A/N
Thanks to my betas SaraC, Michele and CybroKat. You guys so rock. I don't own anything including any component of CSI. Special thanks to Joan and Ash who provided constructive criticism. This is a response to my own challenge posted on CSI-GrissomSara Yahoo Group.
Challenge Elements Were
First line must be "You started it."
Must be G/S of course
Someone must wear white linen
An ex-girlfriend of Gil's must be mentioned or appear
Sara must reference the first time they met.
Gil or Sara must quote, Jesus, the Dali Lama, Buddha or any other historical religious/spiritual figure of your choosing.
It's should be no more than 2000...hmm did I actually say that?
Spoilers? Up through Season Five
You Started It
"You started it," Sara said quietly.
"You would think that," he snarled.
Sara leaned against the cool wall, willing her face to stay naturally pale and her outward appearance to remain controlled. She was, in truth, vaguely disgusted with Gilbert Grissom. She called him Gilbert in her mind when he was being particularly trying. She thought things were better between them. Things had been better between them. She wasn't wrong about that, although she had been wrong about a great deal between them.
The lingering glances, touches that lasted a few seconds too long. The furrowed brow had not meant she was special to him. Yes, he was attracted to her. Lots of men were attracted to her. She was sleek and sexy and defiant. Men wanted her. She knew that.
Gil didn't. She knew that too.
Some people thought Grissom was awkward and shy around women. None who knew him well did. Not Warrick, Catherine, Nick, Greg or even Brass. But most especially Sara. She had watched his handsome eyes flit across the room as an attractive woman caught his attention.
He was glib and gentle and blindingly good looking. He moved his large frame easily and women felt safe with him. That was important, the instinctive sense of protection he emanated.
That's why she had stayed. That was why she had come tonight, to Judy's wedding, because she needed to feel safe. She needed him to make her feel safe. The cases were often too much. It was the only way she could continue to do her work. To help people like herself, like her mother.
So she'd put on the slinky, sleeveless, white linen dress because it made her feel like what she was, pretty and young. She hardly felt like that anymore. Instead she felt worn and dry. The heat of the desert was scorching her, causing bits of her to flake away.
Gil glanced around the empty hall and moved closer to Sara. She smelled of vanilla and lavender and womanly musk. She had that something that could not be bottled or taught or learned or completely understood. It made most men nervous and most women scared. It made him lose touch with reality and rationale. He loved where she led him … and it scared the hell out of him.
"I did not start this," Sara said again standing straight, breaking contact with the wall.
"Look at how you're dressed. You can see straight through that thing."
She should be angry. It was not true. The dress had a satin lining that lay delicately against her skin. If one was to see anything, it was only a silhouette of her shape.
"You can't see through it Grissom." She flipped up the hem and showed him the lining.
Gil only saw bare, muscled, lightly tanned thigh. Where had she been to get that tan? What had she been wearing, or not wearing, to get a tanned thigh?
"Pull your damn dress down. I think we've all seen enough of your ass tonight."
Sara looked at him steadily. "My ass," She said piercing him with black orbs.
"Sorry." He refused to meet her gaze.
Sara sighed again as she thought of Dr. Newman, her PEAP counselor. She no longer felt compelled to dance this little tango with Gilbert Grissom. He didn't want her. If he wanted her, he would ask her out, or tell her why he couldn't ask her out. He would do something. It was clear that he liked the idea of her wanting him.
"Heather is probably looking for you. I took a cab. I'll catch a ride home with Nicky." She was not sure why she was explaining the last part to him. Maybe she wanted to appear grown up and mature. It seemed to be working. She might buy Dr. Newman a present.
The reference to Heather made him look around again. The mumbling he reserved only for Sara started. "Sara I am not…Heather is not. She's Judy's cousin. You know that right?"
Sara studied his silver tie. She loved that tie. "I don't think I knew that."
"Well she is, and we were just dancing."
"For now." Sara stunned both of them with the acid in her voice. Recovering quickly, she started speaking again.
"Why is it that you can dance with your….friend, but I can't dance with my friend? That confuses me. Does it confuse you too?" She was serious about the question. Maybe if he understood why he acted the way he did, he would stop.
He stepped closer, causing her cheeks to turn pink. "Is that what it's called now days? Dancing?"
Sara shook her head as she caught sight of Nick a few feet from them.
You don't want any of this Stokes. He's crazier than usual.
Nick retreated. Her eyes went back to Grissom.
