Pairing: GS
Summary: Who are you and what did you do with Grissom?
Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Alliance Atlantis, and others own everything. No infringement is intended. Don't sue me. Just spacing out in my own little world.
Spoilers: Snakes, Nesting Dolls, etc. S5
I'm finally wrapping this up. Warning: fluff ahead. Thanks to all who have been so kind to read, review and hang in there this far!
Putting It Down Ch. 4
Work was relatively calm over the next few weeks. Although the Ecklie cauldron continued to simmer, everyone became aware he could be hiding just out of sight during their conversations and adjusted accordingly. Catherine's misfortune at having her memory card stolen from her camera at a scene and thus having to endure Ecklie also served as a lesson. While everyone was a little paranoid watching out for Ecklie, the situation had the unexpected and pleasant side effect of bringing the swing and graveyard shifts a little closer together in order to look out for each other.
Sara continued to do well at work, maintaining her cool and doing her work with a new level of competency that was seemingly calm and collected, but also deadly accurate, thorough and precise. She made up her mind to own any crime scene she walked into, and did so with a grace she hadn't possessed before, rather than her former desperate intensity. Warrick was the first to notice it during an interrogation, while he and Catherine watched behind the glass as Sara calmly roasted a suspect, trapping him into admission almost before Brass had even had a chance to play 'good cop.'
"Man, did you just see that?" Warrick shook his head.
Catherine nodded in admiration. "She's kicking butt lately."
Warrick looked pensive. "She's more like Grissom every day. Scary."
Somewhere a light bulb went off in Catherine's head, but she kept quiet with a small smile.
Grissom had noticed Sara's performance also, of course. He knew it had a lot to do with the multiple sessions he and Sara had shared recently, poring over the psychology books and talking at length about them. At first she'd been hesitant to talk, and he was always hesitant to talk, but it had gotten easier and soon she was full of words and analyses. When he gently prodded her into actually applying what she'd learned to help herself, they had hit another wall. It took him awhile to figure out she was still afraid he'd see her as 'damaged', so he tried to assure her that wasn't the case. He reminded her of her accomplishments in spite of it all, and her recent progress. She'd also been going faithfully to meetings with a group of people that shared pasts of dysfunctional families, abuse and foster care. After the first couple of meetings, she'd actually admitted to him that she liked going, and he hadn't even had to prod her with continuing.
It had all been very exhausting for Grissom in the beginning, but it was getting better. He figured that when Sara was finally able to put her past to rest, if they ever had a normal, outside-of-work conversation, his chances of feeling relatively comfortable and not screwing up should be fairly good. He hoped so, because he was having increasing trouble keeping his thoughts strictly on the task of helping Sara when he was near her. Her increased ease with him, the trust she showed by allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of him, reminded him of how their relationship used to be. He couldn't kid himself he didn't want her, badly, when he didn't have the luxury of retreating to his townhouse after work but found himself sitting on Sara's couch instead. More often than not she'd be sitting right next to him, and he'd find himself up to his old tricks, like leaning in close to her…much more dangerous in Sara's apartment than at work. Even more confusing was the fact that Sara didn't react at all when he invaded her personal space. At most she'd give him a momentary, level gaze, and then she'd continue talking like nothing had happened. He wasn't sure if she was determined to concentrate on the task at hand or was giving him a dose of his own medicine.
Sara was pleased with her progress. Her nightmares had lessened, her concentration had improved, and her tendency towards melancholy when she thought of the past had all but gone. She wondered about Grissom, but determinedly put those thoughts into the back of her mind. It was difficult, but she was determined that he make the first move, if in fact that was what he was up to. She just couldn't deal with him bouncing back and forth anymore, and wasn't willing to risk the fact that they'd managed to repair their relationship, somewhat, by her misinterpreting his maddeningly subtle behavior. She was actually pretty proud of herself for that.
Finally, one morning came where Grissom was due to come over and she had absolutely nothing left to talk about except the fact that she'd finished writing in her journal. She was extremely nervous about showing it to him. He hadn't mentioned it, but she didn't know what else they had left to talk about.
Grissom knocked tentatively a second time, and Sara opened the door grinning sheepishly, rubbing her still-wet hair with a towel.
"Hi," she said breathlessly. "I'm sorry, not very organized this morning."
