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 for her beta skills. All errors are mine.
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 6

"Wait," Grissom coughed out before doubling over. His plea came too late to prevent the elbow to his stomach. It did give Sara enough warning to pull the punch headed for his jaw, though, and the blow that landed did minimal damage. But he was already off-balanced, and with another grunt, he staggered against the bed before sliding ungracefully to the floor.

"Grissom? Shit!"

After she stumbled over his legs, a bedside lamp turned on, flooding the room with light. Blinking repeatedly, Grissom tried to figure out why he was seeing sheep.

Sheep? I thought people saw stars in these types of situations. This is interesting. I wonder if there are any papers about … Damn. How hard did she hit me? She wasn't kidding about knowing weaponless defense.

Giving his head a slow shake, his mind pieced the puzzle together. Sara stood over him wearing only a pair of thin, pink pajamas. Pajamas covered in a motif of frolicking sheep. That confounded him; the nightwear didn't match any of his preconceptions. Flushing, Grissom recalled that his thoughts along those lines were geared towards his own pleasure, not necessarily reality.

"Did I hurt you?" Sara asked in concern as she knelt beside him. "I'm so sorry."

When she reached a hand towards his chin, Grissom turned his head away from the caress. Any feelings of embarrassment or hurt pride paled in comparison to his self-condemnation – her rapid breath confirmed that he'd frightened her.

Again.

He'd spent the evening wandering the streets of Toledo, trying to process Sara's revelations about her fears. At some level, Grissom always knew his treatment of her was less-than-stellar, but he'd never been aware how deeply he'd hurt her.

Or I wouldn't acknowledge it. Which is worse: That I didn't know I was hurting her, or that I didn't care enough to stop?

Avoidance had served Grissom well – possibly too well – for a number of years, but he could no longer deny the consequences of his actions. Out of fear, he'd hurt the one woman he'd ever loved. While she'd stood by him in the past, Sara was now openly questioning how much more she could tolerate from him.

That only fed his self-doubts; at some point, she was going to realize that she would be happier without him. She would eventually leave him. It had been hard enough denying himself her company. Having to learn to live alone again would be too much.

It would be better to end things now.

Better for whom? Don't you mean safer? Just admit it – you're afraid.

Grissom grimaced as he shifted into a more comfortable position, still trying to catch his own breath. When a hand rested on his arm and another began to stroke his cheek, his eyes snapped open.

Sara had shifted position, moving closer to him. She watched him intently, discreetly trying to determine if his injuries extended beyond his male ego. He could see the nervousness joining the worry in her eyes.

"Grissom?"

"I'm sorry," he said, closing his eyes in shame. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Well, you did!" she said in mock-anger, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "You okay?"

When he didn't respond, Sara sat beside him, leaving one hand resting on his arm. "Well, I said I was sorry. I didn't know who was in here. For all I knew, you were that creep from the hotel bar."

"What creep?" he asked suddenly, concern overwhelming his other emotions.

"Don't worry about it. Just a drunk. And I was only in there looking for you, so don't get any stupid ideas."

"Oh."

"We were worried when you didn't show up for dinner," she added when he closed his eyes again and leaned back against the mattress.

"I went for a walk."

"Where? Back to Vegas?"

Grissom detected the worry behind her joking tone. It only made him feel worse. After all that had happened, she was concerned about him. Opening his eyes, he shrugged noncommittally. "I needed to think about things. By the time I realized how late it was, the dinner was already over."

"Grissom," she sighed, giving his arm another squeeze. "About earlier. I'm sorry for that, too. That really didn't come out the way I meant."

"You don't have to take it back…"

"I'm not," she stated firmly, but giving him a half-smile. "I'm clarifying it."

"I thought you were pretty clear," he said sadly, getting to his feet and heading towards the door.

"You're wrong. I was wrong ... the way I said it," she said, moving up behind him.

