Chapter Ten:
The morning passed in silence.
Neither left their side of the room.
Lunch arrived.
Grissom set the tray on the table but returned to the bed.
He grumbled inwardly.
He never knew what to do once she responded to his own flirtatious behavior.
It was like baiting a fish and pulling in the line to find a nice big fish but not knowing what to do with it except throw it back.
Brass would like that analogy he thought as he stiffened from the sound of noise on her side of the room.
Sara was correct.
Their relationship was quite different when she first came to Vegas.
She was young and new at the job.
She had so much to learn and he was eager to teach.
He was happy being with her again but then something happened.
Sara wanted something more than friendship.
He couldn't.
It would mean a change and Grissom did not like change.
He wanted…no he needed her on graveyard.
He trusted her.
Relationships in the work place were voodoo.
They never worked out.
She pulled back the curtain and boldly strolled over to his bed.
"Truce?" she asked as she extended her hand.
He scrambled from the bed, taking her hand. "Truce."
"Hungry?" he asked.
She shook her head.
She disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.
He sat there on the edge of his bed and wondered how to proceed.
Hours passed without another word from her.
He tapped on the wall lightly and waited for permission to cross the chalk line.
"Friends don't need permission to cross a chalk line," she called.
He stepped inside and found she had been sleeping.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that…I didn't know…"
She smiled and it put him at ease.
"I'll get rid of the chalk," he announced.
"It doesn't matter," she said.
"About what happened…"
"There's no need. I get it," she emphasized.
He wasn't quite sure she had.
"Sara…"
"Friendship…nothing more. You've been trying to get me to understand that for years and I do…finally get it. I'm not…what you want…friendship…is better than…this constant bickering."
Her speech made his heart lurch.
She didn't get it at all.
He did want her.
He just didn't know what to do with her once he had her.
Yes, Jim would understand the fish analogy…
He'd been catching Sara for years but throwing her back…
But why?
She watched as he fidgeted.
"It's fine…really, Grissom," she said as she pulled the blanket up.
"You cold?" he asked.
"I think a hot shower will help," she said as she got up.
She wasn't prepared for his hands to grab her suddenly.
He whirled her around to face him as his hands seemed to move from part of her body to the next.
She didn't know how to react but stood perfectly still.
"Sara…"
"Hmmm?" she managed to get out.
"You have a rash."
He ushered her toward the bathroom.
"Sara.... I need to examine you," he said trying to keep his voice even.
Once they were in the lighted bathroom, she turned so she could face the mirror.
"You'll need to remove the gown," he said softly.
She tensed.
"I don't have anything underneath."
He cleared this throat. "You may just have a…"
She started to slip the gown over her head when the door flew open.
Dover and Rogers stepped inside.
"Move away from her, Dr. Grissom," instructed Rogers.
"It doesn't look like…" Grissom was interrupted by Dover who shoved him to the side.
Grissom lurched forward but Rogers intervened.
"Don't make us use force," warned Rogers.
"Don't make me file a law suit," retorted Grissom. "I've had enough of Dover. He's not touching my…he's not touching Sara."
Dover growled. "It's okay for you to touch her but not a qualified…"
"You are no professional," spat Sara.
"Don't make this difficult," warned Rogers.
"I'm qualified to examine Ms. Sidle," stated Grissom as he stepped forward shielding Sara from Dover.
It appeared to be a standoff.
Rogers did not like the way things were proceeding.
There was not supposed to be a rash or illness.
He was merely to observe Dover's behavior, assessing his ability to return to the workforce.
Dover was not supposed to know that he was being monitored and there definitely was not supposed to be a rash.
He wondered if he was being misled just like Grissom and Sara.
If Rogers screwed up, it could be his job on the line.
Rogers cursed. "There are forms to complete. The examination has to be done…"
"Give them to me," directed Grissom.
Rogers grabbed Dover by the arm, pulling him toward the door.
"If you don't do this correctly….we'll have no choice but to do it ourselves…our superior may still order us to examine her," warned Rogers.
