Title: Hurt

Author: Spike Speigel

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Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Everything before and including Mea Culpa.

Summary: Sara reminisces about how she's gotten to this point in her life.

Status: Finished

I remember seeing him when I first got to Las Vegas. Even from behind, I could pick him out from a crowd. There was just something about the way he carried himself, as though he didn't care what anyone else thought about him. As long as he was doing the job, nothing else mattered. I admire him for that. He's one of the scarce few in an age where superficiality will take you everywhere.

He didn't care that there was a group looking at him as though he'd lost his mind as he watched forensic dummies being tossed off the roof of the hotel. I'm sure he thought he was the only one there, filtering out everyone else in the process. To tell the truth, I thought he'd filter me out too. How long had it been since we'd last seen each other? Too long to hurt yet too soon to forget.

I called out to him, thinking that he wouldn't hear me in the commotion. I couldn't have been further from the truth as he turned around, a smile on his face greeting me to Las Vegas. Sure, I was surprised by the out-of-the-blue phone call asking me to come down to Vegas. In fact, I don't recall him ever telling me how long I'd be there. He'd mentioned something about a fallen criminalist and that he was short-handed and if it'd be possible for me to pick up some of the slack. The reason didn't matter. He'd asked me. That was enough.

And, I've been here ever since. Did I make the right choice? Some days it seems like I did. The others? Well, those are the days I'd rather not talk about. But, that's Grissom for you. One minute you're the center of his world, the next you're not. I know he has trouble with expressing his feelings, and I've accepted that eccentricity in him. It's just…I wish it didn't hurt so much being around him is all.

I stepped over my bounds during the Renteria case. I'm sure I did. Stupid Sara. Stupid. Why did you touch him? There was no chalk on his cheek. But, how couldn't I comfort him? He seemed so lost, so frustrated. He was checking his pulse for God's sake. I don't know why I did it. No, that's a lie. I do know.

He was being Grissom. Didn't matter what was happening to him. All that mattered was the case; the victim. Nothing else mattered. And, you have no idea how noble that is. People look at Grissom and see a guy that likes bugs. Me, on the other hand? Well, I see that too. But, I also see the man that he truly is. Kind, gentle, devoted, passionate…well, I could keep on going to most likely fill a small notebook. Probably two if I really put my mind to it. But, that's the point. In all my life, I've never met anyone like Grissom. I've never been faced with someone who gave his all for everyone else except himself. To say it was refreshing would be an understatement. Maybe I'm just jaded, given my upbringing, but to me, someone like Grissom comes along once in a blue moon.

I think that's why I did it. Why I touched him on his cheek. Because, in that moment, I realized that I was falling for him. I'm not talking the schoolgirl crush that I harbored back in San Francisco. This was something different, something more visceral. It was in that moment that I saw him not as the man I liked for all these years, but instead as the man I wanted in my life. The man I needed. Not wanted. Needed.

There's a difference there. At that moment, I couldn't figure out how I'd gotten through life without him. And, I couldn't picture my life to come without him playing a significant role in it. I could say that I fell in love with him right then and there, but I'd be lying. I've been in love with him since San Francisco. This was something deeper than love. I think he realized it too when he looked into my eyes once he felt my fingers on his cheek. But, just as soon as our eyes met, I could see the confusion washing over him.

So, as I look into his eyes, making up some lame excuse about chalk and plaster, I'm left wondering if this feeling I have is shared or unrequited. Even more so, I'm afraid that it might be the former instead of the latter.

He doesn't care about me. I realize this when he blatantly mocks my request for a leave of absence. I think I can actually hear him scoff as he holds the request in his hand, a look of disbelief on his face as he literally rolls his eyes at me. Why doesn't he get what I'm trying to say? I thought I made it as blatant as possible. Well, not really. If I wanted to be blatant, I'd tell him how I felt about him.

But, dammit! He should know how I feel. All the signs are there. I've given him every opportunity to pick up the ball and run with it. But, I remind myself this is Grissom. The man wouldn't put his heart on his sleeve, even if it were for his own mother. I curse myself slightly for even thinking the thought. I know Grissom doesn't mean to be callous. We all have our demons. And, apparently Grissom's demons involve his evading of personal relationships. Was there someone else, Grissom? You've never told me anything about your time before me. Just bits and pieces, but not enough to make a whole picture. Instead, I'm left holding the edges of the jigsaw puzzle, a gaping hole staring back at me.

