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 55
Grissom spent the short drive back to his home wondering how to approach Sara. He needed to know what the 'unless' comment in her journal meant. How to find out was the problem. He doubted she'd take it well if he came right out and admitted he had read her journal entry.
It may have been an accident, but he didn't feel like testing Sara's patience in her current mood. She may have forgiven him for following her to the motel, but he knew she was trying to maintain her emotional control. This could set her off.
Entering the townhouse, he found Sara in the kitchen, retrieving two bottles of water from the fridge. A box of donuts sat on the breakfast bar, along with some fruit. Sitting down on one of the barstools, he tried not to flinch under Sara's look. Her head was cocked slightly to one side, and her arms were crossed in front of her.
"Here. Drink this. You're probably dehydrated," she said kindly, getting up to push the water across to him. His smile of thanks was met with another stare. It reminded him of the times Sara had been presented with bits of evidence that didn't add up.
Picking up the water, Grissom froze momentarily as realization dawned. He had an idea what was coming up, and he knew it probably wouldn't be pretty. Hopefully, it wouldn't upset her too much.
"Grissom, how did you know what room I was in?" Sara finally asked.
He delayed his answer as long as he could by taking a long draw on the bottle of water. She waited patiently, tearing bite size pieces off of a cruller and chewing them one-at-a-time.
"I asked the desk clerk," he offered. Technically, it was true; he just left out the more discriminating details.
"Really?" Sara's tone was neutral, but he could tell she wasn't pleased.
"Yeah." He smiled gamely, trying to judge her mood.
"Wow. That's interesting. 'Cause I didn't register under my own name," she said calmly. Picking up a knife, she rapidly began slicing a peach.
"You didn't?" Grissom asked in amazement.
"No, I didn't. I wanted to be left alone," she said, giving him a sharp look. "Remember? So, how did you know what room I was in?"
"The desk clerk told me," he said again.
She nodded her head, leaning against the counter. "You asked what room I was in, and he told you, even though you didn't know what name I used. You should switch to being a detective, Grissom, if you can get those type of answers."
"It didn't happen quite like that," he said, studying an apple intently.
"Really! Why don't you tell me the way it did happen."
Grissom looked up at her, hoping to catch a break. He didn't want to have this conversation now. Both the case and nightmare had him upset. He was in pain, and needed to shower. They both needed to rest. His pathetic expression didn't garner him any sympathy. A dejected sigh escaped from his lips. There was no way of getting out of this.
"I was pretty upset when you left, Sara. I had too much to drink. I needed to find you, to apologize. I'm not used to someone being around when I'm that type of mood," he said, looking up catch her reaction. She merely nodded.
"I wasn't thinking too clearly. I figured you'd park in front of your room. But I didn't know what kind of rental car you had. So I tried to look in them to see if you left anything that identified it as yours."
"Nice way to get yourself arrested," she pointed out.
"I said I had too much to drink," he countered, rubbing his sore hand.
"Go on," Sara prompted, grabbing some ice out of the freezer.
"I ended up tripping over a pothole and landing in some trash. At that point, I figured I better ask the clerk. I told him I was looking for a woman who just checked in. He told me they didn't give out names. Thanks," he said, taking the ice pack Sara prepared for him.
"No problem, babe," she said, taking her bottle of water, not noticing his confused look at the endearment. "So what did you do then?"
"I asked what room I could find the 'tall, beautiful brunette' who would have checked in recently," he said, blushing slightly. He watched her closely, trying to figure out if she was angry or not. Her stance indicated she was, but her concern for his hand indicated otherwise.
"And he told you?" Sara asked in astonishment. No wonder he kept insisting the place wasn't safe. It was a good thing she hadn't asked for an explanation while they were still at the motel, or that clerk would have regretted coming to work that day.
"After I paid him $50," Grissom said in a low tone.
"What!? You … what ... you … I don't believe you," she finally stammered. "What if he gave you the wrong room number?"
"I would have had a lot more apologizing to do."
