Title: Twelve years and counting
Author: Little Firestar
Fandom: CSI-Crime Scene Investigation
Characters: Greg Sanders; Sara Sidle. Hints of Sara/Grissom.
Genres: Hurt/comfort; friendship; hints of one-sided romance.
Rating: K+
Word Count: 1885
Summary: "12 years, and he still was that 20 something lab rat who fell head over heels in love with the newcomer. All that had happened to both of them, and he still loved her like that first day. He felt like an idiot, but when they parted, he looked at her retreating form, smiling and shaking his head in disbelief. Maybe he wasn't an idiot, but just a dreamer." Flash-Tag to 13.15, spoilers for the episode.
I
That night, after she had been cleared and Russel had asked her if she was really ready to come back so soon after the whole ordeal, he drove her home.
Sara spent the whole time with her head against the glass, lost in her thoughts, thinking who knew about what.
The man she had barely knew who had been murdered to frame her?
Her mother, risking her own life, drinking herself into oblivion with a bottle, gift of a man who had tried to destroy her life?
The fear that her co-workers-her friends- and her family could not believe her?
Her failed marriage, and how she felt responsible because she had returned?
For once in his life, Greg Sanders felt at loss for words.
He had never thought that Sara could have been the killer, that he could promise her, because he knew Sara. Despite the evidence, despite Hodges' theory about "sleep-murdering", he knew her.
But...
Yes, he had believed that she had slept with the victim.
He wasn't angry because there was this chance. His anger had always been directed more toward Grissom, as much as he still somehow...respected... the man. Grissom had more or less escaped, and when she had decided to return, because she felt she needed the job, and them, to be happy... he didn't.
And it wasn't a "let's see each other once in a while" thing. No. Since she had returned, she hadn't seen him once. She had taken care of his belongings in Vegas, looked after his mother (despite the fact that the older woman didn't like her too much), called and called and called... and the result?
He texted her when he remembered, just few words that were meaningless-that much her phone history had shown- and he had never returned. Not once. Not even half a day. He was too busy being Gill Grissom, burying himself in his job, whatever the job was, being cold and detached, to think about her, while she had tried, and tried, and tried to reach him halfway.
And he had dared to tell her that he was breaking up with her for her own good.
Every woman would have cheated on such a husband. Everyone but her. Not Sara. Sara had gone to the restaurant they had made a reservation to months before hoping that he would show up and promise her eternal love once again.
That was Sara. And he had been mad with her.
Because he thought she was a murderer?
Because he thought she had cheated on her husband?
Because she hadn't told him about the break up?
Nope. No way.
He was mad because he had thought that, had she to cheat on her husband... she would have chosen him.
How stupid and childish was that, he asked himself while grunting? He was pretty pathetic. Over ten years, and he still was that 20 something years old nerd/geek/lab rat who fell head over heels in love at first sight with the newcomer. All that had happened to both of them in the last twelve years, and he still loved her like the first day.
(And to think that until few days ago he was still crazy for Morgan. Until he hadn't realized she was having a huge crush on Hodges.)
Like he had already said, pathetic.
"Greg?" Her voice awoke him, bringing him back to reality, and he realized that he was parked outside her place. For how long, he didn't know, but if her smile was any indication, probably a while.
...Or did it mean that she was guessing what he was thinking about?
Did he have to repeat that he was pathetic? At this point, he didn't think so.
"Yeah, sorry." he said, smiling a little, trying to mask his uneasiness. "You all right?" he asked.
She smiled too, a smile very similar to his own. "Yeah" she answered, but he knew that she meant that she was as all right as she could be, given the circumstances. All of them. "Greg? Thanks." she told, as she was already on her way out of the car. And he knew that also this statement meant more than what she had said. She wasn't saying thank you because of the lift. It was...Thank you for having helped me out. Thank you because you believed me, trusted me. Thank you because you are ready to listen to me complaining about my failed marriage.
He nodded, and grabbed her for a wrist as she was already half way out, hugging her, kissing her hair. "I missed you" He told her. And they knew what he meant by that.
"Yeah, I missed you too" she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek, few millimeters shy of his mouth, hugging him back like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When they parted, he looked at her retreating form, smiling and shaking his head in disbelief. He didn't feel like an idiot any longer, but a dreamer.
And he had faith that sometimes, dream could come true.
II
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and things were back to what they had used to be for so long.