"I'm not sure why I'm explaining this to you, except that it's unbelievably embarrassing to be dragged from the dance floor by your boss, who was dancing with his girlfriend," she struggled but got the word out, "because he doesn't like the way you were dancing with your other coworker and platonic best friend."
"Heather is not my girlfriend."
"Oh." Sara felt like she was fifteen and Bobby McFarlin had just told her that he really did like her but that Roberta Wilcott had bigger boobs so he was going to take her the spring dance.
Her lack of probing embarrassed him. "Rumor…People are saying that you and Nick are seeing one another since you aren't on the same shift anymore."
She studied his gray temples. Was he dying his hair? The gray never changed. The ration of dark hair to light always stayed the same. She laughed a bit. He frowned.
"So you think its okay for you to pull me off the dance floor while I'm dancing with my boyfriend?" She stressed the word again, pleased to see him wince. "Why do you have any right to do that? And you think that if Nick was my boyfriend he would just let you do it? You think Nick is that scared of you?"
Gil was thrown off by her reasoning.
"What did that psychic say?"
"What?" Sara was confused by the sudden change of topic.
"What did Mother Z. Say?
"Who?"
"Judy's mother. Heather's aunt. What did she say? She did a reading for you right?"
Still struggling to comprehend what he was saying, her mind flashed back earlier in the evening.
The tall dark woman came to stand near Sara looked at the tall dark woman or maybe she was a girl. It was difficult to tell.
"Sara, right? Hi, I'm Zoe."
"Yes…"
"My grandmother wants to talk to you."
"Your grandmother?"
"Yeah, her name is Zoe, too. She's doing readings over there. The lady with the short black hair."
Sara looked over the younger woman's shoulder and found the petite woman's unlined face as she flipped cards for Catherine.
"I don't think…"
"She insists. I know you scientist types don't like this sort of stuff but it's just easier if you let her do her thing. I learned that a long time ago."
Sighing, Sara sat down across from the woman, noting how the strobe lights reflected off her clear skin.
"Hello, Princess." The voice was clam and clear.
Sara frowned.
"Your name, it means 'princess' in Hebrew right?"
Sara nodded.
"Some people, like that Dan Brown fellow that wrote the Da Vinci Code, think Jesus had a daughter named Sara. The daughter of a king, so to speak."
"Your granddaughter said that you wanted to talk to me."
"Don't worry, Princess. I won't use the cards."
Sara eyed them warily.
"Your mother was doing the best she could with the resources she had."
Instinctively, despite the woman's earlier words, Sara turned over the first card like she used to do when her mother gave her a birthday reading every year.
"Ah. You probably have turned it over every year since you met him." The psychic looked at Grissom who was busy looking at Heather.
"It's easy to see he's not interested." Sara looked at the card and tried to breathe evenly. She had turned over the card the first time she'd met Gil, that first year when her Aunt had come to visit her in Boston to give her the traditional birthday reading. Her mother was on parole and could not leave. She sent her youngest sister to lead Sara into the next year.
"He's working at not paying attention now that he knows you're looking at him. That's not psychic. That's mother wit."
"He's never been interested." Sara's voice was sure, resigned.
"How long have you two been playing at this?"
Sara shrugged, figuring she'd embarrassed herself in front of her closest friends. She had chased after Grissom from Boston to Las Vegas. One stranger wouldn't make much of a difference. "Since I was twenty-two."
"How old are you now?"
"Don't you know?" Sara joked.
"Humor an old woman."
"Thirty four." Sara said. "How old are you?"
"Sixty one."
"Wow. I should follow you around and take notes."
The women smiled at each other. "You don't have anything to worry about. That's a long time for such passionate people. He has a very high moral code. You must be very proud of him."
Sara's mind wandered. "Yes, I guess I… maybe. I admire his ethics. I'm not sure that his ethics come into play where I'm concerned. Not any longer anyway…"
"They did at first?"
"Maybe"
"And now?"
"He goes out with suspects. He goes out with co-workers. He goes out with everyone but me."
The woman turned her head to look over at Gil. "He's very handsome. I would go if he asked."
Sara smiled. "He loves women so don't be surprised…"
"You know him better than anyone else. Except maybe his friend, the swan, and his mother."
"The swan?"
"The little tiny thing. Must be the one that was just here. So he goes out with these other women?"
The woman's voice reminded her of warm milk, soothing and easy. Laura Sidle's voice was frayed and frantic, full of tobacco smoke and fear.
