Substitutions

By Dany

Summary: Grissom has had a bad day and it gets worse before he can make it right again.

A/N: This is a response to an element challenge someone posted on YTDaW.
Here is the list of elements that had to be included:
A keyboard (musical or computer, you decide)
A plate of fish
A box of crayons
A revelation
The quote "Perhaps... I don't know... maybe some day..."

Rating: T (to be careful)

Disclaimer: CSI does not belong to me.

xxxxx

Grissom walked through the hallways of the crime lab in search for one of his employees. At least, that's what he tried to tell himself.

The truth was, he was looking for Sara because he had messed it up again. He had gotten personal at a crime scene…and she had called him on it.

Ever since they had arrived, he had felt this tingle of uneasiness. Something had been nagging at him, telling him that he needed to get Sara out of danger, although the police claimed that the crime scene was secure. With a ruse, he had tried to send her back to the lab, but Sara wouldn't budge.

Instead of her usual cold gaze, she called him on it. "You can't just send me away when you don't want to work with me. Either stop this, or transfer me," she challenged him.

Her mentioning the transfer led to thoughts of her leaving, and they let him freeze up.

Sara seemed unimpressed, though, and she stalked over to the computer where David had already removed the body, starting to dust the keyboard for prints.

It was then that they heard a crash and yelling from below, but before they could react, Brass called up to tell them that all was clear again.

Grissom's breathing was heavy, fear coursing though his veins. Sara wouldn't even meet his eyes. She hurried from the room, mumbling something about checking out the intruder.

They didn't talk after this, and as soon as she had the chance, Sara drove back to the lab, avoiding him.

He had been searching for over an hour now, but she was nowhere to be found. The only person he did stumble upon was the one he had wanted to avoid at all costs - Catherine.

Before he could hurry away unseen, she had already spotted him. "Grissom!" her tone was menacing, daring him to resist. "Get your goddamned ass in here, now!"

He wanted to bail, but he knew it was too late. In some aspects, Catherine was like an elephant; she never forgot. Her anger would not cool off, only grow to enormous proportions, so Grissom decided to bite the bullet and face her. He had a very good idea what this was about.

"You…how could you do that to me?" She was seething - and smelling a bit fishy.

"Uhm, it's your job," he stammered, but that was exactly the wrong thing to say.

Catherine got up and stalked towards him. It seemed like she towered over him, although that was physically impossible on a level surface.

"You did not only have the audacity to put me on a case with dead fish – lots and lots of it – no, you don't even provide me with the basic work tools," she gestured towards the table she had been working on.

A map of a lake had been spread out, and several colored dots where marking something. Now that he looked closer, he saw a box of crayons beside the map.

"Don't look so bummed. The color stickers are out, as well as the blue and red markers. No one has any beside dayshift, but they are sitting on them to get at you."

He still wondered why she used crayons, but Catherine seemed to read his mind. "Linds is way too cool for crayons now, and I was going to give them to Nick for his family. It's the only thing I could find. If you were a more attentive boss, you would have read the memos, and we wouldn't be suffering from the sudden office supply shortage," Catherine ranted and couldn't seem to stop.

Grissom was about to tune her out when she suddenly snapped her fingers and made him flinch.

"Oh, and then there is this other small problem. I understand the concept that hazardous chemicals in an ecosystem are worth an investigation, but why the hell was this necessary?"

She gave him a push forward, and Grissom stumbled towards a sealed glass box. The fishy smell got almost overwhelming, and he involuntary took a step back, but Catherine was right behind him. He was forced to take a step forward again.

"Do you have any idea how long it will take to get the smell off of me and out of the room? Rotting fish, Grissom. Rotting, foul, stinking, dead fish."

Her hands were flailing in the air, showing her exasperation. Grissom glanced from her to the plate of fish that sat under the glass case and back to his angry colleague.

"L-lemons," he stammered and almost ran Catherine over when he hurried from the room as she tried to wipe the smell and imaginary dirt away.

