Chapter Twelve
Sara didn't run into Grissom at all that night, and only got a glimpse of him as she was about to leave for the day. She knew something was wrong when she saw him tossing down some pills at the water fountain, then go straight into his office and turn down the blinds. She had known him long enough to realize what the problem was, and she retreated to the locker room where she found two wash cloths and ran cold water over them. She returned to his office, but noticed this time there were lights showing through the sides of the blinds–something she doubted very much that he had done. The light would have been excruciating to him during one of his migraines. She approached the door, not wanting to knock as she knew that the sound, also, would provide him with more pain. So, slowly, she pushed open the door and apprehensively entered the room. The sight of Sophia pacing back and forth in front of him, as he sat on the sofa with pain written plainly across his face as he squinted at the blonde woman.
"Look, Gil, I just wanted to say I was sorry about anything I've said to insult you. I just, well, sometimes my temper gets the best of me and I don't realize what I'm saying, and I didn't want to lose you, ya know? I mean, we were getting on together so well. Ever since I moved to your crew, I've felt that extra bond that we share. You can't deny that. So, what I'm trying to say is that I'd like another chance–a fresh start, so to speak."
Grissom only briefly raised his glance to her before dropping his gaze away from the light source again. "Whatever you say, Sophia. Fine, we'll wipe the slate clean. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was just about to leave for the day."
Sophia made no move to leave, and Sara knew the last thing Grissom needed at that moment was to actually have to get up and move out of his (what was supposed to be a) darkened office.
"Um, Griss," Sara said softly, alerting both of the others that she was standing just inside the door. "I brought those things you asked for."
"Thanks, Sara," he said without looking at her. "Could you bring them here so I can go over them before I leave? Sophia, would you close the door on your way out?"
Sophia looked at Sara with daggers. "Of course. I'll see you then at work tonight."
"Yes." Grissom said, still not looking at either woman. "Tonight."
Sara waited until Sophia walked past her and closed the door, a little more forcefully than normal, which brought a wince from the man on the couch. She could see how Grissom was trying to look up at her through eyes that were very nearly closed as he tried to block out the overhead light, so she flipped the switch to allow the dimness to take over. She moved to the couch an placed her hand on his shoulder, gently nudging him until he turned and lay on its length. She saw how he was resting his head on the arm of the piece of furniture and thought that it wouldn't do at all–it probably would make his head feel worse. She looked around and found nothing to help his situation, so she removed her jacket and folded it, then told him to lift his head until he allowed her to cushion the hardness of the sofa's arm.
"I've got a couple of cool cloths. I know it won't cure it, but I thought it might help."
He nodded his head with his eyes closed and tension running through his face, waiting for her to apply first one to his forehead, then the other to the back of his neck.
"I was wondering what it was that I "requested" you to bring to me," he said softly, trying to smile, but failing miserably. "I couldn't, for the life of me, think of what I told you to bring. How did you know?"
"Know what? That you had a headache? Or that the coolness of the cloth might help?"
"Both."
"I saw you as you went into your office–and one of my foster mothers used to get migraines. But she, actually, used to spread the entire wash cloth across the top of her head." She picked up the cloth on his forehead and spread it open, then covered the top of his head with it. "Like this."
"Are there many people out there?" He asked about the rest of the lab.
"Catherine, Nick and Warrick just came in. Hodges is in the lab. I think Wendy's there too."
"Then lock the door. I don't want them to come in."
Sara moved to do as he suggested, then came back to the sofa where she sat on the edge of the seat, near his hips as she faced him. "Is there anything else I can do?"
He didn't answer, simply reached for her hand and took it in his. Sara watched him suffering, wishing she could take his pain away, but knowing that unless he wanted a trip to the doctor for an injection, he had to wait it out. The only control she could have over it would be "how" he spent his time as he suffered through it. If she could make it as comfortable as possible, and keep anyone from coming in and turning on bright lights or making noise around him, she would . She didn't care if the whole lab started gossiping about the fact that she holed herself up in Grissom's office with him. More than likely ridiculing her for being so faithful to a man who wouldn't return her affection. At this point, she didn't care what they thought. She was more concerned with his pain.
As his breathing began to become relaxed, she reached to touch his face, but stopped herself.
"Gil?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I touch you?"
He opens his eyes and looks at her through his squinted eyes even though the lights were dimmed significantly.
"Touch me–where?"
She gave a tiny amused chuckle as she watched him. "No where like that–I promise you. I just wondered if it would help or hurt if I stroked your head."
"I don't know." He looked at her doubtfully.
"Tell ya what," she said quietly as she moved until she was sitting on her feet on the floor, much closer to his head, then slipped feather-light caresses across his forehead. "I'll start, and if it makes things worse–or even doesn't help at all. You let me know, okay?"
He slowly nodded his head as he watched her, then after a moment, let his eyes close again as her fingers traveled in various areas; from his cheeks to his temples, his forehead to the back of his neck; anywhere she felt tension, she gently rubbed him. After a while, she could feel the muscles begin to relax and before too much longer his even breathing told her that he was sleeping. She continued to caress the tenseness of his muscles for another five minutes, then slowly moved down to the top of his back (as far as she could reach with him in that position) and felt such a tightness that she wondered if it wasn't some kind of muscle spasm. Gently, and quietly, she worked with that muscle, then came around to the top of his chest and did the same. Finally, after another fifteen minutes, she removed the cloths from his head and neck and moved to a chair, not wanting to leave him in case his headache should get any worse; but not wanting to get accused of being locked up in the office with her boss, either.
