Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.
Chapter 46
Sara stood outside the doorway, trying to calm her nerves. The flight from California had been hideous, and she was feeling the stress. Taking a deep breath, she told herself this shouldn't be a difficult decision.
Grissom had sent her a house key by FedEx as a precaution. Things had been hectic at the lab, and he wasn't sure he'd be home when she got there. His car was parked out front, though, but she couldn't decide whether she should knock or just let herself in.
Deciding to err on the side of politeness, she knocked, trying to work up a believable smile. Grissom answered the door with a confused look, but smiled when he recognized her. He was talking on the phone, but took her bag as he escorted her towards the bedroom.
"Well, leave the intestines in the oven for now. Once the gas company disconnects the unit, disassemble it and bring it into the lab," he said, shaking his head apologetically. Sara gave him an understanding nod. She smiled when he pointed out the open dresser drawer, which he'd emptied out for her to use.
"O'Riley, I don't care how much he complains. Do it. It's not like he's going to have any customers once they find out what his pizza oven was used to cook," Grissom said, leaving her alone to unpack, giving her a brief one-armed hug as he muttered more instructions.
She froze momentarily when she saw the terrarium of cockroaches next to the bed. "Probably some hissing variety he's trained as an alarm clock," she groused quietly. After quickly checking that there was nothing equally disgusting on the other side of the bed, Sara made a mental note to make sure Grissom slept beside the roaches. If that were the first thing she saw when she woke up, the bugs wouldn't have a long life expectancy.
Heading back into the main area, she found Grissom sipping a mug of coffee. She smiled as she found her plants, thriving under the care being lavished upon them. Walking over, she wrapped her arms around him for a proper greeting. The phone started ringing shortly after their first kiss.
"Damn. There's coffee made. Or there's juice and water in the fridge if you prefer," he said as he crossed back to the phone.
"Thanks. Caffeine's the last thing I need right now," she said, ignoring his concerned look.
"Grissom," he said automatically, barely listening to Nick's findings. Sara had been awfully tense, and he wondered if something was wrong. Seeing her pale and slam the refrigerator door, he quickly hung up. "I'll call you later."
Walking quickly into the kitchen area, he gently grasped her shoulders, but she pulled away from him angrily.
"Jesus Christ, Grissom! Blood. You keep blood in your fridge," she shouted, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's bad enough you keep the damn bugs by the bed, but what the hell do you have growing in there?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to hold her. It had been a while since he'd seen her this upset. Maybe coming back to Vegas hadn't been a good idea. Then it hit him: blood. "You okay? Did the blood cause a flashback?"
She stopped her pacing to give her a startled look. After a moment she pulled away, blushing deeply.
"Sorry," she whispered. "No, it didn't cause a flashback. It's just gross. I'm sorry. I … I'm upset, I didn't mean to take it out on you."
He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. "Don't worry about it. What's wrong?"
"The flight was bad. It got me stressed," was all she would say, stepping away from him.
"Are you all right? Do you want to go back?" he asked hesitantly. Grissom could tell she was trying to get herself back under control, but was unsure what he could do to help.
"No! I'm sorry, I, no, I don't want to go. I can, if you want …"
"I don't," he began, swearing as his phone started ringing again.
"Just go, Grissom. They need you. I understand."
"Sara," he said softly.
"It's all right. I'm sorry I yelled. Don't worry about me," she said, walking with him to the door, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before he left. "Give me a call before you leave, okay? We'll have breakfast together."
~~~~~
"What are you doing?"
Grissom looked up from the office refrigerator to find Catherine watching him curiously. He'd been shifting through the various containers, trying to see how much space he could clear out. "I need room for some experiments …"
"Oh, no! No way, Gil! You're not putting any more of your experiments in there! Use your own fridge for that damn crap! It's disgusting," she exclaimed.
He pulled off his glasses and watched as she stormed out of the break room. Given the leeway all the staff members had been showing him recently, the display was especially revealing. Did people really object to his experiments?
