***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or
Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at
all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially
freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks
so much!!) Also, any references to other persons/or places in Nevada are
completely contrived and have no basis in reality!***
Chapter 9:
He was stunned. Shocked.
His mouth was open. His eyes were wide with disbelief. He let out a breath and with it came her tears, spilling like liquid fire over her cool cheeks.
"I can't help myself Grissom. I've walked away. I've turned my back. I know I've never been more than a student to you, but Jesus, deep down in places I'm good at hiding, I wish I was more than that. I wish I could ask you why you gave me the phone, because I think I already know. I wish I could just step through all the weirdness and all my fears and just.." Sara tapered off with a self-derisive laugh. Her eyes caught all the brightness of the moon when she concluded, "So there's the evidence. I guess you are my truth."
---
Sara shivered and Grissom sucked in a ragged gasp of air. His heart thundered in his chest while he tried to process the words. Her eyes bored into him ruthlessly. The wind tossed her hair, separating the dark mass into silken strands.
"I." he stammered. What could he say? What did she know? How did she know? He was her truth? She wishes she were more than that?
Don't you wish it too?
The seconds ticked by painfully. Could he even do this? What should he say? Shit, would his mouth form any words at all? What was his truth? How do you answer that?
She sighed and dropped her eyes and he felt compelled to say something. Anything.
"I'm losing my hearing," he blurted and her whole face crushed immediately. He felt a weight lift and a knife pierce. She lifted her hands in fluttering helpless gestures. A thousand questions danced in her eyes, but she said nothing.
The silence stood between them, tying them together, rooting their feet to the sandy soil. He knew that it was only the start. If he stopped there, he would never say more.
She made a slight whimpering sound and the silence was broken. Grissom lifted his hand to quiet her gently. Then he stepped forward, his legs quaking like a toddler's.
"You already knew that," he guessed.
Her eyes went wide and she shook her head, "I knew there was something wrong. I never knew("
"Did you suspect?" he urged, stepping even closer, his heartbeat growing stronger. He knew she did. Sara knew. A memory skittered through his mind like an errant pebble. She knew in the courtroom. She knew.
"Yes," she nodded, "I suspected, but I thought it was not my business.
"It's only a part of the truth. It's serious but the outcome may not be. I shouldn't have brought this up until I had time to properly explain all of the treatments. I'm sorry for bringing it up now." His bones felt achy. There was much more to be said. Fear of the future, fear of the unknown prickled at his neck.
"I'm not sorry," she said. "I want to know more."
"I think I need to know more about what you said, first," he ventured.
"Don't make me do this, Grissom," she said, shaking her head, her pain betrayed in the tremble of her lips, "I can't possibly feel right putting this all on you now."
He shook his head. This was a damn mess. He couldn't get anything out right. He sounded so stiff.
"Sara, that's not what I meant."
She shook her head, confused and worried. He reached forward. He watched his own fingers shake as they reached for her arms. Grissom let them rest slowly on her, warming the cool skin with his own. Swiftly, his fingers slid up the silky smoothness of her arms, marveling her softness. His felt his expression soften.
"Grissom." she shuddered, and he knew she had seen the change as well. His nerve fled on the wind and his hands stopped moving. He was so close that he imagined he heard her heart beating. But it was his own.
"I can't do this," he said even as his breathing grew uneven, but her hands reached tentatively for his torso, tickling his chest through his cotton shirt. She nodded in encouragement, but his hands shook all the more. What was he doing?
"It's not that I don't.It's just."
He was making sense of nothing. The words were a cacophony of confusion, spilling over his lips in jumbled heaps, saying nothing, making noise. He heard her breath catch and his gut twisted. He had never wanted to say anything so badly in his life. He had never been less sure of what to say, either.
"I won't deny that I'm attracted to you."
Bullshit. Not enough - it's beyond that now.
"No," he said when her eyes cast downward, "No, that's not it. It's more than that. You have an affect on me."
Here we go.
He sucked in another tight breath and blurted, "You have that smile. God, Sara that smile that makes my knees weak."
The glimmer in her eyes returned and her skin warmed beneath his touch. He felt her sway as if his confession made her knees weak as well. He couldn't stop now.
"You're so damn smart and tenacious and eager to learn. I always thought you were the life of the class."
The words were coming now. Quick and easy, like a rope, twining on and on in the night. "You were the life of the team, too. But I knew that wasn't it. Because if it's all about the class, if it's all about the team.. well, that can't explain why I feel the way I do when you walk into a room."
