Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone out there who can't wait to find out what was in the envelope;) Your reviews make me smile.
Beauty and the Beholder
by Kristen Elizabeth
Surprise is the greatest gift which life can grant us. – Boris Pasternak
When she pulled the door open and the paint fumes hit him full on, Grissom could have kicked himself. She really had just taken a few days off. To redecorate.
"I'm sorry I didn't call ahead," he apologized.
Sara rubbed the back of her hand over her cheek. It was probably the most endearing thing he'd ever seen in his life, because it did little more than smear the paint across her face. And she probably had no clue. "It's all right. I'd invite you in, but I don't want you to ruin your clothes."
And he would have taken up the invitation. Clothes were replaceable. "Actually, I can't stay." He reached into his coat. "I just wanted to give you this."
She turned the envelope over in her hands with the look of curiosity that he so adored about her. "What is it?"
"I'd like you to wait to open it until tomorrow night." He unconsciously pulled at his earlobe. "It's a surprise." One he'd been working on for two straight days.
"Will I like it?"
"I hope so, Sara." If she didn't, he would be lost. Before he could pull at his ear again, something she probably found weird, Grissom dug his hands into his pockets. "I can't think of a lot of reasons for you to trust me, but if you can just do what it says…"
"Grissom." She shook her head. "Trust…it's never been an issue on my part."
That one hit him straight in the heart. "I know, honey." Clearing his throat, Grissom bobbed his head. He was afraid to say anything else, in case he said something wrong. And blew everything. "Tomorrow night, then?"
"Tomorrow night," she echoed.
He smiled all the way to his car.
Sara slept on the couch that night. She just couldn't bear to sleep on top of the letter she couldn't open for another twelve hours. But she couldn't move it because she was fairly certain there was no way she wouldn't end up opening it.
She woke up with a stiff neck, but she was quite proud of herself and her willpower.
Greg called her around lunch time, and it was a welcome distraction from the paint and the fact that there were only six more hours to go.
"Hey, Sara. You feel like catching a late matinee?"
"Sorry." Smiling as widely as she was actually stretched muscles she hadn't used in a long time. "I sort of have plans tonight."
"Really?"
"Please remove the utter disbelief from your tone, Greg."
"Sorry. Yay! Good for you!" Sara had to laugh at his efforts. Or maybe she was just in too good of a mood to let anything bother her. "Anyone I know?"
"Maybe…"
"Does his name rhyme with 'Issom'?"
Sara sat down on the plastic covered couch. "Would you think I'm acting rashly and maybe even unprofessionally if I said yes?"
"If it were anyone else dating the boss, maybe I'd think that. But you…no way." He paused. "You love him, don't you?" When she didn't reply, Greg went on. "It's okay. You should probably tell him before you tell me." He laughed weakly. "Although I wouldn't mind hearing it. You know…'cause we're friends and we should be able to be honest with each other. Not that you'd be saying it to me like actually to me, but…"
"Greg." She gently nudged him out of his ramblings. "We'll catch that movie another time. I'll even spring for the popcorn."
"Okay. Oh, and Sara," he said before she could hang up. "I hope you have a really great time."
"Thanks." He hung up and she lowered the phone from her ear. "So do I."
The sun set at 6:05 p.m. At 6:06, Sara grabbed the letter opener from her desk.
She sat down on the edge of her bed and began to read the single page, not even half filled with Grissom's handwriting.
Dear Sara,
Eight p.m. The Bellagio. Formal dress. When you arrive, tell the concierge your name.
Trust me, Sara, and we'll have the time of our lives.
Yours, Gil
She read the words over and over again, searching for any hidden clues, but she came up blank. Whatever Grissom had planned, he wasn't going to reveal anything until he was damn well ready.
Her head jerked up and she looked at the clock.
"Fuck!"
Halfway through her shower, as she scrubbed every possible trace of paint from her body, Sara realized something. Grissom's extremely vague invitation had very few stipulations, but formal dress was one of them.
"Oh shit," she cursed again, her voice bouncing off the tiled walls. "Shit, shit, shit!"
Without even bothering to dry off all the way, Sara went straight to her phone after emerging from the bathroom and frantically dialed.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up," she muttered until, finally, the person on the other end did.
"Hello?"
"Grissom wants me to meet him at the Bellagio in ninety minutes wearing something formal and I have absolutely nothing and no time to go shopping, what should I do?!"
On the other end, Catherine sighed wearily. "Oh my god, Sara. How do you and Gil even manage to walk upright without my help?"
Her panic was on the rise. "Cath, please. Please. This might be the only night with Grissom that I ever get. It has to be perfect."