It wasn't like Catherine was the cleanest person in the world. With her hours and raising a child by herself, he'd seen more than one sink full of dishes at her house. Sara, on the other hand, traveled with her own supply of nonoxynol-9. If Catherine found it objectionable, no wonder Sara had been upset.
He rubbed his temples as he headed back to the Layout Room. Some of those experiments had been going on for months; he'd hated the idea of having to throw them away.
~~~~~
The first thing that greeted him when he entered his townhouse were the smells. Coffee was immediately identifiable, but the others weren't as clear. Whatever they were, his stomach was responding positively.
Following his nose, he discovered Sara in the kitchen, quickly slicing various fruits into a large bowl. She gave him a sheepish look when he walked in.
"Don't get used to this. I'm not planning on making a habit of having to cook apology-breakfasts," she said sternly.
He watched as the knife expertly flew around the cutting board. Sara obviously had experience in the kitchen, despite her well-known aversion to cooking. He was nervous, though; she was obviously still tense, and he worried she'd hurt herself.
Grissom gave her a smile as he went to locate the source of the aromas. "It smells delicious."
"Thanks. French toast," she said, pointing to the oven. He cocked his head in confusion. "Trick we learned at the B&B. It's easier to bake it, rather than cook each piece individually."
He did a double take as he saw the large pan full of slices of bread. "I only know how to cook for a crowd. You can't cut the recipe down. Don't worry, it reheats well. We can have it the rest of the weekend," she said, the warning clear in her tone.
Walking around the island, he gave her another smile. Grissom paused when he saw the cooler sitting in the corner. Opening it, he found his various petri dishes and vials neatly packed among the ice. Opening the fridge, a faint odor of bleach greeted him.
"Sorry. That was just too gross, Grissom. I couldn't have eaten anything that was stored in there," she said softly.
"It's okay," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't have time to clear that out before you got here. I should have known you wouldn't like it."
Sara gave him a noncommittal shrug, blowing away a loose strand of hair from her face. Grissom watched her carefully; noting she seemed tired. He did a quick scan of the living area. The cooler was new; his was locked in the storage area. He'd never made it to the grocery store; Sara must have gone shopping, as well as sanitizing the kitchen. Her laptop and a selection of files were sitting on the dining room table, indicating she had been working throughout the night.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly, planting a kiss on her cheek.
She set down the knife and braced her arms on the counter. "Of all the damn flights that come into Vegas full of tourists, I get on one with someone who recognized me," she exclaimed. "Worse than that, his neighbor's great-niece went to the same school as those kids. He wouldn't let it go, Grissom. The whole flight, he kept telling people about it. There wasn't anything I could do. I think I know how a claustrophobic feels now. Finally, one of the other passengers told him to shut up, that he was embarrassing me. I don't know which was worse."
He gently pulled her back against him. This time, she leaned back, wrapping her arms over top of his. "I am sorry for yelling at you," she said contritely.
"Shhh. Weren't you able to sleep?" he asked, moving to place a series of kisses along her neck.
"I didn't try," she purred, tilting her head to give him better access.
"Why not?"
She turned to give him a shy smile. "I wanted to sleep with you."
"Really?" he questioned lightly.
"Really." Her seductive smile was ruined by the yawn. "After we sleep. Which isn't until after we eat. Let me finish this. You go entertain yourself," she said with a wink.
He grinned as he walked into the bedroom to grab the terrarium of roaches. Sara hadn't liked them for some reason, so he decided to move them. Finding a new location was the problem. The spare bedroom was already full of various collections and habitats.
Moving to set the terrarium on the kitchen counter, he stopped when Sara pointed the knife at him, motioning him to step away. He shrugged an apology; if she didn't like bugs in the bedroom, he should have guessed that putting them in the kitchen wouldn't be acceptable.
