No Room To Wiggle
Summary: Grissom tricked Sara into going to a conference with him. What's going to happen now that she knows the truth?
A/N: A follow up to my Improve Challenge short story, Wiggle Room, that one of my betas blackmailed me into writing. A few sprinkled spoilers for season four. Thanks to Burked, Ann and Marlou for looking over this.
Rating: PG-13 - may change later.
Disclaimer: If I haven't figured out a way to own CSI by now, I'm never going to.

Chapter 5

Sara took a deep breath, rubbing her temples as she tried to ground herself. Her palms were sweating, her heart racing, she was light-headed and everything was spinning around her. She was the walking definition of giddy, a fact that irked her. No rational person over the age of 14 got giddy over a near-kiss.

It's not the kiss that's doing this.

What had started as a simple dance rapidly spiraled out of control. The attraction between them had been undeniable. She literally felt herself drawn to Grissom. There were no doubts in her mind that if she had allowed the kiss, they wouldn't have stopped until they finished a far more primal dance.

That thought was terrific – as in it inspired terror.

As much as she wanted to continue, Sara needed to know exactly what it was they were continuing. It wasn't so much that they were moving too fast, but that she had no idea where they were heading. She had too many questions to blindly dive into this.

Turning around, she found her would-be lover standing exactly where she left him, his mouth slightly open. His eyes were dark with conflicting emotions, hurt and fear being among the clearest. Oh, damn.

Recalling the overheard confession he'd made months earlier, Sara knew Grissom was afraid that she wouldn't return his affections. He couldn't be taking this well. Licking her lips, she gave him a rueful smile as she moved back towards him.

"Sorry. Small steps, remember?"

Grissom's eyes slowly traveled to the hand she rested reassuringly on his arm. After a beat, they moved equally slowly back to study her face. His head tilted as he wordlessly examined her expression, looking for any signs of hesitation.

"You're not … upset?" he asked cautiously.

"No."

Inching his hands toward her waist, his deer-in-the-headlights look gradually faded when she didn't pull back. Instead, the corners of his lips curved upwards as he drew her into an embrace.

Sara smiled against his shoulder as he held onto her tightly. They could talk later; right now, this was something they both needed. She could feel the tension draining from his body as he realized she wasn't rejecting him or his advances outright. The open sign of emotion, even if he hadn't vocalized his feelings, was a major admission from Grissom.

She closed her eyes when he brought a hand up to brush a lock of hair from her face and over her ear, then moving to caress her cheek. The warmth of his breath on the lobe sent tingles down the length of her neck.

"I won't rush you," he promised lowly, tracing his fingers down her jaw line to cup her chin. When his head ducked down to brush his lips lightly against hers, Sara's eyes opened widely before she closed them again as she returned the kiss.

Grissom loosened his hold on Sara, giving her a smile as he stepped back, symbolically showing he was serious about not rushing. She blinked twice before dropping her head. If she had been giddy before, no thesaurus existed that could describe her current state of mind. The kiss had been fleeting and non-threatening, a hint of what was to come and a promise to be patient. Basically, it sent her head and heart on their own personal roller coaster ride.

Looking up, she found Grissom watching with amusement, but his stance showed he was still a bit nervous. They seriously needed to talk, but she also wanted to reassure him before they started.

"Wow," was what came out. Giving her head a shake, she wondered how to begin. "Water."

Grissom watched as she marched to the fridge, declining when she held a bottle out for him.

"I need water," Sara explained before draining a large amount from the bottle. It did little to help her regain her emotional balance. With a confused look, she cocked her head and stared at him. "What's going on? Between us."

"We kissed?" Grissom offered lightly.

"Yeah. But here? Now? Why?"

"Why not?"

"I'm serious."

Grissom's eyebrow rose as he leaned against the table, crossing his arms as he did so. "So am I," he said slowly, picking his words carefully. "The timing seemed right. We're away from Vegas. There's no pressure from work."

"That's the problem."

"I'm confused," he said with a baffled expression.