Grissom paused, resisting when Sara's arm urged him to turn around. This was going to be hard enough. He didn't need to see her expression. He didn't want to see her expression. Despite his dark mood, he almost smiled when she settled the issue by planting herself between him and the door. She was tenacious.

"Grissom, wait. I said something stupid. Get used to it. I do it more often than I like," she said, giving him a self-depreciating grin.

"Sara, don't…"

"No. I … the way I feel about you is so strong. I've never felt that way. Ever. I don't always understand it. That confuses me. But I know you'd never be like Lurie. I'm not afraid of you."

"Maybe you should be," he hinted darkly.

"I'm not."

Grissom's head went back at the force of her statement. The loving look directed his way was enough to take his breath away again. Dropping his head, he closed his eyes, sensing she was shaking her own head at him.

"So what the hell were you doing in here? Besides trying to give me a heart attack?" she teased.

"I left that for you," he replied, pointing to an envelope on the bedside table, hoping she'd retrieve it. He didn't want to be there any longer. Being in her bedroom was too uncomfortable; it hurt to realize how close they'd come to sharing a room, to moving their relationship to a point he only dreamed about. And knowing that his letter would put an end to that dream forever.

"What is it?" Sara asked suspiciously, cocking her head as she looked around him. She made no move to let him escape.

"Some things you deserve to know."

"Like what?"

"Read it," Grissom sighed sadly. Why couldn't she let him go? All he wanted was to go to his own room and figure out how he was going to get through the rest of this week. Once back in Vegas, he could figure out what he'd do for the rest of his life. "It'll explain."

"I think I'd rather have you tell me," Sara said softly, looking at him cautiously.

Grissom huffed out a breath slowly and walked back to the table. He took the envelope and turned around, finding Sara again blocking his retreat. With a shake of his head, he placed the envelope in her hands. "What I said to Lurie, the way it sounded … I never would have said it that way if I knew you were listening."

"Yeah, I figured that much out on my own," she said sarcastically, giving him a playful nudge with her shoulder.

He grunted, wishing she'd just read the letter. All his explanations and reasons were logically spelled out within it. He didn't want to try and vocalize them. It had been easier to write his thoughts out, sitting at a rented computer in a Kinko's he found on the way back to the hotel.

It was easier because I didn't have to face her. This is going to hurt her. She'll probably blame herself for admitting her concerns. I don't want to see that pain. Pain that I caused.

But this is for the best, right? So why can't I look her in the eyes?

Grissom took a deep breath, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “The job is important to me. It's been a constant in my life. No matter what happened, I knew I could always count on having my work, my reputation, that respect."

"You don't want to risk that. I understand that."

"No, it's not that. Not entirely. I've had other jobs. I never thought Las Vegas would be the last one I had. Finding another one wouldn't be hard. So, I wasn't picking the job over you. It's … work is safe," he said, rubbing his beard in consternation. "The letter really explained this so much better."

"Okay, I'll read it later," Sara said, stepping closer to him. He tried to move away, but he was already by the nightstand. Sensing his discomfort, she stepped to the side. "I know this is, uh, scary. I won't hurt you, Grissom. We can make this work."

No, no, no! Don't say that. She doesn't understand. Well, I can't put this off any longer. God, at least look her in the eye.

"No. We can't," he whispered, forcing himself to face her. One eyebrow rose in surprise. Hadn't he said it loud enough? She was grinning at him indulgently. "I said…"

"I heard. You're overreacting," she said with a small shrug. "Figured you would be when you didn't show up for dinner."

"No, I'm not!"

"You are. Trust me. I wish we had a chance to talk before dinner, before you had a chance to blow this out of proportion.

"I did not!" Grissom insisted, hoping he didn't sound like he was pouting.

"Look, shit happens," Sara said with a chuckle. “I said something that you didn't like. Sorry. It's not like you haven't done it a ton of times to me. But you don't cut and run the first time your feelings get hurt. Hell, if that were the case, I'd have been back in San Francisco before my first year in Vegas."

"You what? Why?" he asked, clearly perplexed. The dirty look she directed his way didn't settle his nerves any.

