Author: Odoriferous
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Like I own anything. CSI's not mine. I'm not making any money off of this. So don't sue.
Note: The italics indicate personal thoughts. Just for clarity.
If you like this, feel free to leave a raving review. ;)
If you don't like this, let me know too. As long as it's constructive. No flames, I'm fragile.
I tried to avoid it, but it seems I have a talent for missing typo's. If you find any blatant mistakes, let me know.
Choice Words
It was 3 a.m. Sara Sidle stood in front of the vending machine at CSI. Wrapped up in a case involving a shooting with three fatalities, she'd missed her usual 2 o'clock 'lunch'. The young criminalist stared at the brightly colored wrappers, containing saccharine snacks and the pictures of soda cans glistening with condensation. Sara weighed her options. A Mars or maybe a Twix bar? Coke or Sprite? Should be easy enough. Yet indecision ate away at her. How telling that she couldn't even decide on a snack. What on earth made her think she could make a life altering decision? Leave Las Vegas and build a new life for herself? Or stay, but take on the daunting task of trying to forget the one man who'd ever truly captured her heart, and her mind? This man, so elusive in spirit, but with a staggering intellect and a knowledge so rich, still intrigued her. Kept her awake at night, while she fought lewd images of her and him together. Kept her on her toes at work, wanting to impress him with her own not to be underrated brain. Kept her in a perpetual state of unfathomable confusion. Ironically, he also kept her coming back for more. All the while, his impenetrable personality made it virtually impossible to know him. Loving him had proved to be even harder. Not just because he was enigmatic and closed off, but also because he was her supervisor. And not in the least because he seemed intent on hurting her. He didn't know what to do about this 'thing' between them. His words. For Sara 'it' was an unrelenting and incomprehensible attraction, both to his body and – God forbid – his soul. On many a lonely night, she'd attempted to define it in more certain terms. Coming up blank each time. There was no defining it, yet it was undeniably there. And it held on strong.
Sara gazed emptily at the humming machine as she pondered. You pick one, you lose one, she thought to herself. Once she'd told Warrick that for her losing was losing. No matter how you twist and turn. What's gone can't be recollected. You always sacrifice one thing for the other. Sanity for having the one you want. Loneliness for sanity. Sara threw in some coins and selected the Twix bar, which subsequently got stuck in the machine. Sara sighed and punched the glass full force. The candy didn't budge. Or maybe some people just never get what they want, she despondently whispered to herself. Whether it be candy, whether it be love. Funny, but she couldn't quite remember when she'd gotten so pessimistic. For young Sara Sidle the proverbial glass had always been half full. Nowadays the glass seemed neither half full, nor half empty. Someone had drunk it. Drained it. Leaving her unquenched and desperate.
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"You know, you have to throw in money. These candy bars don't jump out by themselves", Nick said in his amused Texan drawl, startling Sara out of her reverie.
"Nick", Sara breathed.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. You seemed spaced out there for a while."
He amicably patted her shoulder.
"I was trying to decide on lunch", she replied, arching her eyebrows at the word 'lunch'. One of these days she'd have to start eating properly. The nature of the job didn't inspire healthy eating habits though.
"I've got a sandwich I'm willing to share with my favorite CSI."
"Who died and put you in such a good mood?"
"Ouch, Sar. I'm just trying to be nice."
"I know. I'm sorry. My twix got stuck in the machine", Sara stated, as if that was an explanation for her crabbiness.
Nick laughed good-heartedly.
"And here I was, thinking it was Grissom again."
"Don't even go there", Sara warned.
The Grissom situation was a sensitive topic all by itself and she had no desire to talk to anyone about it. It irked her enough that her co-workers had picked up on the tension between them. "It's a ham sandwich, but you can take the meat it out. There are veggies on it too", Nick offered, effectively changing the subject. He winked at her. She smiled back tentatively.
"If you have a bottle of Evian in your knapsack, I'd say we have a date."
"Mi food, es su food, princess", Nick said grinningly as he lead Sara to the break room.
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"Nick? Have you seen Sara?", Grissom asked from the doorway of the break room, as Nick munched on half a sandwich.
"We're on break. She went to the bathroom. She'll be right back."
