Title: What Does She Have?
Author: Msgrits
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or anything related to CSI. I don't own two cases of Coke's C2. Wait. Make that a case and a half.
Pairings: G/S
Ratings: R
Spoilers: Veiled Reference to Unbearable
Thanks to my beta Cybrokat. Shouts out to Ashli who made sure that I wasn't going half cocked. Actually I might still be but she told me I wasn't so talk to her. Shouts out to Mryczko for helping me fix what Cybrokat said was broke.
A/N it was rattling around in my head and now it's out. Shoot me an email and let me know what you think. It's a little OCC…okay a lot. Pretty dark too.
"What does she have that I don't?"
Gil's labored breathing caught in his throat.
Sara.
Slowly, with his usual grace, he turned to her.
Sara wondered how he did it. In these moments when everything threatened to tear them apart how did Gil Grissom still wear his unbroken mask.
His hands opened and closed. Anyone that mattered was long gone by now. For that he was grateful. The mess between he and Sara, the mess he had made had already oozed into their relationship, contaminating them and nearly splitting their fragile family apart.
He took in her clothing. She was dressed for court. His eyes measured the shadows on the ground. It was near noon. She had been to court and returned to lay into him. Why did she always make him feel like a wayward husband?
Her eyes often found him across a room when he had said or done the wrong thing with a woman who was a little too pretty or on the rare occasion a little too smart. The woman, whoever she was, would look around and find Sara's molten eyes boring into him reflecting the accusation of what he had done to hurt her this time.
She blinked back tears, the second set of tears in as many weeks. He longed to crush her against his warmth.
"Sara…."
Her lips trembled. She was acutely conscious of the fact that he made no movement to comfort her.
He won't even hold my hand.
"I shouldn't have…"
Stupid silly girl. Stop chasing him. Stop asking questions. He doesn't want you.
She turned on her high heels. She stumbled. He caught an elbow and pulled her close.
"Sara…"
He didn't know what to say.
When they had made their way to his car, he buckled her in, thankful that she gave no protest. He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead.
They sat in front of the apartment building for a long moment. Gil took her hand in his and watched her stoic profile.
"I think I must be the most pathetic woman there ever because I'm sitting here trying to figure out how to get you to come upstairs and make love to me."
"Sara…"
"I need to get my head examined. Wait. I already did that it; doesn't seem to have helped."
Gil squeezed her hand. "Sara…"
She blinked back another onslaught of tears. She looked at their hands entwined.
"This is it isn't it? All it's ever going to be. You absolutely don't want me. You asked another woman out. A woman who is almost the same age. A woman that works for you." Sara exhaled sharply. "Those were all the reasons I thought you wouldn't go out with me."
A monotonous hum started behind his eyes. "Honey please…
"You know what? I am just like my Mom. I tried so hard not to be like her but I guess that's useless right? There might not be a murder gene but maybe there is a pathetic gene. She spent half her life trying to make my father love her…
Anger descended on him like a veil.
"Stop It!" He yelled, putting his free hand in the air.
"Don't you think it's hard for me?" His low rasp filled the space between them. "To see you everyday, to be near you, to smell you. I think that's the worst of it. To walk into a room and find your scent lingering there when you've gone. If it wasn't for that I might have some relief. You think I like being the grown up?"
Sara watched fascinated as his blue eyes turned hot and liquid as his mouth twisted in erotic anger.
"You think I like keeping my hands to myself?"
"I…"
"Shut up." he said, catching her eyes with his.
She did.
The growl continued. He was a like a caged animal just released.
"I am not made of stone. Have you looked in the mirror Sara? That ass. Those legs. That unbelievably fuckable mouth. Do you know what I want to do to that mouth? My god Sara, you've been trying to seduce me almost since the day we met. I know that it's only for me, that you don't act like that with anyone else. Do you know how incredibly enticing that is? A woman like you…"
Sara was shaking from something other than fear. She went to touch him. She stopped the tentative movement when his voice broke through her fog.
"I go home every morning and I take cold showers and …jerk off just trying to make it through another night without you. I curse myself because I sent for you. I tell myself I should have let you stay in San Francisco; but I couldn't spend one more day without you."
"Gris, you, why…" Sara sputtered trying to wade through the river of emotions that filled the car. She lifted her chin in a trite act of bravery.
"Because Sara, you are too wounded, too fragile. Honey, I want you to get better. I want me to get better. Did you think I didn't know about your parents? How could I not know?"
He untangled their hands. Her fingers burned his skin.
Sara wondered if she should speak. Would he tell her to shut up again? She remained silent.
"I am sitting here trying to convince myself that I can wait a little longer; that you need a few more months with the counselor; that you will wait on me, and I will wait on you. Sara if…if I found comfort somewhere else, know that it was a terrible mistake."
The anger left his features as she touched the side of his face. His eyes closed for an eternity.
"Chalk again?"
"No." Her voice made the hair on the back of his neck tingle. Slowly, with halting movements she kissed him. It was enough, for now.
He spoke softly against her mouth, his beard rubbing against the skin around her mouth.
"Go upstairs Sara. I can wait. You won't have to worry about me and any another woman ever again."
More? Where does one go from here? If you want me to continue I am going to need some ideas.