Sara stared at him in amazement for several long moments. Several times she started to speak, but stopped herself. Finally she shook her head, and grabbed another donut.
"You'll make a fine stalker some day," she muttered. When he started to speak, she held up her hand and walked over to the window. "Not now, babe. Not now."
Dropping his head in dejection, Grissom went into the bedroom to strip before heading to the shower. Hopefully, she'd let him apologize when he was done. How upset could she be if she was still using a pet name?
When he headed back to the bedroom, he found his dirty clothes gone and his suit from the night before hanging up. Going into the main living area, he found Sara leaving the laundry area at the end of the kitchen.
"I've got you clothes soaking. The dirt was pretty ground in," she said evenly, walking over to the counter where she'd set up the first aid kit. "Come here."
"Thanks. You didn't have to do that," he said kindly, letting her disinfect and bandage his knuckles, before handing him a fresh ice pack.
Grissom walked over to the fridge to grab some more water. He noticed the kitchen was spotless. The few dishes they'd used were already washed and put away. Apparently, she cleaned whenever she was upset. "Sara, I wasn't thinking straight. I promise, I'll never do that again."
"You better not," she said, fixing him with a piercing stare. Taking her own water, she leaned against the breakfast bar to observe him. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Heading over to the couch, he tried to map out a response that didn't involve divulging the fact that he had seen her journal. Before he could think of a safe way to explain himself, she continued.
"First off, you were drinking and driving. I don't care if you weren't technically drunk, that was a stupid thing to do," she said, pushing off of the bar. Pacing back and forth, she started counting off on her fingers. "You could have gotten yourself arrested snooping around a parking lot like that. What if you had gone to the wrong room? What if they had a gun or called the police? Grissom, any of those could have cost you your job, or worse. Were you even thinking?"
He watched her in confusion. Anger, disappointment, hurt: any of those reactions he was expecting. Concern for him hadn't been on the list. Her behavior only added to his own bafflement.
"I was worried," he offered.
"Why? I can take care of myself. Do you really think I'm helpless?" Sara asked sadly, stopping her pacing directly in front of him.
"Of course not. You're one of the most self-sufficient people I've ever met. I knew you were angry with me. I didn't want you to be."
"I wasn't angry with you. All things considered, I was pretty calm when I left," she pointed out. When he didn't respond right away, she started pacing again, wrapping her arms around herself protectively.
"Grissom, look, you have to learn to trust me," she sighed.
"I do trust you," he countered.
"No, you don't." When she saw his hurt expression, she rolled her eyes. "I don't mean professionally. What have you ever trusted me with Grissom? On a personal level? You obviously don't trust me enough to listen to me."
"I trust you as much as I've ever trusted anyone," he said, rubbing his temples. This conversation wasn't going well. They were both tired and their nerves frayed.
"Then you should have known to have left me alone. I thought we'd been over this already. When I say I need space, you have to back off. You can't push me," Sara said quietly.
"I didn't mean to," Grissom said, getting up to walk towards her. She moved away, shaking her head in warning. He paused, recognizing she was trying to maintain her control. "I was worried that you weren't going to come back."
"Why?" she asked in confusion.
"Sara, I told you, I wasn't thinking clearly," he said, hoping she'd accept that for now. He could tell her temper was rising. His own patience was being eroded by the pain. Instead of mollifying her, his statement caused her to resume pacing.
"No way. There's more to it than that," she stated firmly. Sara paused again, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't, she began stalking the room again. "Look, if you don't want to talk about this now, that's fine. I know you're in pain, and you're embarrassed. I'll go, and we can work it out later. But don't lie to me, Grissom. I'll go and I won't be back. Your choice."
He looked up as she once again paused in front of him. Closing his eyes, he let out a long breath, hoping she'd understand.
"It was an accident, Sara. Believe me. I would never have done it on purpose," he said sincerely.
"Done what?" she asked softly.
Grissom looked up, puzzled again by her change in moods. "After you left, I sat down on the couch. There was something there. When I picked it up, it was your journal."
