A/N - I should probably say that this chapter has a good deal of angst. But the next chapter won't, I swear! Thanks for all the reviews, they make me happy. And I'd like to thank my beta Vanessa/GSFanatic once again because she is awesome and never gives up on me.
Las Vegas, May, 2003
Vegas was not how Sara imagined it at all.
Well, that wasn't completely true. She imagined it would be hot. And it was-achingly, ridiculously, relentlessly hot. On almost a daily basis, she'd wonder why she was in this godforsaken town. Then she'd remember. Oh, yeah. Grissom.
When he'd asked her to come and help with the investigation of death of Holly Gribbs, she'd been completely delighted. Finally, she thought. Finally he was ready to take this thing to the next level. While she thought asking her to move to Vegas was somewhat drastic, the part of her heart that was solely reserved for Gil Grissom didn't even care. She'd move anywhere for him, any time, and she wasn't going to deny that to herself. Ever since she parted ways with Doug, there was no one else. There wasn't anything tying her to California. And when she thought about it, there never really was.
The first couple of months were nothing like she expected. When she moved into her small townhouse and unpacked, she did so with a smile. She smiled because things were finally moving into place. She was a criminalist at one of the best labs in the country, and her mentor, the man she hopelessly fell for more than 2 years before, had hand-picked her out of countless other qualified people. However, her smile would fade once her thoughts turned to Holly Gribbs. Holly was the reason why she was here, and she fought to keep that in mind and remain professional during the investigation.
He was happy to see her at first. They flirted at crime scenes. Sometimes they'd sneak out and have breakfast, but that was rare. But there was something so different about Grissom since they parted in Boston. He was older. Tired. Frustrated. After he took over for Jim Brass as supervisor of the night shift when Holly died, it was like a part of him just gave up. Sara hated seeing this happen. She wanted to revive him; to bring back the excitement in his life. But it was like the second he asked her to come to Vegas, all hopes for starting any kind of relationship other than professional vanished.
While Sara was used to this by now, it still continued to break her heart. It was tough work, holding a candle for her boss for so long now. And while her feelings tended to fade in and out, they never disappeared completely. Her cheating son of a bitch ex-boyfriend Hank, the only person she'd tried to date since effectively ending her relationship with Doug after the Grissom incident, turned her into the "other woman." If it were up to her, she'd never date again-it wasn't worth it. It was sometimes a lonely life. But something inside of her felt that if she waited long enough, Grissom would eventually come back around.
Just like before, he was constantly giving her hope and then taking it away almost instantly. Sara was so smitten; so eager to please him that she always let him get away with it. It felt like she was basically lost in this desert town, but the job was rewarding, if not overcome with sadness, and she found friendships with her co-workers to be ultimately beneficial. Nick was fun to hang out with and she appreciated his Southern charm. Greg's crush on her was relatively harmless and she liked talking to him about comic books and computer nerd things. Warrick was so cool under pressure and just radiated confidence. Even though they didn't start off on the right foot, she had a great deal of respect for him. And Catherine, she was all-knowing. Sara found her to be intimidating; the way she knew things about people they didn't even know themselves. Their friendship was still a work in progress.
It didn't help that said co-workers knew she was in love with her boss. That was not something she was proud of, but what could she do? When it came to Gil Grissom, she wore her heart on her sleeve. It wasn't subtle. It wasn't quiet.
After almost three and a half years of this give and take, Sara was starting to feel a little unstable. She was not herself and it was getting to her. Something needed to happen here-she was going to have to make it happen. Fortunately and unfortunately, an explosion at the lab put her plan into motion.
The day the chaos started, Sara was eating a sandwich. Well, she was eating a sandwich and thinking about Grissom. On this particular day, she couldn't stop thinking about Boston. How when the morning came, they woke up to being wrapped up in the sheets together, lost under all the fabric; entwined with each other. Why didn't he want that again? Sometimes it was all she wanted. It consumed her soul and kept her thoughts hostage. Most of the time she'd have to force herself to think about something else just so she wouldn't live inside the fantasy. Once again, this wasn't the Sara she knew. It was a lovesick Sara, and she didn't like it. What she liked even less was how hard she had to try to not let it interfere with the job sometimes.
On this particular day, Grissom was busy, like always. All day long she'd wanted to talk to him, but it seemed like he was always in the middle of something. It was so frustrating-yet another day of feeling like she was just another employee instead of the person Grissom hand-picked because he trusted her more than anyone else. Maybe she could go back to San Francisco. Maybe she could point her finger somewhere on a map and go there. Maybe it was time to be anywhere Gil Grissom wasn't.
She spotted him in the hall and got up to talk to him. What about, she didn't exactly know, but she'd figure it out eventually. Any excuse to talk to him these days.
He walked down the hall, interrupted constantly by Judy giving him messages or someone else wanting his attention. Sara was the furthest thing from his mind, and she couldn't help but think that wasn't fair. But before she could really start pondering the unfairness of it all, her world all of a sudden got very hot and very quiet. Later she'd find out Catherine left a hot plate on in the lab and it exploded, almost taking Greg Sanders with it, but at the moment, she just thought the world was ending. Her world, anyway.
Somehow she found herself sitting outside, dazed and confused, not really knowing where she was or how she got there. Ambulances and fire trucks were hovering in the street. Grissom found her, and she was never so grateful for his presence. He had a concerned look on his face, and gently picked up her hand.