She bit back an awkward noise, somewhere between a sob and a sigh. His throat was tight, his ears burned. His whole body was shaking as if he were naked in a snowstorm. Her every move was an intoxication. She exhaled and he held his breath. She blinked and he watched her eyelids close, then open.
"I don't know what to do," he whispered, his fingers moving over her shoulders.
Her hands splayed over his chest. When the pads of her fingers pressed against him, fire from her touch snaked through his spine.
He leaned in closer and the world was spinning. "God, Sara, make me stop," he begged, thinking of her career, thinking of her future.
He moved forward, his hands sliding over her form appreciatively until they rested at her sides. She bit her lip nervously and his body was no longer his own. His hands clamped on her waist, the sliver of her exposed skin burning his fingers. Desire pulled him like the tide. Ever in, ever closer.
Sara sighed and he felt her breath on his lips.
"Please, Sara, make me stop," he begged.
"I don't want you to stop," she breathed and it was all he could take.
Fast and deliberate, he lowered his mouth over hers, knowing that things would never be the same again. He squeezed his eyes closed as her smooth lips met his own. The sensation and reality struck him with a force he had not anticipated.
He thought of their job. He thought of the team. He thought of the poor boy laying dead because he needed truth. Then Sara tilted her head and opened her lips and the whole world disappeared. Her sweetness pulled him in like a magnet. He deepened the kiss possessively, pulling her to his chest, relishing the feel of her slender form against him.
Her fingers raked over his shoulders to slide down the sleeves of his t- shirt. She slipped her hands beneath the fabric to stroke his arms. He slid his hand beneath her shirt, to feel the soft tight skin of her belly. Her movements were perfection. Her sighs were like whispers of heaven. She was strength and vulnerability and all of life at once. And she hypnotized him. He poured his life, his soul, his whole being into her through that kiss. Every movement was a confession that words could not convey.
His fingers bit in to her skin and hers did the same, her short nails clawing into his arms. The kiss deepened into a smoldering dance. All that mattered was this moment. He had never known need like this before. Their hands and lips were locked to each other, and the world around them was some dim and shadowy afterthought.
Their pace quickened. She moved her hands into his hair and he dragged his to her hips, pinning her body against him even more tightly. She broke for a throaty sigh tossing her head back to pull in a deep breath of cold air. He reached to trace the slender column of her neck where her pulse fluttered like a hummingbird's wings. She lowered her dark gaze to him again, and her hair slid over his wrists, every strand a new seduction.
"Gil," she breathed and he marveled at the sound of his own name.
A cell phone rang into the darkness, and the entire canyon came screaming back. They jerked at the noise and then it rang again. He answered it and she scooted back awkwardly.
---
It was like walking from heaven into hell. The wind instantly sliced into her arms and she felt chilled to her very core.
"Yes, fine. We'll see him there," he snapped the phone shut. "Thomas is over halfway here. We need to head back."
She nodded and bit her lips. His eyes followed her mouth, which pleased her. Then they went dark with fear and he pushed his hands through his hair.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked obediently, knowing his fears. She would have done anything. She would lie. She would steal. She would move to Brazil. She could still taste him on her lips and it was more powerful than her own will.
"I'm thinking about that," he said.
"I could transfer."
"No," he shook his head sternly. "You're amazing at what you do. I don't want you to change it for this."
He turned away from her then and she felt something sick and cold like fear tickling her spine.
"For this?" she said, hugging herself.
"I didn't mean it like that," he sighed shaking his head in frustration.
"I can't ignore that this happened. I don't want to," she said timidly.
He stood a long time facing out at the desert. She feared his response like nothing else she had ever known. If they hadn't kissed, she could have pretended, but now, she knew she could never look at him the same. Everything was different. The truth was spoken.
He did not turn, but said quietly, "I don't either."
Relief fell over like warm rain. She smiled and then bit it back, afraid to be too eager.
"I don't know what to do about it, though," he added, turning to face her.
"I'm scared to death of this," she admitted, knowing her heart was on the line. She couldn't be halfway with Grissom. She simply didn't know how.
"Me too," he agreed, his eyes focused again on some unknown spot in the distance.
"I'm afraid that when we leave this canyon, you're going to run from this. Pretend it never happened, pull back into your solitude. I'm afraid you'll disappear into a lie."
His eyes found hers then and he came forward and placed his palm against her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her lips briefly before dropping his hand abruptly to his side.
"I might do that, Sara," he admitted honestly.
"What then?" she asked, already missing his touch, already fearing his withdraw.
"I guess you'll have to be my truth, then," he smirked."
Without speaking again, he gathered the evidence and settled the pack on his shoulder. They started their journey back through the canyon. Ranger Rhonesby was waiting. The whole world was waiting. And Sara was ready for it.
