OVER YOU
Spoiler: the Accused is Entitled
Song: Over You by Jerry Fuller and performed by Gary Puckett and the Union Gap
YESTERDAY EVENING:
It was getting late and Grissom was still at the CSI parking lot, listening to the Pink Floyd CD. He was once again telling himself that it was time to go home, when something distracted him. A guy he knew was walking towards a shaded area of the parking lot. Hank Pedigrew . Grissom shook his head. He couldn't figure this guy out. Why had he cheated on Sara like that? He was musing on this, when to his amazement, he saw Sara hurrying to join the man.
Grissom watched in fascination as they began to talk, and although he couldn't hear them, he could imagine what they were saying.
It was more than he could take. Finally he had a reason to drive away.
Hank smiled tentatively.
"Thank you for coming, Sara, I wasn't sure if you would want to talk -"
"It's ok." she interrupted "Just hurry, ok? Catherine is about to assign our new cases."
"Yes. I…" he hesitated, "I wanted to apologize to you, for… you know." He looked down briefly, then at her, "I wish I could undo any pain I caused you but I know I can't. I just want you to know that I cared about you; I… I wasn't playing-"
"Actually, you were." she interrupted with a weak smile.
"Yes, but I was truly interested in you. You're very special, Sara; in other circumstances I'd choose to be with you, believe me."
"Well. Ok. Thanks." She nodded just to end this conversation faster "Is… Is that all?"
"Yes." He nodded, then he hesitated, "Um. No, wait. Sara, I… I guess I have no right to intrude in your life after what happened, but I have to tell you this. You should take this chance to start over. Now that he's gone it will be easier."
Sara was momentarily confused, "What are you talking about?"
"Your boss, Sara. I know how you feel about him"
She blinked.
"… Excuse me?"
"Sara, you used to whisper his name when we were in bed. The few times we had sex, you…" he saw her shaking her head, denying it "Yes, you did." He insisted, "I never said anything because, after all, I wasn't being honest either"
Sara flushed.
"I… " she hesitated "I have to go." Sara ran back to the building.
LAST NIGHT:
Grissom's place:
Grissom couldn't sleep; after trying several relaxation techniques and failing, he threw the covers away and stumbled to the kitchen to make some tea.
He couldn't stop thinking of the events of the day. The goodbyes, the good wishes, Sara coming and giving him that envelope, and more importantly, Sara going to Hank like that…
He couldn't help thinking of her. During sleepless hours like these, his thoughts strayed in her direction. Always.
Sometimes he felt those thoughts were like a gift; something beautiful among the dark images that plagued his mind after a hard night's work. Other times, those thoughts were a burden, like today.
Grissom sighed exasperatedly. He didn't want to think of her; he needed some distraction. A book, some music…
He put on the kettle, turned on the little radio that he kept in the kitchen, and went to the living room.
There was a pile of unread books on the coffee table and he took the one at the top. He opened it but before he even read the title he glanced at the books at the bottom of the pile. Those still had their plastic cover on. He had resisted even thinking about them, but tonight his resistance was a little weak. He reached out and took one and slowly unwrapped it.
He had bought these on a Friday evening, just before going to work. He had been browsing around, when, for no reason, really, he glanced outside and saw her. Sara. He frowned. She had asked to have Friday free and he had granted it, without making any inquiry but now he was curious.
He noticed that she was walking slowly and carefully, as if she was having trouble with her shoes. Grissom frowned and went outside. He got the surprise of his life: She was wearing high-heeled shoes, the kind she swore she'd never wear. Open, flirty shoes. And, more surprises, she was wearing a skirt.
Grissom watched her from the bookstore entrance, wondering where she was going, dressed like this. He would have gone after her, but she stopped on the corner, in front of an Italian restaurant. She looked around, clearly waiting for someone.
Grissom kept looking, even though by now he knew who she was waiting for and the last thing he wanted was to see them together…
Just a week before, Catherine had asked him if it bothered him that Sara was dating Hank, and he'd answered with a curt 'no' that left no room for more questions. And he wasn't lying, it did not bother him.
Oh, at first it had upset him; when Phillip Gerard had told him that Sara and Hank were dating, it had felt like a betrayal. If he and Sara had been alone at that moment, he would have asked her why, why couldn't she be satisfied with what they had. But Gerard's presence had prevented all that, and he was glad, for it gave him time to think.
