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 52
Sara sat in the rental car, chugging down the last of the large cup of coffee. She wanted to at least seem awake when she went in to greet Grissom. Showing up in bad shape two visits in a row would just upset him.
She'd been looking forward to this trip, and felt the idea of returning to Vegas wasn't bothering her. But her sleep had been shattered the last two nights by nightmares, the first time in weeks they'd occurred on consecutive evenings.
Was it just a coincidence? Thinking back over the last week, Sara couldn't remember any indications that she was nervous about returning. The flight didn't bother her, and she had no trouble going into a crowded convenience store for her caffeine supply, so it didn't seem like the idea of public attention bothered her.
Sara swallowed more of the bitter brew, hoping it wasn't the idea of seeing Grissom that had triggered the nightmares. True, one of them involved waking up in a roach-filled bed, but he'd been very understanding about her squeamishness around his pets.
He'd been very understanding about a lot of things. Sara smiled as she finished her drink and popped a breath mint. His visit last weekend had been nice. For the most part. There were a few times when it seemed he wanted to talk about something, but then he had backed off quickly.
Sara suspected he felt like he needed to say something about Jimmy's question involving kids. Personally, she was glad he hadn't brought it up; that was one issue she wasn't ready to talk about. They weren't anywhere near the point of making that type of decision, no matter what Jimmy thought.
A curious look crossed her face as she gathered up her bags. "Bring something nice," was all Grissom would tell her during a phone conversation the day before. She hoped the outfit would do. Lacking any specifics, she decided to play it safe with a simple black dress.
Sara knocked lightly as she let herself in, finding Grissom sitting on the couch. His smile was short-lived. Crossing the room, he took her bags and gently escorted her to the couch.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
"Just tired," she said, pressing herself closer to him.
Grissom slipped his arm around her shoulder. His worry increased when he felt the tightness in her muscles. Were they pushing things? She was much more relaxed when he went to visit her in California. He began to gently rub her back, eliciting a sigh from Sara.
"Anything wrong?"
"Not really. I'm fine."
"Sara, you don't look fine," Grissom stated softly.
"Just haven't slept well," she said with a shrug. "Nightmares."
"Come on," Grissom said, pulling her off the couch. "You're going to bed."
"You joining me?" Sara asked with a smirk.
"It wouldn't do my ego any good to have you fall asleep on me," he said lightly. "Besides, I have to work tonight."
"Spoilsport," she said with a yawn, stopping suddenly. Pulling away from Grissom, she turned around, quickly scanning the main living area of the apartment. The bookcases were all over the place. "Redecorating?"
"Not successfully," he sighed.
"Why do you have a fridge under your desk?"
"My blood bank," he said. "It's the only place it would fit."
Remembering her reaction to his experiments, Grissom had purchased the small refrigerator to store them in. Once home, he realized he had no idea where to put it. The kitchen didn't have the floor space. He didn't trust the wiring in the spare bedroom to handle the appliance, since there was already an abundance of fixtures running his various habitats. Even he knew better than to put his experiments in the master bedroom.
The only other option was the main living area. He had always liked the spaciousness the open floor plan gave, but now it was a deterrent. There weren't any corners to tuck things into. He'd tried moving the bookcases to partition off part of the room, but had only succeeded in blocking the flow of air, creating an overheated corner and giving himself a backache.
"Grissom," Sara said with a brief shake of her head. Her reaction on her last visit had been embarrassing enough. It was sweet that he did this, but she wished it hadn't been necessary. "You didn't have to do that. I'll pay for it."
"You don't have to do that," he countered, shooing her back towards the bedroom.
"If you want to fight about this, I have to warn you, I'm going to win," she said between yawns.
"We're not going to fight. I want you to feel at home here," he said, moving to pull back the covers on the bed as she went to unpack her bags. Once she had her pajamas out, Grissom turned her around to start undressing her.
"This is more like it," Sara said, wrapping her arms around his neck. He merely gave her a pointed look as he reached over to grab her nightclothes. "You really are a spoilsport."
