The next day passed quickly, and soon it was Thursday night. Grissom
had given Sara half the night off to pack and get some rest, which she
hated. Forget sleep; she'd rather be at work. It was 3 AM. Her bags had
long been packed and by the door, ready to go. She lay on her bed on top of
the covers, dressed and ready, totally unable to sleep. In two hours,
Grissom and his soft blue eyes would be at her door, and they'd spend 13
hours in a car together. Then they'd spend a weekend in their element,
surrounded by the thing they both loved; science, their work, their
passion. She couldn't wait to hear his lecture, to see his eyes light up at
some new discovery during a presentation. She loved his mind; so like hers,
yet so different. He had taught her everything he knew, taken her under his
wing and watched her fly. And now she was here, in Las Vegas, with him,
working under him. And she would spend the next two nights in a hotel room
right next to his. And she would have to pretend that she didn't feel
anything more for him than respect and admiration as a former teacher and
as her supervisor.
Sara got up and walked over to her dresser. Beside her neatly placed toiletry items and hairbrush, the plant from Grissom reflected in her mirror. She fingered the waxy green leaves and felt her heart tug the way it always did whenever she looked at the small fern. And then there was the card that came with it, tucked into the frame of her mirror, with the inscription, "From Grissom". Nothing more had been said after she'd received the plant; she'd simply withdrawn her request for leave of absence and thanked him for the gift. She had tried desperately to read something in his eyes when she'd thanked him, but he managed to avoid her own eyes completely, saying simply, "I'm glad you liked it." he had looked up then, briefly, taking off his glasses and saying, "I'm--the lab, is glad you're not leaving. Like I said--uh, we'd be at a loss without you." And he had gone back to his laptop. She had accepted it, along with the fact that she was secretly in love with a man who was incapable of showing emotion, and that she was incapable of leaving him, despite the very real possibility that her love may never be returned.
Sara went to the bathroom and filled the glass on the counter with water. She carried it to her dresser, watering the plant. She tended to the plant as if it was somehow a symbol of the non-relationship she shared with her superior; it represented something-but what? What did Grissom feel for her, if anything? She had turned it over in her mind thousands of times. Was it a gesture of simple friendship, a simple peace gift, or something more? She hated the way he made her think, so unsure, like a school girl with a crush. But whatever Sara did, she knew in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't ever let it show. Sara looked at herself in the mirror. "I'd give anything to read your mind, Gil Grissom," she said aloud. Then she was startled by her alarm clock, screaming that it was 4:30 to a person who'd never fallen asleep.
Across town, Grissom loaded his bag into the back of the Tahoe, shutting the door with a thud. The stars where starting to fade, consenting to give way to the sun, and the sky was streaked a beautiful pink across the blue. Grissom sighed appreciatively; one of the best parts of doing graveyard was seeing the sunrise. He'd been at the lab all night, going over his presentation. He'd let Sara go home to sleep, but didn't allow himself that luxury, knowing sleep wouldn't come even if he'd tried. His heart thumped a constant erratic tune with the knowledge that he'd spend this night and the following evenings in a hotel room right next to Sara Sidle. He turned to get into the car and was greeted by Catherine and Nick headed out of the building. "Hey, Gil. Off to pick up Sara?" Catherine asked with a smile. He furrowed one eyebrow at her suggestive little grin. "Yes. Why?" Catherine shrugged, opening the door to the Tahoe next to Grissom's so Nick could load the ALS machine. Nick smiled his ever-present Texas-wide smile. "You excited about the conference, Grissom?" "Not particularly, no." "Oh, come one! It'll be fun." he frowned, surveying their equipment and going through a check-list in his head. Realizing something was missing, "Hey, Cath, I forgot something, I'll be right back." "Alright," Catherine said as Nick jogged back into the building, smiling at his exuberance. She turned to Grissom, who was still frowning. "Lighten up, Gil. I hope you're not this grumpy when you pick Sara up." "Catherine, I am not 'grumpy'," he said the word as if it tasted bad. Catherine laughed slightly and shook her head. "I'm glad I couldn't go. Listen, Grissom, this'll be good for both of you to get away, out of the office.spend some time one-on-one, sort some things out. You know." "No, I don't 'know'. I don't know what we'd have to 'sort out'." Grissom responded incredulously, as if she'd just told him that the earth was indeed flat. Catherine sighed and closed her eyes. "OK, Grissom. Just.remember what I told you before." Immediately, Grissom's mind flashed back to their dinner in his townhouse; '"You've got to.lift your head out of that microscope!..."' Catherine knew her friend was following her train of thought. Watching his eyes, she continued "You can't live in your office, with your bugs. You're a living, breathing person. And frankly, I'm tired of reminding you that." He looked away from the redhead and stared at the sky. "I know." "Do you? Really? Gil, I've known you for a long time, and there are very few times when I feel like you DO realize that you're alive. And usually, those times are when Sara is around." Shocked, Grissom's head snapped back to Catherine's. She raised an eyebrow in smug satisfaction, arms across her chest. There, she'd said it. Maybe it would finally resonate in his thick skull.
