Chapter 3
I do not own CSI, U2 or Joni Mitchell. I do not receive any profit from this, financial or otherwise.
Grissom stole a glance at his wristwatch; it was a little after eight thirty pm.
"Not long now till the others start filtering in," he thought, "maybe an hour at most."
He tried to focus on the report he was reading, suicide pact of a fifteen- year old girl
and a seventeen year old boy. Their parents wouldn't let them be together so they
overdosed on Codeine, bought by the boy, all perfectly legal from a pharmacy. He
went to four different stores to get the right amount. Grissom shook his head, "they
were just babies." He drank down the dregs of his coffee and got up in search of
another fix.
The lab was not particularly busy tonight. Reaching the coffee pot he heard a familiar
song, one of his favourites in fact, it was filtering through from the conference room,
so loud it could be heard through the closed, heavy glass door.
"Slight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait..without you"
Peering through the glass door he saw Sara, passed out on the conference room couch.
Photographs in hand, lab analysis for their suicide case strewn to the four winds
across the floor. She was exhausted. If he had been here since eight, two hours before
his shift was about to start, when in the hell did she get here? Grissom couldn't help
but grin. "Only Sara could sleep through Bono and clan screaming their hearts out".
He pushed open the door, tongue out, aiding his concentration in an attempt not to
disturb her. He reached the stereo and turned it down slightly.
"With or without you
I can't live with or without you"
He stole a glance at Sara's sleeping form, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He felt
that all too familiar ache in his own chest. The one that reminded him of all the
missed opportunities, words and actions, a devotion applied to his work and science
that he would now gladly give away for just one chance to be with this woman.
Sara shifted onto her side bringing Grissom back to reality. He realised how long he
had be standing staring at her, and felt guilty, thinking of his shower before work he
began to blush. He dropped to his knees, put down the coffee mug and started to put
her work into some type of order.
Sara came to and woke up to a face full of curls. "What is this?" Then she realised
where she was, and who she was looking at. The top of Grissom's head, just an inch
or two from her face. She could smell his shampoo he was so close. The fabric
softener he used on his shirt, and something else that was just Grissom.
She blushed thinking of her dream. It was always her fear that he could sense
something like that off of her. Like the way bees and dogs could smell fear. Gris was
so good at his job, what if he knew how she felt?! She would be mortified.
"Gris, you don't have to do that" she hated having to disturb him, but she had to
distance herself from him, he was to close for comfort.
"Don't be silly I'm almost done, here" and he handed her the file.
"I didn't know you liked U2" he was trying to fill the embarrassing pause that had
formed. He knew what she was thinking. "She sees me as this dirty old man"
"Yeh, I love them, it's Bono I love really. A guy that can express the way he feels
about a women is a big turn on for me." Sara cringed at what she had said. "God did I
just say that?" She thought.
"Musically, I mean..it's a turn on musically." she quickly followed with.
"And here I thought it was just a love song, I didn't realise they had that affect on
you!" Grissom chimed in. Her hair was mussed up giving her a completely different
look, Grissom started to wonder what it would be like to wake up with her.
"So you like them as well then?" she asked. He nodded and grinned.
"You say you want your love to work out right, to last with me through the night, all the promises we make from the cradle to the grave, when all I want..is you."
"Do you want some coffee, I just poured it?" He handed her his mug.
Sara knew that her jaw had dropped to the floor. His mouth when he spoke was
intoxicating, he had taken off his glasses, his eyes as clear as she had ever seen them.
He looked beautiful. "What did you just say?"
"Do you want some coffee?" he repeated. "No, before, that line what's that from?"
"Oh", he grinned again, "All I want is you." It's my favourite song of theirs".
"His mug", Sara thought and she took it from him.
"I need your full analysis of the crime scene before ten thirty Sara, Brass wants this
closed as quickly as possible."
And with that he was gone. She watched him leave, his strong shoulders and arms
tight against the fabric of his shirt. The last time she saw him wear that was when the
were investigating a kidnapping. The eventually found the victim buried alive, within
a crate in the desert. After they freed the victim, Grissom had taken her face in his
hands. She wanted to pull him to her. Aching to feel the brush of his mouth against
hers, to be taken care of, someone to chase away her fears at night. How could he be
so open and then so closed off. She held his coffee mug against her chest, lifted the
report and started what was going to be very long shift.
Grissom practically ran back to his office. She was in their now drinking from his
mug! "How old are you Gil, fourteen? Get over this!" He chastised himself.
She was only down the hall but it felt like a lifetime away. It was going to be a very
blong shift.