"You read my journal?" Sara's voice was low, but the pain was evident.
"No," he said urgently. "I just turned it over to see what it was. I only saw that last bit. I put it down as soon as I realized what it was."
"You read it? It's handwritten. You had to know it wasn't anything of yours," she snarled hotly.
"It was an accident. I just saw that passage, Sara. I wasn't trying to read it," Grissom responded softly, trying to avert the upcoming storm.
"I can't believe this!"
"I only saw a line or two. I …"
"Dammit, Grissom! How could you do that? I can't believe this. First you read my journal. Then you go play stalker on me. I can't believe you did this to me."
"Sara, it was an accident. I said I was sorry," Grissom sighed. He knew he wasn't helping his cause any, but the pain was making him aggravated.
"So am I. I never should have come here. This whole trip was a mistake. You don't trust me, and you don't respect my privacy. I thought I could trust you," she said hotly, standing directly in front of him. When he tried to reach out for her, she slapped his hand away. "Don't even think about touching me."
"I said I was sorry. What else do you want, Sara? I don't know what else to say," Grissom said, dropping back onto the couch. Running his hand through his hair, he tried to calm himself. When he looked up, he saw Sara biting her lip, trying to rein in her anger. "I didn't mean for it to happen. If I was trying to hurt you, I could have read the whole thing. I didn't have to tell you, let alone apologize."
"You're right," she said, leaving the living room to head back to the bedroom. "Fine. It was an accident."
Grissom followed slowly, trying to figure out if she really accepted his explanation, or if she was just ending the fight. Sara nearly ran him over on her way back out of the room, carrying her purse and jacket.
"You're right. I shouldn't have left it in your way. This is all my fault," she said, closing her eyes at that sarcastic edge in her voice. "Sorry. I'm still pissed, though. I'll be back. I need to get some air. I'm going for a drive. You should get some sleep."
Knowing better than to contradict her, Grissom dropped back on the couch, his headache threatening to become a migraine.
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 55
Grissom spent the short drive back to his home wondering how to approach Sara. He needed to know what the 'unless' comment in her journal meant. How to find out was the problem. He doubted she'd take it well if he came right out and admitted he had read her journal entry.
It may have been an accident, but he didn't feel like testing Sara's patience in her current mood. She may have forgiven him for following her to the motel, but he knew she was trying to maintain her emotional control. This could set her off.
Entering the townhouse, he found Sara in the kitchen, retrieving two bottles of water from the fridge. A box of donuts sat on the breakfast bar, along with some fruit. Sitting down on one of the barstools, he tried not to flinch under Sara's look. Her head was cocked slightly to one side, and her arms were crossed in front of her.
"Here. Drink this. You're probably dehydrated," she said kindly, getting up to push the water across to him. His smile of thanks was met with another stare. It reminded him of the times Sara had been presented with bits of evidence that didn't add up.
Picking up the water, Grissom froze momentarily as realization dawned. He had an idea what was coming up, and he knew it probably wouldn't be pretty. Hopefully, it wouldn't upset her too much.
"Grissom, how did you know what room I was in?" Sara finally asked.
He delayed his answer as long as he could by taking a long draw on the bottle of water. She waited patiently, tearing bite size pieces off of a cruller and chewing them one-at-a-time.
"I asked the desk clerk," he offered. Technically, it was true; he just left out the more discriminating details.
"Really?" Sara's tone was neutral, but he could tell she wasn't pleased.
"Yeah." He smiled gamely, trying to judge her mood.
"Wow. That's interesting. 'Cause I didn't register under my own name," she said calmly. Picking up a knife, she rapidly began slicing a peach.
"You didn't?" Grissom asked in amazement.
"No, I didn't. I wanted to be left alone," she said, giving him a sharp look. "Remember? So, how did you know what room I was in?"
"The desk clerk told me," he said again.
She nodded her head, leaning against the counter. "You asked what room I was in, and he told you, even though you didn't know what name I used. You should switch to being a detective, Grissom, if you can get those type of answers."
