Dedication: To SMKLegacy, who wants to ride the WaveRunner. My answer to you? I might as well give it to you, because you'll probably get more use out of it than I have lately! This last summer, Mark (the husband) and I did not take it out at all here in Tennessee. The only thing we did with it was take it to Destin, and even then, if I wanted to ride my own WaveRunner, I had to wrestle my sister to the ground to get the key away from her. sigh
A/N: Quite a few of you were shocked at the speed with which Grissom asked Sara to shack up in the last chapter. My response to you: good! I know it was really fast, but I wanted you guys to be as surprised as Sara was. Grissom's an all-or-nothing kind of guy, and now that he's figured out what to do about "this," he's going to move full steam ahead!
Grissom and Sara went straight back home after dinner and fell into bed. It had been an exhausting day, both physically and emotionally, not to mention the fact that their sleep schedule had been thrown into chaos.
As Sara lay cradled in Grissom's arms in the dark, she felt him open and close his mouth several times, like he wanted to say something but kept changing his mind. She had a feeling she knew what was on his mind.
With a small smile on her face, she said, "You still have lots of questions for me, huh?"
She felt him smile. "Yeah. But I don't want you to think I'm dwelling on it. I'm just curious about the little things that most people wouldn't find important, but—"
She interrupted. "But you're an investigator, and it's the little things that make the difference."
"Yeah."
"Ok, shoot. What do you want to know?"
"You mentioned the Harvard professor taking you to stay with him and his wife. Where were your parents during all this?"
If Grissom had been able to see Sara's face in the darkness, he would have seen the darkest of clouds pass over Sara's eyes. As it was, he felt her body stiffen, and he cursed himself for bringing up something that was more than likely another bad memory for her. He spoke quickly, "Um, sorry, Sara. You don't have to answer that."
"No, I want to, but I think I would prefer to wait awhile, if that's okay with you." She turned her face up toward his and kissed his beard. "I've already addressed one traumatic event, and I think I need some time before I dredge up more bad memories. Let's just say that I don't exactly have a good relationship with my parents and leave it at that for the moment. Is that okay?"
Grissom sagged against the pillow with relief. He was so grateful that she felt comfortable enough to be honest. He realized he hadn't answered her question and added a hurried, "Of course that's okay, Hon. Whenever you're ready."
She smiled against his beard. "Thank you. Next question?"
"OK, how did you manage to graduate on time? I would imagine you had to take the rest of that semester off because of the extent of your injuries."
"No, Dr. Durham helped. I was originally taking 18 hours, but I dropped down to 12 so I could stay full-time. I only actually missed three weeks of lectures, but there was a ton of catching up to do, obviously. Dr. Durham was the head of the math department, and six of my 12 hours were math classes, so he had those professors tape all their lectures for me. He got in touch with my other professors and asked them if they would mind doing the same, and he offered to proctor exams, as well. So he'd help me with my notes, answer any questions I had on the math stuff, and then he'd bring me my exams and act as proctor while I sat in bed taking them. After about three weeks, I was well enough to go back to my dorm room with Ashley, but either Dr. Durham or his wife would stop by every single day to check on me, and bring food." She giggled. "They became really popular on my floor. When Mrs. Durham would bring me her special "study cookies," girls would flock to my door and beg for some." Her voice softened at the memory. "They became surrogate parents to me. I still go see them at least once a year."
Grissom's heart softened at the thought of a kindly professor taking in Sara and caring for her while she recuperated.
"How did he know you were a Harvard student when he found you?"
Sara snorted. Leave it to Grissom to ask a question like that. "Have you ever seen the little ID holder key chains that college girls carry?" She felt him shake his head 'no.' "Umm…" Sara struggled to explain. "Well, most college girls don't like to carry purses everywhere—you know, parties, games, classes, and so forth. It's a hassle. So college bookstores carry these small ID wallets that go on your key chain. It's big enough to hold your campus ID, driver license, and a little money—just the bare necessities. Mine was laying on the ground next to me when Dr. Durham found me. It had the Harvard crest on one side, and my Harvard ID was in it."
Grissom nodded in understanding.
"May I ask you a slightly more personal question?"
"Um…ok."
"How long was it before you were able to…" He had no idea how to ask the question. Thankfully, he didn't have to.
"How long before I slept with someone?"
"Yeah, that." He added quickly, "You don't have to answer that. I was just curious."
"No, no, it's okay." She took a deep breath. "It was about six months. I tried to keep the rape as quiet as I could, which wasn't easy, since everyone on my entire floor knew about it. But eventually talk began to fade and life went back to being normal. When the next semester started, I had all new classes, and I looked pretty normal except for the slight limp, so things really started to settle down. I took differential equations with Dr. Durham, and he randomly partners people off as study buddies. I ended up with a guy named Michael Murphy.