He peppered her hair with kisses as he slipped the pajamas on her. Tucking her into bed, Grissom leaned over to give her a light kiss. "Tomorrow, we can play all you want."
"Promise?"
"Yes. But we have dinner reservations for 7 p.m."
"Sweet," she said, before falling to sleep.
~~~~~
Sara managed three hours of sleep before the ringing of the phone woke her up. Staggering into the living room she stopped herself just in time from answering it. True to her fears, the call turned out to be from an off-duty Brass, asking Grissom to call him when he got off work.
He probably wouldn't appreciate her announcing their relationship that way. From her e-mails with the others, she knew he still hadn't told them the truth. Would he expect them to keep it a secret if she returned to the lab? She didn't have any problems with being discreet, but she wasn't going to lie to her friends.
Sara checked the clock; Grissom must have just left for work a little while ago. Knowing she wouldn't get back to sleep, she headed to the kitchen to brew some coffee. Rummaging through the kitchen drawers, she found the tape measure, and proceeded to make a scaled drawing of the townhouse and its furniture. If he wanted to rearrange the furniture, the least she could do was make it easier on him.
When Grissom came home the next morning, she surprised him by joining him when he went to bed, taking a short nap. True to his word, the afternoon was pleasant, but they had stopped early enough to get ready for their date.
Sara studied herself in the mirror, turning her head first one way, then the other. She seldom got this dressed up, and always wondered if she did an acceptable job. Everything seemed okay. Putting on her jewelry, she left the bathroom.
"You know, 'something nice' is a little vague for a woman. You guys can wear the same suit to just about any occasion. We can't," she teased as she entered the bedroom. From Grissom's expression, she gathered he thought she looked acceptable. Walking over, she reached up to straighten his tie. "You look fine."
"You're beautiful," he stated.
She smiled, and then licked her lip nervously. Grissom's idea to go out for dinner was nice, but it did surprise her. "Where are we going? I mean, we won't be very discreet if we're seen in public."
"I doubt we'll run into anyone from work at L'Bonhomme," he said, pulling out the gift certificate Sara had given him a lifetime ago. "And if they do, I'll just tell them I'm trying to seduce you back to the lab."
"Is that what this has been about?" Sara asked in a mock-challenge.
"Of course. Why else would I go to this trouble?"
"I can show you later, if you behave."
He smiled and gave her a wink before escorting her to his car. Sara teased him with hints of things she could demonstrate on the drive across town. It was her turn to behave once they entered the restaurant. Despite Grissom's appraisal of her outfit, she felt underdressed. Her annual salary couldn't buy some of the jewelry worn by the other patrons.
The maitre d' directed them to a table in a quiet corner.
"No menus?" she asked when he left.
Grissom shook his head. "They're doing a sampler. We'll get small portions of a variety of items off the menu. Don't worry; I told them you were a vegetarian."
Their small talk was interrupted first by the waiter bringing the first tray of appetizers and wine, and then later by the owner. He insisted on thanking Sara repeatedly for her service to the community, much to her embarrassment. Grissom gave her knee a reassuring squeeze under the table, earning him a grateful smile.
The appetizers were followed by small samplings of soup, salads and then the entrees. If it wasn't for the attentions from the owner, Sara felt it would have been the most romantic night of her life. The food and wines were incredible, the music was beautiful, and she was with Grissom.
His cell phone interrupted her reverie. Shrugging apologetically, he ignored the disgusted glares from the other patrons. Sara shrugged sadly as he lost the battle with Brass. "I've got to go. Bugs," he said, pulling out his wallet. "You stay and finish dessert. Here's money for a cab. I'll come home as soon as I can. You have your key? Good. Sorry about this."
"It's okay, Grissom. I understand," she said, mustering a smile. After enduring the sympathies of the owner, Sara finally escaped from the restaurant. She paced restlessly outside the building as she waited for her cab. At least she hadn't blown up at the owner, even if his attentions had made her uncomfortable.
