Gil took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. He was hoping that Heather wouldn't be in. Maybe she was somewhere else. Maybe he could just put his brains back in his head and go back to where he belonged. Maybe--
Heather answered the door, looking devastatingly sad and yet her usual determined self at the same time. Grissom wondered how she managed to do that in the face of such tragedy.
"Gil. We keep bumping into each other lately."
"Yes, Heather, we do indeed."
"Please, come in. I was just about to make some tea."
He followed her inside and watched as she gracefully moved into the kitchen and started making tea. Someday he'd have to figure out this fascination with her. Someday, but not now.
She told him to take a seat; he took one at the kitchen table. His eyes followed her every move, and he felt regret with every step she made. I haven't done anything to regret yet, he thought, yet being the operative word.
When the tea was ready, she sat down next to him and handed him a glass. He didn't drink it.
"Tell me, Gil. What brings you here? Do you have any new information for me?"
"No, I don't. Well, yes, I do. Brass and probably half the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department will be here in, oh, about 40 minutes. They will probably arrest you for the murder of your husband."
This news did not seem to faze Heather in the slightest.
"What evidence do they have to base this arrest on, exactly?"
"I don't know the details. That's not why I'm here."
She regarded him closely, just as she had the last time they were in the same room together, and again it made him uncomfortable. This wasn't right. This wasn't where he should be. There was someone else out there in the world waiting for him to come home. What was he doing? But he did not move or waver or do anything else to prove himself wrong. No, he was here for a reason.
He looked at her, taking her all in. Her long, dark hair, her piercing eyes, her...mouth. The features were all the same as they'd always been. The last time he'd been this close to her was the night they almost shared something they both would come to regret.
Still, after so many years of lusting, wanting, loving Sara, and so many years of wiping his memory of Heather, and with all his education and knowledge and experience, everything that told him he was wrong--he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to know what it felt like to finally cross a line, to finally do something he knew he wasn't supposed to.
But when it was all said and done, when he thought about actually going in and doing it, he realized something--he didn't really want to. This revelation was surprising but also a huge relief. He didn't want to kiss Heather! The very thought of kissing her made his stomach sick with regret.
"You're staring at my lips again, Gil. But I know it's not for the same reason as the last time we were in this position."
He cringed at the word "position."
"No, it's not. That is true."
"So what is it now? Let me guess--you're feeling dangerous. You're feeling like taking a risk. You want to kiss me, yet there's something stopping you. You want to arrest me, but there's something stopping you from doing that, too. What's on your mind, Gil? Because I know it's certainly not Sara Sidle."
"What do you know about Sara?" He asked defensively.
Heather laughed. While Grissom loved Sara's laugh--so throaty and full of love and understanding--Heather's laugh was different. He knew she didn't mean to mock him. She wasn't a cruel woman, at least not in her spare time. But still, he felt her laughter was teasing him, and he didn't like it.
"I know what the rest of your department has always wondered but never had the courage to ask you about. I know the relationship could probably get you in trouble with your superiors. And I know you probably shouldn't be here with me right now if you ever want to go home to her again."
"You're right. About everything."
She nodded, but didn't say anything else. It was not a comfortable silence.
"Heather, did you kill your husband?" Grissom finally asked.
"No, I did not. I did not kill the father of my unborn baby. I had nothing to do with the death of my daughter, either, if that was your next question. I've had a lot of grief in my life, and I did not bring it on myself, let me assure you."
Grissom nodded, trying not to show any emotion.
"And do you realize that's the second time you've wanted to kiss me, and then you accused me of murder instead? That's not a wonderful character trait, Gil, I have to tell you."
Grissom sighed. "I realize that, yes."
Heather took a long look at his face, and then visibly softened. She took a long sip of tea, and then rubbed her aching stomach. Grissom knew something had changed, just like that. There was suddenly less tension in the air and it was much easier to breathe.
"Gil, I'm tired of playing this game. I don't want to be composed and put together and calm. I'm a mess. And I know there's something on your mind that you want to talk about. Why are you here? What do you want from me? I'll tell you what I want--a shoulder to cry on. I'm terrified, to be honest with you. I'm about to be a mother again, and I have no idea what's going to happen. This baby needs a stable mother and I'm afraid I can't provide that. I need someone to listen to me when I need to actually cry. And the way you comforted me last year, with my daughter...I just feel like we can be here for each other. Don't you agree?"