Michael and I hit it off immediately; he was the nicest guy I'd ever met. He was attentive and sweet, courteous, charming, and smart. One day he asked me point-blank about the limp. For some reason, he caught me off guard, and I just spilled my guts about it. I even told him about Dr. Durham being the one to find me. When I said that, his eyes got huge, and he whispered, 'No wonder…' I asked him what he meant by that, and he got really shy and finally admitted that Dr. Durham was his uncle. He said that we had been paired together on purpose—that Dr. Durham asked him to keep an eye on me and make sure I was doing okay emotionally. He didn't tell Michael why, so obviously he was curious. At any rate, we started dating, and he was so gentle and patient." Sara smiled at the memory. "He didn't push me for a physical relationship at all. He waited until I was ready. So one night in mid-March, I told him that I was." She stopped. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"
Grissom considered. "Um, no. I mean, I don't really like to think about it, but this guy sounds like he was good to you. Yeah, I'm okay. Go on."
"Anyway, he was really gentle about the whole thing—kept telling me that I could stop at any time if I got uncomfortable." Tears were threatening her eyes again. "If it weren't for him, I don't know how long it would have been before I would have had sex with someone."
Grissom asked in a whisper, "So why didn't you stay together?"
Sara squeezed her eyes shut against the tears of sadness that were gathering. "We stayed together for about a year. God, it killed me to break up with him, but I wasn't in love with him. He loved me so much, and I tried to make myself love him, but I couldn't. And the worst part is, I cried like a baby when I was breaking up with him, and he spent the whole time comforting me! I hated that I couldn't make myself love him. He was truly one of the nicest guys I've ever known, and he would have been good for any girl, but he was especially good for me." Her voice dropped to a ragged whisper. "Because of him, I stopped automatically equating sex with rape and pain." She cried against Grissom for a moment, during which he silently thanked God that Michael had been in Sara's life.
He kissed the top of her head for at least the twentieth time that day (God, he loved the feel of her hair beneath his lips), and bravely asked, "May I bug you with one more really frivolous question?"
She snickered through her tears. "Yes."
"Back to my original question—how many men before me? I don't know why—I just want to know. I'm sorry if that's stupid."
"I understand. But quid pro quo, Dr. Grissom. I give you my skeletons, you give me yours."
"Understood."
"Well…" she paused. "I never know whether to include him in the total. If you include him, then there were six men before you. If you leave him out, since I didn't willingly have sex with him, then there were five men before you." A pause. "Quid pro quo," she reminded.
"Five. Pretty sad, huh? In 27 years, I've had sex with five women—until you." He squeezed her. "I don't get out much, obviously." Sara giggled against him.
After a moment, she lifted her head off of his chest to ask him a question. "Are you still sure…about me moving in?"
He smiled and let his eyes drift closed contentedly. "Every moment I spend with you only makes me even more sure about it, Sara."
She snuggled down into him happily. They were almost asleep when Sara's cell phone rang from the bedside table. She jerked up and snapped on the lamp, alarmed that it might be Ecklie. As she grabbed the phone, her worried eyes caught Grissom's. A sigh escaped her lips as she checked the caller ID. "Nicky," she whispered. She flipped it open and greeted him, turning the volume up as she did so. She wanted Grissom to be able to listen in to whatever ribbing she was about to take. "Nicky!" she squealed into the phone.
"Hey, Sar," he drawled. "Am I interrupting anything?"
Sara winked at Grissom. "Yeah, your timing is fantastic, Nick," she quipped. "Grissom and I were in the midst of some seriously mind-blowing sex." She covered her mouth to stifle her laughter as Nick's voice came through the phone.
"Sa-ra!" he whined like a child. "That's disgusting, Baby Sister. Tell that old codger to keep his paws to himself."
At that, Grissom grabbed the phone away from Sara, causing her mouth to drop open in disbelief.
"Old codger, Nick?"
Nick was totally unfazed. "Boss!" he replied happily. Teasingly, he asked, "And what exactly do you think you're doing with my baby sister?"
"You really do take this whole big brother act way too far, you know that, Nicky?"
"Seriously, though, Grissom, you better make her happy. You know I love you like a brother, but if you hurt her—"
Grissom chuckled. "Relax, Nick. If you must know…" he searched out Sara's eyes, looking for permission for what he was going to say next. She gave him a barely perceptible nod. "I asked Sara to move in with me at dinner this evening, and she accepted, so maybe that will make you feel a little better about my intentions."
Grissom could practically hear Nick's jaw hit the floor. "Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"Wow, Grissom. Damn, you've got it bad, don't you?"
"Extremely," Grissom agree, giving Sara yet another kiss atop her head.
"So does this mean I get to tell Warrick and Catherine?" Nick sounded giddy at the prospect. "Catherine's gonna freak that I have this juicy tidbit of information before she does."
"Sure thing, Nick. Just remember—keep it quiet, ok?"
"Absolutely."
Grissom smiled and said, "Well, I suppose you called to talk to your baby sister, not to me, so I'll give you back to her."
"Thanks, Grissom. And hey, congratulations. I really was kidding about the old codger stuff. Sara's crazy for you, and I wouldn't have it any other way."
Sara took the phone from Grissom and proceeded to chat with Nick for the next ten minutes. After getting updates on all things criminal in Las Vegas, she hung up and snuggled back into Grissom's arms.
As Grissom drifted off to sleep, he tightened his arms around the woman next to him and had a sudden epiphany: 'My God. I'm going to marry her.'