Nick came back out, some fresh supplies in his hand. "Ready, Cath?" "Oh, yeah." She looked at Grissom's face, pale and tired-looking. She wondered how long he'd been juggling this inside, how further back it went than Sara's work at the lab in Vegas. She placed a hand on her friends arm and squeezed it gently. "Have fun, Gil. Be nice. Remember.there truly IS more to life than science." Patting his arm, she jumped into the passenger seat of the Tahoe. "Bye, Griss! Tell Sara I said 'bye'!" Nick called out the open window as he pulled out of the parking lot. Grissom watched the car leave, his breath shaky, mind blank. 'Ignore it, Gil.' As he had all his life, Grissom chose to listen to his head over his emotions. He got in, started the car, and went to Sara's apartment; a place he'd never been, but a route he knew by heart. He had memorized it a long time ago-just in case. He told Sara none of this when she gave him directions that night before.
Three hours later, Sara sat in silence, the roar of the highway lulling her to sleep. Grissom drove silently across from her. He'd rung her doorbell and politely carried her bags, all with little more than a "good morning" and "do you have everything" spoken in between. Simple pleasantries. Sara knew Grissom loved roller coasters, but she herself was not fond of the things. And she was getting particularly motion-sick from the ride Grissom had put her on; one day, thinking things were back to normal between them; the next, he was so cold he reminded her of the corpse she'd just seen on Robbin's table. Without thinking, she let out a shaky sigh. Grissom looked at her. She looked exhausted; her hair was back in a ponytail, making the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced without hair around her face to hide them. He could feel the icy dome he'd planned around his heart melting in spite of himself. She had that effect on him. He felt a terrible urge to reach out and caress her face. "Sara," he said, gently. Her brown eyes met his, there was something in them.what? "Yeah?" Even her voice was weary. "Did you sleep at all this morning?" "No," she admitted. "Sara," he chided gently. "You should have. Why don't you take a nap now." She shook her head, suppressing a yawn. "No, no-don't you need me to drive soon?" He passed a car going below the interstate speed limit and then looked at her again, his eyes full of compassion she hadn't seen in a long time. It made her breath catch. "No, Sara, I'm fine. Sleep for awhile. I'll wake you when I need a break. You can't drive like this, anyway." Too tired to complain, she shrugged. "OK." She leaned back, trying to get comfortable around her seat belt. Grissom watched from the corner of his eye. Not taking his eyes off the road, he reached into the back seat and pulled up his wind breaker. Balling it up with one hand, he handed it to her. "Here; use this as a pillow. It's softer than the window ledge." She accepted it, smiling. "Thanks." She cuddled against the shiny material, taking in his scent as she breathed. It was heavenly. "Mind if I put some music on?" His voice startled her. "No." She closed her eyes. Grissom switched the radio on, flipping the dial until he found an all-classical AM station. He turned the music just loud enough that he could barely hear it. He was used to turning his music loud enough to enjoy it, but he didn't want to disturb Sara too much. Or, alert her to the fact that he was having enough hearing problems to need his music at decibels louder than even Greg could tolerate.
The music, rocking of the car, and the smell of Grissom soothed Sara into a gentle sleep. The road stretched before them, and Grissom allowed himself a view of the slumbering woman beside him as often as possible. He could not ignore the thought when it entered his head, 'I could watch her sleep forever'. The miles stretched on. They took turns driving all day, stopping at a diner for a quick lunch, and for a couple of 'pit stops'. Grissom had heard stories about women and their notoriously small bladders on road trips, and was pleasantly surprised to find what a good traveler Sara was. She never complained, and only asked to stop twice. Snippets of overheard conversations between Greg and Warrick ran through his head, about the value of a 'low-maintenance' girlfriend. He looked at Sara, observing her. 'Any man would be so lucky to have you,' He feared for a moment that he'd said it out loud when she turned her head towards him, her big smile making his heart skip. "What?" she asked, amused. He was doing it again, staring at her like she was a piece of evidence under his Nikon lens, or a tarantula in his cage. "Nothing," he said innocently, and she was rewarded with one of his own charming, small smiles. She chuckled. "Grissom, I know it's never 'nothing' with you." Before he could ask her for clarification, she asked him for his thoughts on the casino case back in Vegas, and they launched into easy conversation about their work. Soon, it was like days they could both remember well, days before the invisible walls and barriers had been built. The hours and miles ticked by as they talked, and soon the Nevada desert phased serenely into the Colorado Mountains.
