Part 12/?
See Part 1 for disclaimers
Once again, many thanks to Alison (VIgirl) for her
wonderful editing and the time she puts into doing it for
me.
Early morning light danced across the dappled sky, streaks
of pink dashed here and there as the sun began its ascent
on the horizon.
"Red sky in the morning, shepherds warning," Grissom
muttered to himself as he drove towards Sara's apartment.
The last few days had been a warning to him.
Glancing across at the passenger seat, Grissom noted that
Sara had curled herself up tightly again as if warding off
a chill. As soon as he had started the car, he had turned
on the heating. The interior was now overheated, yet she
continued to huddle and mutter about the coldness.
It was very tempting to turn around and take Sara to his
place, tuck her into his own bed and watch over her. But
that would defeat the purpose of his taking Sara home.
Home was a place of comfort and warmth. As Catherine
had pointed out, his place was a hermetically sealed
condominium. He'd argued with her that it was a
townhouse and she had quickly pointed out that men had
a habit of avoiding the obvious truth. He knew that
Catherine hated the austerity of his apartment. He liked
to think of it as easy to care for. Less clutter meant less
work.
Right now, he was sure that God was conspiring against
him. Every light turned red at his approach. He was
tempted to use his strobe light, despite the regulations.
Common sense made him sit patiently at each set of
contrary lights and gently take off once it had turned
green, keeping his passenger safe, rather than flooring the
accelerator. He had investigated enough accident scenes
to know not to give into the urge to speed. All it took
was one driver going through a red light and another being
very quick off the mark to end in disaster.
Grissom finally pulled up outside Sara's building. Her
apartment was on the third floor. He recalled Sara's
complaints earlier in the week, prior to the Pamela Adler
case, about the lifts at her building being out of action.
Twisting his mouth, he thought about how he was going
to get Sara up there without dropping her as he tried to
open the door. He didn't quite possess Warrick's athletic
skills and resigned himself to the notion that he would
need to make two trips.
Grissom turned to check that Sara was still sleeping. She
had stirred for a moment as he stopped the car, before
adjusting to the cessation of movement. Her eyes
remained closed. Grabbing Sara's handbag and keys from
the back seat, he raced inside the building. He looked to
see if the lift was possibly working, but the large red
words 'Out of Order' on the white cardboard told him the
truth of the matter.
Grissom took the stairs two at a time, not wanting to leave
Sara alone in the car for any length of time. He was
breathing heavily by the time he got to Sara's apartment
on the third floor, his breath coming out in audible gasps.
He quickly opened the front door and dropped her
handbag on the cluttered desk that stood a few feet away.
It surprised him that the desk was cluttered; the state of
the art computer system was surrounded by an assortment
of magazines and catalogues. A cork board hung over the
desk, the surface almost fully covered with an assortment
of details which made up her life. One particular item on
her desk took him totally by surprise. It was a picture of
a day that was permanently etched on his mind, and now
he knew it was one that she sought to remember as well.
It was a reminder of a time when things weren't so
complicated. Or when he was not afraid to show his
emotions.
He picked up the photograph that had been taken at the
theme park, running his finger over it as he was caught up
in the magic. Sara's eyes sparkled brightly and a broad
smile lit up her face as she looked across at the man
standing by her side, his arm draped possessively over her
shoulder. Grissom gave a tentative smile as saw how the
photograph had captured in technicolour the way he had
been caught by that megawatt smile, the one that easily
melted his heart like a plate of ice cream left out in the
sizzling Vegas heat.
It was a time from the past; an invitation he had never
regretted making, despite Sara's wholehearted fear of
heights. Their hands had been clasped together tightly
with each twist and turn of the roller-coaster. Sara had
closed her eyes tightly against seeing the world stretch
further away from her inch by inch only to return at an
almighty pace, geared by the force of gravity. Grissom
had felt the fear coursing through her and his hand had
reached out to grasp her death grip on the seat, sliding
beneath them to offer comfort and reassurance. Her hand
had at first gripped his in a tight embrace before settling
in the gentle caress of his large, slightly calloused hand,
their fingers entwining in mutual quiescence. He had
looked across at her face as their hands had settled,
forgetting the enjoyment of the ride, which had been
replaced by something else; something much more
important which left him fully content and whole.