Grissom exhaled. She finally figured it out. She figured it out for him, in fact. What he wanted to do was listen to her. He was so fixated on his lust, on his feelings of confusion, that he lost track of what he really wanted, which was to be her friend. Heather needed someone she could count on, and that's what he wanted to be for her.
So for the next 20 minutes, she told him about her grief; about what it was like to wake up in the morning and know that the two most important people in her life were permanently gone, and yet another important person was on the way. He told her about his love for Sara, and how he never was sure if he was saying or doing the right thing. All he wanted to be was the man Sara always thought he was; the man he felt like when he was with her.
"I need to know one thing, Heather. When Sara and I processed your house the other day, I found a--a drawer. It had video tapes and papers and, well, other assorted things. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
"Yes. I do. Let's just say that when I like something, I like it a lot. I've collected your old tapes and papers because I knew I couldn't settle for you. Inside, deep inside our hearts and our heads, you and I share something deep and important. But it was never supposed to be, and I knew that. And you know that, too. Your feelings for Sara are too all-encompassing to let someone else penetrate them, and that's okay. We were never meant to be together, but I wanted a little piece of you anyway. I know how that sounds, and I have no way of making it sound less than what it is."
He touched her hand and smiled. They shared an important look; an important moment, an understanding of what could have been but what was never destined to happen.
"Oh, and don't worry. I got rid of that stuff yesterday. It's in a landfill somewhere now. Nobody will find it tonight."
He nodded gratefully, and they continued their conversation. They talked for so long that of course Grissom didn't notice what time it was. And when the pounding on the door started, he was actually startled.
"Well, they're here," Heather said. "I guess this is it. My lawyer will meet me downtown and get me cleared of any charges, but I'm sure whatever evidence they have will keep me down there for a while. Do you want to hide? You can go out the back door, if you'd like."
"No. No, I'm okay. Whatever happens won't be anything compared to what I'll be going through with Sara later."
Heather nodded. They both got up from the table and walked to the front door, where the banging continued.
"Heather Kessler! Open the door, please! This is the Las Vegas police!"
"God, Jim, you don't have to be so dramatic about it," Heather said, opening the door.
Brass smiled at Heather in spite of everything. He nodded at Gil, who nodded politely back. Jim came in with what must have been a dozen uniforms, closely followed by Warrick, Greg, Catherine and Nick.
"Heather, it's a pleasure to see you again. I'm sorry to tell you that we have a warrant to search your house."
"Go ahead. I have nothing to hide. Nor did I the first time you guys ransacked my house."
Brass directed the uniforms, and then turned his attention to Grissom.
"I thought I told you to clear out of here. Good thing I managed to come alone, what if the under sheriff got curious and came to see things for himself?"
"Lost track of time," Grissom said. He then turned his attention to his team, who were all staring at him in what seemed to be shock and disbelief.
"It's a long story, guys, and it's not what it looks like. And what are you doing here, anyway? It takes 15 people to search a house now?"
"This is the only case we've been on for days, Gil," Catherine said. "And besides, Heather is my friend. I wanted to be here in case she needed me. Not that she does, with you here, anyway. Gil...how do you think Sara feels about this?"
"We'll talk about it later," Grissom said under his breath.
"What will Sara think about what? What is going on here, Gris?" Nick asked. He looked confused. Grissom didn't really blame him. "Why were you here, Gris? We've been looking for you all over tonight. I don't get it...were you waiting for Brass?"
"No, Nick, I was trying to be a friend. I'll explain later."
Before Nick could say anything else, Grissom grabbed Brass and they went into the kitchen to whisper about something. Catherine found Heather and talked to her privately. Greg, Nick and
Warrick just stood and watched the uniforms, and whispered amongst themselves about how weird all of this was.
It took close to 15 minutes, but one of the uniforms found a rope that could maybe have tied John's hands while he was tortured. He showed it to Brass, who exhaled and shrugged.
"Well, Heather, I guess we have to bring you in now."
"What, for a rope? Jim, she runs a dungeon. She's a dominatrix. She's going to have a rope," Catherine said.
Jim gave Catherine a Look, one that meant she just needed to back off. So she did. There were times when you could talk to Jim Brass, and there were times when you just needed to not talk to Jim Brass.
"It's fine. My lawyer will get me out of this mess," Heather said. "Let's go."
"I doubt that, actually," Brass said. "We have evidence, we have a motive, and you don't have a solid alibi. I don't think it's going to be as easy as you think."
