The Rival
By Tres Mechante
Disclaimer and author's note in chapter 1
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Chapter 2 of 3
Grissom dropped heavily into his chair and buried his face in his hands.
Idiot! He chastised himself. He couldn't believe how he'd reacted or what he'd said. And then to just storm off like that...God, it'll be a miracle if Sara ever talks to me again, he thought. Feeling his heart race, he did what he always did when seriously upset – checked his pulse.
"So what's it up to?" said a voice from across the room.
Looking up, he saw Sara lounging in the doorway. "Sara. I-I..." His voice died in his throat; he had no idea what to say.
Closing the door behind her, Sara entered his office and sat down, gesturing for Grissom to take the chair beside her. Slowly he came around the desk and lowered himself to the edge of the chair, joined hands hanging between his knees, head bowed.
"Gris, you need to move on," came her gentle voice.
Swallowing hard, he asked shakily "You mean I have to move on from you? I- I'm not sure I can do that, Sara."
Silence seemed to stretch for hours, but was in fact only a few seconds. "I look at you and see me a year ago," she said. "Somewhere along the way you stopped being...you." Her hands reached out to his, gently holding them in her own. "No one can make you happy, Grissom. That has to come from inside you. I learned that the hard way. I had to find myself and learn to accept me as I am and-and I'm stronger for it and more complete as a person."
"So you don't need anyone, is that it?" he asked, still not meeting her eyes.
"Need and want are two very different things, Gris." Taking one hand she cupped his chin and lifted his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Putting all your hopes in one person to make you happy is just not healthy. Believe me, I learned that the hard way. But I very much want certain people in my life," she said, resting her hand on his face and letting her thumb caress his cheek.
"As-as friends?"
"And maybe more," she replied. "But I can't abandon everyone else in my life just because that one person – however special – feels threatened. I won't. I've gone that route, Gris, and it only leads to bad things. If you want me, then you have to accept the whole me. And that includes my life apart from the lab and from you. It includes all the people I call friends."
He stared into her eyes, losing himself in their dark depths, fascinated by the emotions swirling within.
A sudden noise in the hallway startled them, breaking their eye contact. "I, uh, I have to go," she said, turning toward the door.
Before she had the door fully open, Grissom called out hesitantly. "Sara? Does day after tomorrow still work for you? For breakfast, I mean." He took her huge smile as a yes.
--- --- ---
Of course the fates conspired against them, groaned Grissom a few weeks later. Breakfast had been postponed – a couple of times. The closest they came was a coffee together in the break room, a briefly stalled elevator at the courthouse and a long drive to and from a crime scene.
On occasion they worked scenes together with Detective Vartan. Grissom watched the interactions between Sara and Vartan. They were friendly, professional, and there was no denying they had chemistry. And yet, as carefully as he watched, he never saw anything other than friendship. At least, not from Sara. Vartan, on the other hand, occasionally looked at Sara in a manner Grissom recognized all too well. He had a serious rival for Sara's affections, if not her heart.
But Grissom was not the only observer at these scenes.
Vartan watched Grissom and Sara together. They were friendly, professional, and there was no denying they had chemistry. He noted the seamless way they worked together, the way they appeared to communicate without words while working the scenes. And, because he watched them carefully, he saw the way Grissom looked at Sara, discreetly, but in a more than professional or even friendly capacity. And every so often, Sara returned those same looks. Vartan realized he had a serious rival for Sara's affections and quite probably her heart.
--- --- ---
If there was such a thing as Hell, then it was probably filled with budget meetings, speculated Grissom. He dragged himself into his office carrying cost analyses, equipment requests, budget projections and other files he wasn't too sure about. God, he hated this part of the job, he sighed wearily.
Dumping everything on his desk, he tried to decide if he had the energy to go get a cup of coffee. He felt like he had just worked a double.
"Excuse me, Dr. Grissom, do you have a few minutes?" came an unwelcome voice at the door.
Taking a deep breath, Grissom turned to face his visitor, muttering "This day just keeps getting better and better."
TBC
