The next morning, Sara was woken by her travel alarm clock. An oldies
station blared the Supremes in her ear, "You don't really need me/you just
keep me hangin' on..." Sara winced, as the lyrics immediately reminded her
of the previous evening. Rolling over on her side, she stared at the wall,
imagining Grissom sleeping restfully on the other side. "Shitty men," she
muttered, tears stinging her eyes as she made her way to the bathroom.
On the other side of that wall, Grissom was tossing and turning fitfully, dreaming of a foggy circular race track, on which he and Sara ran around and around, in a monotonous and futile circle. He was gaining on her, crying her name, feeling he would collapse...she was looking back at him, her eyes filled with pain...Sara turned, running backwards, and offered her hand-he reached for it-Grissom shot up in bed, covered in sweat, as the phone rang angrily. "He picked it up, shouting an angry, groggy "YEAH?" in the receiver. "Just calling with your wake-up call, sir." "Great!" He slammed the phone down, realizing he'd yelled the clerks head off and feeling momentarily bad, but he couldn't focus on anything but one thing for very long. Sara. What had he done? He'd had Sara Sidle in his motel room, on his bed, holding his hand, ready to kiss him-and he'd let her go. He'd pushed her away. He held his head in his hands, a lump in his throat and a hollow ache in his chest. All he had to do was walk next door and make all this right.
But he sat, his feet unwilling to make the journey. Grissom stared into the mirror. "You're a damaged, flawed, emotionally unintelligent old man, Gil." He loved her too much to love her. He bit his lip, feeling lost and desperate at the man inside the mirror. Surely Sara would understand, deep inside her heart. Surely she didn't really want him. For the third time since arriving in Colorado, Sara Sidle-induced tears stung his eyes. He willed them away, and stood and limped to the shower, forcing himself to think about insects. Grissom showered and dressed quickly. As he stepped towards the door, his trained investigators eye caught something blending in with the carpet. He stooped to examine it, out of habit. It was a small monarch butterfly on elephant hair cord. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before picking it up off the carpet.
Down in the conference center, the morning breakfast and registration had begun. Hundreds of crime scene analysts, forensic pathologists, forensic anthropologists, forensic odontologists, forensic psychiatrists, forensic engineers, forensic entomologists, forensic histologists, forensic radiologists, and other forensic scientists roamed excitedly about the room, enjoying the continental breakfast spread as they compared cases and decided which lectures to attend that day. Sara studied the list of lectures, and put her name down next to a presentation on wildlife forensics, another about forensic skull and facial reconstruction. She scanned the list, looking for more, and her finger trailed down to the listing "'Current Advances in Forensic Entomology/The Importance of Forensic Entomology Today', presented by Dr. Gil Grissom, Ph.D.". Her heart went cold and warm all at once. She was tempted to not go, but she couldn't bring herself to be that cold. Beside, she reasoned, everyone in Vegas would want to know how Grissom's presentation had gone, so she had no choice but to attend. Squaring her jaw, she checked the box saying she'd attend. After choosing several other presentations, Sara handed in her form and picked up her name tag. She picked up a bagel and orange juice from the breakfast table, all the while trying not to admit to herself that she was subconsciously scanning the room for Grissom. 'You're here to enjoy the presence of your peers and learn more about your field, not to...get involved with Grissom.' As if on cue, a slightly heavy-set blond with a tanned complexion and shining smile came running towards her. "Sidle?" A huge smile spread across Sara's face and she set down her orange juice, exclaiming "Candace?" "Yeah, it's me! God, Sara, it's been ages! How are you?" The women embraced. "I'm-ok. It's been way to long, Kami! How are you?" "I'm really good. Come on, let's go sit down and catch up before they open the vendor hall." "Great! So are you still with the SFPD?" "Yes, I am. Made it to level three two months ago." Sara congratulated her old friend and coworker as they sat at one of the plastic tables set up in a semi- cafe' arrangement by the breakfast spread.
