Chapter titled for the Me'shell Ndegeochello song, "Faithful."
No one is faithfulI am weak
I'll go astray
Forgive me for my ways
No one is faithful
Faithful
The silence as they ate was deafening, neither wanting to be the first one to break it and begin the conversation. So they tiptoed around each other, voices muted, as they worked through the logistics of breakfast and showers. Catherine caught Sara watching her when she thought she wasn't looking, the expression in her dark eyes sad and melancholy. Catherine knew that when she stared at Sara's turned back, the pain that she couldn't quite hide leached out every other emotion. Catherine didn't know why the very thought of Grissom coming for a visit made it hard to breathe, but of course she did. Gil had a hold on Sara she knew she could never match, and if he wanted to begin the relationship that Sara had wanted all along, she, Catherine, had no chance. What she couldn't figure out was why that hurt so much, why she cared so much. She had had a lot of relationships and none of them meant anything. This should be no different, she rationalized, and if it hadn't been for that little hitch in her breath, she really would have believed it.
When Sara suggested they go for a walk on the beach, they both knew the time for dancing around the subject had come to an end. They ended up on an isolated, rocky stretch of beach, and Catherine would have laughed at the symbolism if she had been in the mood to laugh. Sara didn't seem to notice the surroundings, walking slowly along the edge of the surf, staring at the waves as they crashed over her feet. When she stopped abruptly and faced the wind coming in off the water, whipping her auburn hair, Catherine had to retreat a couple of steps to stand beside her. When she spoke, her words took Catherine by surprise.
"This was always my favorite place to come to think, you know, when I worked here before. I would come here every time a case got to me or the days started to run together into a never-ending stream of death, I would come here." She glanced over at Catherine, before facing the ocean once more. "I would stand right here and face the wind and let the water roll over my feet and it was like it was all washed away. The wind and water just took away my burdens. I haven't been back here in years." She turned and took Catherine's hand, squeezing it gently. "I never brought anyone here before, but I had this sudden urge to show you."
She had never heard Sara talk so personally before, and Catherine was touched. It sounded like a confession to Catherine's ears, but she wasn't sure to what. "These last few days have been so unexpected, and so wonderful." But now it sounded like goodbye. Catherine drew in a breath to steel herself against what was coming. "You were right. I want to see Gil." Catherine's eyes squeezed closed at the words impacted. "But I don't know what that means."
Sara knew her words, her honesty, hurt, but she didn't know anything else to do. "I don't know what that means..." she repeated, "for us. Or for Gil." The roar of the surf filled the silence that stretched between them. "Tell me." Catherine opened her eyes in surprise at Sara's pleading tone, matched by the expression in her eyes. She reached up and brushed Catherine's hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering at the base of neck, warming the chill skin. "Tell me what's between us, what we're doing...."
Catherine's thoughts swirled. Me, she wants me to define this, to tell her what to do about Gil. If I say so, she realized, Sara will tell Gil we're together and that there's no chance. Catherine exhaled slowly, stepping in to brush her lips over Sara's, before meeting her eyes. "I can't." She couldn't believe what she was saying. "You have to figure this out for yourself." She let go of Sara's hand reluctantly, and continued down the beach, leaving Sara to watch the rolling surf alone.
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They threw her a party that night, at the beginning of shift, complete with chocolate cake and ice cream. Catherine was surprised to realize just how much she would miss the 'kids,' as she and Sara affectionately called the younger CSIs among themselves. She would also miss the relaxed, noncompetitive atmosphere of the lab, a result of the teamwork and communication Sara taught to her CSIs. Such a marked contrast to what she was used to, and she had to admit, it was a welcome change. She just hoped she could adjust to her old environment, get the walls and defenses up and in place quickly. It wasn't going to be easy.
The shift was hectic, and she and Sara had no time to do much more than fix breakfast and cuddle for a few minutes on the couch before Catherine had to be at the airport. Catherine surprised herself by clutching Sara's hand until the very last minute, when they had to part at the security checkpoint. Sara surprised her even more with a very public kiss that sent her head spinning and made her wish they had had more time before leaving the house that morning. The look in Sara's eyes told her she had the same thought, and one kiss became two, then three, before Catherine noticed the stares of the people around them, and then the time. "I have to go," she sighed, feeling her cheeks heat as an older couple glared at them. "And I can't believe I'm making out with you like a teenager in public." Sara laughed at that, and then gave her another toe-curling kiss before winking at the elderly lady. "What do they expect? This is San Francisco." Separating from Sara, Catherine finally made it through security, waving one last time before the brunette was out of her sight. And of course the elderly couple was seated across the aisle from her. But when she glanced over at them to see if they were staring at her, the lady gave her a shy smile before returning to her Redbook.
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For all it's glitter, Vegas seemed strangely dull and muted to Catherine's eyes. Her first night back to work and she got a trick roll on the Strip. She processed the guy, who insisted, like they all did, that he never did this and that he was faithful to his wife. Always was, except for this one time. Catherine had tried to look sympathetic, but she didn't think she did a very good job of it. She wondered if the wife was sitting at home or suspected her husband, or was even in bed with the grocery delivery man. The only good thing about a trick roll, she thought, was the evidence collection was quick, and she could escape the glitter and infidelity and return to the lab.
