Most of the characters and situations in this story belong to Alliance Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them; any others are mine, and if you want to play with them, you have to ask me first. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.
This is a sequel to "In the Center", and as such has spoilers through the end of Season 4 but will not take Season 5 into account.
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The two women stared at each other, one tall and persuasive, the other strained and wavering. Slowly, achingly slowly, the gun swung away from Grissom's temple and towards Sara's chest. Grissom's mouth went dry. Sara--
"You can do that," Sara said, her tone one of reason. "And they'll kill you as soon as you step outside. Let it go, and you get another chance. Let it go."
For a long few seconds, Grissom was sure that Carroll was going to pull the trigger. Then the gun sagged in her grip, and Sara removed it as smoothly as if she'd been disarming people for years. With deliberation, she set it on the floor and kicked it gently away, then straightened with startling speed and grabbed Carroll's arm to spin the other woman around. Grissom watched, dizzy with relief, as Sara pinned Carroll's hands behind her and shouted "Clear!"
People poured into the room. Police officers relieved Sara of her captive, and Brass came striding in behind them, scarcely pausing to fish a knife from his pocket before reaching Grissom.
"I thought you were Homicide," Grissom said with half a grin, and Brass snorted, slicing through the tape binding the CSI.
"Too close, buddy, way too close." He stepped back as Grissom rose, and grinned himself. "I'll give you two three minutes, and then it's showtime," he added, and herded the officers and their prisoner out the front door, closing it neatly behind him.
Grissom reached for Sara, pulling her hard against him as her arms wrapped tightly around him in turn. They said nothing for a full minute, simply holding each other, feeling the shaking peak and fade, desperately drinking in what they had feared to lose.
"I was so scared," Sara finally confessed in a whisper. "She could have killed you, Gil, right in front of me, and I wouldn't have been able to stop her."
"But you did." Grissom stroked her hair until she lifted her head from his shoulder. "You did stop her, Sara, and I'm fine."
"I can't lose you," she said hoarsely. "I lied, Gil. You are the most precious thing in my life."
He had to smile a little as his fingers moved to the nape of her neck. "After all those fine words about self-respect?"
Sara laughed shakily and buried her face in his shoulder again. "Okay, so I only lied a little."
He snorted a chuckle and held her tighter. "I love you too."
When Brass returned, he found two professionally detached CSIs just on the other side of the door. "Collect the gun, would you, Jim?" Grissom asked, as Sara handed Brass a pair of latex gloves from her vest.
Grumbling, the captain complied. "You two had better get ready," he said. "Practically the whole night shift's waiting outside, plus the Sheriff."
Grissom sighed, and Sara rolled her eyes. "Great," she muttered.
Brass held up the gun. "Nice," he said dryly. "She sure knew her weaponry."
"What are you doing here?" Grissom asked curiously. "This was never your case."
Sara chuckled. "I asked for the best," she said, winking at Brass.
"Asked, nothing," Brass retorted, his face a little pink. "Try demanded."
He went pinker yet as Sara leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, Jim," she said sincerely. "He ran interference for me so I could do this instead of SWAT," she explained to Grissom, stepping away to scoop up her bag.
"Yes, that's something we'll have to discuss," Grissom said in a tart tone, letting Sara know that she wasn't off the hook for doing something dangerous. But she just raised her brows in a challenge right back, and he knew it was going to be an interesting argument.
"So how did this happen, anyway?" Brass asked. "How did she catch you?"
Grissom felt his own face redden, and ran a hand over his scalp, wincing as he brushed the knot in back. Sara frowned, and circled around him, slapping his hand gently away as she ruffled delicately through his hair.
"She broke into the townhouse and waited for me." He hissed a little as Sara's fingers probed the sore spot.
Brass grinned. "We knew that, genius. How'd she get you to cooperate?"
Grissom shrugged. "She threatened to shoot out my elbow."
Brass' brows shot up, and from behind Grissom came a low growl of anger. "She took me out and made me climb into the trunk of her car, then knocked me out." He squinted at the detective as Sara let him go. "Please tell me the audio's been shut off."
Brass raised both hands in a reassuring gesture. "All electronic spying ceased the minute they got cuffs on Carroll," he said. "How's his head, Sara?"
"I think it's only bruised." She was frowning. "But it needs looking at, Gil."
"If you're ready to go, guys, I'll call in the dayshift," Brass went on. "Somebody has to process this place, and all your team is way too involved."
"Agreed," Grissom said, as Sara made a face at the thought of cleaning up after them. "Will you stay to supervise, Jim?"
"You bet," the captain said cheerfully. "Now go, before your people get arrested for trying to break in here." He unfolded his phone to summon the day CSI team, and Sara and Grissom left him behind.
"You do realize," Sara muttered as they reached the stairs, "everyone knows about us now."
Grissom breathed out, rueful amusement. "It saves us the trouble of telling them."
"Or trying to hide it," Sara agreed, reaching the ground floor two steps ahead of him. "It was getting a little awkward."
Grissom reached out and grasped her arm as she headed for the front door. "Hold on a minute."
She stopped and turned at his tug, her expression inquiring. He let her go and cupped her face in his palms, leaning in for a gentle, fervent kiss that she returned without hesitation. He felt her hands on his chest and broke the kiss to look down at them--strong, competent hands that had held his life, and which still held his heart. Then he raised his eyes to hers.
"Sara, I was so scared." He moved his thumb over her lips as she parted them, to hush her. "I was scared for you. She had me, but it was you she wanted to hurt." He closed his eyes, and Sara's hands slid up to link behind his neck and pull until their faces touched. "I've never been so scared."
