Chapter 33

Grissom's eyes fluttered open a few hours later. Something was missing, he thought; after a few seconds he realized that it was Sara's warmth. Sitting up, he blinked. "Sara?" He jumped when her voice came from only a few inches away.

"Yeah, Grissom?" She was sitting on the bedroom floor, wearing his t-shirt and a pair of his boxers. And looking quite delicious, he mentally added as she stood up.

"What are you doing up at," he consulted the slightly blurry bedside clock, "four o'clock?"

She raised the book she was reading, showing him the cover to his ASL book. Then, laying the book on the night table, she tentatively opened her left hand and circled her right hand in an upside-down 'V' over it.

Grissom grinned. "Reading, huh? You'd rather read than sleep with me?"

Sara looked thoughtful for a moment, head cocked to the side. After a few seconds she shrugged and said with an answering smile, "I don't know how to sign 'hell no.' But you know I can never sleep for long stretches. You can go back to sleep if you want – I promise that I won't make any noise practicing my sign language." She smirked.

Grissom shrugged. Reaching for his glasses, he said thoughtfully, "No, I'm awake now."  As he settled the glasses on his face and turned back to Sara, he stopped. "Um . . . you're wearing glasses."

She raised an eyebrow at his incredulous tone. "I'm a geek, Grissom – what did you expect? I wear contacts most of the time, anyway, I just didn't feel like putting them in this morning."

He had to laugh. Sara was right, he shouldn't have been surprised. "Good point," he admitted gruffly. Then with a chuckle. "But mine are thicker, so there. Now . . . you want to practice some signing?"

Sara frowned. "I've only been reading for about an hour, Grissom – I don't think I'm quite good enough to carry on a conversation with you yet."

"You'd be surprised. They say that the best way to learn a language is total immersion, you know. Give it a try, Sara."

"Ooookay, Grissom. What do you want me to say?"

"Let's start by making you a sign. What would you like to incorporate?"

Sara shrugged. "Oh man, Grissom, I don't know. You have bugs and your first initial and hearing . . . there's not anything so clear-cut about me – well, except my initials."

"Oh, come on. You like computers, you read even more than I do. You hate spiders," he grinned, "and you're from California."

"I don't know the signs for any of that, Grissom!"

"But I do. Now, watch. Here's 'computer', 'book,' and 'California'," he said, demonstrating each. "And here's the letter 's'. So, take your pick."

Sara thought for a few minutes. "Ok I'm going to try this. Don't laugh."  She made a 'c'-shape with her right hand and ran it up and down her left forearm, paused for a moment trying to remember the next part, then brought her right arm up to her right ear, pointing to it and then forming a 'y'-shape. She ended with a slightly awkward attempt at the letter 's," fist clenched forward. Grimacing, she shook her head. "I told you I didn't know any of these signs yet, Grissom."

"That wasn't bad at all, Sara. It was a little jerky, but I could tell what you were signing – computer, California, the letter 's'. Not bad for a beginner."

"Oh thanks, old man. If I knew how to sign 'bitch,' I'd do it now!"

"I'll refrain from teaching you that one just yet, my dear. Now, watch me." He laid his hand across his chest, drew it across his face while smiling broadly, and finished with the sign they had just created for Sara.

She grinned, displaying the gap between her teeth that he found so adorable. "You called me beautiful!" Putting it together in her mind she signed it back to him, repeating out loud, "My . . . beautiful . . . Sara."

"It's true!" he asserted.

Smiling inwardly, Sara frowned thunderously at him. "I'll have you know that I don't belong to you or to anybody, Grissom!"

Uh-oh. "Um, I . . . I didn't mean to be insulting, Sara, really, it's just an idiom . . ."

"Oh shush, I'm kidding. Thank you for the compliment, Grissom." She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "Once I figure out how to return the compliment, I will. Now, what do you want to do for the rest of today? We've got a good 3 or 4 hours before work."

"Let's . . . let's go out, Sara. To lunch, or to a movie."

Sara looked at him. "Out? I, um, don't know of any movies I want to see."

"You go to movies with that Hank fellow, Sara. What's wrong with going to movies with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with going to the movies with you, Grissom. I just am kinda surprised that you want to go out at all. And I don't know if you'd really like the kinds of movies that are playing lately, the kind that Hank likes to see."

Ok, he'd admit it. He was jealous. Horribly, terribly jealous. "Fine, Sara. We don't have to go to the movies. Save that pastime for when you go out with your boyfriend," he spat.

Sara couldn't believe he'd said that. "Hank is NOT my boyfriend, Grissom!"

"Right, Sara. Fine. What the hell are you doing with me if you'd rather be out with him, anyway?"

"Who said I'd rather be out with him?" She was shouting by now. She hated it when people threw Hank in her face. All he had ever been was someone to get out of the house with, a way to tear herself away from her computer and her journals, but no one believed that. She'd told Grissom and the rest of the team every time they'd brought him up, but nooo, they were convinced she was using him as a sex toy or something. "Maybe I would rather be out with him, if he didn't throw YOU in my face. What would he care, it's not like you're my boyfriend either, Grissom!"

He flinched. "Then I repeat, Sara: why are you here?"

"You know what? You're right. Why AM I here? I'm leaving. Call me when you learn to trust me." She grabbed her clothes and pushed past him through the bedroom doorway. Grabbing her purse and keys, unmindful of the fact that she was still dressed in his clothes, Sara slammed out the door of Grissom's house.