"Did she…", Grissom wavered, "no, never mind. Ask her to come to my office after her break, okay?"
"Sure."
As Grissom turned around to leave he practically bumped into Sara.
"Sorry", Sara said, looking anywhere but at his face.
"I didn't see you."
"No you don't."
Grissom winced at her words. She seemed so dejected and resigned. He quickly turned away and headed to the safe sanctuary of his office. How much longer could he stand the pain in her eyes? He wanted to take it away. But for the longest time he hadn't deemed himself fit to fulfil that task, to make her happy. Completely oblivious remained he to the fact that he was the only who could bring about that change.
"He wants to see you", Nick told Sara.
"Huh?"
"After the break. His office."
"He couldn't ask me himself? Figures."
"Cut him some slack, Sara."
"I've been doing that for a long time, Nicky", she sighed.
"Now can we talk about something else?"
Nick eyed his friend worriedly.
"How 'bout those Cubs, huh?"
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Sara quietly knocked on Grissom's office door. No answer. She knocked again. Still nothing.
Great. He's not there. What else is new?
Then a warm hand landed on her shoulder. She spun around in surprise.
"I'd like to go in, but your blocking my entrance", Grissom smiled warmly at her.
"Jeez, Griss."
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."
What was it today? Was she that spaced out? Damn, that sleep deprivation.
"You work too hard. Are you getting enough sleep?", Grissom asked as he entered his dimly lit office. The singing bass above his door remained silent as Sara followed Grissom. The thing had annoyed Catherine so much, that on a quiet evening she'd stolen the batteries.
Sara was as voiceless as the bass. She didn't want to get into a conversation about her overtime that was piling up, or her sleeping habits.
"Sit down", Grissom requested, dropping the subject, well aware that any objections, short of an order to take some time off would be fruitless.
Sara uncharacteristically did as she was told.
"I was just in ballistics. The rounds from the crime scene match the gun found in the shrubs near the house. It has the ex-husband's prints on it. Seems like he couldn't stand the thought of his ex-wife making a new life for herself and their son. Shot the new boyfriend execution style and then offed the woman and the boy."
Sara shook her head in disgust.
"That kid was only six years old. I don't understand people."
"That's not our job. We understand the evidence. Leave the people up to the psychologists."
"Right. People are not your strong suit either."
Grissom was a little fazed by her accusation, but didn't feel the need or the justification to contradict her statement.
"No. I realize that."
"Does Brass have the suspect in custody?"
"There's an APB out on the guy. We'll reel him in soon enough."
"Great", Sara said, her voice lacking any form of enthusiasm.
She got up to leave.
"Sara?"
"Yes."
She sank back down tiredly.
"I want to talk to you."
"So talk."
"Not here. I…I'm worried about you."
"Don't be. I'm fine. I don't need your concern", Sara lied acidly.
"You don't?" Grissom asked with genuine surprise. It was too late, wasn't it? She was beyond caring. He'd not tested her limits for patience. He'd crossed them. He hadn't meant to lead her on. He hadn't meant to keep her on hold as he worked through his own emotions. Yet he had done just that. Which was very unfair, he realized now. This was exactly what he intended on telling her over breakfast.
"What are you doing after shift?"
"I'm going to go to bed. Get some rest. Happy?"
Right.
He almost gave in to his unfaltering desire to back out. But it was time to bite the bullet.
"Would you like to get some breakfast first?"
"What? Now you want to meddle with my eating habits too?", Sara replied, getting increasingly annoyed.
"No."
Grissom laughed at the silliness of the situation. He felt like a teenage boy, asking out the girl of his dreams.
"What?"
Sara's vexation rose another notch.
"With me? Do you want to have breakfast with me?"
"Oh."
"So?"
"You've got something to ask me, ask now."
"I'd rather not."
"Why?"
"This is personal business, not professional. So this isn't the right place", Grissom explained.
"I didn't know we had any personal business. You and me."
Grissom let out a pained sigh.
"We do. You know we do."
"Oh really? I thought you wanted to forget about it."
"I…"
"Right. I see. Nothing's changed."
"Sara", he pleaded, "Not here, please."
"Fine."
"Breakfast it is?"
"Fine."