Nevertheless, this is no longer about you. It's about us. It's been over a year, and I feel farther away from you than when I first came to Vegas. Are you purposefully keeping me at arm's distance, or do you not see my heart on my sleeve, literally bleeding all over your office floor? I like to think I kept my emotions in check, but it was what you said to me that really pushed me over the edge.

The lab needs you here.

Well, thanks bunches for that, Grissom. I'm glad that the lab cares more about me than you do. You're not helping your cause any, and I'm left to wonder if I've made a mistake. Have I totally misjudged him? Because, if I have, what does that say about me?

I finally get my answer when Grissom discovers second-hand that I've been seeing Hank. I see the look of betrayal in his eyes as he tries to process what Gerard's just told him. I try to play it off, citing that Hank and I are merely friends, but Grissom knows I'm lying even before I do.

Do I love Hank? I'm not sure. I do know one thing, a truth even. It doesn't hurt as much being around Grissom anymore. Someone cares about me. They care about my day. They care about whether I've had dinner yet. They care about my overall well-being. And, to tell the truth, it feels nice. Being appreciated. Being the center of someone's world. At first, things were innocent between Hank and myself. But, as the distance grew between me and Grissom, the closer the divide became between me and Hank.

I never thought I'd become his lover. Lover, is that even the right word? How can it be right when I'm not even certain if I love him? The only thing I am certain about at this moment is the look that Grissom gives me. His words tell me that he's okay with my relationship with Hank, but his eyes. They always gave him away. There's always been more honesty in his eyes, and the truth hurts me. He can't comprehend how I'm even in a relationship with Hank. I realize that he has seen the signs I've given him over the past two years. There's just one problem with that, Grissom. You didn't make it easy to wait for you.

It's no longer lovemaking at this point as I lie underneath him. We're just going through the motions at this point. He knows it. I know it. We don't even look at each other anymore as I feel him moving inside me, the smell of latex faint under our musk. Even though I'm on the pill, Hank insists on using a condom. He's a paramedic; caution must be in his blood. Doesn't matter. I can still feel him inside me, the heat emitted from our friction.

Our bodies are slick against each other, the sweat uncomfortable yet cooling in the same instance. I try to match his cadence as best I can, waiting for him to be finished. It's been a month since we've actually made love. Now, I just do it for the physical contact. It's almost like a drug. The longer I go without it, the worse I feel. I hate using him like this, but I finally realized that I'm not in love with him. I'm just sorry it's taken me this long to figure out.

I feel him shiver as he pushes deep, his motions becoming erratic. He's close. I begin to moan louder, my fingers scraping at his back to add to the effect. I don't fault Hank. He's been nothing but a gentleman to me. It's just, somewhere along the way, I realized this wasn't going to work. The problem is, I don't know how to end it. Worse still, I don't want to end it. Because, if I do, I'll no longer have this. I need the warmth that Hank brings with him. I need the contact. I need to know that I matter.

He thrusts one final time as I can feel the slight cooling of the latex against my skin as he finally releases. His body collapses on top of me, his breathing heavy, irregular. I feel his lips as they touch my cheek, his elbows on either side of my body as he withdraws from me. His legs drop to the side of the bed as he rises slowly, padding carefully to the bathroom to dispose of the evidence.

I lie there, staring at the ceiling, sweat trailing down the side of my temples. I'm sorry, Hank. I'm sorry that I couldn't find it in myself to love you.

Part of me knows I shouldn't be here. But, the other part of me says the hell with it. Life's too short. It could have been that much shorter for me if I had been any closer to that explosion in the lab. Luckily, I managed to escape the event with nothing more than a few minor cuts and bruises. But, still, it's made me realize something. Time's a funny thing. Who knows how long we have? I'm tired of waiting for him. If he does or doesn't know, he's about to find out for certain.

Luckily, I've caught him before he left. I smile gently at him as he goes on about me getting some rest or whatever. I don't hear him; I'm too preoccupied with the words in my head. I still can't believe I'm doing this, but I know that I have to. Things have been wrong with us for a long time now. I want it to be right again.

I take a deep breath before speaking. I make sure I'm looking into his eyes when I ask him out to dinner, my heart skipping a beat. Unfortunately, my hopes are dashed almost instantly as Grissom rejects my offer, his words cutting deep into me.

Sara, I don't know what to do about this.