Grissom sighed and put down the photograph. It dawned
on him that he had been caught up the in the memories
much longer than he intended.
Jogging down the stairs, he wondered how the time could
have passed so quickly. He was so busy watching his feet
pound down firmly on each step in order not to not miss
one that he almost collided with the person coming up the
stairs.
"Sorry..." Grissom began apologising to the person,
breaking off when he saw who it was. "Sara, what are
you doing?"
"Going home. Isn't that why you drove me here?" Sara
gave him a quizzical smile, not understanding the reason
for the look of shock on his face.
"But I was coming down to get you," Grissom explained.
"Well, I would love to say that I waited, but you know
that's not in my nature." Sara gave him a flippant smile
over her shoulder as she continued her arduous trek up the
six flights of stairs.
"I thought the tablets had knocked you out." Grissom
frowned, wondering how she had come to so quickly.
"Obviously not. I'm awake... sorta."
"Let me give you a hand."
Sara was tempted to refuse, but the thought of all those
stairs still ahead of her caused her to have second
thoughts. The few stairs that she had already navigated
had her head swimming. All she wanted to do was sink
down on the stairs and sleep.
Grissom came around to her right side and slid his arm
around her waist. Sara's right arm settled easily against
his body and her head dropped against his shoulder as she
gratefully accepted his assistance. Each step she took felt
as if her shoes had been filled with cement, the energy she
had found upon waking in the car dissipating like melting
ice. The couple of sets of stairs to her apartment took on
the proportions of Mount Everest, the summit out of reach
in her unfit condition.
"I need to rest a moment," Sara whispered faintly, her
breathing laboured.
"Sara, are you okay?"
Grissom's concerned voice drifted through the heavy fog
that was clouding her mind.
"I'm fine," Sara said, tiredly, the words spoken to
reassure herself as well as Grissom. The last time she
had felt so devoid of strength was when she had been
struck down by a severe strain of the Hong Kong 'flu back
in San Francisco. "Just need to... uh... rest a moment."
Grissom took in her tired features and the sudden loss of
colour to her face. Without warning and before he had a
chance to even think about the consequences of his
actions, Grissom scooped her up into his arms, rescuing
Sara from slowly sinking to the bare, cold concrete stairs.
"What are you doing?" Sara yelped, the firm arms
capturing her by surprise.
"Carrying you home." Grissom simply stated the obvious.
"Although, if you keep twisting around so much,
Newton's laws of gravity may come into play before we
make it there."
Her movements stilled instantly, suddenly comprehending
the danger of free-fall to them both. Sara chided herself
for being so obstinate and risking Grissom's safety with
her stubbornness. She allowed herself to settle into his
strong, surprisingly well-muscled arms, her head dropping
against the curve in his shoulder. As the wonders of
medicine once again brought her under their spell, a
distant thought struck her: his shoulder seemed to be
perfectly contoured to support her head comfortably.
Grissom gave a small smile of triumph as he noted the
change in the rhythm of Sara's breathing. It was only a
few more steps and he would be on the third floor landing.
Carrying Sara securely in his arms, he made his way
carefully to the landing. He was relieved when he made
it to the last stair, his cargo still safe from harm.
Entering her apartment, he made his way down the narrow
hallway to the left of the door. It ran behind the kitchen
gallery. The hallway opened into a room barely big
enough for the queen size bed occupying the middle of the
room. A cream-gold jacquard quilt cover adorned the
bed, the colour lightening the headiness of the deep
burgundy walls that shrouded the room.
Grissom moved into the room and struggled to maintain
his balance as his foot caught on the cream floor runner
that was beside the bed. His bowed legs struggled to
counteract the way his torso swung back and forth like a
pendulum. The added weight of Sara in his arms made it
almost impossible to keep upright. To save both of them
from falling to the floor, Grissom allowed himself to fall
backwards onto the bed.
