DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.
Grissom leaned forward on the table in the interrogation room where the suspect, the victim's neighbor, had been brought in earlier. "You killed him because he moved your trash?"
"Yeah! Well, not just that." Townsmith, a short bald man snorted. "He always had some stupid remarks about my cleaning habits. In the end..."
"You had enough and decided to fill up his living room with rotten eggs and cow droppings."
"I figured if he was such an expert, let him clean that up."
Grissom and Sara simply exchanged looks to Townsmith's answer without a word.
"Patience is a virtue," Sara exhaled as she sat down on the chair in front of Grissom's desk.
"Which not many people have."
"You must be one of the lucky ones," she said and smiled.
"Most of the times," he admitted and flipped through the report. "But at least there's another lesson to be learned."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Never mess with your neighbor's garbage."
Sara chuckled. "The things we learn in this job."
"The things we learn..." Grissom repeated quietly and smiled.
"So, what was so amusing about me staying awake during the dinner with the Clearcanes?"
"Nothing." He looked up. "The last time I brought someone with me... their fascination with the subjects discussed was shown in the form of... snoring."
Sara chuckled again. "Well, that must've turned out to be an interesting evening for you."
"You've no idea. So, I think it was refreshing for them to have a conversation with someone who was outside their field but who was genuinely interested."
"That's a compliment then." Sara said shyly.
Grissom smiled and looked down that the report again.
The sound of the keys touching the table was somehow transformed into an echo from the emptiness of the gray apartment. He thought nothing of it and instead placed his jacket next to the keys. But then he stopped. Grissom started staring at the place between the jacket and the keys, a narrow but empty space. He stopped to also listen; listen to the silence of the place. No voices, no noise; No one to greet him; no kiss on the cheek or maybe even a hug.
He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. This was just like every other day after work. He left alone and he came home alone. He liked his privacy. Grissom liked the absence of unnecessary jabbering, annoying distractions.
Walking over to the bookshelf, he pulled out a novel which he had started a week ago. The metallic bookmark was sticking out from the dense white mass of pages. He opened it and walked over to his couch. The total number of pages was 462... Grissom was on page 295. He would have gotten much further but work kept him from reaching that goal. Putting his feet up, Grissom tried to relax on the couch and began reading the new chapter. The silence was his friend. It always had been. It allowed him to work even at home. Work was his life. He had gotten used to that a long time ago.
His eyes looked at the sentences but that's all they did. Grissom soon realized that he was reading the words without paying any attention to them. His thoughts were somewhere else. Work... no real personal life... solitude... He looked up. His eyes traveled across the room until they stopped at his framed butterfly species. Just work...
He looked back at the book and gave it another try. It did not work. He sighed. "Damn," he thought and placed the bookmark back on the same place. Putting the book on the table, he then stood up and slowly approached the butterflies.
The thick ray of light splashed on the glass surface of the frame at the same moment when Grissom stopped in front of it. He began observing the form of their tiny torsos, the shape of their wings, the perfect symmetry of their col-... "Symmetry..." he whispered. Insects are always looking for that perfect symmetry in their mates... Yes, insects do that, but not humans... Not consciously. His face slowly fell as low is it could until his eyes reached that shape for a tear to fall. He wasn't feeling like crying... watching still the butterflies' shapes, it was the thoughts of something connected to those shapes and forms that caused his quiet facial deformation. His heart slammed against his chest with such force that if it had decided to be any crueler, he might've fallen on the floor and possibly never woken up.
He had discovered that symmetry. He found it a long time ago. But knowing that did not bring butterflies in the stomach and weak knees. The knowledge of such discovery shook him immensely and caused his heart to slam against his chest one more time.
His eyelids fluttered. That was painful.
No one could and no one would influence him for this change. It had to be him and only himself.
Work was his life.
Would you risk your life for this discovery? Would you escape your safe, thick shell and reach out to the uncertainty of what you've found. Could Grissom be so brave?
Work was his life. Another hit. This time he let out a cough.
He thought about risking it all; His work – his life, risking it only for her. The results were beautiful; Eye-opening, warm... happy. To have a companion.
Nervously he smiled to this. The smile appeared more like a twitch rather than an expression of happiness. To share this with someone? New, interesting...
But just as a sunny day is soon ruined by a thunderstorm, so was this idyllic image of sharing his life with her... removing himself from the stiffness of solitude, of his habits, the daily routines. She would come; she would change this and then... then what?
The smile disappeared and he shivered as his heart slammed again. She could find something she could not like inside him and decide to leave. She would leave and he would be alone again. But alone without that safe shell he was so used to; He would be open because of her; Changed because of her; Vulnerable because of her...
He swallowed roughly. Grissom glanced at his hands. He passed his youth; the wrinkles showing long ago, the veins more apparent. His mind was the only part of him that time never managed to change.
But only his mind...
He did not deny it. Grissom did not wish to end alone.
The ring of his cell phone quickly interrupted his thoughts. He checked the caller ID before answering. "Grissom."
"Gil, still at work?" Jack asked on the other line.
"Just got off."
"Oh, good. Listen, Cynthia and I were looking at the advertisement for this play... 'She and I' and we wanted you to come with us."
"I would love to join you but I've already seen it."
"Have you? Is it good?"
"I suppose."
"Honey?" Jack's voice distanced itself from the phone. "He's already seen it...aha... that's a good idea. Okay, I'll ask," he said before returning to the phone. "Would you have Sara's number?"
Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Why do you need it?"
"Since you've already seen it, I could ask Sara to join us."
"Well, I think you'll get the same response from her."
"She's seen it too?"
"Afraid so," Grissom said and smirked.
"Okay... Do you have her number anyway?"
"Unless you're planning on cheating on Cynthia, Jack, I don't know why you would need it."
Jack laughed. "She was a delightful conversationalist, Gil. We'll probably invite her to come to the ranch."
"You weren't kidding when you told me you loved her." Grissom was surprised by Jack's response, as the Clearcanes had invited only a handful of people to their ranch in the past ten years.
"Intelligent, beautiful and funny? Gil, how often do you find a person like that?" Wasn't long before Cynthia's 'Hey!' was heard in the background to which Jack let out a laugh.
"Sure," Grissom sighed and dictated Sara's number.
"Thanks. Talk to you again. Take care of yourself."
"I don't do otherwise," Grissom said and smiled.
When the conversation was finished, Grissom closed the phone and looked at the butterflies once more.
Symmetry.