She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but it didn't keep his brain from instantly obsessing over the fact she'd just taken a shower. Sara. Shower. Naked. Grissom swallowed and pushed a bag towards her.
"I brought ridiculously expensive coffee." he blurted.
"Sweet!" she grinned. "Come on in."
Grissom momentarily thought about sitting on the chair instead of the couch. He stared at the furniture as Sara made coffee-making noises in the kitchen. The chair would be safer.
She smells good, and I don't care about being safe, he decided. He sat on the couch.
Sara plopped down next to him with the coffee and looked at him directly. "Umm, I'm not sure what we have left to talk about."
Grissom looked stricken. "What? Why?"
"Well, we've gone through your books. I've talked all about this to death, from all angles, and you've been very sweet and patient about it. I'm happy with the group I've been going to, and I'll continue going. It should take a load off of you, having to listen to me." she smiled tentatively at him.
He tried to smile back. "I don't mind, Sara."
"I did finish putting it all down in the journal." She sighed.
He looked at her. "Did it help?"
"Yeah." Sara said emphatically. "Yeah, it did." she picked the journal up from the table, and held it toward him gingerly. "Here."
His fingers touched hers as he took it. He looked at her, confused.
"I guess you could read it." she said quietly, looking away from him.
Grissom put the book back on the table. "I never intended to read it. I…will if you want me to, but it was meant purely as an exercise to help you, and if it helped, then I'd say put it away. Take it out and read it again when you're feeling overwhelmed again, about all that stuff. Read the parts that showed you…showed you that you were getting over it all. You've put it down…that's what matters."
She nodded, still not looking at him. "So…what do we do now?" she asked.
He waited for her to look at him, but she didn't. She was overwhelmingly beautiful, turned away from him in profile. She looked at the same time strong enough to fight an army and maybe, just maybe, weak enough to want someone – Me! His brain screamed – to protect her. He couldn't stand it anymore.
He moved closer to her. He reached out and put one hand lightly against her cheek, turning her head toward him.
"I know what I want to do." he managed to get out. She stared at him, her lips pursed like she was going to speak. Before he could let himself think about it, he moved in and pressed his mouth to hers, very gently. He felt her body stiffen, and he backed off slightly, but to his relief her eyes remained closed and she relaxed, waiting to see what he would do. He kissed her again, and this time she responded, pressing her mouth against his. Her lips were impossibly soft and her shampoo smelled like lavender. He tilted his head and took first her top lip, then her bottom, between his. She reciprocated, then pulled back to look at him, still silent. Her eyes were questioning and intense. She reached up and put a hand behind his neck, and he leaned forward and began kissing her cheekbone and jaw. By the time he got back to her mouth her eyes were closed again. She sighed and opened her mouth under his. He wondered dizzily if this was a good thing and touched his tongue to her upper lip. When he felt her tongue meet his, he couldn't think anymore and dove into a full exploration of her mouth. It was better than he had ever fantasized it would be, and though it had been a long time, there was no doubt just kissing Sara was more erotic than anything else he'd ever felt, with anyone.
Sara felt like she would explode. Initially she felt unbelievable exaltation that all her suspicions were confirmed. He did want her. Despite his trepidation and shyness, he was very good at this. There was a huge reserve of passion lurking under the stoicism, as she'd always suspected. More than she'd suspected – she was having trouble keeping from being totally overwhelmed by her emotion. The scariest part was, she could tell that at least right this second; Grissom was going completely on raw emotion. She'd always thought that was what she wanted, but had never expected him to give over this completely. She couldn't turn her brain off despite what he was doing to her body. She couldn't block out an image of him retreating once he realized what he was doing.
When he started tasting the base of her throat, moving up to behind her ear, she knew she'd better stop things before they reached the point of no return. She shifted her face to his, kissed him hungrily, and pulled back. The color in his eyes was swirling and she could barely look at him.
"Wait…" she managed to get out.
He knew immediately by her tone that something was wrong. I'm too late, he thought. She still doesn't trust me and she doesn't want to risk it anymore.
He tried, and failed, to calm down. "I shouldn't have pushed things…I'm sorry." he said miserably.
She shook her head furiously. "No, no, it's not that." She forced him to look at her. "Don't you ever think I don't want this. Ever. I mean, that was…wow." she tried a slight smile. "Who are you and what have you done with Grissom?"
