Disclaimers: I do not own any of the characters in CSI or the rights to the show itself. However, I would like to thank CBS for letting me take the characters out to play.
I would also like to thank my beta: mbbowman/swismiself. She has put her time and effort into editing this and I greatly appreciate it. I know that she has other things to do with her time than devote it to my whimsy, so you are a star in my eyes.
I guess I should let you in on the fact that this is pre-season 6, and although it is GSR it is not pre-existing.
Thank you all for your kind reviews.
Chapter 12 – ResuscitationGrissom was long gone by the time Sara returned to the room. Not a bad thing, she rationalized, since she needed to shower, get dressed, and focus. Her seminar was an hour off and then almost immediately after that there was presentation on blood spatter, followed by Grissom's lecture. She wasn't sure she would be in attendance at the bug presentation, considering the fact that presenter was on her black list for the time being. Why add insult to injury when it was clear that the man didn't want her around?
The run had helped; it managed to deaden the pain and convert the leftovers into something more manageable: anger. In fact, she was still so pissed off when she returned to the hotel that she severely harassed the desk clerk, hoping that the less than complacent attitude she fostered would get her something that her reluctant acceptance the day before hadn't: a room of her own. It didn't help – the clerk, who was used to dealing with all manner of unpleasantness, simply smiled and shook her head no to every one of the CSI's requests.
Fresh from the shower, she slipped into a knee length black tank dress and topped it off with a matching fitted jacket. A light application of makeup and a finger comb through her hair, and she was ready to face her peers.
There were a slew of people lined up outside the doors to Meeting Room 3. Initially it made her nervous, but she was used to lecturing in front of full classes at the university. This should be a piece of cake, she told herself as she grabbed her notes, shoved them in her briefcase, and exited the room.
The lecture went well. Approximately 125 people attended and some of the questions she faced at the end, aside from the adjunct coffee and dinner date requests, were well thought out and intelligent. It was a pleasure for her to be around people who shared her interest in the science and treated her as an equal, or better yet, managed to stimulate her curiosity in her chosen field. In fact, some of the discussion queries provided her with a secondary topic for a different article. All in all, she felt it was a success. Academia had always excited her, but if she had to compare her work to a life of study, the job would still win hands down. It was the excitement and unexpectedness of it that drew her.
Once she'd threaded her way through the people wanting to talk to her personally, she checked her watch and discovered that there was only ten minutes left for her to get to the blood spatter presentation she'd signed up for. Dropping her notes back into her folder, she shoved it into her small briefcase and made her way to the back of the room, her eyes falling on a waiting Gil Grissom.
He was sitting in the back row looking deceptively handsome in a pair of dark dress pants, a matching polo shirt, and a jacket that could only be described as professor-like with its light checked pattern and elbow patches. He had been there since the start of her seminar, after quietly slipping in with the rest of the crowd. He never once uttered a question as many had, but he'd given her his undivided attention for the entire time she talked. It had been disconcerting a first, but she found that ignoring him helped to ease her stage fright; by the end of her talk, she had almost entirely forgotten that he was there. That is, until she was faced with the prospect of having to talk to him.
She diverted her eyes and groaned slightly as she made her way towards him...
"Very informative, Miss Sidle…" Grissom smirked hesitantly as he wrapped a tentative fist around Sara's forearm, drawing her to a stop in front of him.
She couldn't help - it her body tensed noticeably under his touch.
It stung God dammit… His earlier behavior really had hurt.
It wasn't so much the physical promise of something that would never come to fruition, but rather the fact that he had all but accused her of deliberately being a tease when, in her mind, all she had ever done was be honest with him, even if it meant leaving her own delicate heart readily exposed.
"Thanks," she mumbled half heartedly, her vision drifting to the thick mahogany doors of the meeting room and beyond them into the regally adorned lobby. A short war ensued between heart and head, and as usual heart won handily.
You are sooo pathetic, she told herself as she finally brought her dark eyes to meet his apologetic light ones. "I'm going to the blood spatter seminar next," she told him, and made to leave.
"Sara… wait." His fingers tensed on her sleeve.
"What?" she asked, her head already shaking off whatever it was he was going to say.
"I know I owe you an apology…"
He seemed almost penitent, his clear blue eyes looked incredibly sad and Sara willed her heart not to respond.
She was mad at him, dammit!
Instead, the slim brunette simply shook her head: "Never mind."
"No… I've had enough of this. We…" He licked his lips, his free hand running a tense path through his hair. "We need to talk."
At this Sara's mouth dropped, "No…" She shook her head again. "No we don't."
"Sara…" He intoned, sounding terribly reasonable.
"Grissom, we never talk. Really…Actually, I should rephrase that." She inhaled deeply, fighting off the urge to hit him, or shake him, or do something violent to him. "You never talk. You say things, but all you ever do is leave me more confused that I was before you said anything. This is why I stopped…I…" She held her hand up, her briefcase dangling beneath it. "Look, this is accomplishing nothing. Never mind, okay…?"