"I'll come get you after shift."
"Fine."
Sara rose and walked out his office annoyed beyond comprehension, but with a glimmer of hope inside her, in spite of herself.
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Gil Grissom was a man with a plan. A carefully devised plan. One designed to bring closure and the start a whole new chapter. A chapter in a book written for two. He was sure of it now. He could only hope the execution of his plan would go as he had dreamed. The resolution depended on the forgiveness and resilience of a young woman named Sara Sidle. The plan was to court her, old school style. Show her his heart was in it. Because deep down inside the sorry soul of dear old Gilbert Grissom was a hopeless romantic. A man who loved a woman, yet was scared to show her his undying love. Not so much because he was afraid she'd decline his offer, but because he was afraid she'd take him up on it. Love was a game for fools, he was told. And Gil Grissom was no fool. That is to say until he met Sara Sidle. And now he was a different man. It took him years to come to terms with it. Years to realize that it wasn't just going to go away. These feelings were here to stay. He fought it, and feared it until he learned defeat was insurmountable and fear only vanished by embracing it. So now he was ready and fearless. Well, almost fearless.
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Sara closed her locker door. She'd splashed some cold water in her face, refreshed her make-up and donned a new shirt that still smelled of her lilac fabric softener. That always worked miracles. That and the fact that Grissom wanted to spend time with her. Sara managed to disregard the thought that he'd probably only want to scold her for not taking care of herself and raking up way too much overtime. Just then, Grissom entered the locker room, looking quite invigorated himself.
"Hi."
"Hey, Sara. You ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be."
Grissom raised an eyebrow in question.
"Never mind. Where are we going? Cause I know this place, that a friend recommended, it's at the corner of…"
Grissom cut her off.
"Maybe we'll do that some other time. I've already picked out a spot."
"Fine. That's fine."
Sara was surprised he'd given this some thought, like the whole outing was premeditated. Like a date even. Don't go there, girl. Never mind.
"Alright, let's go. I'll drive."
He held the door open for her.
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"Now I'm just getting a little worried."
"Relax, we're almost there."
"We've been driving for 25 minutes. And I'm getting hungry."
"If I knew you were going to be such a pesky petunia, I'd have taken Warrick."
Sara stared at Grissom as if he'd lost his mind.
"I'm kidding, Sara. I can be a funny guy sometimes."
"Funny weird, yeah."
He grinned, at ease with the way the morning was unfolding. Still on track with the master plan. He got off the highway and made a left turn.
"This is Lake Mead."
"Very perceptive of you, Sara."
Grissom took the winding road to a rocky beach area, where a couple of trees stood to provide cooling reprieve from the hot morning sun. They got out of the midnight blue Tahoe and put on their shades against the glaring rays. Grissom opened the rear door and handed Sara a red and white checked plaid. The oversized picnic-basket he carried himself.
"What's this?", Sara inquired, completely bewildered.
"Never had a picnic before?"
"Never with you."
"There's a first for everything."
Grissom's confidence grew with Sara's increasing befuddlement. After all, this was enjoyable. The hard part was yet to come. But he had his plan to fall back on. It would work out.
"Hang on, I forgot something."
Grissom returned from the car with a battery operated CD player in his hand. He put it down on the blanket that Sara had laid out in the shade. She was perusing through the contents of the basket.
"I didn't know what kind of music you liked. I've only ever heard you hum songs."
"I'm eclectic. Don't worry."
She breathed in deeply.
"I can't believe you're doing this."
Grissom looked at her, all of a sudden unsure of his plan. The hopeful look in her eye stilled his anxiousness.
"Coltrane."
"Huh?"
"I brought John Coltrane. Collection of ballads. Thought you might like it."
"All that jazz."
"Yeah", he grinned as he turned the CD player on and 'Blame it on my youth' flowed from the speakers.
Sara made herself comfortable as Grissom pulled a couple of plates and something wrapped in paper out of the basket.
"Could you grab the bread?", Grissom asked, as he unfolded the packet and revealed several kinds of heavily fragrant cheeses.
"There are raisins and dried figs and peaches in there too. Goes well with the cheese."
Sara fished out the rest of the food from the basket and noticed the box of delicious red berries.
"Strawberries!"
