Rating: R Rating change!
Chapter 7
"You're taking me to the body farm?"
He furrowed his brows. "You don't want to go to the body farm?"
Sara thought for a moment. "I do. It's just…are we allowed to just pop in there? It's not like the opera or something."
Grissom nodded as he got out of the car. "I know. You don't need tickets."
The security guard waved them though the gate and the pair of criminalists walked onto the extensive grounds of the body farm. It was silent, just as Sara had expected. The sun had gone down, but the moon was more than enough to illuminate the bloated corpse that lay before them in what could only be described as a miniature swamp.
"The body farm was erected in 1968. It was originally a smaller patch of land about four acres but the university expanded it in conjunction with the city," he informed her.
"Grissom, I don't need a lecture," she sighed. He closed his mouth quickly and Sara winced. "I'm sorry. It's just…you don't have to entertain me or do or say anything."
They were quiet as they wandered past the different staged scenes, each with variously decaying bodies. Only Grissom would have thought to take her to the body farm. As they stopped to observe two corpses in a car, Sara idly wondered if she could take a job at a body farm when she moved. The was a body farm in Washington near the university. Recording the decay of dead bodies and staging experiments didn't seem to require the same amount of listening skills as interrogating a suspect or manning a crime scene.
And it was quiet here. Sara stared at the two bodies in the pickup truck. She wouldn't be missing out on anything. Especially sparkling conversation, she thought to herself, unable to hold back a snort.
"Something funny?"
"I, uh…no. I was just thinking of what it would be like to work here," she told him, biting her lower lip.
Grissom turned his head to look at her. "Do you want a job at the body farm? I could get you one. You could stay in Vegas and work here."
Sara shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. I'm not…made for Vegas."
"What does that mean?"
She shrugged. "Oh, you know…Las Vegas is all about showgirls and glamour and gambling. That's not me. Catherine is Vegas. Warrick is Vegas. I'm…"
"Don't say Reno."
"I wasn't going to say Reno. I'm Middle-of-Nowheresville. The entire population of the town I grew up in could fit in the Bellagio with room to spare."
"That doesn't mean any thing, Sara. People aren't born where they're supposed to stay," he told her.
She said nothing as they walked on. He was right, to a degree. She didn't want to move back to her hometown, but she didn't want to stay where she was. For a moment, Sara wondered if it was just in her nature to be restless. When she was little, she wanted so badly to grow up and leave home. Life in foster care was a waiting game as well. College felt like limbo. She was on her own then, something Sara appreciated dearly, but she still felt like a nomad, ready to pick up and leave at a moment's notice.
She supposed it was that characteristic that helped bring her to Las Vegas. She left San Francisco in a heartbeat no tearful goodbyes or going away parties to speak of. Sara didn't know why she expected different from Las Vegas. Or did she.
It hurt her pride to admit that the reason she had hoped her life in Nevada would be different from life anywhere else was because of a man. Sara had always compartmentalized personal relationships and placed them behind work on her list of priorities. But she met Grissom and work was suddenly dictated by her attraction to him. It was as if he had opened her own little Pandora's box, unleashing all of the emotion Sara had been determined to keep in check. And at the bottom of the box, just like in the myth, was hope. No matter what he did to her, no matter what she did to him, Sara always held out hope for Grissom. It pained her that still, knowing she was going to leave him knowing she had to she still hoped he would reach out and hold her hand, would bend to kiss her cheek and stroke her hair.
But he just walked on to the next scene.
It was all for the best, she surmised, trudging along after him. The doctors had no hope for her hearing. All she could do was move on and be restless in another city.
By the time they made it back to the car, it was past eleven. "I finally figured out what city you are," Grissom said as he turned the key in the ignition.
"Please don't try to be nice and say Paris."
"You? Easily seized? No."
Sara cocked her head to the side. "What, then?"
"Vienna."
"War torn," she scoffed.
"And all the more beautiful because of it."
She was always silent after his compliments. They seemed more intended to knock the wind out of her than to praise.
"Ever been there?" he asked.
"I've never been anywhere."
He said nothing. Sara was oddly satisfied. She shut him up for once.
They drove back to the city. Sara played with the radio before settling on classical. The soft Vivaldi wafted through the car and enveloped her.
Grissom cleared his throat. "You hungry?"
She shifted in her seat. "Yeah."
He nodded and drove on. Sara relaxed back in her seat until she noticed Grissom turn South, away from the direction of her apartment.
"Where are we going?" she asked, sitting up.
"To eat," he replied simply. Grissom turned on Nellis Blvd. and continued South.
Sara squinted her eyes and looked out her window.
"Las Vegan?"
"It's a restaurant," he explained. "I thought you'd like it."
She was perplexed. When he had asked her if she was hungry, she thought he meant takeout at her apartment. They had never eaten out together alone in Vegas. Sara had always assumed Grissom felt that would be too much like a date. The thought made her freeze.
Was this a date?
He had gone out of his way to entertain her. Sara looked him over out of the corner of her eye. He was wearing a leather jacket and pants that were decidedly less billowy than the ones he wore to work. He smelled nice. And he was paying attention to her.
