Sara was surprised by the jittery feeling that she just couldn't shake. So far, Grissom was doing everything right. He had behaved like the consummate gentleman. She sat across from him at a small table in one of the finest restaurants in town. While she was quite comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, she was grateful for the occasional opportunity to dress more formally. Everything seemed to be going well. She took a deep breath, ordering herself to relax.
For his part, Grissom was equally, if not more, nervous. He'd confirmed the reservation twice, and agonized over details that normally didn't concern him, such as the color of his shirt. He made a concerted effort to be gentlemanly, holding open doors and offering her his arm. Everything seemed to be falling into place. At one point on the drive to Sara's apartment, he had talked himself out of his anxiety; after all, this was Sara. He saw her nearly every day. But then she had answered her door. He couldn't remember if he'd ever seen anything more beautiful. The nearly paralytic fear came crashing back down on him. Now, as he sat across from her, he attempted to settle his jangled nerves.
Grissom perused his menu. "Do you know what you want?"
"I'll have the prime rib, medium rare," Sara said seriously.
"They have a nice cut he—er, what?" Confusion was evident on his face.
Sara smiled coquettishly. "Just checking to see if you were paying attention. The vegetable lasagna looks good."
"Have you decided?" The waiter asked as he returned with their drinks.
"We'll both have the vegetable lasagna." Grissom closed his menu and handed it to the server.
"Very well, Sir." He disappeared into the kitchen.
Sara turned to her companion. "You can have meat, you know. I'm quite used to it."
"It' all right." Grissom felt an urge to start a conversation by discussing the case. He struggled to contain it. This was their personal time, and they wouldn't waste it with "shop talk." His thoughts were interrupted by the staff, who were gathering around an adjacent table and carrying a cake with the words "Happy 50th Anniversary." Sara sang softly along with the chorus of "Happy Anniversary to You", her eyes misting slightly.
"Fifty years?" Grissom wondered.
Sara's smile had a sad yet hopeful quality. "It's nice to know it's possible," she said softly.
"Probably not possible for me," Grissom replied somberly. "Even disregarding the age issue."
"Don't underestimate yourself."
"Historically, relationships just don't work for me. They require more social skills than I seem to possess."
Sara took his hand in hers. "Me either. But we're doing pretty well right now."
"The night is young," he said with a wry grin.
The ice was broken, and they managed to converse comfortably throughout the meal. It felt like the old days, when they spoke freely and happily around each other. When they enjoyed one another's company. Sara felt happier and more relaxed than she'd felt in a very long time, hopeful that they could get back the friendship they once shared. She was hit with a wave of sadness when she realized that things could never again be the way they were. They could never be just friends. That ship had sailed. Their relationship had reached a pivotal "all or nothing" point, and she hoped against hope that the final result would be "all." However, with Grissom, one never knew. He could succumb to his fears again and put the emergency brake into use. She was taking a hell of a risk letting him into her heart again, and it worried her. Oh, who was she kidding? He'd never really left her heart.
"Would you like to dance?" Grissom asked. He stood and offered her his hand.
Sara hesitated. "I'm not the best dancer…"
"Nor am I. Come on."
She took his hand and followed him out onto the dance floor. The melody lilted as he pulled her into his arms. They danced with their bodies in very close proximity to one another, and as the music played on, the light between them gradually disappeared. Grissom found that he enjoyed the feel of Sara's body against his every bit as much as he imagined he would. Her arms were around his shoulders and her breath on his neck. It was inevitable that their heads would turn and their lips would meet, but when that time came, it was nonetheless magic for them both.
"May I cut in?" a familiar voice sneered. They disentangled themselves and turned to face Conrad Ecklie.
"Can I help you, Conrad?" Grissom seethed.
"Oh, you've helped me plenty. This is very interesting. I wonder what Cavallo would think."
"Oh, come on, Ecklie," Sara said angrily. "Cut us a break. We're not doing anything wrong."
"Technically, no, I suppose not. But still…"
"Excuse us," Grissom said roughly, lightly pushing his nemesis out of his way with his forearm. He led Sara back to their table.
"Don't let him get to you," Sara advised gently.
Ecklie walked toward them. "'Something wicked this way comes'," Grissom muttered. Ecklie grinned widely at them as he passed by en route to his table.
Sara took her date's hand again. "'There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so'." She smiled. "See, I know some Shakespeare, too."
He retrieved his credit card from his wallet and placed it in the folder, all the while watching Ecklie. The day shift supervisor sat next to his wife and another couple. Gil read his lips as he explained the encounter on the dance floor. Grissom comprehended most of Ecklie's words, and when he saw the man accusing Sara of keeping her job by inappropriate means, he jumped from his chair to defend her. Sara grabbed his arm, puzzled as to what had upset him again.
"He's not doing anything. He's just talking to his friends."
"It's what he's saying."
"How do you know what he's saying?"
"I can—it doesn't matter."
"Sit down. Please."
Grissom obliged. "Would you turn me in?"
"Why?"
"If I killed Ecklie," he explained, in a manner that left Sara unsure whether he was joking. "Would you turn me in?"
"That depends," she grinned playfully. "Would I get to help dispose of the body? Between the two of us, we could come up with something pretty good."
Grissom pretended to think it over for a moment, then reached out and shook her hand. "Partners."
"So, how much do you want to bet word's out at the lab before we even get there tonight?" She kept her tone light, but internally all of her panic lights were flashing. Grissom would react the deer in the headlights of an oncoming car, she suspected. He would be mortified when his love life between rumor mill fodder, and it would confirm some of the fears that had kept him from her.
Grissom sighed. "No doubt." He tried to reassure her with his smile. Surely she was wondering if he would panic now. He wouldn't. Ecklie could tell everyone in Clark County, and it wouldn't change Grissom's mind. He was going to find a way to make this relationship work.
TBC