"Later. That's dessert. Patience is a virtue."
"Tell me about it", Sara said, all too aware of the double-entendre.
Grissom laid out the cheese on front of them and tore a piece of bread from the baguette. He handed Sara a knife.
"You go ahead. There's Brie, Camembert, Chamois d'Or, Père Joseph and an old Belgian cheese called Old Bruges. Strong, but delicate."
Grissom enunciated with the expertise of a true Frenchman.
"I didn't know you spoke French."
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me."
"Very true."
"So, dig in."
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They ate quietly for a while, enjoying each other's company and the view of a peaceful Lake Mead. But somewhere under the surface of their silent understanding bubbled the questions. The why's and the what if's that had remained unanswered for almost a decade and that had been left to fester and almost destroy their bond.
"Wine", Grissom said, "I almost forgot the wine."
He pulled the bottle of Pinot Noir from the basket.
"At least it's at room temperature."
"Could be a little strong so early in the morning."
"It's only morning to the rest of the world. For us night shift insomniacs it's more like evening."
"I have water too, if you want", Grissom offered gently.
Since her near DUI, the topic of alcohol made Grissom a wee bit uncomfortable.
"I love Pinot Noir, Grissom."
She paused.
"I don't have a problem. I handled it in time. Just in time, but I handled it."
"I wasn't…"
"No. I know", she quickly said.
Grissom was a lot of things, but he wasn't overly judgemental, Sara knew. If anything, he'd want to help, not judge, even after everything that happened between them.
Sara sighed as he poured her a glass of the rich velvety red liquid.
"So, what's this about? What did you need to talk to me about?"
Let's just get this over with. If he's arranged this in some misguided attempt at letting me down gently, I need to know now. Before…
"Well…"
She urged him on with her fiery brown eyes.
"I'm trying…", he sighed, "Trying to make it up to you, for being so hard on you."
Sara gazed it him, stunned at his admission.
"I've been incredibly difficult, obstinate and unfair to you. And it had nothing to do with anything you did. It was all about my fears and inhibitions. But gradually it dawned on me that I wasn't doing myself any favors by pushing you away. And that I was certainly not doing right by you. You deserve better. I know you do. I once told you that you deserve to have a life outside of law enforcement and I mean that. Maybe I can be a part of that. If you can forgive me for my incredibly inconsiderate behavior."
His confession rolled off his tongue as a continuous stream. He'd rehearsed many times what he would say to her. He'd be eloquent and clear and she'd be dazzled and fall into his arms. Now the words just flowed and all he wanted was for her to understand somehow. He couldn't hold back now.
"What makes you think I can do that? That I can forgive you?", Sara asked. The twinkle in her eye told him that she already had. Or at the very least that she was willing to.
"The kindness of your heart?", he tried, smirking uncontrollably.
They both laughed nervously. Shuddering with laughter, Sara spilled wine on the pristine plaid.
"Oh. I'm sorry."
Grissom grabbed a napkin, scooted closer to her and tried to clean up the stain.
"Good God, Gil.You're a piece of work", Sara said, as he tossed the dirty napkin aside, but didn't move back to his previous spot on the plaid. They were close enough to feel the warmth radiating from each other's bodies.
"Thanks."
"I didn't say that was a good thing."
"No. I mean thanks for calling me Gil. That was actually step three."
"Excuse me?"
"Step three of my plan. Getting you to call me Gil, instead of the buddy-like Grissom. Everybody calls me Grissom."
"Right. That's not weird", she replied with irony, " You have a plan."
"Yeah", Grissom said a little self-consciously.
He pulled a scrap of paper from his pants pocket. Six items were written down in his elegant handwriting.
"What's that?"
"Six steps for seducing Sara Sidle", Grissom offered with a straight face.
"Grissom", she practically yelled, feigning indignation.
He gave her a stern look.
"Right. Gil", she corrected.
"Better."
The grinned stupidly at each other.
"Okay. So what's step one? I want to be kept up to speed here."
"One. Take Sara out to a nice place for breakfast. A quiet place to be alone and talk."
"So that's covered. Go on."
"Alright. Two. Make Sara aware of your intentions."
"Oh really? What might they be?"
