my father anyway. When I met Gil Grissom he became my big brother, kind of my knight in shinning armour; helping me with my marriage and then my divorce with Eddie, building a volcano with Lindsay, and just being there for me, for us. Somewhere along the road though, we drifted apart.
He wasn't talking to us, he wasn't even talking at us, no, he was talking out loud, and the words just slipped of his mouth, "the only person he ever loved". I knew he had a thing for Sara, half the lab knew they had a thing for each other; the slight almost non existent touches, the conversations without words, and the looks that they exchanged. You would have to be blind and deaf not to notice, but saying that he loves her, well let's just say that if Nick, Greg, Warrick and I were cartoon characters, our jaws would've hit the floor.
We were in the hospital when he answered all of the questions regarding Sara's health; known allergies: Penicillin, Blood type: A positive, medication she's taking: the patch. I looked at Brass for confirmation and he gave me a small nod, which was all I needed.
I used to think of myself as his best friend. My only competition being Brass, but that day in the hospital, while Sara was being poked with needles, and opened up by doctors, I realized that Gil and I weren't friends anymore. I also realized that it wasn't for lack of trying on his part, it was my fault.
He was there for me when Sam died, and he held me while I cried over Mike's death and then I pushed him away. I took what I needed and left.
Even before these tragic events happened, he called me once and asked me to come over for breakfast, I said no. A few weeks later, he invited me to dinner, but I wasn't in a good mood that day and I was less than nice declining his invitation. After that he never asked me anything again.
He sat in the same chair for two days. Only leaving it to go to the men's room, and twice when they let him in Sara's room for five minutes at a time as she was still pretty out of it. Brass and Warrick brought him food while I kept insisting that he needed to go home and sleep; I practically begged him to go. He stayed.
On the third day Sara woke up and asked to see him. I walked him to her room, partly because I wanted to see for myself that she was fine, but mostly because I thought he would collapse on the way there.
He made his way from the door to her pretty fast and placed a kiss on her forehead. Sara looked at the door and then at him. I moved to the left side of the door, just to be out of sight, but stayed close enough to hear the conversation.
"They know." His voice was soft and almost apologetic.
"They do?" Her voice was low, too low for my liking.
"I told them…it just slipped."
"Oh sweetheart! I leave you alone for five minutes and you tell everyone about our hot, torrid affair!" She was teasing him; maybe that was her way of letting him know she was okay. It worked for me.
"Just don't leave me again."
"I won't."
"Promise?" He sounded so fragile. I fought back tears and lost the battle, he was always my rock, and I couldn't help him now.
"I promise."
"I was so lost with out you," I think I heard him sobbing or crying, I'm not sure. I left them alone.
Sara asked him to go home and rest, he didn't argue. I took him back to their place, a nice two storey house on Summerlin. I was surprised when one of Grissom's neighbours came and told him that their dog was fine, I mean, a dog! Right then I decided I would mend up my friendship with Gil Grissom.
He invited me in. At first I was so happy, for a moment I saw an open door to fix things, after all, he was inviting me in! Then he stated the obvious, we came in his car and I needed to call a cab back to my house.
Their house is cosy and warm, it feels like a home. In the living room there's a couch that's big and fluffy, not like the one Grissom used to have, it makes you wanna throw yourself and take a nap. The walls are covered with photographs, mostly landscapes of the desert and the ocean; there are also a couple of the Golden Gate Bridge. They are beautiful. I got so absorbed in them that I almost missed the signature of the photographer, almost. Right there in the bottom right corner with silver ink, S. Sidle.
He was watching me with a smile on his face. "She does a beautiful work; you should see the ones she took in Boston." I just nod, and then I saw the one on top of the fireplace. It's of Grissom with that hideous straw hat. He's wearing an orange shirt with his LVPD vest on top of it. In the picture he looks…surprised, and he's holding his camera.
"She took that one at a crime scene," he said, "and I took that one, right after her." He pointed to another picture, this one of Sara with her LVPD cap and vest. She was smiling.
I took a step forward to get a better look, but a squeaky sound startled me. When I looked down I saw the squeaky toy that I had just stepped on. It was shaped like a piece of broccoli. At my confused face Grissom just shrugged and said, "Sara won't let me buy a steak shape one for Bruno."
It wasn't easy for me to accept Sara at the beginning, and in more than one occasion I did provoked her. After the incident with Ecklie she came to me and apologized. I knew that I should've apologized as well but I didn't. We weren't friends, we were barely friendly to each other, but at least Sara tried, I didn't. Sara is a giver. No matter how badly I treated her, when I needed her she was there for me, no questions asked, she processed the scene and kept quiet. She behaved like a true friend.
A tear fell and before it reached my chin, Gil wiped it with his hand, and then he pulled me into a hug.
I ended staying for breakfast and we talked about everything: me, Lindsay, him, Sara. Finally he fell asleep on the couch and I left.
I was walking to the cab when a huge dog passed running by, followed not so closely by Grissom's neighbour from earlier.
Looking back at Grissom and Sara's home I knew that no matter how messed up things are, there's always a chance to fix them. Grissom gave me one more chance and I'm not wasting it.