Kami Candace had started working in San Francisco at the same time that Sara had; the rookies had grown into their field together until Grissom had called Sara to Las Vegas. Kami was a welcome reminder of happier days gone by. The two chatted happily, catching up. "So how's Vegas?" Kami asked around her orange. "I haven't heard from you for what-six, seven months?" Sara winced. "I'm sorry, Kam, it's been really hectic..." Kami waved her hand, sending a drop of orange juice off one of her French-manicured fingernails. "Don't worry about it, hon. I understand! I was just teasing you; I don't exactly have a lot of free time, myself. You know it's always nuts in California." Sara laughed ruefully, remembering. "Oh, yeah. But, anyway, yeah, Vegas is fine. Never a dull moment. You'd love it. I've come across things I never thought I would."
Kami chuckled. "Gotta love the job. How'd that one case you mentioned in your last email, the guy who decomped in the duffel bag, how'd that turn out?" "We got the ass who put him in there. Poor guy...yeah, that was an experience." Sara tore off a piece of bagel, smiling in remembrance. Kami grinned. "I had my first enclosed-space decomp three weeks ago. Lots of fun. So-what happened to that guy you mentioned, the hot paramedic?" "Sara groaned. "Oh, god, Kami, please let's not talk about my love life. As for you-I see a nice Vegas-sized carat on your finger, there." She grabbed her friend's hand to have a closer look. "Oh, yeah-happened a month ago." Kami giggled like an eight grader, her eyes shining. Sara smiled. "Congrats, Kam. Is he anyone I know?" Kami's eyes twinkled. "You remember Detective Cliff Smitt?" Sara's jaw dropped. The young detective, fresh from the academy, had started at the department two weeks before Sara left. She'd only had to spend time with him once, but that was more than enough. His reputation had spread quickly among the CSI's. "What? No way! You couldn't stand him! None of us could! He was so cocky and so quick to assume-oh, my god!" Kami laughed heartily. "He was a rookie, Sar. He made up for his uncertainty about the job by being a dick. But I found a way to call his bluff. Well, actually, his stomach did." Sara grinned, puzzled. "How...?" "Well, right after you left for Nevada, I got called in to do a case with him-his first murder without help from another detective." "Oh, god-I am so glad I was gone." Kami smiled and continued. "Well, he observed the autopsy with me-ended up puking his guts out all over both of our shoes." "Oh, no." "Oh, yeah. After that, we formed a sort of bond." Sara smiled wryly. "I guess that'll do it. How romantic." "Isn't it, though? Anyway, word spread pretty quickly, and whatever super-cool, NYPD Blue-image he was trying to build for himself was pretty much destroyed. He's actually a damn good detective, still a little green, obviously, but a joy to be around and work with. Everyone loves him now." "Especially you," Sara teased. "Especially me. I'm a lucky gal" "You seem so happy-it's good to see you that way. I'm happy for you." She sipped her juice. "It's funny; I didn't picture either of us getting married; I figured we where both pretty much married to our jobs."
Kami raised an eyebrow. "Cliff and I both know our jobs will always be a high priority. And, I didn't think I'd get married either, Sar. But, as amazing as my job is-it isn't any good in bed." Sara burst out laughing. "No kidding," she said somewhat angrily when she'd calmed down. Kami folded her orange peel up in a paper napkin and then leaned toward her old friend, who was looking wistfully towards the ceiling. "OK, Sara--now, let's do talk about your love life. I can tell you need to talk." Sara shifted in her chair uncomfortably, reminded of why she loved science so much more than people.