*Crunch.* Grissom gasped as his head connected with
the hard, teak headboard. He wanted to grab the spot with
his hands, to put pressure on the spot as the darts of pain
danced across his eyes. Instead, he swallowed and bit
down on his lip to stop the temptation to let out any
sound. A muffled yelp still managed to escape his lips as
he maneuvered Sara into the centre of the bed.
"Grissom?" Sara looked at him from heavily hooded
eyelids.
"It's okay, Sara."
"What happened?" She rolled onto her side to look up at
him, her eyes confused to find him on the bed beside her.
"Nothing that a couple of Tylenol won't fix," Grissom
reassured her softly.
"Can't mix my meds," Sara muttered, trying to fight to
keep her eyes open.
"Nice of you to remember that now," Grissom said with
a chuckle, instantly regretting it as the sound reverberated
through his head. Dropping a kiss on the top of her head,
he suggested, "Why don't you go to sleep?" Grissom was
pleased to see that her eyes had already closed before he
finished his words, a small smile on her face.
He smoothed her hair away from her face, noting that her
soft, dark-brown hair was curling at the ends. The damp
Vegas air had won the war today. Grissom found the
spirals tempting to wrap around his finger. But he
resisted.
Instead, he looked around the relatively small room.
Sunlight was breaking through the small break in the
middle of the heavy, velvet curtains, the colour a perfect
match to the quilt cover. Despite the smallness of the
room, Sara had managed to also squeeze into one corner
a bureau of drawers. A silver brush set was laid out on
smooth teak surface beside a small, silver teddy bear
money box. Grissom smiled as he saw that Sara's name
was engraved in the small name plate on the front. It was
obviously a childhood treasure.
In the opposite corner sat an old-fashioned, well worn
rocking chair. A crocheted blanket was folded on the seat.
Grissom pushed himself up gently from the bed, moving
slowly so as to not disturb Sara. He walked over to the
rocking chair and picked up the blanket. Shaking it out,
he gently dropped it over Sara's sleeping form.
Reassured that she was sleeping soundly, Grissom walked
down the hallway to the kitchen. He was surprised to find
that Sara used a kettle on a gas stove, rather than an
electric. It took him three tries to get the front burner
alight. He shook his head, knowing that he could get a
bunsen burner going faster than Sara's gas stove.
Waiting for the water to boil, Grissom found his eyes
wandering around the room. The room was the exact
opposite of his spacious townhouse. Her house looked
lived in, despite the hours she spent at the CSI labs.
Photos were perched on most surfaces. He looked at each
one, getting a deeper glimpse into the personal life of
Sara.
Grissom assumed that the man and woman on either side
of Sara, their arms hooking around her narrow waist, were
her parents. He had never met them. But the familiarity
in the features on the elder woman's face gave him an
idea of what Sara would look like when she was her
mother's age.
Another photo took him by surprise. Sara was standing
beside a young woman who's features resembled Sara's
almost perfectly and looked to be about the same age.
"Twins?" Grissom thought. He dismissed the idea. Sara
had told him that she was an only child. But a twinge of
curiosity flamed in his sub-conscious. Another
photograph sat beside it. Sara and the girl were both
dressed in Harvard sweaters. The other girl was as blonde
and blue-eyed as Sara was dark and Sara towered over her
small, petite friend. Both of these showed Grissom
another side to Sara, one he hadn't been privy to and one
that Sara had kept to herself.
Grissom found himself wondering why Sara had shut him
out of this part of her life. The photographs had been
taken at a time when they had been together. It made him
wonder what else she hadn't told him.
The whistle of the kettle broke through his thoughts. He
went through the motions of making his coffee. The last
fourteen hours were weighing heavily on him, and he
knew that he needed to talk to Sara. He carried his coffee
mug back into her bedroom. Easing his weary body into
the rocking chair, Grissom watched Sara sleep as he
sipped his coffee. His eyes grew heavy, and the coffee
mug was only half empty when they finally slipped
closed.
"Nooooo!"