"Just stick them some place where they can't watch us," she sighed.
Walking into the living room, he wondered if he could find room for them on one of the bookcases. Those were full, also. His desk was covered with various materials; no wonder Sara had to work at the table. This place was too small for both of them to live here, he realized.
Grissom stopped suddenly, his heart beating nervously. That thought had been unexpected. He turned to watch as she finished fixing the fruit salad. Would she want to move in with him if she came back to Las Vegas? Did he want her to? What other changes would he need to make? How soon should he wait before asking? It was too soon, now, they were still getting used to sharing time together occasionally.
This wasn't an area he really had much experience in, but he suspected it the experiments could be fun.
Grinning, he carried the roaches back to the bedroom, sticking them in a corner, and covering the tank with a towel he grabbed from the linen closet. He'd have to make sure to give Sara his own apology later.
~~~~~
Sara let out a final contented sigh as Grissom pulled her against his body. That had been fantastic. When they first made love, he'd surprised her with how tender he could be. Tonight, he showed his stamina.
"Wow," was all she could get the breath to say, as she ran her fingers across his ribcage.
"Enjoy yourself?" Grissom asked lightly.
"Repeatedly," she said happily. "If I were a cat, I'd be purring."
"Good thing you're not. Cats purr when they want attention. And I'm exhausted," he said, capturing her hand to bring it to his lips for a kiss.
Sara leaned over him to watch his face. Pulling her hand free, she wiped away some of the sweat, before moving in to kiss him. He had been amazing, but he looked entirely too smug.
"So what did you do? Recite baseball statistics?" she teased.
"No. I reviewed all the taxonomical and physiological information I could remember about the 23 species of scorpions indigenous to Nevada."
"Ughh. Grissom! You really know how to ruin the mood, don't you," she said, dropping her head to his chest.
He panicked. Sara didn't like scorpions either? An idea popped into his head, as he ran his hand over her back.
"Well, what if I said there were 23 members of the Theclinae subfamily in Nevada?"
She lifted her head up, raising an eyebrow warily. "Theclinae?"
"Hairstreaks. A type of gossamer-wing butterfly," he said hopefully.
She smiled. "That's better."
"Well, there are 25 members of Pyrginae; those are spread-wing skippers. And there's 27 each of the blues, Polyommatinae and the Pierinae family, the whites and sulphurs."
She gave him a challenging look. "Do you know as much about butterflies as you do scorpions?"
"More," he said quickly.
"Bonus," she said sweetly, kissing him.
Grissom wrapped his other arm around her as she deepened the kisses. With a groan, he broke away. "But not any time soon," he said sadly. "There is a disadvantage to being with an older man, Sara."
"That's not a problem," she said, snuggling into his chest. "I prefer quality to quantity. And you so have quality down."
He draped an arm lazily across her shoulders, holding her while he caught his breath. After a while, he rolled over so he was facing her. Reaching up, he tenderly brushed away a lock of hair. Starting with her lips, he kissed his way over to her ear.
"I love you," he whispered nervously, waiting for her reaction. He didn't have to wait long. After a startled look, she smiled bashfully.
"Good. Hate to think I was the only one for felt that way."
"You're a narcissist?" he teased, relieved that she wasn't rejecting him.
"No. I love you, too," she stated firmly. "I really do."
Smiling, he pulled her close for another kiss, running his hands over her body. When he moved to fondle her breasts, she broke away.
"You cannot be ready to go again," she stated, but with a trace of hope.
"No," he admitted.
She playfully slapped his hand away. "Then don't get me riled up until you're in a position to do something about it."
Grissom smiled. He had intended to fix her a nice dinner as part of his apology, but there was plenty of french toast left over. A better idea had formed; just because he wasn't ready, didn't mean she had to wait. He kissed her passionately, rolling over on top of her, before pulling back to settle between her legs.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting in a position to do something about it," he promised, running his hands up her thighs.
