DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here. Please don't sue my sorry butt.
A/N: Spoilers for 'No More Bets' & 'Bloodlines'
Ch.3
Sara sat in her apartment, still fuming.
'Because he didn't care if he got it? What the hell kind of explanation was that!' Sara took another long drink of her beer. Used to be all she stocked her fridge with was water and orange juice. Lately, more beer had crept in. Then, in a desire for a little change, a bottle of vodka and rum had managed to finagle their way into her cabinets.
Sara walked to her computer, and pushed the space bar to wake it up. One of these days, she mused, she'd get a cable modem. Getting a decent dial up speed in the city was a bitch at best. She signed on, and opened up her e- mail. Nothing new. She reread the letter from her mom asking her to come home for the summer beach bum festival. The festival wasn't for another few months. She knew her mom had e-mailed her because of the date, and Lori. Sara drank down the rest of her beer, instantly craving the next. She thought about Catherine and Lindsey. Could Sara have held her career together as well being a single mom? She'd never know. She tried not to dwell on the visions of having long discussions with her little girl about the world, and science, and so many more topics she had dreamed of sharing with Lori when she was old enough to ask. She had hoped to get a house near the shore, and work less overtime.
Sara reached in her fridge for another beer amidst a blur of tears. She flinched as her phone rang. Whoever it was could leave a message. At least then her machine would get some use. She sat down on the edge of her desk as the machine clicked on.
"Sara? It's Nick. I know this whole promotion thing's been a drag, and all. How 'bout you meet me and Warrick down at the strip for a cold one? I'd really like you to be there. 'Be like old times. Whatta ya say?"
Sara grinned, and picked up the receiver.
"Hey. I'm in. Where and when?"
===
The officer led Sara into the all-too-familiar waiting area in the police headquarters. How many times had she sat in these same seats with a victim or suspect? Now here she was, alone, and waiting for whatever hammer was going to fall. The cops had been very kind to her. Professional courtesy. Then a very nice young lieutenant explained he had to go call her supervisor. That was protocol. Great. Sara stared straight ahead. This was it. This was how her life was ending. Alone, disgraced, and somewhat less drunk than she would have chosen to enter oblivion. She tensed up at the sound of Grissom speaking with the officer in the hall. Here it comes.
She felt rather than saw him come closer, and take the seat next to her. It was what happened next that caused her heart to break. Grissom gently reached over, taking her hand in his, and spoke.
"C'mon. . .I'll take you home."
Sara's head sunk down against her chest. His words were so calming, and gentle, but his presence was painful to her still. He gingerly put an arm around Sara to help her up.
"I'm fine, Grissom. I. . ." She looked down at the ground, but didn't brush his arm away as he led her out of the station, and into his car.
The ride back to Sara's apartment was silent. She laid her head against the cool glass of the window, and closed her eyes. It vaguely occurred to her that Grissom was taking her home without the need for directions, but she shrugged it off. By the time they pulled into her complex she was asleep.
"Sara? Honey? Wake up. We're here." Grissom stooped down beside her with the car door flung wide open. Sara barely stirred. Hers was the deep sleep of alcohol and exhaustion. "Ok."
Grissom looked around sheepishly then carefully slid an arm under her to ease her out of the passenger seat. She was light. Too light he thought. He studied her face as he heaved her into his arms. She was so pale. No longer fair and fresh like she had always seemed to him back when he used to indulge in closer inspection of her features. A pain of guilt and fear hit him hard as they made their way up to her apartment. He pulled the keys the officer had given him at the station out, and fumbled for the correct one to unlock her door. The door swung open easily. He looked around quickly, and was surprised to be in a small studio apartment. The bed was in the same room as the rest of her furniture. He made his way over, and gently laid her down. Working her shoes off, he pulled back the covers, and scooted her under them carefully.
"What happened?" He couldn't help the words from falling from his lips. He felt he was on some level to blame for all this, and it pained him. He used to dream of taking Sara home, but never like this. This was more akin to a nightmare. Making his way to the small kitchen, he searched and found her coffee supplies. He opened her fridge, and was stunned by the amount of beer bottles. When had this started? He was certain Sara hadn't been a heavy drinker. He couldn't believe something of this magnitude could go on without his knowledge. This thought train made his head throb. He started a fresh pot of coffee, and sat down on her chair across from the bed. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.
===
Sara's eyes felt like lead weights as she tried to blink them open. She slowly sat up in bed. . .wait. . .how did she get in bed? Fully clothed? Suddenly very much awake, Sara surveyed her apartment. Her eyes widened at the sight of Grissom seated in her chair, head tilted awkwardly to the side, fast asleep. The memory of the previous night dawned on her, and her stomach suddenly felt very nauseous. Her brain slowly began processing the evidence. Grissom had come to the station. He had taken her home. He was sitting across from her bed as she slept. He was still here. Sara eased herself out of bed. Her head had a dull throb that was steadily getting louder as she moved.
"Gris? Grissom?" She gently nudged his shoulder. She couldn't help smiling as she watched him wake up. He twitched a little, stretched, licked his lips, and smiled as his eyes fluttered open. Then he flew up out of his chair as if shocked.