"At least we're on the same page," Sara exhaled. "Grissom, that kiss was great. I mean really great. And I want to see where it was leading. But I don't want a fling."

"Neither do I," he replied, obviously hurt by the accusation. "Do you really think that's all I want?"

"That's the problem," she admitted sadly. "I have no idea what you're thinking. You've built these walls around you. You've closed yourself off from everyone. I don't know what you want. I only know what I want to believe. And I know what the evidence tells me."

Grissom remained silent for a moment before moving to a pair of upholstered chairs sitting in front of the suite's plate-glass window. He stood there, waiting for Sara to join him before sinking into one of them.

"What do you want to believe and what does the evidence tell you?" he asked softly.

Sara played with the water bottle in her hand, slowly peeling the label off. This wasn't going to be easy, but it had to be done. They couldn't move forward until they dealt with the past. With a long sigh, she leaned back against the chair.

"What I want to believe? That – finally – I found a guy that I could really care about. Seriously, I mean. Someone who would feel the same way. Who'd accept me for who I am. Who wanted to be happy with me."

When Grissom slipped his hand over hers, Sara looked up sadly, prompting him to stare quizzically.

"That's what I wanted. And what I found out? He feels the same way. He wants to be with me. That he does care. But I'm not as important to him as his job. That he couldn't take a risk on me."

Sara waited as realization slowly hit Grissom. He pulled his hand back as he leaned into the cushions. The panicked look returned as he rubbed his beard frantically.

"I don't know what Brass told you…"

"Nothing," she said softly. "I was there. In the observation room."

Sara watched as Grissom rested his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands.

"That's not what I said."

"Grissom, I was there! I heard you," she said, fighting back her anger and frustration. "Don't try to lie about it."

"I'm not," he insisted, holding out his hands. "Sara, I never said the job was more important. Look, what I said, if I knew you were listening, I…"

"You never would have said a thing?" she stated, standing up quickly and crossing her arms over her chest as she fought back the tears.

"No. Sara, wait. Let me finish. Please," he implored, moving behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders. "That isn't how I wanted you to find out. I hadn't slept in days. I can't do that like you can. I wasn't thinking straight."

"You're denying what you said?"

"No. I know what I said. I can … imagine … how it must have sounded to you. What I meant was something else," he said adamantly, gently turning her around to face him.

Sara searched his face carefully, noticing the beseeching look in his eyes. "Tell me. Explain it to me."

"The job is safe," Grissom answered.

"And I'm not."

"You're dangerous. To me, personally. This, all of this, is a little scary. I don't think you understand that."

"I understand fear more than you know," Sara said, pulling out his grasp. Walking across the room, she tossed the empty bottle away, resting her arms against the counter.

"What are you talking about?" Grissom asked. When she didn't answer, he moved beside her, resting a hand on her back. "Sara?"

"I don't think you want to know," she replied honestly. "Mouth got ahead of the brain there."

"That isn't exactly reassuring for me."

"Grissom, it's my problem, okay. Forget it."

"If it affects us, isn't it our problem?"

"Since when have you been Mr. Sensitive?" she asked, smiling to cover the sarcastic tinge that crept into her response.

"Since I decided to … court you."

"Oh."

Since when? Did he say? That is Grissom, isn't it? He's not backing down. Well, damn. He is serious. Gotta give him credit – when he finally does decide to do something, he goes all the way.

Oh, I gotta learn to watch what I say around him. How do I get out of this? What's wrong with honesty? Like Grissom can handle that. Shit! Look at him. He's not going to drop this. This is something I have to work through. We were going to have to talk about it eventually, but I wanted things to be stronger between us before that happened. I hope I don't screw this up.

"This really scares me, too," she said softly. "The way I handle it. Well, I guess the way I don't handle it. Grissom, I have had it for you for a long time, and I couldn't get over you even when it was clear you weren't interested."

"I was always interested."

Sara turned to him, smiling forlornly.