"Me either," she admitted in a whisper.
Grissom shook his head, feeling the fine velvet of her skin slide along his cheek. "Don't ever leave me, Sara." His voice was equally quiet. "It would kill me."
She knew he was exaggerating, but she also knew what he meant. They were too close now; losing her would sever something essential in him.
As losing him would in her.
"I won't," she said against his cheekbone, her voice gone hoarse again.
His chuckle was a rough sound. "Unless I damage your self-respect?"
The knot at her breastbone loosened as she smiled. "Nah. I'd just kick your ass instead."
Grissom laughed outright and enveloped her in one of his rare bearhugs, then let her go, carefully blotting the one tear that had escaped her. She smoothed his rumpled shirt, and in silent accord they resumed their professionalism and headed outside, Grissom holding the door for Sara with his usual absentminded courtesy.
Sara found herself in Nick's arms almost as soon as she stepped outside the building. "Geez, girl, you had us all terrified," he scolded, his voice a mix of anger and admiration. "Telling her off like that--"
She snorted, returning the embrace. Over his shoulder she saw Grissom gently returning Catherine's fierce hug, and smiled. "Make him get his head looked at, Cath," she called as the older woman released Grissom, knowing that Catherine would ignore his protests.
Nick let Sara go but kept a grip on her shoulders. "You sure you're okay?" he asked worriedly.
"I'm fine, Nick," she assured him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Grissom being hugged by Warrick as well, then being led reluctantly towards the waiting ambulance.
Sensing someone behind her, Sara patted Nick's arms and turned to a Greg gone paler than she'd ever seen him. Her heart melted.
"It's okay, Greg," she said easily, taking his unresisting hands in hers. "We're both fine."
He made a faint, choked noise, and snatched her into a hug as desperate as Nick's. Sara patted his back, only a little surprised. Eyes were watching them from the mill of cops and emergency personnel, but at the moment she really didn't care. Their secret was no longer a secret, and Grissom was safe. Nothing else mattered at the moment.
xxx
Grissom was given a clean bill of health by the EMTs and told only to go home and rest, and so after two hours of debriefing--kept to a minimum by a watchful Brass--the two CSIs were sent home. More detail would be needed later, Sara knew, and she'd also seen Carvallo taking Grissom aside for a brief conversation. The closed look on Grissom's face as he turned away from the lab director made her suspicious, but he'd mouthed a "Later" at her and she had held her peace. Time for damage control when they were well-rested. Sara closed the door of the townhouse and threw the lock, and turned into Grissom's embrace. The terrible fear-driven urgency of earlier returned, and they clung to each other, reliving the adrenaline and the relief.
When Grissom's arms loosened a little, Sara lifted her head, but Grissom covered her lips with his before she could say a word.
She opened her mouth beneath the tender pressure, sliding her hands down to his waist and pulling his shirt free with a crisis-driven urgency. His own palms were already warming the skin of her back, and she shivered at the delightful touch. She could taste the desperation between them, the sudden need to come down hard on the side of life after flirting so personally with death.
Then Grissom lifted her off her feet, and she ceased to think at all.
xxx
The party at the bar was long, and noisy with cheer. The night shift had given Grissom and Sara enough time to go home and rest a little, but it had been clear that a celebration was in order.
Normally something so focused on him would have made Grissom cringe, but this time it didn't bother him for some reason. Perhaps, he reflected with a slight sense of awe, it was because it felt so good to know how much everyone cared. And, judging by the wondering smile that appeared from time to time on Sara's face, she felt it too.
It had been just the six of them to start with, Brass making a seventh, but as time went on more and more of the night shift appeared, along with a few people from swing and days. The mood evolved from private to a more general celebration, and while some people still came by to offer Grissom slightly awkward expressions of relief, it seemed to him that his rescue and Carroll's capture was giving the lab personnel a badly-needed excuse to party.
He didn't mind that, either.
Grissom sat at a corner table with Brass, nursing a beer, both of them content in the silence of old friends. Sara, Jacqui, Greg, Warrick, and one of the day-shift techs were dancing in a bouncy cluster on the little dance floor, and Grissom watched them happily, admiring Sara's fluid grace and unconscious sensuality. When Warrick pulled her into his arms for a few steps, Grissom ignored the atavistic twinge of jealousy that pricked him. Sara was going home with him, where he could put on a big band recording and sway with her to his heart's content if he so desired.
Then she spun free of Warrick and shot Grissom a grin and a wink, and he had to smile back. Okay, maybe not so unconscious.
Doc Robbins appeared with his own bottle, limping majestically over to sit on the other side of Brass. "How does it feel to be rescued?" he asked cheerfully, ignoring Brass' quiet snort.
Grissom paused in mock thought, eyes gleaming. "Just fine, actually," he said dryly, and Robbins nodded with the air of one who shared the feeling.
"To strong women," he intoned, raising his bottle, and the other two complied, though Brass snorted again and muttered something that got lost in his mouthful of beer. Grissom decided that prudence was in order, and didn't ask him to repeat it. He knew more about Brass' past than the captain probably realized, and could guess at the pain involved.
Robbins set down his drink with a satisfied sigh. "You are aware that the fecal matter has hit the revolving blades," he said.
Grissom shrugged, his eyes drifting back to Sara. "It was probably time."
"What are you going to do about it?" Brass asked with a hint of challenge, and Grissom smiled.
"That's something you'll just have to wait to find out, Jim."
See Chapter 10