Which was its own kind of hell, she realized as she caught Gil smiling and whistling in the break room, looking so happy she wanted to slap him. Suddenly everywhere she looked, she was reminded of Sara, even though Sara hadn't been in the lab now for almost a year. But worse, she was reminded of Sara and Gil, the agonizing looks, the flirtatious comments, like the time early on when she asked him to tape her up, and Gil, in a moment of unexpected lightheartedness, turned to her and said, "I love my job." At the time it was cute, the bugman pursued by the headstrong young CSI, their playfulness matched only by their intensity in working the job. But that had changed, as the pursuit became too rough and too long for even someone as stubborn as Sara, and the light and playfulness had seeped from her body and eyes, leaving her a shell of her former self. And now that she had escaped that, had moved on or so Catherine had thought, now he was turning the tables and pursuing, and everything about his manner indicated that he thought the result was a foregone conclusion.
He's probably right, she thought as she sipped her coffee, the acid burning her stomach. Nick and Warrick came in, joining her at the table, and she let the smiles they directed at her warm her chilled heart. But of course, they had to pepper her with questions about Sara and San Francisco, so it wasn't really a reprieve at all. When she told them how easily she and Sara had gotten along and lived together, Nick explained in an incredulous voice, "Sara? Really?"
That got to be a pattern, like when she told them about how Sara and Lindsey bonded and what a great babysitter she had been, it was Warrick's turn to look like she was describing an alternative universe Sara. Or when she told them what an accomplished cook Sara was, even Gil had looked puzzled. And the sports equipment and her people skills and the way her CSIs adored her as their boss. In the recitation, Catherine realized what a different person Sara had become since she had left, or had hidden from them the whole time she had been in Vegas. She recalled Sara standing on the beach, the wind and the waves, and realized that Sara was at home there, among the swirling currents, in a way that she had never been at home here in the oppressive heat and blinding sun of the desert. Vegas had been so bad for her in so many ways, Catherine thought, as her eyes drifted to Gil. So many ways.
The weekend finally came and Gil was updating her on everything in his office before he boarded the plane. He looked years younger, so happy and excited, and she couldn't help but try to bring him down a little. "Sooo," she said on a long slow exhalation, "what do you think is going to happen in Frisco?
He looked sheepish as he glanced at her over his reading glasses. "I really don't know. We have a lot of things to talk about."
She frowned, and gave him a knowing look. "Let me rephrase that, what do you want to happen?"
Confronted, he blushed, he actually blushed, to her utter amazement. "I want... to be her friend again. And see what else we might be to one another." Her heart sank, and she blinked rapidly.
"Well, good," she said, a little too brightly. "Are we done? I should get to my scene." He tilted his head, questioning her subtly, but then he shook his head and let her go. He had a plane to catch, after all.
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The day had been marvelous. Sara had taken him to Fisherman's Wharf and they had had a wonderful lunch, strolling and shopping and doing tourist-y things that he never would have imagined he would have enjoyed. But then, the company probably had a lot to do with it. Sara wasn't completely at ease with him, and there were many awkward silences, but she seemed relaxed enough, and having a good time. His only regret is that at no point did she turn to him with that huge, face-transforming, 100-watt smile that did such damage to him when it was directed at him. She had let him take her hand while they strolled along a boardwalk, their fingers entertwined between them. At one point, he had looked down at their hands and wondered why it had taken him so long. It was perfect.
Sara cooked dinner for them at her house, after dragging him to a farmer's market for fresh vegetables for soup, and their conversation over dinner was as light as the bottle of white wine he had opened for them. He wasn't sure if he wanted it to be more, if he should bring up the past, or even the future he imagined, or just enjoy the quiet friendship that Sara seemed to be reveling in. Her eyes, over the candles, were dark and smoky, like the jazz that swirled around them, but he couldn't read the emotions there. Once, he would have known the emotions there, love, desire, the emotions she had always held for him. Then there was the pain and hurt that had taken over, but now, there were entirely new thoughts going on behind her eyes, and he had no idea what.
They were watching an old movie, quietly enjoying the moment, when he found himself needing... her. He hadn't come here to renew their friendship, but to have the relationship they had both always wanted. He was suddenly nervous, but confident as he causally draped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer, feeling her unconsciously snuggle into the warmth of his body. When the movie ended, she blinked and shifted to sit up, but his arm tightened to keep her there, and she looked up at him, her hand lightly braced on his chest. "Gil...?"
"Sara, I..." And for once, he didn't want to talk, to tiptoe around something that had been the elephant in the room for almost fifteen years, since they had met on the Harvard campus. Instead of trying to finish his thought, he leaned down to capture her lips in a sweet, light kiss.
TBC...
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I can't promise you loveI can't promise you me
In my heart of hearts
I yearn to fly
- Me'shell Ndegeochello, "Liliquoi Moon"