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.
Chapter 46
Sara stood outside the doorway, trying to calm her nerves. The flight from California had been hideous, and she was feeling the stress. Taking a deep breath, she told herself this shouldn't be a difficult decision.
Grissom had sent her a house key by FedEx as a precaution. Things had been hectic at the lab, and he wasn't sure he'd be home when she got there. His car was parked out front, though, but she couldn't decide whether she should knock or just let herself in.
Deciding to err on the side of politeness, she knocked, trying to work up a believable smile. Grissom answered the door with a confused look, but smiled when he recognized her. He was talking on the phone, but took her bag as he escorted her towards the bedroom.
"Well, leave the intestines in the oven for now. Once the gas company disconnects the unit, disassemble it and bring it into the lab," he said, shaking his head apologetically. Sara gave him an understanding nod. She smiled when he pointed out the open dresser drawer, which he'd emptied out for her to use.
"O'Riley, I don't care how much he complains. Do it. It's not like he's going to have any customers once they find out what his pizza oven was used to cook," Grissom said, leaving her alone to unpack, giving her a brief one-armed hug as he muttered more instructions.
She froze momentarily when she saw the terrarium of cockroaches next to the bed. "Probably some hissing variety he's trained as an alarm clock," she groused quietly. After quickly checking that there was nothing equally disgusting on the other side of the bed, Sara made a mental note to make sure Grissom slept beside the roaches. If that were the first thing she saw when she woke up, the bugs wouldn't have a long life expectancy.
Heading back into the main area, she found Grissom sipping a mug of coffee. She smiled as she found her plants, thriving under the care being lavished upon them. Walking over, she wrapped her arms around him for a proper greeting. The phone started ringing shortly after their first kiss.
"Damn. There's coffee made. Or there's juice and water in the fridge if you prefer," he said as he crossed back to the phone.
"Thanks. Caffeine's the last thing I need right now," she said, ignoring his concerned look.
"Grissom," he said automatically, barely listening to Nick's findings. Sara had been awfully tense, and he wondered if something was wrong. Seeing her pale and slam the refrigerator door, he quickly hung up. "I'll call you later."
Walking quickly into the kitchen area, he gently grasped her shoulders, but she pulled away from him angrily.
"Jesus Christ, Grissom! Blood. You keep blood in your fridge," she shouted, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's bad enough you keep the damn bugs by the bed, but what the hell do you have growing in there?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to hold her. It had been a while since he'd seen her this upset. Maybe coming back to Vegas hadn't been a good idea. Then it hit him: blood. "You okay? Did the blood cause a flashback?"
She stopped her pacing to give her a startled look. After a moment she pulled away, blushing deeply.
"Sorry," she whispered. "No, it didn't cause a flashback. It's just gross. I'm sorry. I … I'm upset, I didn't mean to take it out on you."
He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. "Don't worry about it. What's wrong?"
"The flight was bad. It got me stressed," was all she would say, stepping away from him.
"Are you all right? Do you want to go back?" he asked hesitantly. Grissom could tell she was trying to get herself back under control, but was unsure what he could do to help.
"No! I'm sorry, I, no, I don't want to go. I can, if you want …"
"I don't," he began, swearing as his phone started ringing again.
"Just go, Grissom. They need you. I understand."
"Sara," he said softly.
"It's all right. I'm sorry I yelled. Don't worry about me," she said, walking with him to the door, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before he left. "Give me a call before you leave, okay? We'll have breakfast together."
~~~~~
"What are you doing?"
Grissom looked up from the office refrigerator to find Catherine watching him curiously. He'd been shifting through the various containers, trying to see how much space he could clear out. "I need room for some experiments …"
"Oh, no! No way, Gil! You're not putting any more of your experiments in there! Use your own fridge for that damn crap! It's disgusting," she exclaimed.