Grissom entered the registration hall, gripping Sara's necklace like a lifeline in his hand. He'd hoped, even half expected, that she would wait for him to come down to registration. After futilely pounding on her door for five minutes, he had given up, shoulders slumped in defeat, ignoring a maid who looked at him as if he where a mad man as he walked down the hall. His heart pounded as he desperately searched the room full of scientists for the only one that mattered to him. He spotted her, in a cluster of plastic tables, with a woman he didn't recognize. Lines of his peers waiting to register for the day's events separated him and the breakfast area. He scanned the room, looking for an escape. The room was huge, the left wall lined with people accepting registrations, and cut in half by a huge table filled with the breakfast spread. The area behind the table was further cross sectioned, by a large sheet of sorts hanging from the ceiling. On one side of the divider was the area with plastic tables where Sara and others sat eating their bagels and waiting for the vendor hall to open at nine AM. On the other side of the sheet, conference workers where busy, beginning the assembling process for a demonstration that would take place in the room later in the day. Grissom thought it was going to be a crime scene reconstruction, or possibly a ballistics display, but couldn't tell anything yet, as the workers where just pulling dummies out of boxes. He set his eyes once again on Sara, and began walking her way, until an older man in suspenders and a bow ties stepped in front of him. "Dr. Grissom? I've got a question for you on"-Grissom quickly sidestepped the man. "I'll have a question and answer session after my lecture. I'm sorry. Excuse me." Surprised, the man let him go, wondering what his hurry was. Then he followed Grissom's line of site, a table with a two younger women, one brunette and one blond. "Ah," he said, to no one particular. "I would, too, sonny. Go get 'em." Smiling to himself and remembering, he went to retrieve his name tag.
Grissom wasn't making a lot of friends as he dodged and shoved his way through the crowd. He had made it to the breakfast table, and realized that the line, which was backed clear to the table, wasn't going to move for him. A large women who towered over him by at least three inches scowled down, making it clear she wasn't going to budge. Rolling his eyes, Grissom made his way behind the table and came to the plastic dividing sheet. He could see Sara's silhouette, and hear her clear, lovely voice. She and her friend were in the table right next to the divider. Their conversation made Grissom stop. "OK, Sara, now-let's DO talk about your love life." In spite of his better judgement, he leaned towards the sheet to listen. He heard her sigh. "Do you really want to go there, Kami? Damn it, I know you do..." The other woman laughed. "OK. Well, for starters, that cute EMT was cheating on me, the whole time. I was his damn 'other woman'." Grissom's blood went cold; the other woman gasped. "What?! Oh, god, Sara, how? I'm so sorry-how'd you find out?" "I was investigating a scene he'd been at. A woman crashed her car into a restaurant, and he was there, it turns out, with his little...Yeah." The woman made sounds of empathy; Grissom couldn't believe what he was hearing. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, anger at that little bastard EMS for hurting Sara. At the table, she continued. "I found out when I was at her house, questioning her. I happened to notice a picture of them, smiling and happy as hell, at some damn beach together. They'd been together for a long time, or so she made it sound. They where practically engaged, Kam. I don't know what he was using me for." "Sara, that sucks, so much..." "I know. The sad thing is, I was just really getting into the idea of having a boyfriend, you know? Seeing him at the scene, working on the vics, I was so touched, I kept thinking what a great guy he was. I hadn't been ready for it before; I just wanted to be friends. I sort of had..." she trailed off. The woman suggested, "...Someone else in the wings?"
"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, he's still-well, no, I don't know what the hell he is. But, yeah, I wanted someone else more. But I guess I'd realized that Hank was there, and ready for me, and he was such a great guy, such a hero...Then I found out, about-her. So, yeah. That's my love life, Kami." Feeling as if the wind had been knocked from his sails, Grissom leaned heavily against the breakfast table, not noticing an orange that rolled lazily to the floor. His hand covered his face. 'God, I'm a fool.' He thought, thousands of emotions coursing through him. On the other side of the sheet, the woman was speaking to Sara. "Sar, I am so sorry. No one deserves that. You deserve so much better. What about this other guy?" Sara grunted. "Huh. I don't think that can even be defined in words." "Who is he?" He heard her sigh, a deep, pain-filled gust of air, as if she needed more strength than she had to even mention his name. "Well...do you remember Gil Grissom?" "Your mentor? The one with the gorgeous eyes?" "Yeah, that's him." "He's the one that called you to Vegas...Oh, Sara, you still have a thing for him?" He watched her silhouette when she didn't speak; she gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "Like I said, Kami, it's a long, drawn-out story." "I'd love to hear it." "I know, but I"-Grissom was startled by the sound of a shrill whistle, alerting them that the vendor hall was opening for business. He watched through the sheet as Sara and her friend got up and walked to the hall; he could no longer hear their conversation.
