"Long day?" enquired Grissom gently, wanting to understand why Sara had been found with an alcohol level of 0.09 in her system. It was well beyond out of character for her, and he wondered if there was something bothering her other than the obvious work-related stress.
"Long year." replied Sara, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. In the passenger seat of Grissom's car with Grissom behind the wheel, she knew it would be difficult if not impossible to hide from his questions. But to her relief, they were already in front of her apartment block, the neighbourhood she called home.
Her hand leapt to the door handle as Grissom shut off the engine. Refusing to meet his eyes, she muttered "I'm sorry about all this. Thank you for the ride home." But before she could make her escape, she found Grissom's hand once again resting on hers. "Sara... I'm worried about you," said Grissom, unable to decipher what was necessary of him in this kind of situation. He wanted to help her, wanted to make sure she was okay, with a desperation that troubled him.
Slightly unnerved by his admission, Sara found an invitation slipping past her unguarded lips. "Do you want to come up for some coffee?" She regretted her words immediately, knowing how much it sounded like she was offering something more than coffee. Companionship ... intimacy. She was supposed to be done offering things like that, knowing how much past attempts had pained them both.
She could practically see him struggling to create an appropriate, inoffensive refusal, and this irked her. "C'mon Grissom... I need coffee." She caught his eyes this time, and the vulnerable expression that stained her face compelled him to change his mind. It would only be coffee, he reasoned. He would try to help her with whatever dilemmas she was facing, and then he would go. Back to his own empty home, to the loveless life he had become so accustomed to.
They took the elevator to Sara's floor in silence. When they reached her door, she fumbled with the keys. She wasn't drunk, but she was starting to comprehend the magnitude of the mistake that inviting him in was. He had already permeated all other areas of her life - work, her mind... Home was the last remaining sanctuary, and even if nothing happened tonight, it would be tainted. Even with all of her CSI skills, she'd never be able to get that small trace of him out of there. Worse still, she wasn't sure she'd ever completely want to.
As the door opened, Grissom caught his first glimpses of Sara's place. Though it was, as expected, impeccably neat, he felt something was missing. Gradually he realised it was the warmth that Sara took with her wherever she went. He thought it should have been evident in her apartment somehow, but instead, in ways it seemed as empty as his own.
"You can take off your coat if you want," said Sara, gesturing toward some hooks where he could hang it up. "I'll, uh... make the coffee." She disappeared into what Grissom assumed was the kitchen, and after a minute, he followed her. He wanted to get this done, already sensing how hard it would be to leave her once their tête-à-tête was over.
What was he doing here? What was she doing here? The thoughts exploded concurrently in Sara's brain. They shook her so profoundly that she failed to notice cues signalling Grissom's presence. When she spun to get the milk from the fridge, she found herself face to face with him, standing far too close.
"Sara, talk to me," Grissom commanded with quiet authority. She tried to avoid eye contact. She looked up at the ceiling, looked at the cupboards, looked at the mismatched coffee mugs sitting on the counter. She wanted to delay answering, and yet prolong this closeness.
"I know things have been wrong for a while now," Grissom continued "I see you in the halls and it's almost like it isn't you at all, just a shadow,"
Sara gave a wry smile. "That's a bit melodramatic, isn't it? I'm sure it's just a ... bad patch. Everyone has them, you know." Unsatisfied, Grissom stared her down until she offered him a more insightful explanation.
"Our line of work is death, and sometimes even lemons can't get that smell off. Cases like Linley Parker's... people we can't save. It makes me question the worth of what we do... what I do. My work is my life, and if the former is worthless, then..." she faltered for a moment. "Then," she concluded "So am I."
His eyes grew wide in shock as he began to protest "You know that isn't true."
"I know, but that doesn't stop me from feeling it sometimes."
"I value you. As a CSI, a person, a friend. You have to know that, Sara."
Sara bit her lip. He'd given her an opening, and though she knew it was unwise to put it mildly, she couldn't stop her emotions from spilling out. "But not enough to take a chance on me, huh."
"What? If it's about the promotion... " Grissom was baffled. He knew recommending Nick for the promotion had hurt her, but he had honestly thought she'd come to terms with it.