"Then you'll do it…not him," said Sara to Rogers.
Dover glared at her.
Both men disappeared.
Rogers pulled Dover down the hall several feet.
"You act like that again, and I'll have you dismissed from this case," warned Rogers.
"You would like that, wouldn't you?" sneered Dover.
"I suggest you follow the book," retorted Rogers.
"Like you just did? Since when do we allow patients to monitor themselves?" snarled Dover.
"Grissom is just as qualified as we are," stated Rogers.
"How do you know that?"
Rogers was counting on Grissom to know what he claimed.
Dover threw his hands up in the air as he took off down the hall.
Sara leaned against the sink. "Thank you."
"I don't like the way Dover looks at you," fumed Grissom.
"Neither do I," she admitted.
She cringed when the door reopened and Rogers stepped in handing the forms to Grissom.
"Every twelve hours," he ordered. "It has to be documented thoroughly."
"What if it's just a rash?" he asked.
"Every twelve hours," he said as he turned and left.
Grissom held the forms.
"You never did like paperwork," she whispered, trying to make light of the situation.
She didn't wait for him to take charge.
Sara turned once more and slipped off the gown.
Grissom's hands were soft as he examined the red blotches.
"It appears to be an allergic reaction of some sort," he said.
"I'm sure it was the jumpsuit…it itched," she recalled.
He snapped photos, trying to focus on the task but as his hands traced the areas he could not help but notice how soft her skin was under his fingertips.
"So…it's just a rash?" she asked.
"I think so," he agreed.
He had only been exposed to her back side and as he laid the clipboard down, he knew he would need to examine her front.
"Sara…"
She turned.
Her eyes refused to make contact with him as she stood there naked in front of him.
She was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.
His fingers glided down her arms as he traced the rash.
His hands were warm and gentle.
He grabbed the clipboard, jotting down a few notes.
It was difficult to breathe with him being so close.
She gulped in air and forced herself to speak. "You didn't take photos."
"There's no need," he said softly.
"But there's…the rash is on the front as well."
"It's the same as the back. It's a rash," he replied.
"But…"
"There's no need for anyone else to see," he said quietly.
The thought of Dover gawking over the nude photos of Sara left a bitter taste in Grissom's mouth. The man would not get another chance to degrade Sara further.
Sara donned the gown once more.
Not once did their eyes meet.
She stepped back letting Grissom leave the bathroom as she shut the door.
She did not know what to make of his behavior.
He did not seem the least bit affected by her body.
Grissom sighed out loud once he was in the other room.
He tapped on the door and handed the information to Rogers.
"It's a rash," he explained. "Her skin could be very sensitive."
"You'll need to check her again."
Rogers handed Grissom an ointment.
"For the rash," he explained. "I hope you don't think I'm like…Dover."
"You see the way he looks at her," whispered Grissom.
"Mr. Grissom, this is the third month of observation for us. We're stuck here just like you. Dover just needs a break," said Rogers.
"Then he should be removed from the case," replied Grissom.
"There have been too many cases of late. Ever since 9/11 our caseload has tripled. People seem to get a kick out of playing with insecticides…trying to find just the right combo to off someone…of course it gets labeled a terrorist act or a plague."
"Those men didn't die from bubonic plague," stated Grissom.
"No, they didn't but we don't have a clue what killed them. The lab in Atlanta is still working on it," answered Rogers.
"Could this…could she be infected?" asked Grissom.
"You saw the bodies. They'd been dead for quite awhile. We don't know how the outbreak would initially look."
Rogers started to leave but stopped. "I don't think she was infected. I've seen something similar before but…just document it thoroughly…my ass is riding on this…but your credentials checked out so don't let me down."
Grissom nodded.
This is my fault…
I should have waited for Brass…
"Rogers...get rid of the sound system," warned Grissom.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble I can get in if something happens to either one of you because we weren't monitoring you?"
"I don't have a rash," insisted Grissom. "Turn it off."
Rogers cursed. "I bettter not regret this."
