Disclaimer: I don't own...
A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, I've been struggling with how I wanted the chapter to go. Review and tell me what you think! ...How long until they have some hot vampire lovin?
Chapter Fourteen:
"Grissom," he answered reluctantly, watching as Sara disappeared up the stairs. It was Catherine.
"Gil—where are you? No one's seen you all night and we're swamped here. Greg's about to pull his hair out, he's so busy running between Warrick and me."
He groaned inwardly, but made his excuse. "I'm checking up on a lead…"
"What lead?" She was skeptical.
"I'll let you know if it turns into anything substantial. Listen, is Nicky done processing his scene?"
"Well, yes but—"
"Great. Have him jump in too, when he's waiting on results. Borrow some cadets for the simple stuff."
"Gil—"
"I'm sorry Catherine. You know I would be there, helping, if this weren't important. It might be a long shot but…"
"Tell me what this lead is."
His eyes flickered to the top of his stairs. "Not unless it turns out. Thanks, Cath. Bye."
He closed his phone and sighed. Should he go after her? She had… looked so hurt, so surprised by his answer… but surely she had already known about his hesitation? He had screamed his hesitation at her not yet a day ago. …Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe he needed to make amends. He… He didn't want her to stay with someone else. He wouldn't feel safe not knowing where she was…
But then the oven buzzer went off, and he realized Sara had never eaten her pizza. He pulled it out and cut it quickly, slipping it onto a plate and pouring a glass of juice before bringing the dishes up the stairs.
He tapped gently on her door, which was closed, and was greeted by a soft, "Come in."
He moved into the room, having expected more resistance, but grateful that he had not. "I have your pizza, Sara…" She rolled over, having had her back to the door, and appraised him with heavy lidded eyes—she didn't look tired, they seemed heavy with confusion, hurt… he swallowed hard.
"Thank you, Grissom."
He set the plate and glass on the nightstand, sitting on the edge of the bed with her in the middle—it doesn't seem too intrusive. "…I asked you to call me—"
"I know." She cut him off, and then bit her bottom lip. "You told me that if I was speaking to the man you are, rather than the mask behind which you hide, then I should use your real name. …But you're not being honest with me… or, at least, not calmly enough for me to understand. So… all I see, right now, is the mask, Grissom."
His head moved back—an unconscious expression of surprise… a means to separate himself from her without moving. She didn't miss it, and her eyes closed sadly when he doesn't respond. "…Gil?"
If he was surprised at her snap about his name, he was more surprised that she had now reverted to his preferred one. …Which meant she would expect honesty, no mask. "Yes?"
"Is it… The reason you won't… be with me… is it because of the woman you told me about? …The one you were in love with."
He narrowed his eyes, contemplating. "…I guess, in a way. …Sara, the woman—"
She cut him off. "I don't… I don't want to hear about her. …It'll hurt too much."
And for some reason, this seemed to shake him awake… why would it hurt her, if it was only physical? If all she wanted was a vampire, not the man behind the fangs? What did it matter who he'd loved? His eyes scanned over her face, and he forced himself to ask the question—forced himself to be vulnerable, at least for a moment… because he had to know. He needed to understand.
"Sara… what… what you did, at your apartment, earlier today… well, yesterday, now, I guess… when you… propositioned me." She nodded, slowly, looking away as if embarrassed, but he pressed on. "Was that… did you only… want me… because of… what I told you? Because of… what I am?"
Her eyes lift to meet his, and her head shakes slowly. "Your… confession… made me… feel like I had a chance. Like I was less likely to be turned down…"
Impatient now, a disbelieving hope rising in his chest, Gil urged her, "But…?"
She looked away again. "I would have wanted it either way… man, mystery, monster… anything in between."
Though it was not the declaration of love he wanted, Gil Grissom was happy to accept an admission of desire—longing that was not based solely on some twisted fantasy, but on him as a man… even if she had used the word 'monster' a little too freely for his tastes. And with the elation building in him like a tidal wave, it was only natural that he should move to her quickly—meaning to kiss her senseless and take her up on any offer she now saw fit to give him… meaning to love her, and take her for his own, and taste every inch of her with his lips, even if he couldn't with his teeth.
The problem was the lack of control he had when it came to this woman—the lack of strength he found in her presence. Hearing what he wanted—even if it was not everything he wanted—had thrown him into chaos—sounds were buzzing in his ears, his eyes were overloaded with her beauty, the silk of the bedspread beneath his fingers was scintillating in the extreme and he could only imagine what the feel of her skin would do to his senses—what the taste and smell of her skin, her most delicate areas, would do to his already overwhelmed mind…
Having so little control means 'moving to her quickly' happens too quickly for the little human girl, unaware of what has taken place in his brain and therefore not expecting his approach. Finding anyone, who had previously been a good four feet away from you, suddenly an inch from your face before you could even blink… before you could process the proximity… it would scare anyone. Anyone human.
But her reaction—wide eyes, backing away, a surprised gasp falling from frightened lips—and the tell-tale heart racing in her chest—it rang too clearly with her flippant use of the word monster… and then he was struck with another neurosis. Instead of fearing that she desired the monster, perhaps he should have worried that she didn't truly understand the monster… that seeing him as he truly was would scare her away… silly girl with romantic visions of tame, scientifically-explainable, supernatural creatures of darkness.
And so he pulled back from her slowly, apologizing profusely, and he backed out of the room, fear gripping him all over again. He closed himself in his own bedroom, and fought back frustrated, angry, confused tears—his emotions so much closer to the surface than normal.
Whatever it was causing the desire in her eyes… it certainly wasn't him. Not really him, anyway… her fear was more than evidence enough.