--End
Chapter 9:
He was stunned. Shocked.
His mouth was open. His eyes were wide with disbelief. He let out a breath and with it came her tears, spilling like liquid fire over her cool cheeks.
"I can't help myself Grissom. I've walked away. I've turned my back. I know I've never been more than a student to you, but Jesus, deep down in places I'm good at hiding, I wish I was more than that. I wish I could ask you why you gave me the phone, because I think I already know. I wish I could just step through all the weirdness and all my fears and just.." Sara tapered off with a self-derisive laugh. Her eyes caught all the brightness of the moon when she concluded, "So there's the evidence. I guess you are my truth."
---
Sara shivered and Grissom sucked in a ragged gasp of air. His heart thundered in his chest while he tried to process the words. Her eyes bored into him ruthlessly. The wind tossed her hair, separating the dark mass into silken strands.
"I." he stammered. What could he say? What did she know? How did she know? He was her truth? She wishes she were more than that?
Don't you wish it too?
The seconds ticked by painfully. Could he even do this? What should he say? Shit, would his mouth form any words at all? What was his truth? How do you answer that?
She sighed and dropped her eyes and he felt compelled to say something. Anything.
"I'm losing my hearing," he blurted and her whole face crushed immediately. He felt a weight lift and a knife pierce. She lifted her hands in fluttering helpless gestures. A thousand questions danced in her eyes, but she said nothing.
The silence stood between them, tying them together, rooting their feet to the sandy soil. He knew that it was only the start. If he stopped there, he would never say more.
She made a slight whimpering sound and the silence was broken. Grissom lifted his hand to quiet her gently. Then he stepped forward, his legs quaking like a toddler's.
"You already knew that," he guessed.
Her eyes went wide and she shook her head, "I knew there was something wrong. I never knew("
"Did you suspect?" he urged, stepping even closer, his heartbeat growing stronger. He knew she did. Sara knew. A memory skittered through his mind like an errant pebble. She knew in the courtroom. She knew.
"Yes," she nodded, "I suspected, but I thought it was not my business.
"It's only a part of the truth. It's serious but the outcome may not be. I shouldn't have brought this up until I had time to properly explain all of the treatments. I'm sorry for bringing it up now." His bones felt achy. There was much more to be said. Fear of the future, fear of the unknown prickled at his neck.
"I'm not sorry," she said. "I want to know more."
"I think I need to know more about what you said, first," he ventured.
"Don't make me do this, Grissom," she said, shaking her head, her pain betrayed in the tremble of her lips, "I can't possibly feel right putting this all on you now."
He shook his head. This was a damn mess. He couldn't get anything out right. He sounded so stiff.
"Sara, that's not what I meant."
She shook her head, confused and worried. He reached forward. He watched his own fingers shake as they reached for her arms. Grissom let them rest slowly on her, warming the cool skin with his own. Swiftly, his fingers slid up the silky smoothness of her arms, marveling her softness. His felt his expression soften.
"Grissom." she shuddered, and he knew she had seen the change as well. His nerve fled on the wind and his hands stopped moving. He was so close that he imagined he heard her heart beating. But it was his own.
"I can't do this," he said even as his breathing grew uneven, but her hands reached tentatively for his torso, tickling his chest through his cotton shirt. She nodded in encouragement, but his hands shook all the more. What was he doing?
"It's not that I don't.It's just."
He was making sense of nothing. The words were a cacophony of confusion, spilling over his lips in jumbled heaps, saying nothing, making noise. He heard her breath catch and his gut twisted. He had never wanted to say anything so badly in his life. He had never been less sure of what to say, either.
"I won't deny that I'm attracted to you."
Bullshit. Not enough - it's beyond that now.
"No," he said when her eyes cast downward, "No, that's not it. It's more than that. You have an affect on me."
Here we go.
He sucked in another tight breath and blurted, "You have that smile. God, Sara that smile that makes my knees weak."
The glimmer in her eyes returned and her skin warmed beneath his touch. He felt her sway as if his confession made her knees weak as well. He couldn't stop now.
"You're so damn smart and tenacious and eager to learn. I always thought you were the life of the class."
The words were coming now. Quick and easy, like a rope, twining on and on in the night. "You were the life of the team, too. But I knew that wasn't it. Because if it's all about the class, if it's all about the team.. well, that can't explain why I feel the way I do when you walk into a room."
She bit back an awkward noise, somewhere between a sob and a sigh. His throat was tight, his ears burned. His whole body was shaking as if he were naked in a snowstorm. Her every move was an intoxication. She exhaled and he held his breath. She blinked and he watched her eyelids close, then open.