"Why you stopped what?" The look on his face told her that he knew he had struck pay dirt.
She didn't want to hurt him.
Too bad the sentiment isn't mutual, her head offered
You are not helping matters, her heart retorted
She closed her eyes against her own inner struggle. As painful as it might be for both of them, he needed to know where her head was at, Sara reasoned. Maybe, just maybe, it would end the emotional fall-out they were creating with the endless tug of war they were perpetrating upon each other.
There was a pregnant silence standing between them while Sara formed the words in her head. "This is why I stopped waiting…" Her voice was soft and wavered slightly under the weight of the words. "Why I stopped waiting for you." She clarified.
The injured look in his eyes told her that her words had done no small amount of damage, and he nodded softly.
Sara smiled sadly, the admission causing her a hitch of pain. It was the first time she'd actually verbalized her decision. It sounded harsh and hopeless to even to her ears.
"Is there someone else?" He asked her quietly.
Her head shook instantly, her chocolate ringlets dancing around her face. "No…" She wasn't sure why it was so important that he know this, but she needed him to understand that she had made the decision based on something more important than an infatuation with some other guy. "I've been on a few dates, had some fun…but no. There's no one special."
He nodded quietly, and then pulled her off to the side of the doors, allowing them some privacy from the prying eyes of the people gathering in the lobby.
Sara followed reluctantly, certain that whatever was going on in his brain would just cause another round of personal torment for the both of them. She looked at him shaking her head minutely. "You know…" She was going to tell him that everything was okay. She had come to the realization that he was happy living a solitary existence, and she had accepted it. What she wanted from him now was a friendship - the kind they had before everything became so convoluted. It seemed an intelligent and mature ending to the freakishly messy dance they'd been performing over the last several years. But, absolutely none of the dialogue actually made it out of her mouth before she found herself pressed up against the thick wood paneling of the meeting room, Gil Grissom's sensual lips molded to hers, his mouth slightly open and his tongue gently exploring.
He was a solid man, and the slim brunette found herself unable to move with the bulk of his weight pressed against her. It was a moot point anyway, as her legs were being terribly uncooperative and refused to do the very thing she rationalized she should - which was run far, far away.
A moment later all rational thought slipped from her mind. Forget explanations. Forget pain. Forget breathing. The only thing that flitted through her garbled brain was the fact that for the second time in less than 12 hours her boss…her friend…her former lover…was assaulting her mouth with his, and it felt far too good.
All too quickly it ended; as he broke contact for a moment, giving them both enough time to draw a much needed breath.
This was it, she figured. He would revert to freaked-out Grissom and hightail it back to Vegas, or something equally as crazy. But he surprised her again.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he ran his thumbs along her jaw, his eyes never leaving hers. It looked for a moment like he was going to say something, but he'd clearly changed his mind, since a second later he was tasting her again - this time more hungrily and deeply than the last.
A small moan escaped him as their tongues danced. Dropping the briefcase she still held clutched in one hand, Sara placed her hands on his chest. Beneath the thin material she could feel his heart beating just as wildly as hers was.
A loud laugh somewhere just outside the door drew them back to reality; getting down and dirty with the bossman in a conference room was not something she wanted to be remembered for.
"We should…" He pulled away and kissed her lightly on the forehead and then the tip of her nose. "We should…"
"Stop…" Sara filled in the blank, allowing a final kiss before they both reluctantly broke apart.
"Yeah…" He licked his lips, and then smiled. "I'm sorry about this morning, really." He stepped away grudgingly. "I felt stupid, like a twelve year old with no self control."
The tall brunette rolled her dark eyes at him, a slight smile coming to her face. "In my limited experience Dr. Grissom…" She leaned in and dropped her voice so as not to be overheard. "It is very normal for a man to wake up with a hard on."
A self-conscious smirk formed on his mouth before he leaned in and whispered in her ear. "I know, but not usually one big enough to require manual relief." He told her, more than a little embarrassed at the admission.
Sara wasn't sure if it was his words of the feel of his warm breath on her neck that caused the flash of heat to flux through her. "Oh…" Was all she managed before he placed a hand onto the small of her back.
Bending over he picked up her discarded briefcase and passed it to her. "We really do need to talk. Tonight, after the ball, okay?" He stopped and waited for her approval.
Sara simply nodded, her head trying to make sense of this latest step in the stilted dance they were performing. Stupid, stupid, stupid… The silent litany skipped across the surface of her mind. You are far too forgiving. He is so going to do it to you again…
He smiled. "I understand we have a date with some blood spatter…" He moved her towards the door and out into the foyer.
"Yeah, yours if you're toying with me again, Gris," Sara intoned evilly, as they headed to the next seminar.
"Scared of you…" He whispered.
"Damn straight…" She replied as she made her way to the door. "I'm a trained CSI. I know how to dispose of your body."
He simply chuckled as they slipped quietly into the lecture.