Getting back to the townhouse, she changed into a pair of sweats and pulled out her journal. Starting at the beginning, she tracked her progress since the accident, looking for techniques that had been successful in calming her down. She could feel the tension rising. The last thing she wanted to do was snap at Grissom.
~~~~~
"Brass, this had better be good," Grissom said as he entered the run-down apartment.
The police captain did a brief double take when he saw the entomologist's attire, but the expected comeback never appeared. "Rennie James resides here with her two children, ages 2 and 7 months, and a some-times boyfriend. Neighbors hadn't seen the James family in days, then they noticed the smell. They called the landlord to complain. He called us," the police captain said, leading Grissom into a sealed-off apartment. "The place is crawling with these things."
Grissom took off his glasses as he bent over to observe the beetles more closely. "Dermestes maculatus", he sighed, closing his eyes. This was going to be a long night.
~~~~~
It was nearly dawn before he came home. From his downtrodden expression, she was certain it must have been a bad case. Setting her journal on the couch, she watched him carefully. "Hey. Want some coffee?"
"No."
Sara blinked at his harsh tone. He rarely showed his aggravation so openly.
"What's wrong?" she asked in concern.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said after a moment's hesitation.
"What me to fix you some breakfast?"
"No!" Grissom snapped, heading into the kitchen.
Sara followed him, wrapping her arms around herself as she leaned against a counter. "Can I do anything?"
He shook his head as he pulled down a glass.
Sara crossed into the room to stand behind him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He shrugged it off. Trying to lighten the mood, she gave him a smile. "So, what's your pulse at now?"
"I'm not in the mood for games right now. Could you get out of my way?" he sighed, subtly pushing her aside to pull a bottle of scotch from the cabinet.
Staring at him, she felt her own pulse quicken. Sara bit back her response. She wasn't going to cause another scene, no matter how much he pissed her off. Something terrible had to happen to get him this upset; she wasn't going to add to it.
Taking a long sip of his drink, Grissom walked over to his desk, looking for something. "Dammit, Sara. Where did you put my files?"
"They're on top of the monitor," she said evenly.
"I'd appreciate it if you left my things alone."
"You told me I could move those out of my way if I needed to use the computer," she pointed out. At his disbelieving grunt, she glared at him. She started to make a comment, but changed her mind. Shaking her head, Sara went into the bedroom and quickly packed her bag.
Grissom stared at her as she headed for the door. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to a motel. There's one up by the turn-off," she snapped, before closing her eyes to count silently to 10. "Look, I'm in a bad mood, you're in a bad mood. We're just going to fight if I stay here. I want us to still be on speaking terms later. You need to go stroke your spider, or whatever the hell it is you do to relax. We'll talk later."
He let out a disgusted sigh, and gave her a pointed look. "That place is a dump. Put your things away. You're not going," Grissom stated, before heading to the bathroom. When he came out, it was to an empty home.
"Dammit," he swore. On top everything else tonight, he had to deal with her anger. Sinking into the couch, he stopped when he felt something. Reaching around, he pulled out the book, swearing again. Didn't she know you ruined the spines of books by laying them flat like that?
Taking another swig of his drink, he turned the book over. He didn't recognize it. A bit of handwriting was on the top of the left-hand page.
"I do love him, but I wonder if that's enough. I can't imagine we can have any type of future together, unless …"
Grissom closed the book quickly, once he realized it was Sara's journal. She must have been writing in it when he came in. He couldn't imagine her not finishing a thought like that. He dropped it on the coffee table and finished his drink.
She didn't think they had a future? Why? He picked the journal back up. The earlier entries might explain her concerns. With a disgusted grunt, he dropped it again. He couldn't read that. Sara would never forgive him. Hell, he'd probably never forgive himself.
Sara left him. She didn't think they had a future, unless he did something. But what? His attention went back to the journal, and he swore. Getting off the couch, he headed towards the kitchen. How did he get himself in this mess?
How was he going to get himself out of it?
