Nobody in His Right Mind Would Have Left Her
Disclaimer: My birthday was last week. While I did get some good stuff, CSI stock was not included.
A/N: The title comes from a George Strait song of the same name.
Gil Grissom was flipping through his Rolodex and remembering Boston.
Sitting in the front row of the lecture hall was the prettiest girl he had seen in a very long time, and considering he lived in Las Vegas where a beautiful woman was considered commonplace, that was saying something. Her laughter at one of her companions' comment was musical, and her smile…God, her smile was… contagious. With a cute little gap. Her questions at the end of the first days' lecture had been intelligent and insightful. As the other students filed out, an impulse to ask her for coffee and further discussion could not be denied.
The next six weeks of the mini course he was teaching went by quickly. Filled with mornings of classes for both of them and afternoons spent in each other's company. Walking the Commons in the snow, sharing warm beverages and life stories at local coffeehouses, and just being together.
It wasn't right. He knew that.
He was her instructor. She was a young woman. He was a middle-aged man.
He loved her. He knew that, too.
He had never touched her, well, except for the automatic hand on her back as she went through a door first or by accident as they were walking side by side.
The day he left Boston was the first time she had been to his apartment. She came to say good-bye. As the taxi waited at the curb, she leaned in to kiss him softly on the corner of his mouth.
Her kiss was so many things all at once. It was innocent and sensual, timid and aggressive, hopeful and…hopeless.
He knew that they would probably never see each other again, and it was breaking his heart.
"Good bye, Grissom," she said as she turned to quickly walk away.
"Good bye, Sara," he whispered, glad she wouldn't witness the moisture pooling in his eyes.
What an idiot I am! I never should have let her go.
Finding the card he was looking for, Gil fast-forwarded five years to San Francisco.
He had had no contact with Sara since he had left Boston. He was sure hers was just a schoolgirl crush, and he thought he could forget her if he buried himself in work.
He was wrong.
Walking down the corridor of the SFPD forensics lab with its director, Dr. Harris Brinson, he was surprised by someone calling his name.
"Grissom?"
He turned to find her coming fast down the hall towards him.
"Sara!"
She launched herself into his arms, and laughed as he swung her around. He buried his face in her hair, squeezing her tightly just once before reluctantly putting her down.
"Uh, I take it you two know each other?" Dr Brinson asked with a smirk and a gleam in his eye.
"Yes, sir. Dr. Grissom was an instructor of mine at Harvard," her eyes never leaving Gil's face.
Harris wasn't stupid. There was more to the story, he was sure.
"What are you doing here?" Realizing how that must have sounded, she blushed.
"I have asked Dr. Grissom to consult on the Ferrell case." Dr. Brinson said.
"Is that one yours?" Grissom asked her.
"No, but I'll be around later if you want to catch up."
"Yes. I'd like that."
She smiled at him over her shoulder as she walked back to the print lab to finish up what she had been working on when she saw him walk by.
"Tell me Gil, does she know?" Harris asked.
"Know? Know what?"
"That you are in love with her." Grissom stopped in his tracks and watched the older man walk away, chuckling to himself.
The case had only taken three days to complete his work on the insect timeline, but he had put in for two weeks leave planning on a mini vacation and some sightseeing. Now he could spend it with Sara.
Things were slow, so Dr. Brinson told her she could spend her time with Gil while he was in town as long as she kept her pager on in case they needed her back at the lab.
It was the 10th day of his leave, and they were having a picnic in Golden Gate Park, he was propped up on one elbow, his ankles crossed and picking at the fruit and cheese plate she had brought when Sara asked the question he had been dreading. Well, one of the questions.
"Gil, why don't you ever touch me?" She queried so quietly he almost didn't hear her.
He looked up to find her eyes swimming with unshed tears just before she ducked her head, her hair forming a veil of sorts, effectively shutting out his gaze.
"Forget I said that."
"Sara."
"Is it because you don't like me? Am I not pretty enough? Not… girly enough?"
Sara…"
When she didn't look at him, he risked touching his finger to her chin to lift her head.
"I'm afraid that if I ever touch you, I won't be able to stop," he whispered intently. He pulled her closer with his finger under her chin, and lifted his face to brush her lips with his.
Her lips were soft and giving. When they started to move against his, he pulled her to his chest and lay back on the blanket to kiss her like he had wanted to five years earlier. With her body held tightly against him, he could feel when she started to tremble. Pushing her away from him and sitting up, he said the first thing that popped into his addled brain.
"I'm sorry, Sara. That shouldn't have happened."
"No, I guess it shouldn't. Look, Griss, would you mind if we called it a day? I… I'm starting to get a headache."
"Sure. I'll just pack this stuff up and we'll be on our way."
The ride back to his hotel was strained and uncomfortable. His mouth spoke without permission, again.
"Sara, I've been meaning to tell you, I'm leaving tomorrow morning."
"But tomorrows just Tuesday! You're not scheduled to leave until Friday!"
"I know, but I got my flight rescheduled. I've got a ton of paperwork I need to catch up on, and I also need to get my sleep schedule back to night shift time."
"Oh, I see. Well, I guess this is good bye, then."
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sounds would come out.
"Good bye, Dr. Grissom."
He exited her car and barely shut the door before she sped off. "Good bye, Sara," he whispered to her retreating form, once again.
He slowly made his way to his hotel room to rebook his flight, just like he had told her he had already done.
He had emailed her when he got home, to let her know he had arrived safely and told her about his seatmate on the flight, a feisty older lady on her yearly pilgrimage to play the quarter slots in Vegas on her birthday. Mostly, it was a sort of peace offering and a way to 'test the waters'.
She emailed back that she was glad he had made it home with no mishaps besides his new septuagenarian admirer. He took it as a good sign that she not only replied, but did not attempt to ream him a new one via the World Wide Web.
The emails had continued over the next three years on a fairly regular basis. He rationalized that email was the best for them to communicate because she worked days and he worked nights. They wouldn't want to interrupt the other's sleep. The real reason was because with email he could plan out what he wanted to say, the way he wanted to say it. He didn't have to worry about his big mouth getting him into any more trouble.
Catherine stuck her head in the door just as the phone on the other end started to ring.
"Almost time for assignments, you coming?"
"Yeah, Cath. I'll be right there."
The office door shut behind her as the person on the connection answered.
"Sara? It's Grissom. - I'm fine thanks. You-Great. Sara the reason I'm calling is…well; we've had an incident up here concerning a new hire, Holly Gibbs, which requires an outside investigator. I…I need you, Sara……….."