"It didn't happen quite like that," he said, studying an apple intently.
"Really! Why don't you tell me the way it did happen."
Grissom looked up at her, hoping to catch a break. He didn't want to have this conversation now. Both the case and nightmare had him upset. He was in pain, and needed to shower. They both needed to rest. His pathetic expression didn't garner him any sympathy. A dejected sigh escaped from his lips. There was no way of getting out of this.
"I was pretty upset when you left, Sara. I had too much to drink. I needed to find you, to apologize. I'm not used to someone being around when I'm that type of mood," he said, looking up catch her reaction. She merely nodded.
"I wasn't thinking too clearly. I figured you'd park in front of your room. But I didn't know what kind of rental car you had. So I tried to look in them to see if you left anything that identified it as yours."
"Nice way to get yourself arrested," she pointed out.
"I said I had too much to drink," he countered, rubbing his sore hand.
"Go on," Sara prompted, grabbing some ice out of the freezer.
"I ended up tripping over a pothole and landing in some trash. At that point, I figured I better ask the clerk. I told him I was looking for a woman who just checked in. He told me they didn't give out names. Thanks," he said, taking the ice pack Sara prepared for him.
"No problem, babe," she said, taking her bottle of water, not noticing his confused look at the endearment. "So what did you do then?"
"I asked what room I could find the 'tall, beautiful brunette' who would have checked in recently," he said, blushing slightly. He watched her closely, trying to figure out if she was angry or not. Her stance indicated she was, but her concern for his hand indicated otherwise.
"And he told you?" Sara asked in astonishment. No wonder he kept insisting the place wasn't safe. It was a good thing she hadn't asked for an explanation while they were still at the motel, or that clerk would have regretted coming to work that day.
"After I paid him $50," Grissom said in a low tone.
"What!? You … what ... you … I don't believe you," she finally stammered. "What if he gave you the wrong room number?"
"I would have had a lot more apologizing to do."
Sara stared at him in amazement for several long moments. Several times she started to speak, but stopped herself. Finally she shook her head, and grabbed another donut.
"You'll make a fine stalker some day," she muttered. When he started to speak, she held up her hand and walked over to the window. "Not now, babe. Not now."
Dropping his head in dejection, Grissom went into the bedroom to strip before heading to the shower. Hopefully, she'd let him apologize when he was done. How upset could she be if she was still using a pet name?
When he headed back to the bedroom, he found his dirty clothes gone and his suit from the night before hanging up. Going into the main living area, he found Sara leaving the laundry area at the end of the kitchen.
"I've got you clothes soaking. The dirt was pretty ground in," she said evenly, walking over to the counter where she'd set up the first aid kit. "Come here."
"Thanks. You didn't have to do that," he said kindly, letting her disinfect and bandage his knuckles, before handing him a fresh ice pack.
Grissom walked over to the fridge to grab some more water. He noticed the kitchen was spotless. The few dishes they'd used were already washed and put away. Apparently, she cleaned whenever she was upset. "Sara, I wasn't thinking straight. I promise, I'll never do that again."
"You better not," she said, fixing him with a piercing stare. Taking her own water, she leaned against the breakfast bar to observe him. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Heading over to the couch, he tried to map out a response that didn't involve divulging the fact that he had seen her journal. Before he could think of a safe way to explain himself, she continued.
"First off, you were drinking and driving. I don't care if you weren't technically drunk, that was a stupid thing to do," she said, pushing off of the bar. Pacing back and forth, she started counting off on her fingers. "You could have gotten yourself arrested snooping around a parking lot like that. What if you had gone to the wrong room? What if they had a gun or called the police? Grissom, any of those could have cost you your job, or worse. Were you even thinking?"
He watched her in confusion. Anger, disappointment, hurt: any of those reactions he was expecting. Concern for him hadn't been on the list. Her behavior only added to his own bafflement.
"I was worried," he offered.