He realized the butterfly necklace was still in his hand; he fingered it lovingly before putting it in his pocket and walking to the vendor hall.
On the other side of that wall, Grissom was tossing and turning fitfully, dreaming of a foggy circular race track, on which he and Sara ran around and around, in a monotonous and futile circle. He was gaining on her, crying her name, feeling he would collapse...she was looking back at him, her eyes filled with pain...Sara turned, running backwards, and offered her hand-he reached for it-Grissom shot up in bed, covered in sweat, as the phone rang angrily. "He picked it up, shouting an angry, groggy "YEAH?" in the receiver. "Just calling with your wake-up call, sir." "Great!" He slammed the phone down, realizing he'd yelled the clerks head off and feeling momentarily bad, but he couldn't focus on anything but one thing for very long. Sara. What had he done? He'd had Sara Sidle in his motel room, on his bed, holding his hand, ready to kiss him-and he'd let her go. He'd pushed her away. He held his head in his hands, a lump in his throat and a hollow ache in his chest. All he had to do was walk next door and make all this right.
But he sat, his feet unwilling to make the journey. Grissom stared into the mirror. "You're a damaged, flawed, emotionally unintelligent old man, Gil." He loved her too much to love her. He bit his lip, feeling lost and desperate at the man inside the mirror. Surely Sara would understand, deep inside her heart. Surely she didn't really want him. For the third time since arriving in Colorado, Sara Sidle-induced tears stung his eyes. He willed them away, and stood and limped to the shower, forcing himself to think about insects. Grissom showered and dressed quickly. As he stepped towards the door, his trained investigators eye caught something blending in with the carpet. He stooped to examine it, out of habit. It was a small monarch butterfly on elephant hair cord. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before picking it up off the carpet.
Down in the conference center, the morning breakfast and registration had begun. Hundreds of crime scene analysts, forensic pathologists, forensic anthropologists, forensic odontologists, forensic psychiatrists, forensic engineers, forensic entomologists, forensic histologists, forensic radiologists, and other forensic scientists roamed excitedly about the room, enjoying the continental breakfast spread as they compared cases and decided which lectures to attend that day. Sara studied the list of lectures, and put her name down next to a presentation on wildlife forensics, another about forensic skull and facial reconstruction. She scanned the list, looking for more, and her finger trailed down to the listing "'Current Advances in Forensic Entomology/The Importance of Forensic Entomology Today', presented by Dr. Gil Grissom, Ph.D.". Her heart went cold and warm all at once. She was tempted to not go, but she couldn't bring herself to be that cold. Beside, she reasoned, everyone in Vegas would want to know how Grissom's presentation had gone, so she had no choice but to attend. Squaring her jaw, she checked the box saying she'd attend. After choosing several other presentations, Sara handed in her form and picked up her name tag. She picked up a bagel and orange juice from the breakfast table, all the while trying not to admit to herself that she was subconsciously scanning the room for Grissom. 'You're here to enjoy the presence of your peers and learn more about your field, not to...get involved with Grissom.' As if on cue, a slightly heavy-set blond with a tanned complexion and shining smile came running towards her. "Sidle?" A huge smile spread across Sara's face and she set down her orange juice, exclaiming "Candace?" "Yeah, it's me! God, Sara, it's been ages! How are you?" The women embraced. "I'm-ok. It's been way to long, Kami! How are you?" "I'm really good. Come on, let's go sit down and catch up before they open the vendor hall." "Great! So are you still with the SFPD?" "Yes, I am. Made it to level three two months ago." Sara congratulated her old friend and coworker as they sat at one of the plastic tables set up in a semi- cafe' arrangement by the breakfast spread.