He pulled off his glasses and watched as she stormed out of the break room. Given the leeway all the staff members had been showing him recently, the display was especially revealing. Did people really object to his experiments?
It wasn't like Catherine was the cleanest person in the world. With her hours and raising a child by herself, he'd seen more than one sink full of dishes at her house. Sara, on the other hand, traveled with her own supply of nonoxynol-9. If Catherine found it objectionable, no wonder Sara had been upset.
He rubbed his temples as he headed back to the Layout Room. Some of those experiments had been going on for months; he'd hated the idea of having to throw them away.
~~~~~
The first thing that greeted him when he entered his townhouse were the smells. Coffee was immediately identifiable, but the others weren't as clear. Whatever they were, his stomach was responding positively.
Following his nose, he discovered Sara in the kitchen, quickly slicing various fruits into a large bowl. She gave him a sheepish look when he walked in.
"Don't get used to this. I'm not planning on making a habit of having to cook apology-breakfasts," she said sternly.
He watched as the knife expertly flew around the cutting board. Sara obviously had experience in the kitchen, despite her well-known aversion to cooking. He was nervous, though; she was obviously still tense, and he worried she'd hurt herself.
Grissom gave her a smile as he went to locate the source of the aromas. "It smells delicious."
"Thanks. French toast," she said, pointing to the oven. He cocked his head in confusion. "Trick we learned at the B&B. It's easier to bake it, rather than cook each piece individually."
He did a double take as he saw the large pan full of slices of bread. "I only know how to cook for a crowd. You can't cut the recipe down. Don't worry, it reheats well. We can have it the rest of the weekend," she said, the warning clear in her tone.
Walking around the island, he gave her another smile. Grissom paused when he saw the cooler sitting in the corner. Opening it, he found his various petri dishes and vials neatly packed among the ice. Opening the fridge, a faint odor of bleach greeted him.
"Sorry. That was just too gross, Grissom. I couldn't have eaten anything that was stored in there," she said softly.
"It's okay," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't have time to clear that out before you got here. I should have known you wouldn't like it."
Sara gave him a noncommittal shrug, blowing away a loose strand of hair from her face. Grissom watched her carefully; noting she seemed tired. He did a quick scan of the living area. The cooler was new; his was locked in the storage area. He'd never made it to the grocery store; Sara must have gone shopping, as well as sanitizing the kitchen. Her laptop and a selection of files were sitting on the dining room table, indicating she had been working throughout the night.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly, planting a kiss on her cheek.
She set down the knife and braced her arms on the counter. "Of all the damn flights that come into Vegas full of tourists, I get on one with someone who recognized me," she exclaimed. "Worse than that, his neighbor's great-niece went to the same school as those kids. He wouldn't let it go, Grissom. The whole flight, he kept telling people about it. There wasn't anything I could do. I think I know how a claustrophobic feels now. Finally, one of the other passengers told him to shut up, that he was embarrassing me. I don't know which was worse."
He gently pulled her back against him. This time, she leaned back, wrapping her arms over top of his. "I am sorry for yelling at you," she said contritely.
"Shhh. Weren't you able to sleep?" he asked, moving to place a series of kisses along her neck.
"I didn't try," she purred, tilting her head to give him better access.
"Why not?"
She turned to give him a shy smile. "I wanted to sleep with you."
"Really?" he questioned lightly.
"Really." Her seductive smile was ruined by the yawn. "After we sleep. Which isn't until after we eat. Let me finish this. You go entertain yourself," she said with a wink.
He grinned as he walked into the bedroom to grab the terrarium of roaches. Sara hadn't liked them for some reason, so he decided to move them. Finding a new location was the problem. The spare bedroom was already full of various collections and habitats.
Moving to set the terrarium on the kitchen counter, he stopped when Sara pointed the knife at him, motioning him to step away. He shrugged an apology; if she didn't like bugs in the bedroom, he should have guessed that putting them in the kitchen wouldn't be acceptable.