I want to feel sorry for you, Grissom. I really do. But, I can't. I've given you a second chance. We were in the clear. There was no Hank. Things could have been perfect. But, instead, you don't know what to do. How can someone this intelligent be so dense when it comes to the human equation? Yeah, like I'm one to talk.

But, still. I do know what to do about this, Grissom. I only wish you'll give me the chance someday. The question is, will I still care when you finally figure out the answer to your quandary?

I stand in front of the one-way mirror, just staring at him as he slumps back into the chair. It's a look I've never seen on him. He's emotionally spent, sitting in the hard metal chair that eventually hurts the lower back if too much time's spent sitting in it. I stand there, numb, as I listened to Grissom's confession to Dr. Lurie.

He's pulled the wool completely over my eyes. Because, I had no idea if Grissom ever cared about me like I cared about him. It's only now, seeing him, head bent slightly as he looks at the table in the center of the room, that I realize. He cares about me. But, not enough to take the chance. Not enough to do anything about it.

I couldn't do it. But you did.

Why couldn't you do it, Grissom? Why couldn't you let me in? After all these years, after all the missed opportunities. Why? What did you have to risk other than your heart? But, maybe that's a price you're not willing to pay. Did you think that I'd be like Debbie and throw you away once I found out who you really are, beneath the professional exterior? Well, I wouldn't. Haven't you figured it out yet? You're the only one for me. Even when I tried to put you behind me, I couldn't forget you. It's always going to be you, Grissom. Why can't you see this? Why?

I'm more confused than ever. I know the truth. I just don't know what to do with it.

I can hear his footfalls behind me as I continue to look ahead of me. I don't want to look at him right now. I'm too ashamed. A DUI. Of all the things. Brass called me on it, but I thought he was just being facetious. After all, it wasn't like I was out and out drunk. I only did it to numb myself. I knew when to stop. Unfortunately, what I think is enough and what the state of Nevada thinks are two different things.

Hence my being here, waiting for my 'supervisor' to pick me up. God, how did I get here? Was it the fact that Grissom's been doing everything he can to keep his distance from me? Was it the fact that Grissom promoted Nick instead of me? Was it the fact that I don't know how to live here anymore? Maybe it's just that I'm fucked up all around. That is the truth, after all. I'm more fucked up than anyone else gives me credit for. If they really knew what I had to overcome, would they still look at me the same way? Would he?

I don't even realize that he's next to me until I feel his hand on top of mine, gently grasping it. The sensation is soothing yet excruciating, all at the same time. It's the most emotion he's shown me in a long time; yet, I realize that this will most likely be the apex. I hate myself for still harboring these feelings for him, even though I relish the touch, the warmth, inherent in it. I do the only thing I can in that moment. I lower my head, remaining silent. I don't have any words to give him at the moment. Thankfully, he doesn't ask for any, as we sit there in silence, our hands remaining entwined.

I've fooled everyone, Grissom included. He's the only one that knows about my DUI, about my PEAP sessions, but he really doesn't know what's going on with me. No one does. Instead, they think I'm content. Grissom's even worried about me, although I don't see that lasting for much longer. I know he's making an effort to reach out to me, but I know Grissom. He'll allow himself to get just close enough before retreating once again. I don't hate him for it, though. Instead, I'm just accepting of the fact that he's trying.

Besides, he'll find out eventually how far I've actually fallen. I'm sure Ecklie won't pass up the opportunity to belittle Grissom with the fact that I haven't been following up on my PEAP sessions. Truth of the matter is, I knew Grissom would forget about it eventually, even though he needs to know how my progress is going. Just another nail as far as Ecklie's concerned. Grissom's on the ropes, and I'm not helping matters any.

Honestly, I really don't have the strength in me to worry about Grissom. I can feel it coming, that sense of foreboding. I've reached the calm before the storm. It's only a matter of time before my past catches up with me. I try not to think about it, instead focusing on the job. As long as I do that, I don't have to think about anything else. But it doesn't mean that I can't feel it. I can almost hear the whisper as the voice in my head tries to warn me, telling me to run, to hide. But, I won't. I've done enough running for a lifetime. I'm tired of running, of hiding.

If things are going to get worse, then so be it. I've survived these past four years. I'll make it through this year as well. I sigh softly as I begin to doubt myself. Big words, little girl. But, you know the truth of the situation. Things don't get much worse than what's happened in your past. I close my eyes as I sit at the edge of my bed, my fingers desperately tightening their grip.

The bottle in my hand's never felt heavier.

Fin