Grissom pulled into the conference center/hotel, feeling at once relieved to be finished driving for a few days, and disappointed that his time with Sara alone was over. He rolled his head from side to side, grimacing at the crick in his neck. Sara watched, her hand itching to reach out and massage his neck. "Are you OK?" "Oh, yeah, I'll be fine. Just a kink." He smiled wearily. "Well, we're here. Let's go check in."
Sara got up and walked over to her dresser. Beside her neatly placed toiletry items and hairbrush, the plant from Grissom reflected in her mirror. She fingered the waxy green leaves and felt her heart tug the way it always did whenever she looked at the small fern. And then there was the card that came with it, tucked into the frame of her mirror, with the inscription, "From Grissom". Nothing more had been said after she'd received the plant; she'd simply withdrawn her request for leave of absence and thanked him for the gift. She had tried desperately to read something in his eyes when she'd thanked him, but he managed to avoid her own eyes completely, saying simply, "I'm glad you liked it." he had looked up then, briefly, taking off his glasses and saying, "I'm--the lab, is glad you're not leaving. Like I said--uh, we'd be at a loss without you." And he had gone back to his laptop. She had accepted it, along with the fact that she was secretly in love with a man who was incapable of showing emotion, and that she was incapable of leaving him, despite the very real possibility that her love may never be returned.
Sara went to the bathroom and filled the glass on the counter with water. She carried it to her dresser, watering the plant. She tended to the plant as if it was somehow a symbol of the non-relationship she shared with her superior; it represented something-but what? What did Grissom feel for her, if anything? She had turned it over in her mind thousands of times. Was it a gesture of simple friendship, a simple peace gift, or something more? She hated the way he made her think, so unsure, like a school girl with a crush. But whatever Sara did, she knew in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't ever let it show. Sara looked at herself in the mirror. "I'd give anything to read your mind, Gil Grissom," she said aloud. Then she was startled by her alarm clock, screaming that it was 4:30 to a person who'd never fallen asleep.
Across town, Grissom loaded his bag into the back of the Tahoe, shutting the door with a thud. The stars where starting to fade, consenting to give way to the sun, and the sky was streaked a beautiful pink across the blue. Grissom sighed appreciatively; one of the best parts of doing graveyard was seeing the sunrise. He'd been at the lab all night, going over his presentation. He'd let Sara go home to sleep, but didn't allow himself that luxury, knowing sleep wouldn't come even if he'd tried. His heart thumped a constant erratic tune with the knowledge that he'd spend this night and the following evenings in a hotel room right next to Sara Sidle. He turned to get into the car and was greeted by Catherine and Nick headed out of the building. "Hey, Gil. Off to pick up Sara?" Catherine asked with a smile. He furrowed one eyebrow at her suggestive little grin. "Yes. Why?" Catherine shrugged, opening the door to the Tahoe next to Grissom's so Nick could load the ALS machine. Nick smiled his ever-present Texas-wide smile. "You excited about the conference, Grissom?" "Not particularly, no." "Oh, come one! It'll be fun." he frowned, surveying their equipment and going through a check-list in his head. Realizing something was missing, "Hey, Cath, I forgot something, I'll be right back." "Alright," Catherine said as Nick jogged back into the building, smiling at his exuberance. She turned to Grissom, who was still frowning. "Lighten up, Gil. I hope you're not this grumpy when you pick Sara up." "Catherine, I am not 'grumpy'," he said the word as if it tasted bad. Catherine laughed slightly and shook her head. "I'm glad I couldn't go. Listen, Grissom, this'll be good for both of you to get away, out of the office.spend some time one-on-one, sort some things out. You know." "No, I don't 'know'. I don't know what we'd have to 'sort out'." Grissom responded incredulously, as if she'd just told him that the earth was indeed flat. Catherine sighed and closed her eyes. "OK, Grissom. Just.remember what I told you before." Immediately, Grissom's mind flashed back to their dinner in his townhouse; '"You've got to.lift your head out of that microscope!..."' Catherine knew her friend was following her train of thought. Watching his eyes, she continued "You can't live in your office, with your bugs. You're a living, breathing person. And frankly, I'm tired of reminding you that." He looked away from the redhead and stared at the sky. "I know." "Do you? Really? Gil, I've known you for a long time, and there are very few times when I feel like you DO realize that you're alive. And usually, those times are when Sara is around." Shocked, Grissom's head snapped back to Catherine's. She raised an eyebrow in smug satisfaction, arms across her chest. There, she'd said it. Maybe it would finally resonate in his thick skull.
