Author: Unbound
Rating: PG
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Summary: The image is imprinted on her brain like the branding on cattle. Only, her scars are emotional, not physical.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just having a little fun.
Notes: Feedback is greatly appreciated. This is my first attempt at writing a CSI story so please be kind.
The sound of thunder fills the air, echoing into the distance like a rumbling train. She hates working on days like these; the combination of humidity and dampness always make an unpleasant combination, clinging to the body in all the wrong places. The rain is calming though; she wishes she could see a window right now and watch the drops of rain slowly fall down the pane, washing away the dirt in its path.
She sips her coffee slowly, fingers running absently over the rim of the paper cup. The coffee soothes her like a mother would a child, but she knows it offers only a temporary respite from reality.
She's exhausted; can't sleep, can't even think without the look on the victim's face coming back to haunt her. The image is imprinted on her brain like the branding on cattle. Only, her scars are emotional, not physical. She knows in time it'll leave her but that doesn't make the pain any easier right now.
It never does.
Jane Doe. It sounds so cold to her ears. Another unidentified victim, another person thrown out like a useless piece of trash. It infuriates and scares her. She's been a CSI for a while now, seen many horrors, re-enacted many crimes but it still never fails to amaze the things humans can do to one another. She's determined to catch the bastard that did this before he strikes again.
She's certain that he will.
The empty cup feels cold in her hands now, the final remnants of heat being absorbed into the palms of her hands. She looks fascinated by it, but she isn't. Not remotely. It's just another distraction from the images in her head. She knows why she becomes so attached to the victim's, so affected by the suffering they endured.
She's endured it before, too.
"Sara?" A voice behind her says as she gently places the cup back onto the table. The sound startles her slightly; she thought she'd be alone here for at least a little while longer. It's early, and she's the first one in from their shift, but she knows only too well the hours they all put in. She raises her head and looks behind her, feeling the strain it puts upon her neck. It's Grissom.
But then she knew that already.
He's staring down at her, an unusual look upon his face. She's pretty certain she has seen that expression before and wonders if she's in for another lecture, another talk about her life. Or, she contemplates, should that be lack of? But he doesn't say anything, simply sits down beside her with his own drink. Coke.
She wonders if the condensation on the glass matches the rain on the windows.
"Hey." She says quietly. Her smile is half hearted but that's all she can manage right now, even to him. She knows what he's trying to do and appreciates his company; if nothing else it's another distraction from the harsh reality of the case.
She remembers back to the time they first met, as she eagerly threw a barrage of questions at him. She was so excited then, so eager to learn. So happy. It seems like a lifetime ago now. She was in awe of him then, still is in a way. Now she wishes it could be that simple again, wishes it could be so uncomplicated.
Crimes, she can solve. She can piece together the clues from the scene to reach a scientific conclusion. Grissom, however, remains a mystery to her; he confuses, frustrates and thrills her in equal amounts. And she loves him for it. Probably more than he could ever begin to appreciate. She wonders sometimes if she's just a glutton for punishment, picking the wrong man who'll never return her feelings. But he's not, and she's sure he does, even if he's not able to figure it out fully yet.
Sometimes he says the most amazing things to her and she's certain he feels something.
He catches her gaze for a moment; he knows only too well the effect these cases have on her. Her once expressive face looks pale; her eyes are surrounded by dark shadows. Her state worries him in a way in which he knows it probably shouldn't, but then sometimes, being around her worries him. He knows the heart does not follow a logical pattern like one of his bugs would. It leaves him feeling vulnerable.
"Are you okay?" He asks, his voice breaking the silence in which they sit. The words feel foolish as they leave his lips; he knows the answer already.
There's a brief pause before she replies, a moment in which she considers what she should tell him. "Not really." She sighs eventually, pushing gently back onto her seat and waiting for his words of disapproval.
But they never leave his lips and she realises just how far they have come to be in this position.
It feels awkward to Sara; sitting together side by side, her shoulder now resting gently against his own. She's always liked sharing a close physical proximity with a person, that's just how she is. But with Grissom it feels different. It's like he wants to be as close to her as much as she wants him to. She takes comfort in just being next to him.
There's so much she wants to say but doesn't. Another rejection is just not one of those things she can handle right now.
"Sara?" He says, turning to look at her. His hand reaches out to cover hers on the wooden table, a move that takes her by surprise. "Be careful." He says in almost a whisper, as his thumb gently rubs against the back of her hand in a soothing circular motion. It's an incredibly intimate gesture on his part and in that one moment, as she holds his gaze, she wishes he would just say something, anything, to tell her how he feels.
But just as quickly as it's started, it's broken. He pulls away gently and looks towards the door. "We'll start at the Andersons." He announces, rising from his chair.
"Grissom?" When the word finally leaves her lips, she's not sure if it's a plea for him to stop or to go on.
"Yes?"
There's complete silence as they stare at each other. Finally, she says, "I just need to grab something from my locker." It's the first thing that comes to mind and, to her credit, is somewhat true; a change of shoes really wouldn't go amiss in this weather. But it's not the real reason.
With her legs feeling heavy beneath her, she rises from her seat slowly and heads for the door, turning briefly to look at the lone figure behind her.
He'll always be a mystery to her.
End