"Yeah, but look how you acted. You pushed me away, isolated me from the others, basically treated me like shit, publicly, privately and professionally. And I stood for it. What does that say about me? And you know what's really scary? That's the way you treated me when you … cared for me. Grissom, what are you going to be like if you stop caring? Will I be able to walk away then?"

As Sara feared, he didn't react to her confession well. But instead of being angry, he staggered slowly backwards, as if she'd slapped him physically.

"Grissom?" she asked worriedly when he stumbled into the table, reaching out to grab his arm.

"Stay away," he snarled.

When he jerked his arm away, Sara caught a brief glimpse of his face. The depth of the self-loathing in his eyes scared her.

Dammit. He already identified too much with that psycho. Now he thinks I feel the same way. Shit. I have to fix this. Now.

Moving around him, she planted her hands on his chest, effectively stopping his retreat towards his bedroom. Grissom acted like he was going to brush her arms away, but dropped his hands before he touched her.

"You. Are. Not. Lurie!" Sara half-shouted, causing him to glance up. The pain in his eyes made her heart ache. "You're not. I know you'd never …, I know you're not him."

"Let me go," he demanded weakly.

"Don't shut me out. Not until we talk about this. Dammit," she swore when a knock came at the door. Before she could stop him, Grissom jumped on the opportunity to escape their talk. He rapidly moved to open it, revealing the Crothers chatting with another couple.

"God, Gil. You look sick," Bob said as he moved in.

"I feel that way," Grissom said hoarsely.

"I told you not to eat that chicken at lunch. I don't care if they called it 'herb-crusted' or not, chicken shouldn't be green. You're going to have the worst case of the…"

"Bob, hush," his wife told him.

"Well, some of us were going to head over to COSI before dinner, check out some of the exhibits. If you don't want to go…"

"No. You go ahead. I'll catch up later," Grissom said before retreating to the bathroom.

Sara stood in the suite's communal area, biting the inside of her lip as she forced a smile at the other couples. Their timing couldn't have been worse. She turned her head towards the bathroom door, wondering what Grissom was thinking.

"Come on," Bob said, grabbing Sara's elbow and pulling her along. "Give a man some privacy as he evacuates foul fowl from his colon."

"Bob, you have such a way with words," Cheryl said, directing an eye roll at Sara when her husband was flattered.

Sara gave a last look towards the room where Grissom was hiding. A scene was the last thing that they needed. He said he'd be along later, robbing her of an excuse to hang back.

On the walk to the Center of Science and Industry, Sara was vaguely aware that the Crothers were having a disagreement over what were acceptable dinner conversation topics, with Bob getting more dejected as his favorite stories were rejected one after the other. If asked, she doubted if she could recall what any of the forbidden topics were, being more concerned for Grissom.

Maybe this is for the best. A little cooling off period, a bit of a breather. Give Grissom a few minutes to be by himself, let him think about what I said.

Right. And Bob is actually bashful, but covers it well.

He had to know that what he did hurt me, but I don't think it ever registered on Grissom how painful it was. God, he was afraid to touch me. I hope he doesn't think I'm afraid of him physically. I know he'd never be like that.

What? Huh? She asked me something.

"Sorry. Lost in my thoughts," Sara said when Cheryl pulled her aside.

"Self-defense mode. Spend enough times around Bob's jokes, and it becomes second nature," the blonde deadpanned as she led Sara along a row of displays. The older woman gave her a friendly smile. "It takes a special kind of person to become an expert in entomology. I think each stage requires the elimination of more social skills."

"Then Malcolm must be the Bug King," Sara said as they passed the obnoxious scientist who was arguing with a pre-teen child over the number of bones in a dinosaur skeleton.

"There's an exception to every rule. Earlier I asked you how long you knew Gil."

"We met when I was in grad school. He gave a seminar in forensics."

"And you kept in touch after that?"

"Yeah. He sent me articles, let me know about a job opening in San Francisco," Sara replied, curious about the line of questioning. If Grissom had in fact been talking about her to his friends, they should have known that. "Why?"

