The Labyrinth and the Rose

A oneshot that examines Sara's frustration with Grissom's absence, her indecision over what to do about it, and Grissom's gesture which makes all the difference. GSR.

Disclaimer: The characters of CSI do not belong to me.

Ratting: T

My sincere thanks to my new beta, Dr. Temperance Brennan.

Sara opened her eyes and then promptly shut then against the sunbeam sneaking through the slightly opened curtain and hitting her face. She pulled the blanket over her head, but realized that any chance of sleep had fled for good. She was grumpy - she had slept in spurts, failing to give her the rest she needed. She looked at the other side of the bed. Grissom wasn't there, just as he hadn't been there the day before. Or the day before that.

She was tired of being treated like a rat in a maze. Grissom was running her around in circles. One moment she was certain he loved her, the next she doubted his devotion, then he was affectionate again, and so on. She was a grown woman and deserved respect. Respect that Grissom was not giving her. She had desperately tried to hide her frustration the other day as Catherine told her of Grissom's unique connection with Lady Heather. Sara knew that the dominatrix was a seductive woman with charms aplenty, but she didn't understand what made her so different, so special, so appealing to Grissom.

Trying to push thoughts of Grissom and Lady Heather from her mind, Sara threw the covers aside, crawled out of bed, and went to open the windows. She took a deep breath of the noontime air and was sickened by the scent of roast meat. As a vegetarian, she didn't understand how people could consume once living creatures. She sighed and closed the window but continued to look outside. The sun was high and bright; it was a beautiful day.

She went to the bathroom, undressed, and got into the shower. The hot water running over her head and back whisked the bad thoughts and tension far away for a moment. However, she still thought about leaving Vegas. She no longer held the same passion for her work as she had before. More than anything, Sara felt...tired: emotionally exhausted, not only by the rampant cruelty she witnessed every day, but by a relationship she had invested her whole self into, one she believed meant more to her than to her partner. She considered ending her relationship with Grissom. After years of yearning for him and then finally being with him, she thought she might end it, and end it quickly. She imagined the break-up being much like ripping off a Band Aid - the faster it was done, the less it would hurt.

Yet deep inside of her, she knew she wouldn't be able to break away from him. Even as she dried off, she imagined the towel to be his hands, stroking every curve, probing every recess, knowing her body as if it was his old friend. She pictured his tongue, sucking at her neck, moving down to her nipples, exploring her whole body tirelessly. She opened her eyes suddenly, taken from the fantasy. The reality that she had seen so little of him that she had to fantasize about him hit her like a slap in the face. She respected his commitment to his work, but he consistently put it before her, leaving her alone more than she found reasonable.

A twinge in her stomach made her aware that she was hungry. She went to the kitchen and rummaged in the refrigerator only to find that she had nothing prepared. Sara considered what she could make for herself and again lamented at Grissom's absence. If he had been there, he would have been able to prepare something for them. She mused over the stereotype that women had to be good cooks. In most fine restaurants she had ever visited, the executive chefs were men.

Eventually she decided upon a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a cup of tea. She at least knew how to spread sandwich toppings and boil water. When she was finished preparing her less than gourmet meal, she cut herself on the knife she'd used to make the sandwich. As she patched herself up, she fondly remembered another time she'd cut herself and Grissom had gently dressed the "wound." Afterwards, they made love, and the stinging of the cut was completely forgotten. She had always found his touch soothing. In any difficult moment, Grissom's embrace had been able to restore her courage and her confidence and make her feel safe.

After she finished eating, she moved into the office, sat at her desk, and was dismayed by the jumble of papers lying upon it. She briefly considered doing some organizing, but lost her motivation as soon as she pulled open an overloaded drawer. Her eyes landed upon a folded piece of paper with her name on it in Grissom's handwriting. She smiled - she was well used to him using writing to communicate with her. She read the letter:

"Sara, you're still sleeping. I love to watch you sleep. You look so beautiful and peaceful. Sometimes when you smile I fantasize that you are dreaming of me. Being with you makes me happier than I ever dreamed I could be before I met you. When we are together, I delight in the brightness of your eyes, the warm of your mouth. I revel in your need for me, the feel of your nails on my back, your legs around my waist. You literally take my breath away. In the moment when we both reach our release, I reach for your hands; desperate to show you how grateful I am to you. I have little need for the poetry I so enjoy anymore, for your body is pure poetry to me. I love you, Sara, as I have never loved before and as I will never love again. I hope you always know that. Grissom."

She finished reading with tears in her eyes. She passed her hand over her face. Of course, just as she was growing more and more angry with him, he would do something to soften her completely. She wanted to stand firm, to be resolute and unwavering in her displeasure with him. Later, as she drove to the lab, she still had a notion to confront him, to tell him she had been thinking of leaving Vegas. Leaving him. But she knew she couldn't be too hasty in making such a major decision, one that would affect not only her life but the lives of those close to her, most importantly the man she loved. She gathered all of her courage as she prepared to face him. How he responded to her would determine what their future together would be. Or if they even had one.

And then he wasn't in his office. She sighed in frustration. The longer she waited to speak with him the harder it was to remain steadfast. Deciding it would be better to wait in the conference room than to wander the halls of the lab in search for Grissom, Sara went to take a seat in there. She found a single pink rose lying on the table next to a card with her name on the envelope. The card inside read: "Cannot wait to see you today. Don't be asleep when I get home. Grissom."

He had put a romantic trinket for her in plain view. He had risked exposure to let her know that he cared. She shook her head. She couldn't decide if she was furious or elated. She decided upon elated. A wide smile spread across her face as she imagined a night full of lovemaking followed by a brunch the next morning. Even among the horrific crimes investigated by the Las Vegas crime lab, Sara had found happiness. And she wasn't going to let Grissom's missteps outweigh his romantic moments. She was going to cling to the love she had, the life she had, with him, no matter what.