"Just stick them some place where they can't watch us," she sighed.
Walking into the living room, he wondered if he could find room for them on one of the bookcases. Those were full, also. His desk was covered with various materials; no wonder Sara had to work at the table. This place was too small for both of them to live here, he realized.
Grissom stopped suddenly, his heart beating nervously. That thought had been unexpected. He turned to watch as she finished fixing the fruit salad. Would she want to move in with him if she came back to Las Vegas? Did he want her to? What other changes would he need to make? How soon should he wait before asking? It was too soon, now, they were still getting used to sharing time together occasionally.
This wasn't an area he really had much experience in, but he suspected it the experiments could be fun.
Grinning, he carried the roaches back to the bedroom, sticking them in a corner, and covering the tank with a towel he grabbed from the linen closet. He'd have to make sure to give Sara his own apology later.
~~~~~
Sara let out a final contented sigh as Grissom pulled her against his body. That had been fantastic. When they first made love, he'd surprised her with how tender he could be. Tonight, he showed his stamina.
"Wow," was all she could get the breath to say, as she ran her fingers across his ribcage.
"Enjoy yourself?" Grissom asked lightly.
"Repeatedly," she said happily. "If I were a cat, I'd be purring."
"Good thing you're not. Cats purr when they want attention. And I'm exhausted," he said, capturing her hand to bring it to his lips for a kiss.
Sara leaned over him to watch his face. Pulling her hand free, she wiped away some of the sweat, before moving in to kiss him. He had been amazing, but he looked entirely too smug.
"So what did you do? Recite baseball statistics?" she teased.
"No. I reviewed all the taxonomical and physiological information I could remember about the 23 species of scorpions indigenous to Nevada."
"Ughh. Grissom! You really know how to ruin the mood, don't you," she said, dropping her head to his chest.
He panicked. Sara didn't like scorpions either? An idea popped into his head, as he ran his hand over her back.
"Well, what if I said there were 23 members of the Theclinae subfamily in Nevada?"
She lifted her head up, raising an eyebrow warily. "Theclinae?"
"Hairstreaks. A type of gossamer-wing butterfly," he said hopefully.
She smiled. "That's better."
"Well, there are 25 members of Pyrginae; those are spread-wing skippers. And there's 27 each of the blues, Polyommatinae and the Pierinae family, the whites and sulphurs."
She gave him a challenging look. "Do you know as much about butterflies as you do scorpions?"
"More," he said quickly.
"Bonus," she said sweetly, kissing him.
Grissom wrapped his other arm around her as she deepened the kisses. With a groan, he broke away. "But not any time soon," he said sadly. "There is a disadvantage to being with an older man, Sara."
"That's not a problem," she said, snuggling into his chest. "I prefer quality to quantity. And you so have quality down."
He draped an arm lazily across her shoulders, holding her while he caught his breath. After a while, he rolled over so he was facing her. Reaching up, he tenderly brushed away a lock of hair. Starting with her lips, he kissed his way over to her ear.
"I love you," he whispered nervously, waiting for her reaction. He didn't have to wait long. After a startled look, she smiled bashfully.
"Good. Hate to think I was the only one for felt that way."
"You're a narcissist?" he teased, relieved that she wasn't rejecting him.
"No. I love you, too," she stated firmly. "I really do."
Smiling, he pulled her close for another kiss, running his hands over her body. When he moved to fondle her breasts, she broke away.
"You cannot be ready to go again," she stated, but with a trace of hope.
"No," he admitted.
She playfully slapped his hand away. "Then don't get me riled up until you're in a position to do something about it."
Grissom smiled. He had intended to fix her a nice dinner as part of his apology, but there was plenty of french toast left over. A better idea had formed; just because he wasn't ready, didn't mean she had to wait. He kissed her passionately, rolling over on top of her, before pulling back to settle between her legs.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting in a position to do something about it," he promised, running his hands up her thighs.