We own nothing, just having fun writing what we didn't see on screen! This one is a short story, following "Bloodlines" at the end of season 4-the season of "Butterflied" and "Turn of the Screw". Enjoy, leave a review, and new chapters follow quickly!
I'll Take You Home Chapter 1
Humiliation—rendered Sara Sidle silent, defined her face with the mortification of having her supervisor called. She wanted to crawl into a dark hole; she wanted to vanish from the seat, disappear, even die, but none of that was going to happen. Only will power and the pain of biting her lip kept the potential flood of tears from covering her face. Grissom would have to pick her up, acknowledge that one of his team had been driving under the influence, after she had slowly rolled through a stop sign, after she had downed three beers and a vodka tonic. She dropped her head, pinched her nose to staunch her tears and waited.
She concentrated so intensely on preventing tears she did not hear foot steps until Grissom was beside her, taking her hand.
"I'll take you home," he said as his hand took hers, his fingers laced between her fingers as he squeezed, gently, reassuring, before he stood. As easily as he had taken her hand, the same hand moved around her waist as they walked out.
"We'll get your car later," he said, opening the vehicle door for her.
They drove in silence; Sara kept biting her lip, unable to find a way to explain, unwilling to trust her voice.
"Are you hungry?"
She shook her head.
"When did you eat?"
His question required an answer, but she shook her head again, hoping he would get the message and stop talking.
"Have you eaten today?"
Grissom kept his voice calm but the silence was driving him to distraction—Sara, who could out-talk anyone in the lab—had not said one word since he had arrived, and now, she would not respond to a simple question.
With the lights from the street he could see her arms tightly wrapped around her body, trying to close out every thing around her. He meant to take her home, to her apartment, but on impulse, he turned, deciding his place would be better. It was clean and food was in the refrigerator.
…Sara realized they were no longer moving when Grissom closed his door. Confusion added to her humiliation when he opened her door and held out his hand.
"We're going to eat," he explained with a nod toward the building. "I have food."
Sara wanted to cry; now he was treating her like a hungry stray dog. "I'll be fine," she managed to croak out. "Just—just—home…"
He kept the door open, reached for her hand, saying "We are going to eat. It's good—you'll like it." He almost had to pull her from the seat, but she did come with him. Within minutes he had poured two glasses of cold juice, placed one in her hand, turned on the oven, and disappeared.
Sara drank—swallowed the entire glass in two gulps—and sat on one of the two bar stools. She knew a lecture was coming—drinking and driving was probably the number one "no" rule of the lab. They all did it, but if one thought another had too much, it was always a cab ride home. Tonight, breaking the "never drink alone" rule, she had left Nick for the last drink and, angry at herself for doing so, she had swallowed the liquid almost as fast as she drank the juice. Ten minutes later, she was pulled over.
Alone in Grissom's kitchen, she swirled her now empty glass in circles and inspected the area. Cleaner than she thought it would be; no signs of any food preparation, but he had turned on the oven. His kitchen looked like a very clean lab—nothing decorative, only a few items on the countertops—which did not look used—and walls covered with framed insects of all kinds. Not much had changed since the last time she had visited it.
…Grissom had brought her into his house again; now uncertainty settled on him as he thought about what to do next. The last time they had spent significant time together had been when the roller coaster left its track; he grinned as he remembered the enjoyable hours they had spent during the case and afterwards. He sighed, remembering his determination to remain Sara's friend instead of the lover she desired him to be.
A quick check of the bed showed him it was freshly made, his clothes put away; the bathroom sparkled, thanks to his devoted housekeeper. She had also prepared the food in his refrigerator. Opening several drawers, he pulled out a clean tee shirt, a new pair of boxers still in the package, a sweat shirt, and fleece pants with a drawstring at the waist band. He knew the clothes would not fit, but would work. He placed everything in the bathroom, added a few other items, and was back in the kitchen when the preheating oven signaled it was heated.
Sara had remained where he left her, empty glass in front of her and sitting now, with her head resting on her hands.
"Okay," he sighed. "Oven is heated—our food needs about fifteen minutes to warm." He leaned against the counter next to Sara. She continued avoiding his eyes. He hated this kind of thing, he thought. "Sara." She turned to look at him with eyes brimming with tears. "Oh, honey," he whispered and moved a step toward her. Without thought, he took her in his arms. Her hands covered her face as she cried. He heard some mumbled words, and made out "I'm so sorry," at least twice.
She sobbed for a full minute before he tried to talk. "Sara," he pulled away from her but kept hands on her shoulders. "Sara, I'm speaking as your supervisor—this won't happen again. You'll get an official note in your folder, but after a year, it disappears. Understand?"
She managed a nod, but kept her eyes downcast.
He wrapped arms around her again. "Now, I'm speaking as your friend. We're going to eat something—while it warms up, you take a shower. I've put clean clothes in the bathroom." He turned and walked with her to the bathroom. "They're mine, too big, but I don't have any skinny girl clothes in the house." He chuckled. "I don't have any other women's clothes either."
He gently held her face between his palms and used his thumbs to wipe her cheeks. "You're going to be fine, right? Take a hot shower and we'll eat something. Then you are going to sleep in my bed tonight, okay?"
A/N: Thanks for reading-and reviewing!