Sara looked at the back of Gil's head. She could stare at his curls forever. She could stare at him forever.
"Yes. He goes out with them."
Sara watched as Zoe turned back to Sara. She shuffled the cards lazily, silver nails flashing in the light. Laura's nails were always bitten and raged.
She looked directly at Sara as she spoke. The next words started Sara slightly. Everyone knew that Sofia and Grissom had gone out to dinner at least once.
"The blonde woman. Eh…"
Zoe waved a hand in the air.
"Nothing for you to be concerned with. She tried. Believe me she tried. He's not interested in being chased, especially by that one."
Sara shot a look at Heather. She was a beautiful woman. Who could blame him?
"Nothing to worry about, either. He cares for her, yes, but if there was something more it's long over with."
Sara shrugged again. She was nearly over him. She would be over him soon. Sara Sidle WOULD get over Gil Grissom. Soon.
"He wants to protect you. He wants to take care of you. No one has done much of that. You would like that? To be taken care of?" She nodded toward Warrick and Nick. "Those two know how to protect you without you realizing it."
Sara blushed. "I realize it."
"Best to let them think they're smooth." The other woman chortled. "Especially the tall one. He looks like ice wouldn't melt in his mouth. Now back to you and your gentleman."
"He's not my…"
Sara gave up as Zoe cut her off.
"How did you meet him?
"He taught a class at my college. In Boston. We met in Boston."
The other woman clucked. "Probably didn't know what hit him. He'd seen young women before, taught them, flirted with them, and gotten it out of his system platonically. But you. You must have made him a nervous wreck."
Sara didn't say anything. She liked the idea of throwing Grissom off his pedestal, even if it was only a fantasy.
"You can't leave him."
"What?"
"You can't leave him. He'll be lost without you."
"I don't know how much longer I can stay. I want a life. I want a husband and children." She wasn't sure why she was suddenly telling this stranger all this, but it felt good to get it out."
Zoe nodded sadly. "I know, dearest, and soon he will be ready for all that."
"He's nearly fifty." Sara tired to keep the whine out of her voice.
"He knows that better than anyone.
"Sara?" She jumped, Grissom's voice jolting her out of her memories.
Knowing she couldn't tell him the entire truth of the conversation, she shared what she knew would intrigue him and move him away from any talk of their relationship.
"She, um, quoted, 'What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul?"
"Mark 8:36," Gil said.
"Do you know everything?" Sara was glad, however, that he did not ask for more or dwell on the reading.
"Lapsed Catholic."
"I don't know how to do the organized religion thing."
"I thought you were an agnostic." He wondered if he'd had too much to drink…or not enough.
"How can anyone be an agnostic or an atheist and do what we do?"
"Some people think that the viciousness we see demonstrates the absence of God, Sara."
Sara bit her bottom lip. "Only God could help people through the shit we see. How does a little girl who was raped by her uncle grow up and become a peace activist? I mean, that's God. Or how do we leave a scene with nothing and Greg finds one little tiny hair on the back of a sweater or shirt and we get some perp off the street? That's not our stuff. That's God's stuff."
"So why don't you go to church?" Gil was truly curious and glad that they were doing one of the things they did best - talking about things that mattered.
"I don't know what to do. I never went to any kind of church growing up. I don't have a disdain for organized religion. I like rules. I like rituals. I just never know when to stand or sit or read or whether I should say "amen" or "rah rah"."
Gil laughed. "I don't think it's appropriate to say "rah rah" at any church."
"See, I don't even know the difference. I mean I know that Warrick is AME, but I have no idea what those initials stand for. I know that Nick is Baptist, but not the kind that does not believe in ordaining women. It's very confusing. I think I'm a Christian, but I'm not sure."
"I'll take you to church. I'll take you to my church and we can visit other churches and we can buy some books on denominational history."
Sara narrowed her eyes. "I thought you were lapsed?"
"I'm a lapsed Catholic. But I'm a very devout Episcopalian."
"You go to church?" Sara tried not to sound shocked.
Gil nodded once.
"Like every week?"
"Twice a week and choir practice. I don't always get to sing because of work. But I try to make it."
Sara stared at him for several long moments. "You sing in the choir."
"Yes." He looked completely calm, despite her disbelieving expression.
"Do you have a nice voice?" She concentrated on enjoying the nearness of him. Her earlier anger seemed forgotten and she was sure that her skin was now rose colored.