There was silence for a second. "You have a dress, Sara."
She blinked. "No. I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"I can't."
"You can," Catherine insisted. "And don't say you can't again. I feel like I'm arguing with Lindsey when she was five."
Sara put her hand to her forehead. "Catherine, this Grissom we're talking about. He didn't like me in a leather skirt. How the hell is he going to react to a neckline that touches my stomach?"
"Positively, if he knows what's good for him," Catherine replied. "And just so you know, you're right. Grissom didn't like you in that skirt."
"I know," Sara said, her voice hoarse with hurt. "I don't need it hammered into my..."
"He had to walk around with a clipboard in front of his pants for the rest of the day after seeing you in it." She could almost feel Catherine's evil grin from across town. "Eighty-eight minutes left. What's it going to be? A little bare skin, or another night with your police scanner?"
Sara's head literally spun. "It's just happening so fast. I'm afraid I'll blink and realize I've daydreamed the whole thing."
"Well, all I can say is…expect the unexpected."
"Do you know something about all of this?" Sara's eyes widened when she got no response. "You do!"
"Quit being paranoid. Go into your closet, dust off that jaw-dropping number you should have worn years ago, and get your ass to the Bellagio. You asked for my help; I've given it to you. Goodnight." The next thing Sara heard was the dial tone.
She put the phone down with great reluctance, like it was her last lifeline. Standing on shaky knees, Sara walked to her closet and pushed back hangers until she reached the dress. She pulled it out and held it up to the light for a minute, before drawing it to her chest.
All she could do was hope Grissom was a breast man.
Having used the time she would have spent searching for a parking space on the Strip doing her hair and makeup, Sara took a cab to the hotel. As soon as she stepped foot out of the car, she could feel people staring at her.
In the years the dress had hung in the back of the closet, either she'd shrunk or the neckline had sagged because it felt a lot lower than she what she remembered from trying it on at the store. At least it covered everything that needed to be covered. She was just glad she'd started adding a few extra sit-ups to her irregular workout schedule.
Sara squared her bare shoulders and shook back her carefully constructed curls as she entered the lavish lobby.
The concierge was waiting for her. And true to Grissom's letter, as soon as she told the man her name, his eyes lit up with recognition. "Of course, Ms. Sidle. Right this way."
A few years earlier, she and Nick had worked a B&E at the Bellagio; she still remembered the main layout of the hotel ballrooms, at least enough to know that was where she was being led. The concierge stopped in front of the smallest of the rooms.
"Mr. Grissom is waiting inside." He bowed. "Enjoy your evening."
Sara counted to ten after the man left before she put her hand on the cool doorknob. Taking deep, slow breaths, she pushed the door open.
The first thing she noticed as she stepped inside was the disco ball. Save for the sparkling, rotating lights it gave off, the room was dark. Sara frowned. Maybe she'd been led to the wrong room. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting Grissom's surprise to be, but a disco ball definitely hadn't figured into it.
Just as she was about to turn around and track down the concierge, the lights came up. She could see a wooden dance floor, framed on all sides by a couple of decorated tables. But what caught her attention was the banner stretched across the wall directly in front of her.
She read the words out loud. "The Time of Our Lives. Senior Prom…1989."
Before she could even begin to process any of what she was seeing, Grissom stepped out of the shadows, clad in a well-cut tuxedo and holding a plastic box. "Hi," he said softly.
"Hi," she whispered.
Their eyes met for a long moment. "Gris," she finally said. "What...?"
"Did you know that your alma mater keeps a record of past prom themes? It only took a few phone calls to figure out what it was for your class."
She was reeling even more now. "How?"
"The Bellagio had a last-minute cancellation. They did most of the work setting everything up. Although Catherine says Lindsey had a lot of fun making the banner."
"So, she did know something." Sara shook her head. "That bitch." She paused. "I owe her one."
Grissom reached out and brushed a curl back from her face. "I never went to my prom either. The girl I liked had a very muscular boyfriend. So I stayed home and dissected a cat I found in the road." When she had no reaction to that, he chuckled. "I love that hearing that about me doesn't shock or repulse you."
"How did you know that I didn't…" She stopped short as she realized the answer before she even finished the question.
"Catherine," they both said together.
Smiling now, she looked up at the disco ball to hold back a few stray tears. "I don't know what to say."
Grissom lifted the lid from the box. An orchid corsage with a navy blue ribbon that matched her dress perfectly was nestled inside. He took her hand and slid it onto her wrist.
"Say you'll go to the prom with me, Sara"
Her heart fluttered like she was really was seventeen again. "I'd love to."
To Be Continued