I'll probably add on to this in the future, but in terms of getting this out prior to PWF, this is it. I hope you've enjoyed it and continue to do so. And thanks to those who have taken the time to leave feedback. Much appreciated.
*
Despite the range of the blast, there were still areas and offices in the building that had escaped unscathed, Grissom's office being one of them. Here he could be found, figuratively licking the wounds recently inflicted by the scathing diatribe of Sheriff Mobley.
"What happened? Who was to blame? What are you going to do about it?"
Grissom had the same answer for all three questions.
"Considering it happened less than sixty minutes ago, I don't know."
Of course, this wasn't good enough for the Sheriff and he told Grissom in so many words; so many words that causes several people within shouting distance to spin around at the sound.
The phone jarred Grissom out of his moment of self-flagellation.
" 'Grissom'," he said, and groaned when he heard the reply. Out of all the days to call… for a brief moment, he wondered whether it was a good idea to pretend to a hearing doctor that he couldn't hear her, and hang up. Grissom might have laughed at the dark humour of it all, if the call hadn't been so damn intrusive right now.
"Dr. Grissom, you didn't return my call last week," the pleasant professional voice on the other end remarked.
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Yes. I apologize for that. Things here have just been busy and I haven't been able to find the time."
"Well, I would hope you find the time soon, Dr. Grissom. It's not a commodity we have to spare when it comes to your condition."
'You mean, it's not a commodity I have to spare,' Grissom thought ruefully. Out loud, he replied, "Yes, you're right."
"Have you given any thought to our talk of surgery?"
He willed himself not to sigh again. "Yes, I've thought about it."
"Have you come to a decision?" his doctor asked.
"I… I don't know," he admitted. "I just need… I need more…"
"Time?"
"Look, can I call you back tomorrow and discuss this in depth? It's just not a very good time for me right now."
Now it was the doctor's turn to sigh. "Very well, but I'm not sure there's ever going to be a 'good' time, Dr. Grissom."
He set the receiver back in its cradle, and leaned forward. Placing his elbows on his desk, he rested his chin in one hand, and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. Losing time, losing his hearing, losing his job, losing his mind…
Losing Sara.
Despite everything else, it was this that had truly made him afraid. When he had heard the loud rumble of the explosion, all his thoughts focussed on one thing. Sara. And when he ran into the chaos of the scene and saw her lying face down, it was as if the world had stopped moving. The sensation that flooded over him settled dreadfully in his stomach, and it took everything in his power not to vomit at the scene. 'I will gladly lose everything else, just don't let me lose her,' he had silently pleaded to a god he scarcely believed in.
And now, she was okay. She was alive. The irony was, a part of him felt obligated to keep up his end of the deal. It was the only explanation he had for the defeat he felt in his heart.
*
The only person he needed to see somehow became the last person he wanted to see. He realized this the moment he saw her leaning in the doorway.
'Not now,' he silently pleaded. 'I cannot deal with us right now.' His head jerked back slightly at this inner revelation. It was the first time he could recall when he consciously linked himself with Sara. 'This is not helping,' he chastised himself.
"Griss," she said, the first to speak. "Can I… can I talk to you?"
A bit more sharply than he intended, he said, "I thought I told you to call me from the hospital."
She blinked at the rebuke, but continued. "They're still shuttling ambulances back and forth; I got a ride back."
He nodded, though it seemed something on his desk held more interest.
"Griss, I need to talk to you."
His eyes flicked up. "Now's not a good time."
Giving a short laugh, she looked up at the ceiling before returning her gaze to him. "We spend all our lives waiting for a "good" time, the "right" time. Before you know it, we're out of time."
He was going to pretend he didn't know what she meant, but another surreptitious glance at her told him he couldn't outright lie to her. Instead, he whispered, "I know, Sara. But really, not right now."
She crossed her arms and stood her ground. "Now now? Then when, Griss? When we're old and gray and it's too late? When you get attacked at a crime scene because of some perp? When there's another explosion in the lab and I'm not so lucky?"
"Sara…"
"I've stood by you for three years as your student, as your colleague, and as your friend. But today just brought so many things into sharp focus, you know?"
He did, all too well, but he kept silent.
"So here's the deal. Cards on the table. Whatever the outcome, we will deal with it like adults and move on." She took a quick intake of breath before plunging onward. "I care about you in ways I never have for anyone else in my life. You're the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. I read an article in a magazine and I want to call you up and talk your ear off about it. I see someone walking down the street and for a brief moment, I think it's you and my heart…" she steadied the tremble in her voice with another breath. "I think you might feel the same way about me. If you do, then let's do something about it instead of this dance that we do. If you don't…" her voice trailed off.
Here was his chance, his chance to do something good and right with his life. But the crack in his armour was quickly filled with well-worn excuses to hide his fears. The job. The age gap. His hearing.
His heart had one answer. His brain had another. The latter was quicker.
"I don't."
She gave a small forced grin. "What?"
He cleared his throat and repeated more firmly, "I don't. Feel the same way."
The words connected like a punch to the stomach. In fact, she subconsciously tilted forward, as if absorbing the blow. She took a moment to catch her breath before asking, "So, all those times together, those things you said…"
His response was silence.
She looked up at the ceiling again and willed the tears away.
"I'm sorry, Sara," he said.
She gave a tight smile and waved away his words. "No, no, it's okay. Really. I obviously read way too much into things. Wow. I mean, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, right?"
"Sara…"
"No, really, Griss, it's okay." She turned in the doorway and made a motion to the hall. "The doctor gave me some medication. I should take off before it kicks in."
"Get Nick to…"
"Don't." She tried to soften the edge in her voice. "I'm fine. But thank you."
With that, she collected whatever scrap of pride she had left and walked out. If someone had asked her later on how she got from his office to her car, she couldn't have told them. Images passed by in a blur as the battle she was fighting against the oncoming tears was shifting in their favour. By the time she got to her car, the tears were flowing freely.
What she didn't know was that the man she had left behind inside wasn't faring much better.