End Part 12/?
See Part 1 for disclaimers
Once again, many thanks to Alison (VIgirl) for her
wonderful editing and the time she puts into doing it for
me.
Early morning light danced across the dappled sky, streaks
of pink dashed here and there as the sun began its ascent
on the horizon.
"Red sky in the morning, shepherds warning," Grissom
muttered to himself as he drove towards Sara's apartment.
The last few days had been a warning to him.
Glancing across at the passenger seat, Grissom noted that
Sara had curled herself up tightly again as if warding off
a chill. As soon as he had started the car, he had turned
on the heating. The interior was now overheated, yet she
continued to huddle and mutter about the coldness.
It was very tempting to turn around and take Sara to his
place, tuck her into his own bed and watch over her. But
that would defeat the purpose of his taking Sara home.
Home was a place of comfort and warmth. As Catherine
had pointed out, his place was a hermetically sealed
condominium. He'd argued with her that it was a
townhouse and she had quickly pointed out that men had
a habit of avoiding the obvious truth. He knew that
Catherine hated the austerity of his apartment. He liked
to think of it as easy to care for. Less clutter meant less
work.
Right now, he was sure that God was conspiring against
him. Every light turned red at his approach. He was
tempted to use his strobe light, despite the regulations.
Common sense made him sit patiently at each set of
contrary lights and gently take off once it had turned
green, keeping his passenger safe, rather than flooring the
accelerator. He had investigated enough accident scenes
to know not to give into the urge to speed. All it took
was one driver going through a red light and another being
very quick off the mark to end in disaster.
Grissom finally pulled up outside Sara's building. Her
apartment was on the third floor. He recalled Sara's
complaints earlier in the week, prior to the Pamela Adler
case, about the lifts at her building being out of action.
Twisting his mouth, he thought about how he was going
to get Sara up there without dropping her as he tried to
open the door. He didn't quite possess Warrick's athletic
skills and resigned himself to the notion that he would
need to make two trips.
Grissom turned to check that Sara was still sleeping. She
had stirred for a moment as he stopped the car, before
adjusting to the cessation of movement. Her eyes
remained closed. Grabbing Sara's handbag and keys from
the back seat, he raced inside the building. He looked to
see if the lift was possibly working, but the large red
words 'Out of Order' on the white cardboard told him the
truth of the matter.
Grissom took the stairs two at a time, not wanting to leave
Sara alone in the car for any length of time. He was
breathing heavily by the time he got to Sara's apartment
on the third floor, his breath coming out in audible gasps.
He quickly opened the front door and dropped her
handbag on the cluttered desk that stood a few feet away.
It surprised him that the desk was cluttered; the state of
the art computer system was surrounded by an assortment
of magazines and catalogues. A cork board hung over the
desk, the surface almost fully covered with an assortment
of details which made up her life. One particular item on
her desk took him totally by surprise. It was a picture of
a day that was permanently etched on his mind, and now
he knew it was one that she sought to remember as well.
It was a reminder of a time when things weren't so
complicated. Or when he was not afraid to show his
emotions.
He picked up the photograph that had been taken at the
theme park, running his finger over it as he was caught up
in the magic. Sara's eyes sparkled brightly and a broad
smile lit up her face as she looked across at the man
standing by her side, his arm draped possessively over her
shoulder. Grissom gave a tentative smile as saw how the
photograph had captured in technicolour the way he had
been caught by that megawatt smile, the one that easily
melted his heart like a plate of ice cream left out in the
sizzling Vegas heat.
It was a time from the past; an invitation he had never
regretted making, despite Sara's wholehearted fear of
heights. Their hands had been clasped together tightly
with each twist and turn of the roller-coaster. Sara had
closed her eyes tightly against seeing the world stretch
further away from her inch by inch only to return at an
almighty pace, geared by the force of gravity. Grissom
had felt the fear coursing through her and his hand had
reached out to grasp her death grip on the seat, sliding
beneath them to offer comfort and reassurance. Her hand
had at first gripped his in a tight embrace before settling
in the gentle caress of his large, slightly calloused hand,
their fingers entwining in mutual quiescence. He had
looked across at her face as their hands had settled,
forgetting the enjoyment of the ride, which had been
replaced by something else; something much more
important which left him fully content and whole.