"Grissom!"

He could hear her yell, but he just went on. He had to get as far away as possible from her.

That's how he ended up in the morgue.

xxxxx

David and Doc Robbins had gone out for some food; he had seen them leave before Catherine had gotten her hands on him. He walked through the hallway, searching for a quiet spot to sit down. Well, the morgue should be the right place for that. Dead bodies don't have a temper. Nobody else was there.

Nobody…quiet…as far away as possible…suddenly it hit him.

Now he only had to figure out which room she was in.

Sound…smell…what was the only thing that made noise and produced a tempting smell?

Doc Robbins' coffee machine, and after a night like this, Sara would crave a good cup.

With more confidence, Grissom strode down to Robbins' office, and sure enough, through the small window in the door, he could see Sara sitting on a chair, sipping some coffee. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Sara looked up sharply at the sudden noise that ripped through the silence. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone, but instead she turned her head away from him and didn't say a word.

"I'm sorry. I know I was out of line."

Apologizing was not easy. He didn't mind being wrong in a professional context, but with Sara, it was always personal. Every word meant so much more, could hurt him so much deeper.

Sara's earlier words haunted him. She was ready to give up, to leave; he could feel it – and he couldn't accept that.

Silence was all he got as a response. "I always knew you would never be satisfied with just a piece. With you, it's always all or nothing," he sighed.

Sara looked up, startled at his words. She probably hadn't expected something like this, but Grissom realized it was long overdue.

"I can't help it. I just want you to be safe. I can't do anything else, so at least I can pretend that I can do that. Knowing that you probably don't need that doesn't help. On the contrary, it makes it worse. I think about the times when you disregarded your own safety for a case, and that scares me."

He heard a sharp intake of breath but didn't dare to look into her face. For now, he had to get some things out before he lost his courage. "I don't want you to transfer or leave. Please stay. As much as I would like to promise you that today will never happen again, I can't. I need you too much."

He could hear a clinking sound, and when he finally looked at Sara, he saw that her hands were shaking. She had to set the cup down on the metal boards, or she would have spilled its contents.

His own hands were in his pockets to keep them from showing his nervousness. For the first time, he had told her he needed her.

Not the lab or her boss needed her work or her knowledge. He needed her.

Her whole being radiated the vulnerability that he felt, and he just hoped that the hurting would stop.

When he had almost given up hope that Sara would respond, she surprised him by speaking, "Honesty!"

That was the only thing that came out, but it gave him a vague idea what she was thinking about. This was the first time he had ever told her what he thought and felt without ambiguity or borrowing other people's words. This was him.

Maybe she would be able to see it as a start and not as the end.

"But you don't trust me," coldness crept into her voice, making him shudder.

"When you are like that, all set to go, burning for action, ready to prove that you are an independent, self-reliant person, waiting for a chance to rebel, do you trust yourself?"

She lowered her head, his question making her think. Although it was not exactly a rhetorical question, he didn't need her answer. Based on her recent behavior, he was sure that the answer was 'no'.

"I want to be able to trust you, and you want me to stop pushing you away."

He stepped closer, taking his hands out of his pockets to take hers. Together they should be able to stop the shaking. She flinched but did not pull away.

"Will you ever be able to forgive me?"

Sara looked up, tears in her eyes. They did not fall. "Perhaps…I don't know…maybe some day…"

His hopes sunk, and his heart grew heavy. It was too late; his behavior had cut too deep.

He started to slide his hands off of hers when he felt her grip tightening.

"It's not only me that needs to learn to trust herself again."

At first her words didn't make any sense, but then he realized what she meant. He didn't trust himself in any relationship; he always doubted, always feared himself.

"If we do it together," with her words his hopes were rising again, "'some day' is a definite possibility, and maybe some day soon."

Tears still in her eyes, she managed to smile at him.

"Together."

Grissom gave her hands a squeeze, and her eyes a smile of his own.

The End