Kami Candace had started working in San Francisco at the same time that Sara had; the rookies had grown into their field together until Grissom had called Sara to Las Vegas. Kami was a welcome reminder of happier days gone by. The two chatted happily, catching up. "So how's Vegas?" Kami asked around her orange. "I haven't heard from you for what-six, seven months?" Sara winced. "I'm sorry, Kam, it's been really hectic..." Kami waved her hand, sending a drop of orange juice off one of her French-manicured fingernails. "Don't worry about it, hon. I understand! I was just teasing you; I don't exactly have a lot of free time, myself. You know it's always nuts in California." Sara laughed ruefully, remembering. "Oh, yeah. But, anyway, yeah, Vegas is fine. Never a dull moment. You'd love it. I've come across things I never thought I would."
Kami chuckled. "Gotta love the job. How'd that one case you mentioned in your last email, the guy who decomped in the duffel bag, how'd that turn out?" "We got the ass who put him in there. Poor guy...yeah, that was an experience." Sara tore off a piece of bagel, smiling in remembrance. Kami grinned. "I had my first enclosed-space decomp three weeks ago. Lots of fun. So-what happened to that guy you mentioned, the hot paramedic?" "Sara groaned. "Oh, god, Kami, please let's not talk about my love life. As for you-I see a nice Vegas-sized carat on your finger, there." She grabbed her friend's hand to have a closer look. "Oh, yeah-happened a month ago." Kami giggled like an eight grader, her eyes shining. Sara smiled. "Congrats, Kam. Is he anyone I know?" Kami's eyes twinkled. "You remember Detective Cliff Smitt?" Sara's jaw dropped. The young detective, fresh from the academy, had started at the department two weeks before Sara left. She'd only had to spend time with him once, but that was more than enough. His reputation had spread quickly among the CSI's. "What? No way! You couldn't stand him! None of us could! He was so cocky and so quick to assume-oh, my god!" Kami laughed heartily. "He was a rookie, Sar. He made up for his uncertainty about the job by being a dick. But I found a way to call his bluff. Well, actually, his stomach did." Sara grinned, puzzled. "How...?" "Well, right after you left for Nevada, I got called in to do a case with him-his first murder without help from another detective." "Oh, god-I am so glad I was gone." Kami smiled and continued. "Well, he observed the autopsy with me-ended up puking his guts out all over both of our shoes." "Oh, no." "Oh, yeah. After that, we formed a sort of bond." Sara smiled wryly. "I guess that'll do it. How romantic." "Isn't it, though? Anyway, word spread pretty quickly, and whatever super-cool, NYPD Blue-image he was trying to build for himself was pretty much destroyed. He's actually a damn good detective, still a little green, obviously, but a joy to be around and work with. Everyone loves him now." "Especially you," Sara teased. "Especially me. I'm a lucky gal" "You seem so happy-it's good to see you that way. I'm happy for you." She sipped her juice. "It's funny; I didn't picture either of us getting married; I figured we where both pretty much married to our jobs."
Kami raised an eyebrow. "Cliff and I both know our jobs will always be a high priority. And, I didn't think I'd get married either, Sar. But, as amazing as my job is-it isn't any good in bed." Sara burst out laughing. "No kidding," she said somewhat angrily when she'd calmed down. Kami folded her orange peel up in a paper napkin and then leaned toward her old friend, who was looking wistfully towards the ceiling. "OK, Sara--now, let's do talk about your love life. I can tell you need to talk." Sara shifted in her chair uncomfortably, reminded of why she loved science so much more than people.
Grissom entered the registration hall, gripping Sara's necklace like a lifeline in his hand. He'd hoped, even half expected, that she would wait for him to come down to registration. After futilely pounding on her door for five minutes, he had given up, shoulders slumped in defeat, ignoring a maid who looked at him as if he where a mad man as he walked down the hall. His heart pounded as he desperately searched the room full of scientists for the only one that mattered to him. He spotted her, in a cluster of plastic tables, with a woman he didn't recognize. Lines of his peers waiting to register for the day's events separated him and the breakfast area. He scanned the room, looking for an escape. The room was huge, the left wall lined with people accepting registrations, and cut in half by a huge table filled with the breakfast spread. The area behind the table was further cross sectioned, by a large sheet of sorts hanging from the ceiling. On one side of the divider was the area with plastic tables where Sara and others sat eating their bagels and waiting for the vendor hall to open at nine AM. On the other side of the sheet, conference workers where busy, beginning the assembling process for a demonstration that would take place in the room later in the day. Grissom thought it was going to be a crime scene reconstruction, or possibly a ballistics display, but couldn't tell anything yet, as the workers where just pulling dummies out of boxes. He set his eyes once again on Sara, and began walking her way, until an older man in suspenders and a bow ties stepped in front of him. "Dr. Grissom? I've got a question for you on"-Grissom quickly sidestepped the man. "I'll have a question and answer session after my lecture. I'm sorry. Excuse me." Surprised, the man let him go, wondering what his hurry was. Then he followed Grissom's line of site, a table with a two younger women, one brunette and one blond. "Ah," he said, to no one particular. "I would, too, sonny. Go get 'em." Smiling to himself and remembering, he went to retrieve his name tag.