"Are you okay?" Grissom asked, looking at a small, bloody wound on her palm.
"Uh-huh," she said, distracted by the warmth of his voice.
"Honey, this doesn't look good."
Sara shook her head. "It's fine. Cleanup's going to be something. We should get started."
Grissom stared at her, penetrating her soul with his empathy. "You need to get stitches."
"I'm okay."
"Would you take care of her hand, please?" Grissom shouted at the EMTs. One of them, thankfully not cheating son of a bitch Hank, came to her aid, and off Grissom went before she had a chance to say anything else. What a perfect opportunity, too. Typical.
The explosion seemed to awaken something in Sara. She wanted to take risks; live dangerously. Why not? Nothing was happening in her personal life, so why couldn't she make her job a little more interesting? She proved this to everyone when she drew her gun and busted a bad guy in his bathroom before the cops even cleared the scene, which got her into deep shit with Captain Brass, somewhere she never wanted to be.
"I hear you think you're indestructible now," Nick told her while they were investigating yet another perp's dirty, disgusting apartment. Sara didn't have anything to say to her good friend's genuine concern.
"Have you ever had a gun pulled on you?" Nick said, his eyes penetrating her.
"No, I haven't," she said, and felt like shit. Nick had been through so much during his time as a CSI, and here she was, banging down doors and pointing her gun at suspects in uncleared bathrooms. Sara knew she needed to rethink her new-found freedom, but she wasn't ready, not quite yet. She was still on a mission.
A few hours later, she stood in the locker room, thinking about what she was about to do. A deep breath, some perfume, another deep breath. And she was ready.
Grissom was in his office, just like she knew he'd be. After all this time, she was getting very good at figuring out his routines.
"You...got a minute?" She asked timidly.
He did, but not before he gave her a lecture on taking life into her own hands.
"We got the guy," she said defensively.
"Is that all you have to say?"
That was actually not all Sara had to say. Now or never, She thought to herself.
"Would you like to have dinner with me?
Grissom looked puzzled. He didn't look annoyed or surprised or happy. He just looked puzzled.
"No," he said simply. What kind of answer was that?
"Why not? Let's...let's have dinner. Let's see what happens."
"Sara, I don't know what to do about...this," he said, making some kind of gesture that seemed to indicate 'this' was not them but some entity that he would rather not define.
"I do. You know, by the time you figure it out, you really could be too late."
He looked tongue tied. Like he had absolutely nothing to say to that. So instead of making him come up with something, she turned around to leave. As she walked down the hall, she could hear him getting up and turning off the light in his office. While she was dying to stop and wait for him to catch up with her, she kept walking. Again she had tried to fight for what she wanted, and again, it didn't work out. It was time for a new plan; one that didn't include him, or at least didn't include her being destructive in both her private and public life.
"Sara! Sara, wait. Please, just wait a second."
He came after her. This was something new. She hadn't prepared for this scenario. Stopping dead in her tracks, she waited for him to catch up. It's like he was walking in slow motion down the hall, each step taking longer than the last.
When he caught up with her, he took her wounded hand gently in his. Instinctively, she thought of Boston, when he took her hand and massaged it before they kissed. For the millionth time she found herself thinking, why couldn't he take the risk?
"I know it's hard," he said softly. "Sometimes I want the same things you do. But when I use my head and think of the consequences..."
"There doesn't have to be any consequences. We can do 'this', Griss. Like I said, why don't we just see where it goes? It could be the answer for both of us."
"I don't need an answer," Grissom said, and it hurt. It hurt more than it ever possibly should.
Sara smiled sadly and tried to walk away again, not wanting to continue this brutal conversation.
"Wait," he said, and she did.
"I know this isn't what you had in mind when you came here, and for that, I apologize. If we were in a different profession; if we met with different circumstances, things might not have worked out the way they did. But Sara...at least we'll always have Boston."
She was going to cry, and a lot. Usually Sara tried not to make a habit out of crying in front of people, but if Grissom didn't let her go soon, it was going to happen. Thankfully he let go of her, but in fragments, like he didn't want to lose his grip.
"Sometimes I wonder if you even remember Boston," she said. "Because it really seems like you've done your best to forget."
Grissom looked at her closely, and she had to look away. The look on his face was a little too intense for what she had in mind that night. But not for the first time, he surprised her.
"I remember. I remember that skirt you wore, and how long your legs looked peeking out from under it. I remember what you wore underneath that skirt. They were black. Lacey and black. I remember how your lips tasted the first time we kissed. I remember what it feels like to lay next to you, sleep next to you, wake up next to you. And I remember how I felt when you walked out of that door, not knowing if we were ever going to see each other again. I remember it all, Sara, I have a fantastic memory. But that doesn't mean I can let it happen again. You were my student and now you're my employee. It would be wrong to take advantage of that. Please, don't make this any harder than it has to be."
Well, that was more than he'd said to her in the past 3 years combined. Leave it to him to be silent for so long and then come out with something so beautiful. The man defined frustration.
She could have kept the conversation going. She could have used her conversational skills to get him to admit to more. Instead, as she tended to always do, she let him off the hook. She smiled at him again, sniffed back her tears, and said, "You're right. We'll always have Boston. See you later, Griss." The only satisfaction she had in saying those words was the fact that he was watching her leave yet again.