"There's always been something sad about Gil," she sighed. "I mean he's always seemed so alone. He's not an easy man to get to get close to. Bob has known him forever, and he doesn't know much, except to never ask about Gil's father. That subject makes him angry."

"I don't know what I could tell you," Sara said in confusion. Even if Grissom had confided anything to her, she wouldn't have shared information he didn't want public knowledge.

"I wouldn't expect you to. Gil trusts you. I just wanted you to know how rare that is. Oh, good heavens. I better go bail Bob out of trouble. He really is lovable. Sometimes. I'll save you and Gil seats at our table."

"Thanks."

Sara wound her way through the exhibitions, barely noticing what she was observing as she processed the information. Would he still trust her after this evening? She hated telling him her fears, but Grissom needed to know. She wanted desperately for their relationship to proceed, but he couldn't keep hurting her.

When the call for dinner sounded, Sara looked around the area reserved for the Entomological Society for Grissom, but couldn't see him anywhere. After everyone was seated, it became clear he hadn't arrived, prompting an uncomfortable barrage of questions from the other table occupants. Bob quickly squelched the questions – and some appetites – with his foul fowl theories.

As the meal progressed, Sara's embarrassment quickly switched to concern. Grissom still hadn't arrived. The walk from the hotel wasn't far, but that didn't mean something hadn't happened to him.

Or he's not coming. Just how upset is he?

Sara paid polite comments to her dinner companions as photographs of children and grandchildren were passed around, wondering if Grissom regretted being the one person among his circle of friends who seemingly never started a family.

As soon as she could, Sara excused herself from the party, explaining she wanted to check on Grissom. Walking to the hotel, she looked for any signs that a recent accident or mugging had taken place. Relieved to find none, she quickly made her way to their suite, calling out his name as she entered.

Silence greeted her. Both the bathroom and his bedroom were empty. His luggage was still there, so he hadn't returned to Vegas. Dashing into her room, Sara pulled out her cell phone, growling when his rang from his bedroom. So much for calling him.

On a hunch, Sara headed to the hotel's lounge, declining the drink offers from a slightly- intoxicated businessman. When he started to follow her, offering obscene suggestions, she gave his chest a firm shove, stating she was in law enforcement. He backed away angrily, grumbling about "uppity bitches".

Sara ignored the insult, looking around for Grissom. She wasn't surprised when she didn't find him. No matter how upset he was, Sara knew the drunk's advances would have brought out Grissom's protective side. Lost in her own thoughts, she returned to the suite silently.

Sitting down in a chair, she let out a long sigh. This was Grissom. He was upset, but he wouldn't do anything rash. He probably needed some time alone. Besides, in a strange town she had no idea where to start looking for him.

After brewing a pot of coffee, she grabbed a paperback novel she brought with her. After reading five pages and not remembering any of it, she tossed the book aside. Maybe he had gone to COSI; if he had crossed over at a different intersection, she could have passed him without realizing it. If that were the case, he'd be back later.

She tried watching television, flipping between movies, the news and a documentary on the Discovery Channel. All along, she kept checking the time. With a resigned air, she headed to her room, grabbing her nightclothes before making a beeline to the shower. She was tense, and a long, hot shower seemed like a godsend at the moment.

As she let the water massage her muscles, Sara considered her course of action. She needed to make Grissom understand that she was concerned, but that she didn't see him as a threat. That he'd hurt her with his past actions, but she was willing to try. That she knew he'd never physically harm her.

God, if she thought that was a possibility, she would have never agreed to come to Toledo with him. Sara decided that might be the best direction to go. He knew she reacted strongly to those types of cases. Point out that she knew he wasn't someone who would be physically abusive.

With a sigh, she dried off and changed into her pajamas. Gathering her clothes, she turned out the light behind her. The entire suite was dark, but she could see that the door to Grissom's room was still open.

Walking into her own bedroom, Sara yelped as she stumbled into the arms of a man.

TBC