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 52
Sara sat in the rental car, chugging down the last of the large cup of coffee. She wanted to at least seem awake when she went in to greet Grissom. Showing up in bad shape two visits in a row would just upset him.
She'd been looking forward to this trip, and felt the idea of returning to Vegas wasn't bothering her. But her sleep had been shattered the last two nights by nightmares, the first time in weeks they'd occurred on consecutive evenings.
Was it just a coincidence? Thinking back over the last week, Sara couldn't remember any indications that she was nervous about returning. The flight didn't bother her, and she had no trouble going into a crowded convenience store for her caffeine supply, so it didn't seem like the idea of public attention bothered her.
Sara swallowed more of the bitter brew, hoping it wasn't the idea of seeing Grissom that had triggered the nightmares. True, one of them involved waking up in a roach-filled bed, but he'd been very understanding about her squeamishness around his pets.
He'd been very understanding about a lot of things. Sara smiled as she finished her drink and popped a breath mint. His visit last weekend had been nice. For the most part. There were a few times when it seemed he wanted to talk about something, but then he had backed off quickly.
Sara suspected he felt like he needed to say something about Jimmy's question involving kids. Personally, she was glad he hadn't brought it up; that was one issue she wasn't ready to talk about. They weren't anywhere near the point of making that type of decision, no matter what Jimmy thought.
A curious look crossed her face as she gathered up her bags. "Bring something nice," was all Grissom would tell her during a phone conversation the day before. She hoped the outfit would do. Lacking any specifics, she decided to play it safe with a simple black dress.
Sara knocked lightly as she let herself in, finding Grissom sitting on the couch. His smile was short-lived. Crossing the room, he took her bags and gently escorted her to the couch.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
"Just tired," she said, pressing herself closer to him.
Grissom slipped his arm around her shoulder. His worry increased when he felt the tightness in her muscles. Were they pushing things? She was much more relaxed when he went to visit her in California. He began to gently rub her back, eliciting a sigh from Sara.
"Anything wrong?"
"Not really. I'm fine."
"Sara, you don't look fine," Grissom stated softly.
"Just haven't slept well," she said with a shrug. "Nightmares."
"Come on," Grissom said, pulling her off the couch. "You're going to bed."
"You joining me?" Sara asked with a smirk.
"It wouldn't do my ego any good to have you fall asleep on me," he said lightly. "Besides, I have to work tonight."
"Spoilsport," she said with a yawn, stopping suddenly. Pulling away from Grissom, she turned around, quickly scanning the main living area of the apartment. The bookcases were all over the place. "Redecorating?"
"Not successfully," he sighed.
"Why do you have a fridge under your desk?"
"My blood bank," he said. "It's the only place it would fit."
Remembering her reaction to his experiments, Grissom had purchased the small refrigerator to store them in. Once home, he realized he had no idea where to put it. The kitchen didn't have the floor space. He didn't trust the wiring in the spare bedroom to handle the appliance, since there was already an abundance of fixtures running his various habitats. Even he knew better than to put his experiments in the master bedroom.
The only other option was the main living area. He had always liked the spaciousness the open floor plan gave, but now it was a deterrent. There weren't any corners to tuck things into. He'd tried moving the bookcases to partition off part of the room, but had only succeeded in blocking the flow of air, creating an overheated corner and giving himself a backache.
"Grissom," Sara said with a brief shake of her head. Her reaction on her last visit had been embarrassing enough. It was sweet that he did this, but she wished it hadn't been necessary. "You didn't have to do that. I'll pay for it."
"You don't have to do that," he countered, shooing her back towards the bedroom.
"If you want to fight about this, I have to warn you, I'm going to win," she said between yawns.
"We're not going to fight. I want you to feel at home here," he said, moving to pull back the covers on the bed as she went to unpack her bags. Once she had her pajamas out, Grissom turned her around to start undressing her.
"This is more like it," Sara said, wrapping her arms around his neck. He merely gave her a pointed look as he reached over to grab her nightclothes. "You really are a spoilsport."