I do not own CSI, U2 or Joni Mitchell. I do not receive any profit from this, financial or otherwise.
Grissom stole a glance at his wristwatch; it was a little after eight thirty pm.
"Not long now till the others start filtering in," he thought, "maybe an hour at most."
He tried to focus on the report he was reading, suicide pact of a fifteen- year old girl
and a seventeen year old boy. Their parents wouldn't let them be together so they
overdosed on Codeine, bought by the boy, all perfectly legal from a pharmacy. He
went to four different stores to get the right amount. Grissom shook his head, "they
were just babies." He drank down the dregs of his coffee and got up in search of
another fix.
The lab was not particularly busy tonight. Reaching the coffee pot he heard a familiar
song, one of his favourites in fact, it was filtering through from the conference room,
so loud it could be heard through the closed, heavy glass door.
"Slight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait..without you"
Peering through the glass door he saw Sara, passed out on the conference room couch.
Photographs in hand, lab analysis for their suicide case strewn to the four winds
across the floor. She was exhausted. If he had been here since eight, two hours before
his shift was about to start, when in the hell did she get here? Grissom couldn't help
but grin. "Only Sara could sleep through Bono and clan screaming their hearts out".
He pushed open the door, tongue out, aiding his concentration in an attempt not to
disturb her. He reached the stereo and turned it down slightly.
"With or without you
I can't live with or without you"
He stole a glance at Sara's sleeping form, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He felt
that all too familiar ache in his own chest. The one that reminded him of all the
missed opportunities, words and actions, a devotion applied to his work and science
that he would now gladly give away for just one chance to be with this woman.
Sara shifted onto her side bringing Grissom back to reality. He realised how long he
had be standing staring at her, and felt guilty, thinking of his shower before work he
began to blush. He dropped to his knees, put down the coffee mug and started to put
her work into some type of order.
Sara came to and woke up to a face full of curls. "What is this?" Then she realised
where she was, and who she was looking at. The top of Grissom's head, just an inch
or two from her face. She could smell his shampoo he was so close. The fabric
softener he used on his shirt, and something else that was just Grissom.
She blushed thinking of her dream. It was always her fear that he could sense
something like that off of her. Like the way bees and dogs could smell fear. Gris was
so good at his job, what if he knew how she felt?! She would be mortified.
"Gris, you don't have to do that" she hated having to disturb him, but she had to
distance herself from him, he was to close for comfort.
"Don't be silly I'm almost done, here" and he handed her the file.
"I didn't know you liked U2" he was trying to fill the embarrassing pause that had
formed. He knew what she was thinking. "She sees me as this dirty old man"
"Yeh, I love them, it's Bono I love really. A guy that can express the way he feels
about a women is a big turn on for me." Sara cringed at what she had said. "God did I
just say that?" She thought.
"Musically, I mean..it's a turn on musically." she quickly followed with.
"And here I thought it was just a love song, I didn't realise they had that affect on
you!" Grissom chimed in. Her hair was mussed up giving her a completely different
look, Grissom started to wonder what it would be like to wake up with her.
"So you like them as well then?" she asked. He nodded and grinned.
"You say you want your love to work out right, to last with me through the night, all the promises we make from the cradle to the grave, when all I want..is you."
"Do you want some coffee, I just poured it?" He handed her his mug.
Sara knew that her jaw had dropped to the floor. His mouth when he spoke was
intoxicating, he had taken off his glasses, his eyes as clear as she had ever seen them.
He looked beautiful. "What did you just say?"
"Do you want some coffee?" he repeated. "No, before, that line what's that from?"
"Oh", he grinned again, "All I want is you." It's my favourite song of theirs".
"His mug", Sara thought and she took it from him.
"I need your full analysis of the crime scene before ten thirty Sara, Brass wants this
closed as quickly as possible."
And with that he was gone. She watched him leave, his strong shoulders and arms
tight against the fabric of his shirt. The last time she saw him wear that was when the
were investigating a kidnapping. The eventually found the victim buried alive, within
a crate in the desert. After they freed the victim, Grissom had taken her face in his
hands. She wanted to pull him to her. Aching to feel the brush of his mouth against
hers, to be taken care of, someone to chase away her fears at night. How could he be
so open and then so closed off. She held his coffee mug against her chest, lifted the
report and started what was going to be very long shift.
Grissom practically ran back to his office. She was in their now drinking from his
mug! "How old are you Gil, fourteen? Get over this!" He chastised himself.
She was only down the hall but it felt like a lifetime away. It was going to be a very
blong shift.