"I have a very nice voice."
"You do?" Sara was pleased as he nodded. "Me too."
"I knew that," he admitted with a bashful grin.
"How?"
"You sing when you forget people are in the room."
"I do?"
"Yes."
"Oh. So isn't dating a dominatrix kind of against religious…Christian rules?"
Gil smirked. "That was slick. I make myself look like a complete fool but you…you just kind of slip it into the conversation. Men are stupid."
"Answer the question," Sara demanded playfully, pushing down her fear of his answer. Instead, she inhaled the scent of bourbon. She liked his smell. It was a man's smell, strong and powerful. He smelled like a man should smell, not pretty or sweet but masculine. He smelled like Grissom. Like Gil. Like her Gil.
"It is not against MY understanding of being a good Christian and I repeat I am NOT dating Heather."
Sara smiled wickedly. "But you did date Heather?"
"If I say yes, will it get me in or out of trouble?"
"Neither."
"That's not fair."
"You've embarrassed me. You owe me an answer."
Gil sighed. His well-cut jacket was starting to suffocate him. "Once. We did what one would call date."
"Ah. So where does the Episcopalian church stand on premarital sex?"
Gil looked at her serious face. "Oh, no. I'm not touching that one. You ask me a question about church doctrine disguised as a question about Heather and me. No, Sara, I am not getting into that with you."
She touched his arm. "It was not a question about Heather. I admit that the thought of Heather does lead one to the thought of sex, but that's not why I asked. I asked because I want to know."
Gil was silent for a moment.
"The church frowns on it. I don't think God wants you love someone with everything but our bodies. I think if you love someone, you make love to them. How can you not?"
"Yeah." Sara made circles on the carpet with her foot. "How can you not?"
Gil wasn't sure what to say. He started to talk quickly, hoping his courage would stick, afraid it wouldn't. "Maybe if you didn't know what to do. If the first time you saw her, you knew she was the one for you, but she was too young and then the years just got away from you."
He studied her long, elegant feet as they continued to make circles in the carpet.
Sara caught her breath at the words. She was scared and hopeful. All the things she needed from him bubbling to the surface. "What if she made a fool of herself by asking YOU out? What then? I mean, what if she tried everything and now she's close to giving up?"
Gil's heart beat faster than it ever had in his life. Could she really be saying what he thought? Was he really ready to take a chance? The image of her dancing with Nick, pressed close to him, smiling, haunted him. "I shouldn't have made a scene tonight."
His eyes, now dark with heat, took in the contrast of the white dress against her lightly tanned skin. "Do you know what looking like that does to me? When did you buy that little number?"
Sara gave him a coy expression, trying to keep from feeling hopeful.
He leaned close to her, unconsciously enjoying the lavender scent of shampoo in her hair.
Without realizing it, he started nuzzling her hair, then one ear. He worked his way around to her mouth.
Slowly, gently he kissed her for the first time. Within seconds, hands and mouths were working in tandem, the soft material between their bodies creating a heated friction.
It was Sara who recovered first. "Gil…"
"Home." He mumbled the word as he lightly bit her neck.
"No."
"No?" One hand was inching up the back of her thigh.
"We're in a hotel." She breathlessly moved the hand away from its intended target.
"Smart woman." He smiled and took her hand.
LaterGil looked at the caller ID. "Sara, its Nick. You need to answer. He's probably worried sick."
She ran a hand down Grissom's smooth torso.
"I'm busy."
Gil pushed the talk button as he handed her the phone, his eyes dancing merrily.
"Sidle."
"Girl, where are you?"
"Having sex with Grissom upstairs in one of the suites." She grinned at Grissom's mildly shocked face. "We're drinking champagne and eating chocolate covered strawberries while considering doing it on the chair."
"Yeah, right." Nick sounded amused. "So you're okay?"
"I'm great."
"Alright, just checking."
Gil wagged a finger at his younger lover as she closed the phone. "That was very bad."
"I think I should be punished. " She grinned.
xxxxx
Nick tucked his phone into his front pocket.
"Well?" Warrick's voice was warm and laced with amusement.
"Catherine wins. Suite. Champagne and chocolate."
"I know my best friend." Catherine a wiggled a little in her chair. "Slow he may be, but cheap he ain't. I wonder what kind of champagne they ordered. Pay up boys. Mama needs a new pair of Jimmy Choo's."
Both men reached for their wallets.
Fin