He almost smiled at that. "If this is who you really are, who you can be," she continued, "then I am…astounded. But I'm sorry, I just have to know, I mean, I don't want you kissing me because you're relieved I'm OK now. Or because I'm 'fixed' now."
He looked shocked.
"It's just, you surprised me here. I'm not sure what to think. I'm not just needing stereotypical female reassurance here, Grissom. You know I want to be with you," she softened her voice, "but I want you to want me back for the right reasons."
He'd pulled away from her and leaned back against the couch, and his expression had become increasingly disturbed. She figured she'd really done it, now. He might go back into his shell and she'd never see what she had just seen again, but Sara knew she had to lay some rules.
"Let me get this right, Sara." he began. "You're afraid what I just did was only because you're OK now? Like you were too much of a risk emotionally or something, before? Or that I only did it out of pity, or something?"
"Something like that." she murmured. "You sound angry."
He let out a huge sigh. "No, I'm not angry! I'm just…frustrated, I guess." He leaned toward her again. "It's my own fault. We both know I've waited and waited, and there have been multiple times when you reached out and I screwed things up worse each time. What you don't know is, I wanted you anyway, all of those times. I've wanted you…since the beginning, and I just expected you to know that, I guess, and when I decided I wasn't…good enough for you, or that I was too scared of you, I expected you to understand that, too. At my worst I figured hurting you then was better than hurting you worse later, when you figured out I wasn't good enough and left."
She stared at him. "You've been thinking about this a lot."
"Umm, yes. Especially recently. I've been trying to fix myself, too, Sara. I had a good role model…to follow."
She was silent for long moments, and he couldn't tell what she was thinking.
"Do you still think all that stuff, Grissom? That you're too much older than me, that…" she snorted, "you're not good enough…for me, that I'll play with you and leave you?"
"Yes." he admitted. "Not as much, but yes, a good deal of the time."
He took his finger and ran it from her cheek down across her mouth. "The difference is, Sara, I don't care. I've been an idiot and wasted a lot of time, and I want you. You have every right to tell me to go to hell. If you do decide to try, you may very well decide you can't put up with me, and you might see some cute younger guy and leave me cold. I've just decided I can't stand to live the rest of my life without trying, as hard as I can, to be with you, and to be whatever it is you think I am or expect me to be. I want that."
He paused.
"I would never, ever, be with you out of pity or relief, Sara. That hurts that you would think that, although I probably deserve it. I worry about you being with me for those reasons, but when I think of you, it's definitely not in that way."
Sara couldn't think of a thing to say.
"I'm going to go now. I hope I haven't screwed things up."
"Grissom, no…" she started.
He got up, and she followed him to the door. "It's OK, let's sleep on it, shall we? Whatever you decide, I'll do. You're off tomorrow, you can think about it. I'll be at home after work, you can call or come by."
She looked at him, exasperated. "Grissom…don't run away."
"I'm not. I think I pushed you, and I don't want to do that. If you decide you want to pursue this, I want to do it right. You know, expensive dinners, buy you presents, all that." he smiled, and she tried to smile back.
Suddenly he leaned in and kissed her, gentle but raw, barely contained. He had to have one more in case she decided she didn't want him. Sara knew what he was doing, so she kissed him back just as fervently.
"I've loved you from the start." he whispered in her ear. "I'm running away now." He gave her one of his trademark smirks, and then he was out the door, shutting it behind him.
When she was able to come to her senses, Sara was furious.
"Shit!" she fumed. "Like I'm going to be able to sleep now!"
Grissom wasn't much use at work the next night. What little sleep he had gotten was full of dreams about her, and while that wasn't unusual, the intensity level of them had definitely been kicked up a few notches. He was very, very glad Sara was off that night, because by the time he got there, he wasn't sure if he would have been able to maintain his composure around someone like Catherine if Sara was anywhere near him.
He'd never wanted anyone or anything this much. The periodic ache he'd often felt about Sara was now constant, and he now understood why men went to war over women. He was completely befuddled by it. It hurt and yet he wanted it to last always. He knew it wasn't just lust, those feelings about her were quite different and a lot more obvious. But he hadn't expected the ache to get stronger after just a few kisses.