Sara was getting increasingly amused at Grissom's serious approach to the subject. He was a scientist in every aspect of his life. No surprises there.
"You're pushing me a little here. I need some time to acclimate to the changes."
"You've had ten years to acclimate, now give", she half-joked.
Grissom moved even closer and took her elegant hand in his big tanned one.
"My intentions are to court you. To make you understand how wonderful you are and how dear you are to me."
Sara's heart jumped up in her throat and goose-bumps rose on her fair skin.
"Gil", she managed in a throaty whisper.
"Shhh", he hushed, "I'm serious. I need you to know that I've come to the realization that you are very important to me. Even if I wanted, I couldn't ignore you or deny this attraction between us. And believe me, I've tried. To no end, obviously.
"You hurt me."
"I know. And I can't promise you that I'll never hurt you again. But I will promise that I'll try."
The honesty in his stunning blue orbs made the tears well up in her own eyes.
"Hey", he soothed, "it's okay."
Grissom draped his right arm around her back and pulled her closer. He gently placed a kiss in her hair. He released her as she sighed and composed herself.
"So. We know what step three is. You can check that off your list, Gil."
"Beautiful", he smiled.
"Which brings us to four."
"Four's a good one. I've been thinking about this for a long time. I've missed it very much. I was the first thing I noticed about you."
"You mean my unsurpassed intellect?"
"That was the next thing I noticed."
Sara's smile sparkled at him.
"I can check that off too."
"What? You didn't even tell me what it was!"
Sara lightly punched him as he hesitated.
"Your smile. I needed that. I wanted to make you smile again. You have a powerful smile. It never fails to make my day."
"Oh, you. You're horribly romantic, you know."
"Objections?"
Sara grinned, making sure she didn't fully smile, just to irk him.
"None. Go on."
"Five."
"Yes."
"We may not be ready for five. I saw this as a long term plan."
"We don't have to do five. But you can tell me what it is."
Grissom cleared his throat dramatically.
"No."
"Come on. Tell me. You envisioned this. I need to know."
"No."
"You're only making this worse, cause now I've got all these images in my head of things that you might have conjured up and you know how my mind works…"
"Oh shut up."
She started to laugh but he silenced her with his fervid lips on hers. Both their hearts beat a wildly staccato rhythm as they embraced and deepened the kiss. Simultaneously they opened their eyes and released each other, but not completely. Hips were pressed together and gazes interlocked. Grissom caressed Sara's cheek with his thumb.
"Five's a good number."
"From now on, its my favorite number", Sara agreed.
"And you haven't even had six yet."
Grissom wiggled his eyebrows moronically.
"Six?"
Sara couldn't suppress an equally idiotic facial expression.
"Yeah. Six."
"Later?"
"Yeah. Later."
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Five years lateron the shores of Lake Mead a giggling young girl chased a blond retriever puppy.
"Buster, stay!", she yelled, amused.
The dog had no intention of doing as he was told and the girl's brown curls bobbed as she ran after the elusive dog. As she almost caught it, he made a sharp turn and the girl tumbled to the ground as she reach into the empty air. Tears started to flow from her gorgeous blue eyes when she noticed her scraped knee. The puppy returned and licked the weeping girl's face lovingly.
A handsome man stood up from his red and white checked picnic plaid and picked up the girl. He had the same stunning blue eyes as his daughter and he kissed her hair as he carried her back to the blanket in the shade.
"Shhhh, honey. It's okay. Mommy will kiss you where it hurts and make you feel all better, alright?"
The man set his little girl down, next to her mother. The likeness was amazing. Nature had graced both with lovely fair skin and effulgent auburn curls.
"Hey. Hey. It's alright Cassie. It's nothing. Look.", the woman soothed.
The pretty girl sniffed but started to smile as her mother kissed her scraped knee. The retriever pup jumped up against the girl and ran away again. The girl glanced at her parents before shooting off again, giggling once more.
"She looks so much like you", the man said to his wife.
His eyes shone with pride and love.
"She does have your eyes, Gil."
"And your resilience."
They stared at each other knowingly.
"I love you."
"I know", she replied.
He bumped her shoulder.
"I love you too", she added.
"Choice words."
"Indeed they are."
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