Disclaimer…. These belong to the lovely CSI writers. Don't sue. Please. I have no money. You could sue, but I wouldn't be able to pay….
Author's note ***This is just a little bit of fuzz that I thought of whilst … don't laugh…. playing with my Grissom and Sara sims!***
Another shift was ending, and the sun was coming up over the Vegas strip, showing everything in the harsh light of day.
Gil Grissom walked the halls of the Bureau, slightly elated, as he always felt after putting a case to bed. He nodded to Greg as he passed him, and Greg gave him a salute.
He passed the lounge, casting a glance into it. It was at least three or four steps before he realised what he had seen. He backtracked, and peered in through the window.
Sara… and she was quite clearly asleep.
He checked his watch. It was a couple of hours since he and Sara had finished the case, and before that they had worked flat out, pulling doubles to keep the case hot.
He pushed the door open silently, and just watched her for a moment.
Her gentle breaths made him smile. God, you're beautiful, he thought, the smile turning wistful.
He walked across to the coffee pot, pouring a little into a cup.
Gently, he moved back to her, the coffee steaming like black gold.
He sat down opposite her, resting the cup on the table. Again, he let his eyes dance over her, and he felt a pang, mostly the feeling that they would never… no, could never… be anything more than just colleagues, friends.
She shifted uncomfortably in her sleep, but didn't wake fully. She was one, Grissom knew, for sleeping fitfully. If he hung around any longer, she would wake and find him here, watching her.
Quickly, he stood up. Then a thought occurred to him.
Should he wake her? She really didn't look that comfortable. He toyed with the idea for a moment. Then, he decided to bite the bullet.
He gently squeezed her shoulder. "Sara?"
She blearily opened her eyes, blinking sleep away.
He smiled. "Hey."
She sat up and stretched. "What time is it?"
"Gone two. Why don't you go home?" He handed her the coffee. She thanked him and sipped, giving him a slight look of confusion over the brim of the cup.
"Shift doesn't finish for another six hours…"
He smiled. "We wrapped up the case. There is nothing to do here. Go home."
"But…"
"The boss is giving you the rest of the shift off. I think you should take it."
A sudden gleam appeared in her eye, but Grissom didn't know why. It may have been the caffeine.
"Well, is the boss having the rest of the shift off?"
Grissom tried to determine whether she was flirting with him. He decided she wasn't.
"I don't think so. I have a lot of paper-work to get through."
"Oh." She looked to the floor, then back up to him. "You should. You worked the case same as I did. I think you slept less, actually."
"Maybe. But you cracked it."
She blushed. "Thanks" She tilted her head from side to side, trying to work out the kink in her neck.
"Your neck hurts." He had meant it to be a thought, not for her ears, but he said it aloud.
She looked at him, startled by his observation. Usually, Grissom gave his bugs more attention than he dared to lavish on her. "Yeah, it does, actually. I may have been asleep here a while."
He stared at her in silence for a moment, then stood up and walked around behind her. She watched him with amazed eyes. A small shiver crawled down her back and back up, causing her body to tingle.
"Eyes forward, Sidle." His tone was light. There's nothing in this, he thought. She was in pain. He could help. Nothing more.
He shook his head almost indiscernibly. Liar.
As he held his hands out, he felt them tremble. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders. He felt her tense under his touch, and he almost pulled away. Something stopped him.
Was it the fact that touching her, being able to touch her, was what he wanted? He couldn't tell. The feeling in his hands was like ice and fire, both scalding and freezing.
The sensation was messing with his mind, and he was loosing clarity and good sense.
Despite his sudden lack of higher brain function, he allowed his hands to work the tendons and muscles in her shoulders loose, releasing the stress and the awkwardness from her. She soon became relaxed, allowing herself to get used to his touch.
Little did he know, she relished it. This simple yet confusing action from the enigma that is Gil Grissom made her heart soar. She sighed heavily, allowing herself to lean back in the chair.
"Are you ok?" Grissom asked. It was polite, unwilling to pry, but still made Sara tense once more. Did he want the truth? Could she tell him that she wasn't?
His hands never left her shoulders, kept moving, but he studied the back of her head, wishing he could see her face.
Silence had descended on the room, only the whir of the fridge could be heard.
"Sara?" This time it was more pressing. He was worried. The tone of his voice gave him away.
The case that they had worked together was a 419. Dead female in the desert. At first it had seemed routine. Till the autopsy. The Doc had told them of the abuse she had suffered. Not in the time leading up to her murder, but in the months, even years before.
These cases always got to her. He didn't know the reason, and he wasn't sure he ever would. They weren't as close as they used to be, that was obvious. But somewhere in their relationship, there was a little glimmer of… hope.
"Sara…"
She felt his hands slide off her shoulders, and she felt naked. His touch was creating such heat that she felt cold, even shivery when he took it away.
He walked around in front of her, and pulled a chair close, till there was barely room between them.
Now he chose to look her in the eye. Once their gazes connected, he realised there was no turning back now. No making excuses, no running away. They were here, they were together. They had connected for the first time in forever, it seemed.
"I'm here." Grissom's words were barely audible, but she heard them clearly.
When she spoke, Grissom leant in, anxious to catch every word.
"These cases, you know, they…" She paused. She had to muster up the courage to let him into her life. For so long she had let work be all she was. It was the only way, the only method she had found, to deal with what had happened.
She took a deep breath, and blinked slowly. "They remind me…" Again she stopped.
"Remind you? Of what?" He studied her eyes, those beautiful eyes, willing her to open up.
"Of what I... of what happened to me." She swallowed hard. "When you called me, when you called…" She zoned out, her eyes not really seeing.
"Sara?" She focused again. "Start at the beginning."