"That's not it," she said with an odd calmness. "Do you remember your interrogation of Dr. Lurie?"
Grissom froze, unable and unwilling to process the implications of her comment. So she continued "I was there, behind the glass. I heard you ... your calculation of the risks and decision that I wasn't worth it." Sara lowered her eyes, afraid of what she would see if she looked in his eyes.
"That wasn't what I meant. I could never give you the life you deserved..."
"I never asked you to. You once said you didn't know what to do about this, and since then we've both been fighting our feelings, and... I'm tired, Grissom." Sara watched the conflicting emotions play on his face, and decided she had to end it all now, one way or another.
Stepping forward, she locked her lips with his before he could determine which way was up. For a moment he was stunned, unresponsive, but as warmth fled from her lips into his, he succumbed to the hunger he had been denying for so long. His fingers ran through her dark hair as her arms wrapped around him, and suddenly where he ended and she began became pleasantly indeterminable.
As spontaneously as their first kiss had started, so did it end. They split apart as if the sparks flying between them had enough force to electrocute them also. It was almost as if, Sara surmised, reality had weaseled a way back into their brains, bringing with it the knowledge of how difficult this road would be, even if they both did choose it. For Grissom however, reality had never left; so that even while being so wonderfully lost with her, he carried the excruciating knowledge with him. It was a double-edged sword, both warming and burning him.
Both breathed heavily as if oxygen had been removed from the atmosphere. Sara decided to give them both a moment to compose themselves, so she turned back to where she had been making coffee, which seemed like aeons ago. Her senses on hyper alert, this time she could hear the footsteps indicating motion.
When she turned around, Grissom was gone. Not that I can blame him, she thought to herself. Things are more complicated now than ever. And yet... Something had felt very right about this, like a new beginning.
Sara smiled to herself. Even though all her rational impulses told her this was not a good idea, she couldn't help it.
Out on the North Trop highway, Grissom was heading toward the CSI offices to finish some paperwork, clear his head. He was lost in a myriad of discordant thoughts. I want Sara, he realised, of course I want Sara, but....
For just a moment, he abandoned the rationality which had so well-served him throughout his life.
Remembering her, the warmth of her lips, the fire in her eyes, the beauty he'd always seen in her, he couldn't help but smile.
"Long year." replied Sara, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. In the passenger seat of Grissom's car with Grissom behind the wheel, she knew it would be difficult if not impossible to hide from his questions. But to her relief, they were already in front of her apartment block, the neighbourhood she called home.
Her hand leapt to the door handle as Grissom shut off the engine. Refusing to meet his eyes, she muttered "I'm sorry about all this. Thank you for the ride home." But before she could make her escape, she found Grissom's hand once again resting on hers. "Sara... I'm worried about you," said Grissom, unable to decipher what was necessary of him in this kind of situation. He wanted to help her, wanted to make sure she was okay, with a desperation that troubled him.
Slightly unnerved by his admission, Sara found an invitation slipping past her unguarded lips. "Do you want to come up for some coffee?" She regretted her words immediately, knowing how much it sounded like she was offering something more than coffee. Companionship ... intimacy. She was supposed to be done offering things like that, knowing how much past attempts had pained them both.
She could practically see him struggling to create an appropriate, inoffensive refusal, and this irked her. "C'mon Grissom... I need coffee." She caught his eyes this time, and the vulnerable expression that stained her face compelled him to change his mind. It would only be coffee, he reasoned. He would try to help her with whatever dilemmas she was facing, and then he would go. Back to his own empty home, to the loveless life he had become so accustomed to.
They took the elevator to Sara's floor in silence. When they reached her door, she fumbled with the keys. She wasn't drunk, but she was starting to comprehend the magnitude of the mistake that inviting him in was. He had already permeated all other areas of her life - work, her mind... Home was the last remaining sanctuary, and even if nothing happened tonight, it would be tainted. Even with all of her CSI skills, she'd never be able to get that small trace of him out of there. Worse still, she wasn't sure she'd ever completely want to.
As the door opened, Grissom caught his first glimpses of Sara's place. Though it was, as expected, impeccably neat, he felt something was missing. Gradually he realised it was the warmth that Sara took with her wherever she went. He thought it should have been evident in her apartment somehow, but instead, in ways it seemed as empty as his own.