Nick came back out, some fresh supplies in his hand. "Ready, Cath?" "Oh, yeah." She looked at Grissom's face, pale and tired-looking. She wondered how long he'd been juggling this inside, how further back it went than Sara's work at the lab in Vegas. She placed a hand on her friends arm and squeezed it gently. "Have fun, Gil. Be nice. Remember.there truly IS more to life than science." Patting his arm, she jumped into the passenger seat of the Tahoe. "Bye, Griss! Tell Sara I said 'bye'!" Nick called out the open window as he pulled out of the parking lot. Grissom watched the car leave, his breath shaky, mind blank. 'Ignore it, Gil.' As he had all his life, Grissom chose to listen to his head over his emotions. He got in, started the car, and went to Sara's apartment; a place he'd never been, but a route he knew by heart. He had memorized it a long time ago-just in case. He told Sara none of this when she gave him directions that night before.
Three hours later, Sara sat in silence, the roar of the highway lulling her to sleep. Grissom drove silently across from her. He'd rung her doorbell and politely carried her bags, all with little more than a "good morning" and "do you have everything" spoken in between. Simple pleasantries. Sara knew Grissom loved roller coasters, but she herself was not fond of the things. And she was getting particularly motion-sick from the ride Grissom had put her on; one day, thinking things were back to normal between them; the next, he was so cold he reminded her of the corpse she'd just seen on Robbin's table. Without thinking, she let out a shaky sigh. Grissom looked at her. She looked exhausted; her hair was back in a ponytail, making the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced without hair around her face to hide them. He could feel the icy dome he'd planned around his heart melting in spite of himself. She had that effect on him. He felt a terrible urge to reach out and caress her face. "Sara," he said, gently. Her brown eyes met his, there was something in them.what? "Yeah?" Even her voice was weary. "Did you sleep at all this morning?" "No," she admitted. "Sara," he chided gently. "You should have. Why don't you take a nap now." She shook her head, suppressing a yawn. "No, no-don't you need me to drive soon?" He passed a car going below the interstate speed limit and then looked at her again, his eyes full of compassion she hadn't seen in a long time. It made her breath catch. "No, Sara, I'm fine. Sleep for awhile. I'll wake you when I need a break. You can't drive like this, anyway." Too tired to complain, she shrugged. "OK." She leaned back, trying to get comfortable around her seat belt. Grissom watched from the corner of his eye. Not taking his eyes off the road, he reached into the back seat and pulled up his wind breaker. Balling it up with one hand, he handed it to her. "Here; use this as a pillow. It's softer than the window ledge." She accepted it, smiling. "Thanks." She cuddled against the shiny material, taking in his scent as she breathed. It was heavenly. "Mind if I put some music on?" His voice startled her. "No." She closed her eyes. Grissom switched the radio on, flipping the dial until he found an all-classical AM station. He turned the music just loud enough that he could barely hear it. He was used to turning his music loud enough to enjoy it, but he didn't want to disturb Sara too much. Or, alert her to the fact that he was having enough hearing problems to need his music at decibels louder than even Greg could tolerate.
The music, rocking of the car, and the smell of Grissom soothed Sara into a gentle sleep. The road stretched before them, and Grissom allowed himself a view of the slumbering woman beside him as often as possible. He could not ignore the thought when it entered his head, 'I could watch her sleep forever'. The miles stretched on. They took turns driving all day, stopping at a diner for a quick lunch, and for a couple of 'pit stops'. Grissom had heard stories about women and their notoriously small bladders on road trips, and was pleasantly surprised to find what a good traveler Sara was. She never complained, and only asked to stop twice. Snippets of overheard conversations between Greg and Warrick ran through his head, about the value of a 'low-maintenance' girlfriend. He looked at Sara, observing her. 'Any man would be so lucky to have you,' He feared for a moment that he'd said it out loud when she turned her head towards him, her big smile making his heart skip. "What?" she asked, amused. He was doing it again, staring at her like she was a piece of evidence under his Nikon lens, or a tarantula in his cage. "Nothing," he said innocently, and she was rewarded with one of his own charming, small smiles. She chuckled. "Grissom, I know it's never 'nothing' with you." Before he could ask her for clarification, she asked him for his thoughts on the casino case back in Vegas, and they launched into easy conversation about their work. Soon, it was like days they could both remember well, days before the invisible walls and barriers had been built. The hours and miles ticked by as they talked, and soon the Nevada desert phased serenely into the Colorado Mountains.
Grissom pulled into the conference center/hotel, feeling at once relieved to be finished driving for a few days, and disappointed that his time with Sara alone was over. He rolled his head from side to side, grimacing at the crick in his neck. Sara watched, her hand itching to reach out and massage his neck. "Are you OK?" "Oh, yeah, I'll be fine. Just a kink." He smiled wearily. "Well, we're here. Let's go check in."