He had no idea what she would do, either, and that was making him a nervous wreck. He didn't think she would toy with him, although she would be justified if she did. Sara was fair; she'd let him know something today. Every minute that went by made him feel worse about his years of ambiguity with her. If he'd made her feel like this, he couldn't believe she was still around. She had every right to make him go slow, and he didn't honestly know if he could stand it.
Catherine didn't miss much. She did a double take as she breezed by him in the hall.
"You look like crap." she said brightly.
"Very observant are you." he tried to brush her off with a weak Yoda imitation. It didn't work. She followed him to his office and stood across his desk, peering at him. "Seriously, are you OK?"
"Yes. Didn't get much sleep. Thank you." he tried his abrupt tactic, which usually made her leave.
"Are you sick?"
"No."
"Bad case?"
"No."
"Ecklie?"
"No."
"How's Sara?"
"No - What?"
Catherine grinned triumphantly. "Mmmm, so it's something to do with Sara. Work?"
"Catherine, go away."
"Did you piss her off again?"
"NO."
"Well, my guess as a trained observer is that something's up, and if I had to make a bet, I'd say she's giving you a dose of your own medicine."
"You're just speculating. Please go away."
"I am, huh? You've never looked like this before. Take my advice, for once, will you?"
"Looked like what?"
She smiled sympathetically. He glared at her.
"Stay in tonight and do some paperwork. Then for the sake of all our sanity, will you two please work it out? Otherwise I'm going to lock you both up in a small room myself."
"You can –"
"Leave now. I'm going." she smirked.
He did take her advice, though, and spent as much time as he could in the office. Then he went straight home. There were no messages on his machine and no emails on his personal account. He took a shower, straightened up his house and sat nervously. He started thinking about the few relationships he'd had, and how badly they had gone. He started wondering if maybe the Buddhists were right about the theory of karma – present and past lives affecting the present. He was making a list of possible atrocities he must have committed in a past life when the doorbell finally rang.
Sara had finally decided to go to Grissom's house, rather than calling. She wanted to see his reactions as well as hear them, since it was so hard to tell what he was thinking. She wanted all the evidence she could get. He had, after all, told her she could come by, which he had never done. All the conversations they'd shared had taken place at her place, on the phone, or a few times at diners after work. Grissom never invited anyone into his cave; it was his sanctuary. She knew Catherine went there infrequently but usually only when she really needed to talk to him or if she was worried about him. Sara decided to go with her gut and take his invitation as deliberately symbolic.
"Hi Sara." He was suddenly 15 years old and stupidly shy again.
"Hi." She took in his rumpled hair that looked like he'd been wringing his hands through it, and wondered for the millionth time if he had any idea how cute he was.
He stepped back and motioned her in. She stayed where she was.
"Umm, I decided to come over rather than calling, because I wanted to see your reactions as well as hear them."
He felt his heart sink. That didn't sound good.
"I also thought it was kind of weird that you invited me to your house…you always come to my house. I'm not sure if it's a territorial thing or a symbolic thing…" she faltered.
"I…would say it's the latter." he stammered.
She took a step towards him into the house, and another until she was nose to nose with him.
"Grissom, if we're going to do this, if you're going to let me in, I want you to let me in. I know you're scared; so am I. But I've proven I can talk to you, and you're going to have to do the same. I don't want to have to see you face to face because I can't have any guess at what you're thinking on the phone. I want to know what you're thinking by the sound of your voice, and what you're thinking if you look at me and don't say a word. We had a pretty good start on that once, and we need to do it again. Because I want this to work."
He let out a huge breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"OK." He stared at her intensely, and she had no problem for once seeing what was in them.
"So can I come in?" she asked.
"Yes, please." He reached behind her and pushed the door shut, and she wrapped both arms around his neck. At the feel of her stretched lengthwise against him, he realized he was quickly losing the ability to think.
"What about…presents and expensive dinners?" he asked earnestly.
"I'll hold you to that later. I'm kind of impatient right now."
She kissed him quickly, then moved to his ear, and whispered, "You know I love you too, right?"
He nodded, and thought how simple it was to quit over-thinking around her. He tried kissing her long and slow, but it accelerated rapidly when she ran her tongue around his mouth. He gave in willingly. This is all it takes, why did it have to be the one thing I was so scared of? He wondered.
That was his last coherent thought for a long while.
End.