"You can take off your coat if you want," said Sara, gesturing toward some hooks where he could hang it up. "I'll, uh... make the coffee." She disappeared into what Grissom assumed was the kitchen, and after a minute, he followed her. He wanted to get this done, already sensing how hard it would be to leave her once their tête-à-tête was over.
What was he doing here? What was she doing here? The thoughts exploded concurrently in Sara's brain. They shook her so profoundly that she failed to notice cues signalling Grissom's presence. When she spun to get the milk from the fridge, she found herself face to face with him, standing far too close.
"Sara, talk to me," Grissom commanded with quiet authority. She tried to avoid eye contact. She looked up at the ceiling, looked at the cupboards, looked at the mismatched coffee mugs sitting on the counter. She wanted to delay answering, and yet prolong this closeness.
"I know things have been wrong for a while now," Grissom continued "I see you in the halls and it's almost like it isn't you at all, just a shadow,"
Sara gave a wry smile. "That's a bit melodramatic, isn't it? I'm sure it's just a ... bad patch. Everyone has them, you know." Unsatisfied, Grissom stared her down until she offered him a more insightful explanation.
"Our line of work is death, and sometimes even lemons can't get that smell off. Cases like Linley Parker's... people we can't save. It makes me question the worth of what we do... what I do. My work is my life, and if the former is worthless, then..." she faltered for a moment. "Then," she concluded "So am I."
His eyes grew wide in shock as he began to protest "You know that isn't true."
"I know, but that doesn't stop me from feeling it sometimes."
"I value you. As a CSI, a person, a friend. You have to know that, Sara."
Sara bit her lip. He'd given her an opening, and though she knew it was unwise to put it mildly, she couldn't stop her emotions from spilling out. "But not enough to take a chance on me, huh."
"What? If it's about the promotion... " Grissom was baffled. He knew recommending Nick for the promotion had hurt her, but he had honestly thought she'd come to terms with it.
"That's not it," she said with an odd calmness. "Do you remember your interrogation of Dr. Lurie?"
Grissom froze, unable and unwilling to process the implications of her comment. So she continued "I was there, behind the glass. I heard you ... your calculation of the risks and decision that I wasn't worth it." Sara lowered her eyes, afraid of what she would see if she looked in his eyes.
"That wasn't what I meant. I could never give you the life you deserved..."
"I never asked you to. You once said you didn't know what to do about this, and since then we've both been fighting our feelings, and... I'm tired, Grissom." Sara watched the conflicting emotions play on his face, and decided she had to end it all now, one way or another.
Stepping forward, she locked her lips with his before he could determine which way was up. For a moment he was stunned, unresponsive, but as warmth fled from her lips into his, he succumbed to the hunger he had been denying for so long. His fingers ran through her dark hair as her arms wrapped around him, and suddenly where he ended and she began became pleasantly indeterminable.
As spontaneously as their first kiss had started, so did it end. They split apart as if the sparks flying between them had enough force to electrocute them also. It was almost as if, Sara surmised, reality had weaseled a way back into their brains, bringing with it the knowledge of how difficult this road would be, even if they both did choose it. For Grissom however, reality had never left; so that even while being so wonderfully lost with her, he carried the excruciating knowledge with him. It was a double-edged sword, both warming and burning him.
Both breathed heavily as if oxygen had been removed from the atmosphere. Sara decided to give them both a moment to compose themselves, so she turned back to where she had been making coffee, which seemed like aeons ago. Her senses on hyper alert, this time she could hear the footsteps indicating motion.
When she turned around, Grissom was gone. Not that I can blame him, she thought to herself. Things are more complicated now than ever. And yet... Something had felt very right about this, like a new beginning.
Sara smiled to herself. Even though all her rational impulses told her this was not a good idea, she couldn't help it.
Out on the North Trop highway, Grissom was heading toward the CSI offices to finish some paperwork, clear his head. He was lost in a myriad of discordant thoughts. I want Sara, he realised, of course I want Sara, but....
For just a moment, he abandoned the rationality which had so well-served him throughout his life.
Remembering her, the warmth of her lips, the fire in her eyes, the beauty he'd always seen in her, he couldn't help but smile.