Grissom wasn't making a lot of friends as he dodged and shoved his way through the crowd. He had made it to the breakfast table, and realized that the line, which was backed clear to the table, wasn't going to move for him. A large women who towered over him by at least three inches scowled down, making it clear she wasn't going to budge. Rolling his eyes, Grissom made his way behind the table and came to the plastic dividing sheet. He could see Sara's silhouette, and hear her clear, lovely voice. She and her friend were in the table right next to the divider. Their conversation made Grissom stop. "OK, Sara, now-let's DO talk about your love life." In spite of his better judgement, he leaned towards the sheet to listen. He heard her sigh. "Do you really want to go there, Kami? Damn it, I know you do..." The other woman laughed. "OK. Well, for starters, that cute EMT was cheating on me, the whole time. I was his damn 'other woman'." Grissom's blood went cold; the other woman gasped. "What?! Oh, god, Sara, how? I'm so sorry-how'd you find out?" "I was investigating a scene he'd been at. A woman crashed her car into a restaurant, and he was there, it turns out, with his little...Yeah." The woman made sounds of empathy; Grissom couldn't believe what he was hearing. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, anger at that little bastard EMS for hurting Sara. At the table, she continued. "I found out when I was at her house, questioning her. I happened to notice a picture of them, smiling and happy as hell, at some damn beach together. They'd been together for a long time, or so she made it sound. They where practically engaged, Kam. I don't know what he was using me for." "Sara, that sucks, so much..." "I know. The sad thing is, I was just really getting into the idea of having a boyfriend, you know? Seeing him at the scene, working on the vics, I was so touched, I kept thinking what a great guy he was. I hadn't been ready for it before; I just wanted to be friends. I sort of had..." she trailed off. The woman suggested, "...Someone else in the wings?"
"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, he's still-well, no, I don't know what the hell he is. But, yeah, I wanted someone else more. But I guess I'd realized that Hank was there, and ready for me, and he was such a great guy, such a hero...Then I found out, about-her. So, yeah. That's my love life, Kami." Feeling as if the wind had been knocked from his sails, Grissom leaned heavily against the breakfast table, not noticing an orange that rolled lazily to the floor. His hand covered his face. 'God, I'm a fool.' He thought, thousands of emotions coursing through him. On the other side of the sheet, the woman was speaking to Sara. "Sar, I am so sorry. No one deserves that. You deserve so much better. What about this other guy?" Sara grunted. "Huh. I don't think that can even be defined in words." "Who is he?" He heard her sigh, a deep, pain-filled gust of air, as if she needed more strength than she had to even mention his name. "Well...do you remember Gil Grissom?" "Your mentor? The one with the gorgeous eyes?" "Yeah, that's him." "He's the one that called you to Vegas...Oh, Sara, you still have a thing for him?" He watched her silhouette when she didn't speak; she gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "Like I said, Kami, it's a long, drawn-out story." "I'd love to hear it." "I know, but I"-Grissom was startled by the sound of a shrill whistle, alerting them that the vendor hall was opening for business. He watched through the sheet as Sara and her friend got up and walked to the hall; he could no longer hear their conversation.
He realized the butterfly necklace was still in his hand; he fingered it lovingly before putting it in his pocket and walking to the vendor hall.