That decision was taken out of her hands though, when a loud banging began on the door to the office. Sara jumped from her chair to try to quiet whomever was intruding on their peace while at the same time Grissom turned onto his side and groaned, his hand moving up to his forehead with pain.
"What? Please! Be quiet!" Sara hissed as she swung the door open, only to see Ecklie standing on the other side with a very suspicious expression covering his face. Sophia stood back the hallway, watching from a distance.
"What's going on?" Ecklie demanded. "Sophia said the two of you were locked up in here."
Sara glanced back to see Grissom was now sitting up, and managed to get to his feet as he moved toward them. "What's the problem, Conrad?"
Ecklie looked at Grissom as if he had just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, watching him get off the couch in the darkness of the room, but when he entered the light and the bald man got a good look at him, his expression changed to that of concern and he quieted his voice from the roar he had been using.
"Another migraine, huh?" Conrad asked. "That's why you had the lights off and the door locked. Sensitive to the light and noise, right?"
"Right," Grissom sighed. "Sara locked the door so no one would come in and make it worse. And before you ask, Sara was here because I asked her to bring me some reports, then the headache got extremely bad while we were going over them."
Ecklie looked at Sara and she looked back, wide-eyed. "I didn't want to leave him alone. What if it was a stroke–or something like that? He would have died in here alone and I'd have to process the scene–and I really am not up to processing my boss."
"Yes," Ecklie agreed as he looked back at Grissom. "You really don't look too good, Gil. Maybe you should just have Sara drive you to the hospital or something."
"She can drive me home," he told him, then pointed toward the couch, indicating that Sara should get her jacket. "I don't think I can take the light outside, so she'll have to be my eyes for another hour or so. I should be fine by the time our shift starts tonight."
Sara retrieved her jacket, as well as his and helped him put it on as Ecklie watched them, still concerned with the condition of the other man, before glancing back up at Sara. "Do you need any help getting him to your car? I can get Nick or Warrick."
"No," Sara sniffed. "I can handle him. You can walk, can't ya Griss?"
"I can walk."
"I'll just guide him in the right direction, and he'll be fine."
"Well, okay then. Just take care of yourself, Grissom." He turned and started back down the hallway.
Sara and Grissom stood still for a few moments, listening to the muffled conversation at the end of the hall, not much of which they could make out besides Ecklie's, "He's got a damned migraine–all you had to do was look at him to see it. Jeez–maybe if you'd have spent more time actually looking at him, and less time being concerned about what Sara was doing, you would have helped ease his pain instead of adding to his tension."
Sara and Grissom looked at one another, then with Sara holding onto his arm and guiding him in the right direction, he spoke quietly to her. "You didn't want to leave me alone in case I had a stroke and you'd have to process the scene?"
"Overdid it, huh?"
"Do ya think?"
"Yeah, I overdid it." She chuckled as she guided him through the halls, receiving a few odd looks from the people they were passing before she'd hear whispered "migraine" from the people who were familiar with Grissom's problem, to those who were not.
"I'm not making a spectacle of myself, am I?"
"No," she lied. "No one's even noticing us."
"Liar," he said with his half-smile.
The ride back to Grissom's place was filled with frustrated stops in traffic as Grissom sat in the passenger's seat with his head leaning against the headrest. By the time she pulled up to his parking spot, he got out of the car on his own, but took her hand when she came around to meet him. She smiled at him, her relief that he was getting better showed as she looked at him. Once inside, she took her coat off then reached for his, putting them both in the closet before coming back to where he waited for her.
"Where do you want to go? Sofa or bed?"
He half-pointed toward his bedroom and she preceded him so she could pull down the sheet and fluff his pillow. As she was bent over, smoothing the sheet for him, he walked up behind her and she felt his hands on her hips. She started to stand erect, but he stopped her with a slight pressure on the small of her back. At first she had no idea what he was doing, but it didn't take long until she felt him pressing himself against her backside as he pulled at her hips. She very nearly fell on the bed as her knees went weak and she inhaled quickly at the pleasure that shot, so unexpectedly, clear through her.
"Shh. Don't move," he whispered as he gently gyrated against her.
"What–are you doing?" She asked in a rush of breath.
"I've been wanting to do this ever since yesterday morning when you made a point of dropping everything you had your fingers on. On most occasions there was a black lace thong peeking out at me as you'd bend over. Did you do that on purpose?"
She had trouble concentrating on what he was saying as she felt his erection pressing against her through both her pair of jeans as well as his own pants.
"Yesterday?" She breathed.
"Mm-hmm."
"In the dormitory?"
"Mm-hmm."
"I was dropping things?"
"Yes, you were."
"Oh, God, I might not have been doing it on purpose yesterday, but I will from now on, if it puts you in this mood."
He gave a little chuckle and released her, then kicked off his shoes. Without another glance, he moved to the edge of the bed and sat down, then lowered himself until he was lying quietly with his eyes closed.
"Too bad I have a headache."
Sara stared at him through huge eyes. She was a pool of mush right now! And he did it! And now he's going to go to sleep!
"You did that on purpose!" She accused him.
"How's it feel?"
"Fine!" She turned and started out the door. "Just wait until you eat your lunch and find out I added a little blue pill to it. Then "I'll" go home and take a nap."
"Anything you'll prepare for lunch will be fine," he called after her, making her smile in spite of herself as she entered the kitchen and started looking through his refrigerator for ingredients for said lunch.