"Why? I can take care of myself. Do you really think I'm helpless?" Sara asked sadly, stopping her pacing directly in front of him.
"Of course not. You're one of the most self-sufficient people I've ever met. I knew you were angry with me. I didn't want you to be."
"I wasn't angry with you. All things considered, I was pretty calm when I left," she pointed out. When he didn't respond right away, she started pacing again, wrapping her arms around herself protectively.
"Grissom, look, you have to learn to trust me," she sighed.
"I do trust you," he countered.
"No, you don't." When she saw his hurt expression, she rolled her eyes. "I don't mean professionally. What have you ever trusted me with Grissom? On a personal level? You obviously don't trust me enough to listen to me."
"I trust you as much as I've ever trusted anyone," he said, rubbing his temples. This conversation wasn't going well. They were both tired and their nerves frayed.
"Then you should have known to have left me alone. I thought we'd been over this already. When I say I need space, you have to back off. You can't push me," Sara said quietly.
"I didn't mean to," Grissom said, getting up to walk towards her. She moved away, shaking her head in warning. He paused, recognizing she was trying to maintain her control. "I was worried that you weren't going to come back."
"Why?" she asked in confusion.
"Sara, I told you, I wasn't thinking clearly," he said, hoping she'd accept that for now. He could tell her temper was rising. His own patience was being eroded by the pain. Instead of mollifying her, his statement caused her to resume pacing.
"No way. There's more to it than that," she stated firmly. Sara paused again, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't, she began stalking the room again. "Look, if you don't want to talk about this now, that's fine. I know you're in pain, and you're embarrassed. I'll go, and we can work it out later. But don't lie to me, Grissom. I'll go and I won't be back. Your choice."
He looked up as she once again paused in front of him. Closing his eyes, he let out a long breath, hoping she'd understand.
"It was an accident, Sara. Believe me. I would never have done it on purpose," he said sincerely.
"Done what?" she asked softly.
Grissom looked up, puzzled again by her change in moods. "After you left, I sat down on the couch. There was something there. When I picked it up, it was your journal."
"You read my journal?" Sara's voice was low, but the pain was evident.
"No," he said urgently. "I just turned it over to see what it was. I only saw that last bit. I put it down as soon as I realized what it was."
"You read it? It's handwritten. You had to know it wasn't anything of yours," she snarled hotly.
"It was an accident. I just saw that passage, Sara. I wasn't trying to read it," Grissom responded softly, trying to avert the upcoming storm.
"I can't believe this!"
"I only saw a line or two. I …"
"Dammit, Grissom! How could you do that? I can't believe this. First you read my journal. Then you go play stalker on me. I can't believe you did this to me."
"Sara, it was an accident. I said I was sorry," Grissom sighed. He knew he wasn't helping his cause any, but the pain was making him aggravated.
"So am I. I never should have come here. This whole trip was a mistake. You don't trust me, and you don't respect my privacy. I thought I could trust you," she said hotly, standing directly in front of him. When he tried to reach out for her, she slapped his hand away. "Don't even think about touching me."
"I said I was sorry. What else do you want, Sara? I don't know what else to say," Grissom said, dropping back onto the couch. Running his hand through his hair, he tried to calm himself. When he looked up, he saw Sara biting her lip, trying to rein in her anger. "I didn't mean for it to happen. If I was trying to hurt you, I could have read the whole thing. I didn't have to tell you, let alone apologize."
"You're right," she said, leaving the living room to head back to the bedroom. "Fine. It was an accident."
Grissom followed slowly, trying to figure out if she really accepted his explanation, or if she was just ending the fight. Sara nearly ran him over on her way back out of the room, carrying her purse and jacket.
"You're right. I shouldn't have left it in your way. This is all my fault," she said, closing her eyes at that sarcastic edge in her voice. "Sorry. I'm still pissed, though. I'll be back. I need to get some air. I'm going for a drive. You should get some sleep."
Knowing better than to contradict her, Grissom dropped back on the couch, his headache threatening to become a migraine.