Before everyone thought it couldn't get any more uncomfortable, Sara came bursting through the front door like a woman on a mission. All the uniforms and all her co-workers, plus her boyfriend and Lady Heather, all stared at her in confusion and shock. Grissom shook it off and went to greet her.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" He asked, most unhelpfully.
"I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" She asked coolly.
"Well, hello, Sara. Welcome to my home. Is there something I can do for you? Detective Brass was about to escort me to the police station, where surely I will be arrested and then sentenced for the death of my husband."
"That's why I'm here, actually," Sara said, distracted by all the faces looking back at her. "I think I can prove your innocence."
"Pardon me?" Heather said, now giving Sara her complete attention.
"I had a hunch about something I heard on the news the other day. John was married before you, just a year ago, actually."
"Yes. Isabella is his ex-wife," Heather said. "Did you hear from her?"
"No, I didn't hear from her, but I after I heard about the huge life insurance policy, I thought she might have been setting you up. So I called a few people and did some digging on the internet and I found a few things. First of all she has a very, very angry blog that says a lot of very incriminating things. Second, there are credit card receipts. In the past week, she's bought a gun, several pesticides that contain arsenic, leather gloves, and, uh, a blow torch. She's pretty much an evidence factory, that Isabella. I told Sofia since you weren't available, Jim. She's bringing her in now."
Heather chuckled, and then laughed, and then hugged Sara tightly. Sara was never sure how to act when a suspect hugged her, much less Lady Heather, but she patted Heather on the arm and this seemed to please her.
Forgetting about their audience, Heather asked her, "Why would you...do that for me? Gil left to come over here, he just left you washing the dishes...why would you want to do anything for me?"
This got the attention of everyone in the room, especially the three clueless boys, Greg, Nick and Warrick. They all stared at this conversation like it was a tennis match at Wimbledon.
Sara knew they were watching, and she didn't care. Not anymore. Too much had happened and she didn't care who knew her secrets anymore.
"Gil was confused. He knew you needed a friend and he mistook that for something else. I get it, I understand. I was hurt at first but I know we have something that will transcend jealousy and lust. I assume the two of you have also come to this conclusion."
Heather nodded. "We have. I needed someone to comfort me and he needed someone to help him understand his feelings. We have a mutual understanding. I'm not trying to take him from you, Sara. I never wanted that."
"I know," Sara said. "I know."
"Wait, Sara, what are you saying?" Nick spoke up, finally able to talk again. "Are you saying that you and Grissom are...are...what are you saying?"
"Yes, Nick, Grissom and I have been together; well, for nearly 2 years now. Ever since your kidnapping. We're sorry we didn't say anything, but we weren't ready. It was private. And now, well, it's definitely not."
Grissom put his arm around her and she buried her face in his neck. So only he noticed the devastating look of heartbreak on Nick's face. Poor guy, he thought. Sara told him later about how Nick asked her out a few days ago. She felt guilty about lying and hurting his feelings. She'd have to take him to lunch one day and explain it all.
Brass returned from the kitchen, cell phone in hand. "Well, Sara's right. Sofia has Isabella in custody. Said she's yelling about how unfair it is that Heather got the life insurance policy and she didn't, how she was married to the man for years and put up with his 'weird ass fetishes' and got nothing to show for it in the end. Boy, she doesn't like you at all, Heather. I guess this means you're free to go. I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm sorry for the inconvenience we caused you tonight."
"Thank you, Jim, I appreciate it. And it was worth it, I think," she said, looking at Grissom and Sara. They smiled back at her, even though there was sadness and frustration in those smiles. Heather knew they'd talk it out. They'd be okay. And maybe, just maybe, she gained a friend out of the situation.
"Way to go, man," Warrick told Grissom on their way out of the house.
"Grissom? Really?" Greg told Sara. She laughed and told him they'd talk about it later.
Nick just looked at her and shook his head. She frowned as he walked by without saying anything. That was one relationship that would need repairing.
The uniforms and Brass cleared out of the house, too. When the three of them were alone, Heather shook their hand and thanked them. "We'll have to do this again some time," she said.
Then she went upstairs to her room. After she closed her bedroom door, Grissom and Sara could hear the unmistakable sound of a woman crying.
"Let's go home," Sara said. Grissom nodded. He knew he would be in the dog house for a while. There was some major talking to be done, and he knew he'd have to work hard to gain her trust again. But he knew she understood why he did it and why it had to go down the way it did. And that was enough for now.
They walked out of Heather's house, hand in hand, ready to move to the next phase of their lives.