"I don't know what to do," he whispered, his fingers moving over her shoulders.
Her hands splayed over his chest. When the pads of her fingers pressed against him, fire from her touch snaked through his spine.
He leaned in closer and the world was spinning. "God, Sara, make me stop," he begged, thinking of her career, thinking of her future.
He moved forward, his hands sliding over her form appreciatively until they rested at her sides. She bit her lip nervously and his body was no longer his own. His hands clamped on her waist, the sliver of her exposed skin burning his fingers. Desire pulled him like the tide. Ever in, ever closer.
Sara sighed and he felt her breath on his lips.
"Please, Sara, make me stop," he begged.
"I don't want you to stop," she breathed and it was all he could take.
Fast and deliberate, he lowered his mouth over hers, knowing that things would never be the same again. He squeezed his eyes closed as her smooth lips met his own. The sensation and reality struck him with a force he had not anticipated.
He thought of their job. He thought of the team. He thought of the poor boy laying dead because he needed truth. Then Sara tilted her head and opened her lips and the whole world disappeared. Her sweetness pulled him in like a magnet. He deepened the kiss possessively, pulling her to his chest, relishing the feel of her slender form against him.
Her fingers raked over his shoulders to slide down the sleeves of his t- shirt. She slipped her hands beneath the fabric to stroke his arms. He slid his hand beneath her shirt, to feel the soft tight skin of her belly. Her movements were perfection. Her sighs were like whispers of heaven. She was strength and vulnerability and all of life at once. And she hypnotized him. He poured his life, his soul, his whole being into her through that kiss. Every movement was a confession that words could not convey.
His fingers bit in to her skin and hers did the same, her short nails clawing into his arms. The kiss deepened into a smoldering dance. All that mattered was this moment. He had never known need like this before. Their hands and lips were locked to each other, and the world around them was some dim and shadowy afterthought.
Their pace quickened. She moved her hands into his hair and he dragged his to her hips, pinning her body against him even more tightly. She broke for a throaty sigh tossing her head back to pull in a deep breath of cold air. He reached to trace the slender column of her neck where her pulse fluttered like a hummingbird's wings. She lowered her dark gaze to him again, and her hair slid over his wrists, every strand a new seduction.
"Gil," she breathed and he marveled at the sound of his own name.
A cell phone rang into the darkness, and the entire canyon came screaming back. They jerked at the noise and then it rang again. He answered it and she scooted back awkwardly.
---
It was like walking from heaven into hell. The wind instantly sliced into her arms and she felt chilled to her very core.
"Yes, fine. We'll see him there," he snapped the phone shut. "Thomas is over halfway here. We need to head back."
She nodded and bit her lips. His eyes followed her mouth, which pleased her. Then they went dark with fear and he pushed his hands through his hair.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked obediently, knowing his fears. She would have done anything. She would lie. She would steal. She would move to Brazil. She could still taste him on her lips and it was more powerful than her own will.
"I'm thinking about that," he said.
"I could transfer."
"No," he shook his head sternly. "You're amazing at what you do. I don't want you to change it for this."
He turned away from her then and she felt something sick and cold like fear tickling her spine.
"For this?" she said, hugging herself.
"I didn't mean it like that," he sighed shaking his head in frustration.
"I can't ignore that this happened. I don't want to," she said timidly.
He stood a long time facing out at the desert. She feared his response like nothing else she had ever known. If they hadn't kissed, she could have pretended, but now, she knew she could never look at him the same. Everything was different. The truth was spoken.
He did not turn, but said quietly, "I don't either."
Relief fell over like warm rain. She smiled and then bit it back, afraid to be too eager.
"I don't know what to do about it, though," he added, turning to face her.
"I'm scared to death of this," she admitted, knowing her heart was on the line. She couldn't be halfway with Grissom. She simply didn't know how.
"Me too," he agreed, his eyes focused again on some unknown spot in the distance.
"I'm afraid that when we leave this canyon, you're going to run from this. Pretend it never happened, pull back into your solitude. I'm afraid you'll disappear into a lie."
His eyes found hers then and he came forward and placed his palm against her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her lips briefly before dropping his hand abruptly to his side.
"I might do that, Sara," he admitted honestly.
"What then?" she asked, already missing his touch, already fearing his withdraw.
"I guess you'll have to be my truth, then," he smirked."
Without speaking again, he gathered the evidence and settled the pack on his shoulder. They started their journey back through the canyon. Ranger Rhonesby was waiting. The whole world was waiting. And Sara was ready for it.
--End