So, when he'd told Sara that she had a right to have a boyfriend, he had been honest. He truly believed that she needed some distraction outside of the work place, and if there was a little romance in it, well, she was entitled.
After all, no matter who she was with, nobody would ever have the Sara he knew. That Sara was his, only. The one who wrote those e-mails he'd treasured all those years ago; the one who read all those books; the Sara who worked side by side with him, no matter where or how; who was loyal and strong and courageous. Yeah, the one who others called socially clumsy, or 'a pest'. To him, she was the real Sara and that guy Pedigrew would never have her.
For instance, one of the first things she did for this guy was to smother her face in make up. She looked good, but just the fact that she needed to paint herself a new face said enough.
And now she was wearing flirty sandals that would surely hurt her feet, as if she felt it necessary to change who she was, just for the sake of this guy.
Grissom would have never asked her to change.
…He noticed how eagerly she looked around. How nervous, maybe fearing that he wouldn't come. Was Sara too early, Grissom wondered, or was Hank too late?
A sudden pang of regret gripped his heart. He'd never let her wait like this, Grissom mused; he would have been on time; much earlier, even, so he'd watch out for her and enjoy the sight of her walking down the street. He'd shush her apologies; he'd simply take her hand and lead her into that restaurant. He'd offer her a chair if she liked that kind of attention (this last thought made him smile); he'd recommend the perfect wine for her salad, and split a cassata with her. She'd look beautiful in candle light and, let's face it, that light would be good for him, too.
She would smile warmly and tell him-
Hank came hurriedly, kissed Sara, and explained something about the time –too late, too early, what? – and she was smiling, saying, 'it's ok, I understand' and then they were gone.
Grissom remained there for a few minutes, staring at the empty corner. Then, suddenly remembering where he was, turned back to the store, chose a couple or books, paid, and left.
He didn't mind, he'd told himself over and over. As long as she was there, by his side,
he'd get by.
And even if he left Vegas, she'd still be just a phone call away. That was the beauty of their relationship.
Grissom went to the kitchen to fix his tea and looked at the manila envelope that Sara had given him. He had left it on the kitchen counter while he decided when to open it. Sara had asked him to do it far away, but he wasn't going anywhere for a long time, was he? He patted the envelope, noticing there were several objects in it; a small box, something flat and hard, and something else… He opened the envelope and took out the flat object on top. It was a picture. There were some messages written in the back, but he looked at the image first.
The night crew and a few guests. All smiling and holding a banner that read, "Come back soon, Boss". He smiled a little; it was a nice touch. Then he noticed that Sara wasn't there, so maybe she had taken the picture. When he looked at the back he saw that everybody had written something and signed; little poems, something funny from Greg, something caustic from Catherine, something warm from Jacqui and Archie. But nothing from Sara. Grissom couldn't believe that she of all people would not write something. What did it mean?
"You really could be too late" she had said once. Until tonight he hadn't realized how it would feel like to be late. The utter despair… the loneliness…
He thought of how she ran to meet Hank. His Sara, running to- No. He took a deep breath and shook his head. He needed to think of something else. He tossed the picture away and reached for the radio and turned the volume up, loud enough to drown the pounding of his heart.
'It's nothing', he thought after a moment. 'She brought the envelope; she cared enough to do it. She is still my friend. That's all I've wanted-' And suddenly he was listening to this
Grissom listened to the song, mesmerized. It was as if they were playing it for him, and the worst part was that apparently there was a problem at the station and they were playing it yet again. He felt as if the singer was really singing to him, cruelly telling him a couple of truths. Things he'd never admit out loud, things he barely wanted to admit to himself:
He wasn't over her. He'd never be. He'd been lying to himself; he'd tried to put her qualities in little boxes, taking some and leaving the rest, telling himself that what he had was enough… But it wasn't true. He would have loved to have Hank's Sara too; the one with the make up and the skirts and the complicated shoes. He'd wanted Sara, period.
But he'd lost his chance… all his chances. And now she was back with Hank. God, it hurt.
Grissom quickly turned off the radio, so violently that he sent it crashing against the wall. He stood there, breathing hard, something painful exploding in his chest.