Grissom sighed and put down the photograph. It dawned
on him that he had been caught up the in the memories
much longer than he intended.
Jogging down the stairs, he wondered how the time could
have passed so quickly. He was so busy watching his feet
pound down firmly on each step in order not to not miss
one that he almost collided with the person coming up the
stairs.
"Sorry..." Grissom began apologising to the person,
breaking off when he saw who it was. "Sara, what are
you doing?"
"Going home. Isn't that why you drove me here?" Sara
gave him a quizzical smile, not understanding the reason
for the look of shock on his face.
"But I was coming down to get you," Grissom explained.
"Well, I would love to say that I waited, but you know
that's not in my nature." Sara gave him a flippant smile
over her shoulder as she continued her arduous trek up the
six flights of stairs.
"I thought the tablets had knocked you out." Grissom
frowned, wondering how she had come to so quickly.
"Obviously not. I'm awake... sorta."
"Let me give you a hand."
Sara was tempted to refuse, but the thought of all those
stairs still ahead of her caused her to have second
thoughts. The few stairs that she had already navigated
had her head swimming. All she wanted to do was sink
down on the stairs and sleep.
Grissom came around to her right side and slid his arm
around her waist. Sara's right arm settled easily against
his body and her head dropped against his shoulder as she
gratefully accepted his assistance. Each step she took felt
as if her shoes had been filled with cement, the energy she
had found upon waking in the car dissipating like melting
ice. The couple of sets of stairs to her apartment took on
the proportions of Mount Everest, the summit out of reach
in her unfit condition.
"I need to rest a moment," Sara whispered faintly, her
breathing laboured.
"Sara, are you okay?"
Grissom's concerned voice drifted through the heavy fog
that was clouding her mind.
"I'm fine," Sara said, tiredly, the words spoken to
reassure herself as well as Grissom. The last time she
had felt so devoid of strength was when she had been
struck down by a severe strain of the Hong Kong 'flu back
in San Francisco. "Just need to... uh... rest a moment."
Grissom took in her tired features and the sudden loss of
colour to her face. Without warning and before he had a
chance to even think about the consequences of his
actions, Grissom scooped her up into his arms, rescuing
Sara from slowly sinking to the bare, cold concrete stairs.
"What are you doing?" Sara yelped, the firm arms
capturing her by surprise.
"Carrying you home." Grissom simply stated the obvious.
"Although, if you keep twisting around so much,
Newton's laws of gravity may come into play before we
make it there."
Her movements stilled instantly, suddenly comprehending
the danger of free-fall to them both. Sara chided herself
for being so obstinate and risking Grissom's safety with
her stubbornness. She allowed herself to settle into his
strong, surprisingly well-muscled arms, her head dropping
against the curve in his shoulder. As the wonders of
medicine once again brought her under their spell, a
distant thought struck her: his shoulder seemed to be
perfectly contoured to support her head comfortably.
Grissom gave a small smile of triumph as he noted the
change in the rhythm of Sara's breathing. It was only a
few more steps and he would be on the third floor landing.
Carrying Sara securely in his arms, he made his way
carefully to the landing. He was relieved when he made
it to the last stair, his cargo still safe from harm.
Entering her apartment, he made his way down the narrow
hallway to the left of the door. It ran behind the kitchen
gallery. The hallway opened into a room barely big
enough for the queen size bed occupying the middle of the
room. A cream-gold jacquard quilt cover adorned the
bed, the colour lightening the headiness of the deep
burgundy walls that shrouded the room.
Grissom moved into the room and struggled to maintain
his balance as his foot caught on the cream floor runner
that was beside the bed. His bowed legs struggled to
counteract the way his torso swung back and forth like a
pendulum. The added weight of Sara in his arms made it
almost impossible to keep upright. To save both of them
from falling to the floor, Grissom allowed himself to fall
backwards onto the bed.