He peppered her hair with kisses as he slipped the pajamas on her. Tucking her into bed, Grissom leaned over to give her a light kiss. "Tomorrow, we can play all you want."
"Promise?"
"Yes. But we have dinner reservations for 7 p.m."
"Sweet," she said, before falling to sleep.
~~~~~
Sara managed three hours of sleep before the ringing of the phone woke her up. Staggering into the living room she stopped herself just in time from answering it. True to her fears, the call turned out to be from an off-duty Brass, asking Grissom to call him when he got off work.
He probably wouldn't appreciate her announcing their relationship that way. From her e-mails with the others, she knew he still hadn't told them the truth. Would he expect them to keep it a secret if she returned to the lab? She didn't have any problems with being discreet, but she wasn't going to lie to her friends.
Sara checked the clock; Grissom must have just left for work a little while ago. Knowing she wouldn't get back to sleep, she headed to the kitchen to brew some coffee. Rummaging through the kitchen drawers, she found the tape measure, and proceeded to make a scaled drawing of the townhouse and its furniture. If he wanted to rearrange the furniture, the least she could do was make it easier on him.
When Grissom came home the next morning, she surprised him by joining him when he went to bed, taking a short nap. True to his word, the afternoon was pleasant, but they had stopped early enough to get ready for their date.
Sara studied herself in the mirror, turning her head first one way, then the other. She seldom got this dressed up, and always wondered if she did an acceptable job. Everything seemed okay. Putting on her jewelry, she left the bathroom.
"You know, 'something nice' is a little vague for a woman. You guys can wear the same suit to just about any occasion. We can't," she teased as she entered the bedroom. From Grissom's expression, she gathered he thought she looked acceptable. Walking over, she reached up to straighten his tie. "You look fine."
"You're beautiful," he stated.
She smiled, and then licked her lip nervously. Grissom's idea to go out for dinner was nice, but it did surprise her. "Where are we going? I mean, we won't be very discreet if we're seen in public."
"I doubt we'll run into anyone from work at L'Bonhomme," he said, pulling out the gift certificate Sara had given him a lifetime ago. "And if they do, I'll just tell them I'm trying to seduce you back to the lab."
"Is that what this has been about?" Sara asked in a mock-challenge.
"Of course. Why else would I go to this trouble?"
"I can show you later, if you behave."
He smiled and gave her a wink before escorting her to his car. Sara teased him with hints of things she could demonstrate on the drive across town. It was her turn to behave once they entered the restaurant. Despite Grissom's appraisal of her outfit, she felt underdressed. Her annual salary couldn't buy some of the jewelry worn by the other patrons.
The maitre d' directed them to a table in a quiet corner.
"No menus?" she asked when he left.
Grissom shook his head. "They're doing a sampler. We'll get small portions of a variety of items off the menu. Don't worry; I told them you were a vegetarian."
Their small talk was interrupted first by the waiter bringing the first tray of appetizers and wine, and then later by the owner. He insisted on thanking Sara repeatedly for her service to the community, much to her embarrassment. Grissom gave her knee a reassuring squeeze under the table, earning him a grateful smile.
The appetizers were followed by small samplings of soup, salads and then the entrees. If it wasn't for the attentions from the owner, Sara felt it would have been the most romantic night of her life. The food and wines were incredible, the music was beautiful, and she was with Grissom.
His cell phone interrupted her reverie. Shrugging apologetically, he ignored the disgusted glares from the other patrons. Sara shrugged sadly as he lost the battle with Brass. "I've got to go. Bugs," he said, pulling out his wallet. "You stay and finish dessert. Here's money for a cab. I'll come home as soon as I can. You have your key? Good. Sorry about this."
"It's okay, Grissom. I understand," she said, mustering a smile. After enduring the sympathies of the owner, Sara finally escaped from the restaurant. She paced restlessly outside the building as she waited for her cab. At least she hadn't blown up at the owner, even if his attentions had made her uncomfortable.