Afterhours, he often drove her home, or vice versa. They always stayed in silence, but differently from that first night, it was comfortable.
They weren't back to square one, and yet it felt like they had taken a step... toward what, he didn't know.
It was crazy, but he had never been that happy since she had returned. Maybe it was because he had, somehow, hope, that one day they could be something more.
(He was already scared to death by Hodges. Grissom was God on Earth for him, but Sara was worth it. And even more.)
They often talked. Sometimes with words, sometimes with silence, but they did it nevertheless, and they always understood each other. It was like there was some kind of secret code between them and they were the only ones that could get it right.
(it unnerved Nick in such a marvelous way...)
But, if he had to point to an exact moment where he understood that there was a real chance for a them, he would say that it had been at her anniversary.
Much to Russel's chagrin, they had both taken the day off, and spent in each other company. The divorce had been a messy affair, and Greg that Sara was still hunted. She needed to talk, she needed someone who was going to listen and then, just later, saying all the right things. It didn't matter if they were going to make it better or not. She simply needed a shoulder to cry on and who was willing to listen to her.
Talking about the fact that she felt guilty, that she blamed herself. She was supposed to stay at her husband's side, and yet she had moved back to Vegas, despite knowing that he didn't want to. She had stayed. She hadn't tried hard enough to make it work, hadn't fought when he had told her that he wanted a divorce...
And Greg always listened to her, in silence, contemplating her figure. And he talked, but only when she had finished, and there were tears on her face.
He told her that she wasn't supposed to feel that guilty, nor she could blame only herself. A couple, a marriage, was the union of two souls, and if it hadn't worked out, the blame was to share. Because he was supposed to stay at her side too. That he had stayed in a forest first, and moved all around the world to keep lectures afterward, even if he knew that she wasn't happy with that sort of life. He hadn't returned, not even for a short while. He had taken her for granted, and then when things weren't going according to plans any longer, he just asked for a divorce, just like that. In short: Gil Grissom had never tried to meet her halfway.
That evening, repeating that she had missed him, she gave him a lingering kiss on the corner of the lips, very caste, crying. She didn't say thank you, she knew that there was no need. Not because she didn't think it, but because there was no need for words. A look, a smile, or maybe another word was enough for the other to understand.
Like when, few days later, she told him that she had stopped taking the sleeping pills.
III
Months, months later, all the team was having breakfast at Chery's, celebrating the arrest of the notorious evasive serial killer known as Sqweegel.
One by one, the other had left: Nick, to return to his dog, the new love of his life, Morgan and Hodges, now a couple, and her father; Finn, to sleep few hours in her own bed, and Russel and Brass, eager to return to the respective families, now that Ellie was back and trying to get her life straight.
They were the last two standing.
They left the restaurant, and he walked her to her car, an habit, after what had happened to her. As always, they kept in silence, but Greg thought that there was something... odd. Sara kept biting her lips, leaving lingering looks on him.
He liked it. A lot. It was kind of... a turn on, as much as he hated to admit such a thing. But it was the truth, and it was time to face it. He still loved her. Maybe not like the very first day, but close enough. Besides, it wasn't so strange. He was a different man, nowadays. He was close to forty, he was a cop, for God's sake... and yet... he was scared of telling her the truth. Maybe even more than back then.
"Greg, are you all right?" she asked, smiling.
He shook his head, smiling, running an hand through his hair, like to say that whatever it was, it didn't matter. He couldn't hit on her any longer, he wasn't that child-that boy- any longer. They were both more than adult, and he had come to a point where he treasured her too much just risk whatever was going on between the two of them for...for all h knew, his feelings could be unrequired. Better not mess with fate.
They reached her car, and when Sara opened the door, she stopped, and looked at him, and then, just like that, licking her lips...
she jumped him, kissing him as passionately as possible.
And getting nothing if not shock in answer.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Greg... I didn't mean to... I mean, I meant to, but I didn't mean to, you know... it's just that, I thought, but I think that maybe... but I obviously was wrong and I am so sorry, not that I am really sorry, but what I mean is that..."
No, he thought, he didn't agree with her. Because silence worked for them-knowing and comfortable silence, like the one of an old couple. So, he silenced her. With his lips on her own.
Because they didn't need words. Sometimes, all it took was a look, or a gesture.
Like a mind blowing, earth shattering kiss.
He wasn't a dreamer any longer. Because his dream had come true.