*Crunch.* Grissom gasped as his head connected with
the hard, teak headboard. He wanted to grab the spot with
his hands, to put pressure on the spot as the darts of pain
danced across his eyes. Instead, he swallowed and bit
down on his lip to stop the temptation to let out any
sound. A muffled yelp still managed to escape his lips as
he maneuvered Sara into the centre of the bed.
"Grissom?" Sara looked at him from heavily hooded
eyelids.
"It's okay, Sara."
"What happened?" She rolled onto her side to look up at
him, her eyes confused to find him on the bed beside her.
"Nothing that a couple of Tylenol won't fix," Grissom
reassured her softly.
"Can't mix my meds," Sara muttered, trying to fight to
keep her eyes open.
"Nice of you to remember that now," Grissom said with
a chuckle, instantly regretting it as the sound reverberated
through his head. Dropping a kiss on the top of her head,
he suggested, "Why don't you go to sleep?" Grissom was
pleased to see that her eyes had already closed before he
finished his words, a small smile on her face.
He smoothed her hair away from her face, noting that her
soft, dark-brown hair was curling at the ends. The damp
Vegas air had won the war today. Grissom found the
spirals tempting to wrap around his finger. But he
resisted.
Instead, he looked around the relatively small room.
Sunlight was breaking through the small break in the
middle of the heavy, velvet curtains, the colour a perfect
match to the quilt cover. Despite the smallness of the
room, Sara had managed to also squeeze into one corner
a bureau of drawers. A silver brush set was laid out on
smooth teak surface beside a small, silver teddy bear
money box. Grissom smiled as he saw that Sara's name
was engraved in the small name plate on the front. It was
obviously a childhood treasure.
In the opposite corner sat an old-fashioned, well worn
rocking chair. A crocheted blanket was folded on the seat.
Grissom pushed himself up gently from the bed, moving
slowly so as to not disturb Sara. He walked over to the
rocking chair and picked up the blanket. Shaking it out,
he gently dropped it over Sara's sleeping form.
Reassured that she was sleeping soundly, Grissom walked
down the hallway to the kitchen. He was surprised to find
that Sara used a kettle on a gas stove, rather than an
electric. It took him three tries to get the front burner
alight. He shook his head, knowing that he could get a
bunsen burner going faster than Sara's gas stove.
Waiting for the water to boil, Grissom found his eyes
wandering around the room. The room was the exact
opposite of his spacious townhouse. Her house looked
lived in, despite the hours she spent at the CSI labs.
Photos were perched on most surfaces. He looked at each
one, getting a deeper glimpse into the personal life of
Sara.
Grissom assumed that the man and woman on either side
of Sara, their arms hooking around her narrow waist, were
her parents. He had never met them. But the familiarity
in the features on the elder woman's face gave him an
idea of what Sara would look like when she was her
mother's age.
Another photo took him by surprise. Sara was standing
beside a young woman who's features resembled Sara's
almost perfectly and looked to be about the same age.
"Twins?" Grissom thought. He dismissed the idea. Sara
had told him that she was an only child. But a twinge of
curiosity flamed in his sub-conscious. Another
photograph sat beside it. Sara and the girl were both
dressed in Harvard sweaters. The other girl was as blonde
and blue-eyed as Sara was dark and Sara towered over her
small, petite friend. Both of these showed Grissom
another side to Sara, one he hadn't been privy to and one
that Sara had kept to herself.
Grissom found himself wondering why Sara had shut him
out of this part of her life. The photographs had been
taken at a time when they had been together. It made him
wonder what else she hadn't told him.
The whistle of the kettle broke through his thoughts. He
went through the motions of making his coffee. The last
fourteen hours were weighing heavily on him, and he
knew that he needed to talk to Sara. He carried his coffee
mug back into her bedroom. Easing his weary body into
the rocking chair, Grissom watched Sara sleep as he
sipped his coffee. His eyes grew heavy, and the coffee
mug was only half empty when they finally slipped
closed.
"Nooooo!"
End Part 12/?