"Disable it...not just turn it off," added Sara.
"Alright!"
The door slammed shut.
Grissom felt her eyes on him briefly as she stepped out of the bathroom later.
He glanced over his book as soon as she headed toward her side of the room.
"I have ointment…for the rash," he announced.
"Thanks…I'll put it on later," she replied.
"I have to do it now," he ordered.
Rogers' words did not seem to ease his mind.
They were in this mess because of him.
Although she did not admit it, she knew it as well.
He had broken department policy by entering the house without an officer.
He knew it at the time but was too damn tired to care.
He'd read the report and saw the bodies had been dead for some time.
Killers don't hang around…
Deadly toxins did…
His mistake may have put Sara in a serious health crisis.
"I'll put it on," she stated as she reached for the ointment but he refused to relinquish it.
"Sara, I have to do this," he said letting the frustration drip from every word.
She bristled.
She knew he did not like the idea of having to tend to her and she fought off the urge to ask for Rogers.
He quickly stood there in front of her. "Hold still," he said trying to soften his voice. He had not meant to be so harsh but his guilt increased each time he saw how difficult it was for her to undress before him.
Gently he tried to apply the ointment but the towel was proving to be a problem.
She knew he would not be able to complete the task without removing the towel she had draped around her body.
She loosened her hold, giving him permission.
His hands worked quickly.
She seemed rather quiet as he placed the lid on the ointment and jotted down a few notes on the clipboard once more.
He knew in a few hours he would need to examine her once again and report his findings to Rogers.
As soon he turned his back, she disappeared behind the curtain.
Sara buried herself in the blankets as she lay there.
She knew in a few hours the process would have to be repeated and no doubt he would be the perfect gentleman even though she knew he didn't want to do it.
An hour or two of complete silence almost made him come unglued.
He did not know how to take her silence.
He did what needed to be done and yet he felt guilty for having to put her through this.
He had tried to make it as painless as possible and yet he felt by her reaction that he had failed miserably.
The entire time he struggled with indecent thoughts.
He tried to focus on the rash but his eyes took in the full sight of her and he felt rather dirty.
Here he had been trying to protect her from that sleez Dover only to be guilty of the same sinful pleasure.
He had resisted the temptation to pull her into his arms, fearful he was starting something that he had no idea how to finish.
Dinner arrived and yet she did not venture from behind the curtain.
Grissom took the tray and boldly stepped through the curtain to find her huddled in her bed.
"Interested in dinner?" he asked.
She started to shake her head but he quickly added.
"Results of your appetite is on the report…I suggest you try to eat something," he urged.
He noticed she was dressed from head to toe.
"Still cold?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she replied.
"You want to sit at the table?" he asked.
"I'll just stay here…if you don't mind," she answered.
He did mind.
He wanted to know that she was okay.
"I'll sit with you...so I can document....for the report," he lied.
She wanted to spend time alone to lick her wounds.
When she moved to Vegas, she purchased that gown for Grissom.
It had been the few times she had ventured into Victoria Secret but a certain conversation one evening on a case had driven her to purchase it.
Unfortunately she had never gotten the chance to wear it for him.
None of her daydreams of how she would remove her gown in front of Grissom ever involved being in an insane asylum, or worse being observed for the plague.
To make matters even more painful was that he acted as though she was some case and he was merely collecting evidence.
I'm alive, Grissom…
I'm very much alive…
I'm warm and I have a heart…beat
She picked at her food and he took note of it.
"Sara, have I done something…wrong?" he asked.
"Hmmm? No, you haven't."
"I know this must be hard for you."
"Hard for me?" she asked out loud.
She saw him flinch and she shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, I guess it is."
"We'll need to…do this…two more times," he reported.
She nodded as she stabbed at the food with her fork again and again even though she had no intention of eating it.
It helped keep her eyes focused on anything but him.
"If there is anything I can do…to make it easier for you…just tell me," he said quietly.
Sara set the plate down beside her on the bed.
"Pretend you desire me, Grissom."
Note from author:
I know the last line....LOL