"Whoa!" Sara jumped back.
"Sorry. Unfamiliar environment." Grissom's face began to take on a rather crimson hue.
"Thanks for taking me home." She wasn't sure what else to say. She was certain that Grissom had several hours of lectures prepared for her, but she was ready to face it. She wasn't sure she cared anymore about getting in trouble, or what everyone else thought about her. Everyone else was wrong. None of them knew her. Not even Grissom.
"How are you feeling?" He stood very close to her as he spoke, and his eyes showed genuine concern.
"Like I swallowed a roto-router." She looked towards the full coffee pot in her kitchen, and grinned. He must have made that last night.
"Sara." He tried to formulate his sentences just right. "Hon', we need to talk."
Sara's heart sank. Never in her entire history had anything good ever come from the phrase 'We need to talk.' Grissom noted her forlorn expression, and tried to think of what to say next to erase it.
"I want you to take some of that vacation. Two weeks, Sara. I'd like you to take it as vacation time, but if you refuse, it's administrative leave." He regretted the fact that his words sounded very much like 'supervisor' Grissom, and not 'friend' Grissom.
Sara paced like a caged cat. How much trouble was she in?
"Grissom, it's not going to happen again. I know it was stupid. I know that."
"This isn't about last night. Not completely anyway. You're way overdue, Sara. I'm worried."
"What? That I'll screw up on a case? When have I ever compromised a case? Never! So I didn't do a single interview! Nobody else does as many as I do. Nick sure doesn't. He doesn't have my solve rate either. Not even close!" Sara's voice was rising, and her head was throbbing harder. She could feel the room suddenly begin to spin, as her rug felt like it was trying to swallow her alive.
"Sara?" Grissom rushed forward just in time to catch her as she passed out. "Damnit!" He eased them both down to the floor, and cursed himself silently. He wasn't helping matters. He was making them worse. As her eyes batted open again, she looked up into Grissom's face, and the tears that she had held in from the night before let loose in a flood that frightened her. She held onto him for dear life, as he cradled her in his arms.
"Shhh. It's alright. I'm so sorry, Sara. What can I do? How can I help you?" His shirt was now damp, but he didn't care. He sighed. She has been dealing with so much, and hurting for so long, and he had been caught up in his own fears. "Sara, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here."
"It hurts so much." She sobbed into his shirt. "I'm so tired, Grissom. I'm so damn tired."
"I know, Honey. We're going to be ok, alright? I'm not letting you go through anything else alone. Whatever it is. Please let me help you." He could feel his own eyes watering. He held on tight. However hard it would be, however much it hurt, he was hers. He wouldn't let fear come between them any longer.
Ch.3
Sara sat in her apartment, still fuming.
'Because he didn't care if he got it? What the hell kind of explanation was that!' Sara took another long drink of her beer. Used to be all she stocked her fridge with was water and orange juice. Lately, more beer had crept in. Then, in a desire for a little change, a bottle of vodka and rum had managed to finagle their way into her cabinets.
Sara walked to her computer, and pushed the space bar to wake it up. One of these days, she mused, she'd get a cable modem. Getting a decent dial up speed in the city was a bitch at best. She signed on, and opened up her e- mail. Nothing new. She reread the letter from her mom asking her to come home for the summer beach bum festival. The festival wasn't for another few months. She knew her mom had e-mailed her because of the date, and Lori. Sara drank down the rest of her beer, instantly craving the next. She thought about Catherine and Lindsey. Could Sara have held her career together as well being a single mom? She'd never know. She tried not to dwell on the visions of having long discussions with her little girl about the world, and science, and so many more topics she had dreamed of sharing with Lori when she was old enough to ask. She had hoped to get a house near the shore, and work less overtime.
Sara reached in her fridge for another beer amidst a blur of tears. She flinched as her phone rang. Whoever it was could leave a message. At least then her machine would get some use. She sat down on the edge of her desk as the machine clicked on.
"Sara? It's Nick. I know this whole promotion thing's been a drag, and all. How 'bout you meet me and Warrick down at the strip for a cold one? I'd really like you to be there. 'Be like old times. Whatta ya say?"
Sara grinned, and picked up the receiver.
"Hey. I'm in. Where and when?"
===
The officer led Sara into the all-too-familiar waiting area in the police headquarters. How many times had she sat in these same seats with a victim or suspect? Now here she was, alone, and waiting for whatever hammer was going to fall. The cops had been very kind to her. Professional courtesy. Then a very nice young lieutenant explained he had to go call her supervisor. That was protocol. Great. Sara stared straight ahead. This was it. This was how her life was ending. Alone, disgraced, and somewhat less drunk than she would have chosen to enter oblivion. She tensed up at the sound of Grissom speaking with the officer in the hall. Here it comes.
She felt rather than saw him come closer, and take the seat next to her. It was what happened next that caused her heart to break. Grissom gently reached over, taking her hand in his, and spoke.
"C'mon. . .I'll take you home."
Sara's head sunk down against her chest. His words were so calming, and gentle, but his presence was painful to her still. He gingerly put an arm around Sara to help her up.