Sara swallowed hard. Every instinct in her body told her to go with it, to grab his hand as they walked from the parking lot to the restaurant, to lean into him as they waited for the maître d' to seat them. She could run her foot up his calf as they looked at their menus. She could excuse herself to go to the bathroom and, while she passes him on her way, whisper in his ear a suggestion to leave early, and walk away knowing his blood was boiling.
But she couldn't do that to him, not when she knew there was no way it could last. She was moving away, going deaf. Sara mentally catalogued all the things Grissom would miss out on by being with her: he'd have to relocate and leave the job he loved, he'd have to adjust his life to accommodate her impending disability. She couldn't ask that of him. She wouldn't be his burden.
They were seated quickly and Sara immediately immersed herself in the menu. It gratified her to no end that he remembered that she was a vegetarian, and that he gave enough care to find a restaurant that catered specifically to her needs. He was trying so hard.
"What are you going to order?"
She looked up at Grissom. "I think the eggplant parmesan. That looks good."
"I'll have that, too."
They were quiet until the waiter came. Grissom took command and ordered for the both of them, including some appetizers and a bottle of red wine. The moment the waiter left, Grissom's eyes widened.
"I'm sorry."
Sara put down her ice water. "Sorry about what?"
"I ordered wine," he said nervously.
"Don't worry about it. I still drink, only in moderation," she assured him.
"Okay," he said, fidgeting. "Are you…doing okay?"
Sara knew she should give him a reassuring "Fine" and then change the subject to the new technological advances in forensics or the unusual amount of rain they were been having.
"Sara?"
"No. I'm not. I'm not okay." She immediately cursed herself.
Grissom bit his lip and then leaned closer. "Do you want to leave so we can talk about it?" His hand reached out to skim over hers.
"No," she said firmly. "You asked if I was okay and I'm not. I want to leave Las Vegas. I need to." He inhaled sharply, but Sara continued. "You are being so nice to me and I…appreciate it. You have no idea how much. And I know for some reason your want me to stay. I would if I could, but believe me, I can't."
"But why?"
He looked at her so tenderly. She had never seen him so vulnerable, not even when he was confessing his feelings for her to a killer in an interrogation room. Sara knew at that very moment he would do anything for her. If she told him she was going deaf, he'd probably spend the rest of his life taking care of her. He was attracted to her, and his fear of losing her was great. It could tie her to him, and once the fear of losing subsided, the bonds of duty would keep him by her side.
Sara didn't want that. She didn't want him to feel obligated, to waste his life on her. He was getting on in years, true, but he was still extremely attractive to the opposite sex. She had been to crime scenes with Nick and Warrick, but neither garnered the same reactions from females as Grissom did. They didn't stare at his good looks or coo at his charm, but there was something about him that made women want to be near him, to figure him out. And the most amazing part was that the man had no idea how adorable he was.
"Grissom," she sighed, "can we just enjoy dinner now? Can we pretend that I'm not me and you're not you and just be happy? Real life will be waiting for us when we're done."
"If that's what you want, Sara," he said solemnly.
"I want."
He waited until they were in car to bring up the subject again. They were close her apartment when he glanced at her at a light. "I don't want you to go. You know that."
"I know that."
Grissom didn't say anything until he pulled into a parking space at her apartment complex. "Do you know where you're going to move to?" he asked quietly, eyes focused on the windshield.
"Washington."
"D.C.?"
"State," she corrected.
"Oh."
Sara unbuckled and prepared herself for their goodbye. She didn't want to cry. She didn't think she could stop once the first tear fell.
Grissom grabbed her good forearm and held her still. "I'm going with you."
His eyes met hers.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm going, too. To Washington." He was dead serious.
Sara felt the wind leave her lungs, choking her. "I'm sorry…what?"
One hand was still on her forearm while the other nimbly reached to cup her neck and bring her mouth to his. Any tentativeness from earlier in the evening was gone. His tongue was in her mouth and for a dim moment, Sara thought of how odd it was that the tongue she had seen so many times lick his lips as he concentrated was now sweeping past her own, pushing against it, daring it to push back. She couldn't help herself. His beard brushed up against his face, tickling at first, but later scraping as the kiss got more intense. He yanked her onto his lap and held her face in his hands as he nibbled on her lips.
Sara leaned forward, pushing him back against the headrest as she took over the kiss. She chewed on his lower lip for a moment before moving to his chin. With one hand, she did her best to open the top button of his dress shirt to gain access to his neck. She felt rather than heard him suck in a breath as she attacked the skin under his collar. Grissom's hands roamed her ass as she licked at his throat. His fingers moved up to trail along her waistband before slipping into her pants. He passed the strings of her thong and hit skin, bucking up momentarily. One hand remained on her ass while the other moved around the front to undo the button and lower the zipper. He pulled her pants and underwear down around her hips as best he could and growled when his fingers found her soft, wet skin.
Both hands on his shoulders, Sara pushed herself back against the steering wheel and moaned, wiggling her hips in time with his fingers. "Jesus Christ," she wheezed.
"You know I love you, right?" he breathed, dazed at the sight of her.
"I know."
"I'm going with you."
She bit her lip, but didn't answer him. Her cheeks were bright red. Grissom reached up with one hand to turn the light on before slipping it up her shirt to squeeze a breast as she began to pulse around his fingers.
"I'm going with you," he repeated.
TBC…
