Chapter 4
He knew he'd pushed her too hard. He walked towards his kitchen, collecting two deep wine glasses from his cupboard, checking them for grease, as was his nature. He motioned towards the bottle which lay breathing on the sideboard. Lifting it and once again enjoying the fragrance, he allowed the ink dark liquid swirl and coat the sides of the glass before generously filling it. Doing the same with the other, he ventured towards the door his friend had just used to evade his presence.
"Thought you could use this." She sniffled, the cold was invading her senses now, she was cold, but the cigarette was weaving a magic nothing else could substitute.
She never took her eyes of the door frame, but held out her hand, venturing for the glass.
As she pulled the glass towards her she could smell the dark liquor over the night dew that was forming in his sparse garden. She sipped, the taste mingling with the nicotine, it was warm, sensuous even. She looked down; the glass was filed with darkest wine she had ever seen, almost like the night itself.
"I'm sorry Sara, I didn't mean to pry. You wanna talk about it?" His voice was soft, caring and well meaning. But to her it sounded like ash.
"I'm done talking about it." Her eye's lifted to his for a moment, the ash she heard petered away, his eyes always looked honest and well meaning, even if the words often aren't. She had to get away, from him, from the them she knew he didn't want them to be.
"Look, I've got to go. Thank you for the drinks Grissom, but I really can't stay any longer." She passed back the glass, now avoiding his gaze. His look, she knew would be of confusion but that wouldn't change.
She stubbed her cigarette on the asphalt beneath her feet, paying more attention to it than she needed to.
He shook the glass away, "Sara, at least finish you're drink first? Come on inside, it's freezing out here." He motioned his hand towards her hip to guide her inside but she pushed it away.
"I'm ok." She walked in, still looking to the floor, unable to speak.
They move towards his kitchen table where she headed to the back chair and seated herself. Her glass now on the table, she stared at it intently.
Grissom sat opposite, his hands intertwined lay on the table, he'd unconsciously slipped into 'psychologist mode'. He wanted to hear her.
"Sara, I don't know what this is about, but I want you to tell me, it's obviously bothering you. You know I'm your friend." She snorted sarcastically,
"You have no idea!" She felt anger bubbling through her. She was sick of being seen as the rebellious, tempestuous one, when all she wanted was to impress him. It had all been to no avail that much was obvious.
"I would have a much better perspective if you would explain at least some elements to me. I don't want to pry into your personal life unless you want me to."
He could see his protégé was angry, hurt and upset, he also knew it was partly his fault. He'd pushed her away. Purposefully. He was aware his feelings were becoming problematic for the pair, however he justified it as giving her a sense of freedom.
She took a long sip of the wine, it tasted much better in the warm air. She could taste the blackberries and a subtlety she couldn't identify.
"I... I don't know what to say Grissom. I spend so long trying to impress you, so much hard work. I do everything to the best of my abilities, I go over everything two, three times more than anyone else, and all in the hopes that you'll give me a little..." attention She couldn't say it, not yet anyway.
His fears, thoughts and feeling were confirmed.
"Sara, I always give you exceptional on your reports, you know I appreciate all the overtime you do. I just didn't think you needed carrying anymore." He knew that his words would sting slightly, but it allowed him to maintain a professional air, an air the alcohol in his system was trying to override.
She was bitten by his words,
"'Carrying'? What the hell does mean? Is that why we've not worked on a case together for the last, oh, what, two months?" Her eyes were dark with anger, he'd scorned her.
"I just thought that working on your own would give you a sense of leadership, to define those qualities a little more. You're one of my best Sara, I wanted to see what you could do without me hovering over you." He'd prepared this speech, said it over and over, he hoped it wasn't too obvious.
"Grissom" She spoke slowly, picking her words clearly, "I left my life in San Francisco. Dropped everything I had built. My reputation, my family, my friends. My life, to come here. To be working beside you. Does that not speak volumes about how much I want to be close to you? So you can drop the 'leadership' speech, it's obvious you've said it a few times." She grabbed her glass from the table and slumped back into her chair, once again avoiding his eyes. She'd said it, made it clear. She felt tired, weak and happy all at once but it was taking all her strength not to cry.
She'd never really admitted it to herself exactly why she'd come to Las Vegas and left everything in San Francisco. It was something she held onto. Never admitted.
"Sara, I..." he was embarrassed he'd so obviously pushed her away, and for all the wrong reasons. He couldn't find the right words, he wasn't aware he was so see-through.
"Grissom," She sighed "It doesn't matter, I'm gonna head out. I'll see you at work." She stood up, pushing the glass away.
"No, Sara sit down we need to talk about this. If it's something I've done, I want to make it right." He stood, his arms held in a defensive posture echoing his voice.
She stepped away from the table, and headed towards the front door, tears clinging to her cheeks.
"Look, Grissom, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm sick of talking about it. I'm sick of thinking about it. I just want to leave everything behind, go back to my old life and forget about you."
Suddenly, he knew.
Everything they had gone through in the last three years, everything he had come to know meant nothing when it came to her.
He had strived so long to be anonymous, to keep everyone from getting close. His best friends were insects, creatures of habit, even more so than him. He had to do it. Break the mould he had spent so long building his life upon. He had touched upon his feelings once with a suspect, had said he couldn't give it up. But he could, he would happily give it all up, to feel the love that shone between them. She had done it, given up everything to be with him. He had to show the same strength of character.
He moved quickly past her, blocking her path to the door.
"Sara, just..." She stared at the door knob.
"Grissom move. I can't do this anymore; please just let me... let me go." She looked into his eyes, pleading with him. She felt as if all the feeling had left her body, as if it was someone else's, but at the same time all her senses burned, she felt the breeze of the air conditioning on her lower arms, her deep breathing moving her wavy brown hair.
He placed a hand on her arm, it was gentle but firm. Years of handling murderers and rapists had taught him this small skill.
"Please, just come back inside for ten minutes, we need to talk."
"I don't need another plant Grissom. I just need to be away from here." She shouted. She looked into his eyes, hers filled with rejection. She found something different in him this time, almost an understanding look.
"Sara, just give me ten minutes."