"I'm fine, Grissom. I. . ." She looked down at the ground, but didn't brush his arm away as he led her out of the station, and into his car.
The ride back to Sara's apartment was silent. She laid her head against the cool glass of the window, and closed her eyes. It vaguely occurred to her that Grissom was taking her home without the need for directions, but she shrugged it off. By the time they pulled into her complex she was asleep.
"Sara? Honey? Wake up. We're here." Grissom stooped down beside her with the car door flung wide open. Sara barely stirred. Hers was the deep sleep of alcohol and exhaustion. "Ok."
Grissom looked around sheepishly then carefully slid an arm under her to ease her out of the passenger seat. She was light. Too light he thought. He studied her face as he heaved her into his arms. She was so pale. No longer fair and fresh like she had always seemed to him back when he used to indulge in closer inspection of her features. A pain of guilt and fear hit him hard as they made their way up to her apartment. He pulled the keys the officer had given him at the station out, and fumbled for the correct one to unlock her door. The door swung open easily. He looked around quickly, and was surprised to be in a small studio apartment. The bed was in the same room as the rest of her furniture. He made his way over, and gently laid her down. Working her shoes off, he pulled back the covers, and scooted her under them carefully.
"What happened?" He couldn't help the words from falling from his lips. He felt he was on some level to blame for all this, and it pained him. He used to dream of taking Sara home, but never like this. This was more akin to a nightmare. Making his way to the small kitchen, he searched and found her coffee supplies. He opened her fridge, and was stunned by the amount of beer bottles. When had this started? He was certain Sara hadn't been a heavy drinker. He couldn't believe something of this magnitude could go on without his knowledge. This thought train made his head throb. He started a fresh pot of coffee, and sat down on her chair across from the bed. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.
===
Sara's eyes felt like lead weights as she tried to blink them open. She slowly sat up in bed. . .wait. . .how did she get in bed? Fully clothed? Suddenly very much awake, Sara surveyed her apartment. Her eyes widened at the sight of Grissom seated in her chair, head tilted awkwardly to the side, fast asleep. The memory of the previous night dawned on her, and her stomach suddenly felt very nauseous. Her brain slowly began processing the evidence. Grissom had come to the station. He had taken her home. He was sitting across from her bed as she slept. He was still here. Sara eased herself out of bed. Her head had a dull throb that was steadily getting louder as she moved.
"Gris? Grissom?" She gently nudged his shoulder. She couldn't help smiling as she watched him wake up. He twitched a little, stretched, licked his lips, and smiled as his eyes fluttered open. Then he flew up out of his chair as if shocked.
"Whoa!" Sara jumped back.
"Sorry. Unfamiliar environment." Grissom's face began to take on a rather crimson hue.
"Thanks for taking me home." She wasn't sure what else to say. She was certain that Grissom had several hours of lectures prepared for her, but she was ready to face it. She wasn't sure she cared anymore about getting in trouble, or what everyone else thought about her. Everyone else was wrong. None of them knew her. Not even Grissom.
"How are you feeling?" He stood very close to her as he spoke, and his eyes showed genuine concern.
"Like I swallowed a roto-router." She looked towards the full coffee pot in her kitchen, and grinned. He must have made that last night.
"Sara." He tried to formulate his sentences just right. "Hon', we need to talk."
Sara's heart sank. Never in her entire history had anything good ever come from the phrase 'We need to talk.' Grissom noted her forlorn expression, and tried to think of what to say next to erase it.
"I want you to take some of that vacation. Two weeks, Sara. I'd like you to take it as vacation time, but if you refuse, it's administrative leave." He regretted the fact that his words sounded very much like 'supervisor' Grissom, and not 'friend' Grissom.
Sara paced like a caged cat. How much trouble was she in?
"Grissom, it's not going to happen again. I know it was stupid. I know that."
"This isn't about last night. Not completely anyway. You're way overdue, Sara. I'm worried."
"What? That I'll screw up on a case? When have I ever compromised a case? Never! So I didn't do a single interview! Nobody else does as many as I do. Nick sure doesn't. He doesn't have my solve rate either. Not even close!" Sara's voice was rising, and her head was throbbing harder. She could feel the room suddenly begin to spin, as her rug felt like it was trying to swallow her alive.
"Sara?" Grissom rushed forward just in time to catch her as she passed out. "Damnit!" He eased them both down to the floor, and cursed himself silently. He wasn't helping matters. He was making them worse. As her eyes batted open again, she looked up into Grissom's face, and the tears that she had held in from the night before let loose in a flood that frightened her. She held onto him for dear life, as he cradled her in his arms.
"Shhh. It's alright. I'm so sorry, Sara. What can I do? How can I help you?" His shirt was now damp, but he didn't care. He sighed. She has been dealing with so much, and hurting for so long, and he had been caught up in his own fears. "Sara, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here."
"It hurts so much." She sobbed into his shirt. "I'm so tired, Grissom. I'm so damn tired."
"I know, Honey. We're going to be ok, alright? I'm not letting you go through anything else alone. Whatever it is. Please let me help you." He could feel his own eyes watering. He held on tight. However hard it would be, however much it hurt, he was hers. He wouldn't let fear come between them any longer.