Getting back to the townhouse, she changed into a pair of sweats and pulled out her journal. Starting at the beginning, she tracked her progress since the accident, looking for techniques that had been successful in calming her down. She could feel the tension rising. The last thing she wanted to do was snap at Grissom.
~~~~~
"Brass, this had better be good," Grissom said as he entered the run-down apartment.
The police captain did a brief double take when he saw the entomologist's attire, but the expected comeback never appeared. "Rennie James resides here with her two children, ages 2 and 7 months, and a some-times boyfriend. Neighbors hadn't seen the James family in days, then they noticed the smell. They called the landlord to complain. He called us," the police captain said, leading Grissom into a sealed-off apartment. "The place is crawling with these things."
Grissom took off his glasses as he bent over to observe the beetles more closely. "Dermestes maculatus", he sighed, closing his eyes. This was going to be a long night.
~~~~~
It was nearly dawn before he came home. From his downtrodden expression, she was certain it must have been a bad case. Setting her journal on the couch, she watched him carefully. "Hey. Want some coffee?"
"No."
Sara blinked at his harsh tone. He rarely showed his aggravation so openly.
"What's wrong?" she asked in concern.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said after a moment's hesitation.
"What me to fix you some breakfast?"
"No!" Grissom snapped, heading into the kitchen.
Sara followed him, wrapping her arms around herself as she leaned against a counter. "Can I do anything?"
He shook his head as he pulled down a glass.
Sara crossed into the room to stand behind him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He shrugged it off. Trying to lighten the mood, she gave him a smile. "So, what's your pulse at now?"
"I'm not in the mood for games right now. Could you get out of my way?" he sighed, subtly pushing her aside to pull a bottle of scotch from the cabinet.
Staring at him, she felt her own pulse quicken. Sara bit back her response. She wasn't going to cause another scene, no matter how much he pissed her off. Something terrible had to happen to get him this upset; she wasn't going to add to it.
Taking a long sip of his drink, Grissom walked over to his desk, looking for something. "Dammit, Sara. Where did you put my files?"
"They're on top of the monitor," she said evenly.
"I'd appreciate it if you left my things alone."
"You told me I could move those out of my way if I needed to use the computer," she pointed out. At his disbelieving grunt, she glared at him. She started to make a comment, but changed her mind. Shaking her head, Sara went into the bedroom and quickly packed her bag.
Grissom stared at her as she headed for the door. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to a motel. There's one up by the turn-off," she snapped, before closing her eyes to count silently to 10. "Look, I'm in a bad mood, you're in a bad mood. We're just going to fight if I stay here. I want us to still be on speaking terms later. You need to go stroke your spider, or whatever the hell it is you do to relax. We'll talk later."
He let out a disgusted sigh, and gave her a pointed look. "That place is a dump. Put your things away. You're not going," Grissom stated, before heading to the bathroom. When he came out, it was to an empty home.
"Dammit," he swore. On top everything else tonight, he had to deal with her anger. Sinking into the couch, he stopped when he felt something. Reaching around, he pulled out the book, swearing again. Didn't she know you ruined the spines of books by laying them flat like that?
Taking another swig of his drink, he turned the book over. He didn't recognize it. A bit of handwriting was on the top of the left-hand page.
"I do love him, but I wonder if that's enough. I can't imagine we can have any type of future together, unless …"
Grissom closed the book quickly, once he realized it was Sara's journal. She must have been writing in it when he came in. He couldn't imagine her not finishing a thought like that. He dropped it on the coffee table and finished his drink.
She didn't think they had a future? Why? He picked the journal back up. The earlier entries might explain her concerns. With a disgusted grunt, he dropped it again. He couldn't read that. Sara would never forgive him. Hell, he'd probably never forgive himself.
Sara left him. She didn't think they had a future, unless he did something. But what? His attention went back to the journal, and he swore. Getting off the couch, he headed towards the kitchen. How did he get himself in this mess?
How was he going to get himself out of it?