"Doesn't matter. Ancient history," she said, sinking to her bed. "Grissom, relax. Please. I said I'm not afraid of you, and I mean it."

"And I said maybe you should be."

"Okay, maybe I should be. Maybe, in years to come, I'll regret making this choice. I can accept that as a possible outcome. But, even if that's true, I'm willing to take the chance. I want to try."

"Sara, you don't understand. I can't try."

"Really?" she snorted lightly. "What about that dance earlier? You sure seemed eager to try then."

Letting out a long sigh, Grissom ran his hands over his face, rubbing his temples slowly. She was amused. He was breaking her heart, and Sara found it enjoyable; something was definitely wrong. Just how hard had she hit him?

No, he wasn't imagining this. Why couldn't she just let things be? It was over. She didn't understand; that's all there was to it.

"I don't do things the way other people do them. I can't 'try', Sara. I can completely avoid this, or I can be fully involved," he explained, imploring her to understand. "There is no middle ground. Not for me. I can't move on if this doesn't work. I would never get over you."

He waited as Sara stared at him with a look of calm concentration. Earlier, he'd been afraid she would cry, but the tears would have been expected. This Zen-like acceptance was quieter, but deeply disconcerting.

"Why did you ask me here?" she asked, tilting her head to stare at him when he didn't answer immediately. "I think you're already committed, at least emotionally, to this. Isn't that why we're here?"

Grissom stared at her, his mouth partly open, as her words sank in. He hadn't considered that fact as he meandered around the city.

"Look, you've already opened yourself to the possibility. If what you said just now is true, then you don't have anything to lose, right?"

Again, he just looked at her as his mind processed what she was saying. Did she have a point? No. It was an oversimplification. Wasn't it?

Sara shook her head before continuing. "The way I see it, we can try. It might fail, then we'll be unhappy. Or it will work, and things will be great. But if we don't try, then misery is pretty much guaranteed."

"This isn't a version of Pascal's Wager," he said slowly.

"Tell me about it!" Sara said, giving him a smile as she pulled back the covers on her bed. "Think about it, okay? That's all I ask. If you decide you're still willing to try, then we can move at any pace you're comfortable with."

"Sara…"

"No. We'll be here alone for the rest of the week. That's as long as you have," she told him.

"For what?" Grissom asked, licking his lips nervously when she rolled her eyes.

"To make up your mind. Before it really is too late. I'm sorry. I do love you. But I'm not going to put my life on hold any longer. I'm not going to wait forever while you to decide what you want to do. If you don't want to do this, then I'm moving on."

"What?" he asked incredulously. "You'd leave me? Vegas?"

Well what did you expect she'd do? Spend the rest of her life in a convent? What an idiot! She's still young, beautiful, intelligent. She can find someone else.

"Probably not. Depends on how things work out, how you handle things. If we can't work together, then I'll consider it," she said, settling under the covers. "It's late Grissom, and I still have a letter to read before I go to bed. Get some sleep. We can talk later."

"But…"

"Goodnight!"

There was no missing the finality in her tone, so Grissom walked towards the door. Pausing at the exit, he looked over his shoulder, but Sara was engrossed in his letter, a look of open curiosity on her face as she studied it.

Closing the bedroom door softly, he wandered into the common area of the suite, standing there in confusion. Eventually, he went to the coffee pot. There was some brew left in the carafe. A quick sniff revealed it hadn't reached toxic sludge levels yet, and Grissom reheated it in the microwave.

Sinking into one of the chairs, he tried to decipher what had just happened. Things certainly had gone better than he planned – except for the fact that Sara didn't seem to understand he'd called it off. It was over. They had no future. He ended things between them, once and for all.

She couldn't reject his rejection. Could she? This was too confusing.

Maybe because she was right. What is there to lose at this point if I do try?

Everything.

And what will I lose if I don't try?

Everything.

With a groan, Grissom leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. He knew there was a reason he avoided relationships in the past. This was giving him a headache.

TBC