A/N Between real life issues and my own deficiencies in poker, writing this chapter has been a tremendous challenge, taking me three times longer than any other chapter! This chapter would never have come together without the greatly appreciated advice and help of smryczko, Triple Pirouette, and Leslie. Thanks!
Thanks for all of your comments and reviews! I'm so glad you're enjoying this story, which is almost finished. One more chapter… then I'm thinking…sequel?
Chapter 11 SparksSlightly red faced, Sara followed Grissom into his bedroom as the others unloaded snack food and set up for the game.
"Close the door," he asked, so she complied.
At that point, he didn't care that three of his coworkers were in his dining room, most likely widely speculating about what the two of them were doing together in his bedroom. He didn't care that he couldn't make any eloquent moves due to his physical limitations. Because he'd had enough, he wasn't about to wait any longer.
"Come here."
She stepped towards him, uncertain of his intentions.
With some tenderness in his voice, he explained, "You didn't think I was going to be able to hold back much longer, did you?"
Sara grinned with understanding and eagerly climbed on to his lap. Their lips found one another almost immediately. At first their kisses were tender and tentative, their lips pressing gently against one another. Sara moved cautiously, afraid of inadvertently jostling his mending ribs.
Although his original intention had been to stay for just a minute or two to steal a few kisses, they lingered. He'd longed to touch her for such a long time that he couldn't tear himself away from her that easily. Their kisses soon became deeper, more passionate, more urgent as they hungrily explored one another. Sara raked her fingers through his salt and pepper locks, while he slipped his palms beneath her turtle neck to caress her warm bare flesh.
They finally pulled apart, panting for breath with their hearts racing.
"We better.." Sara breathlessly tried to say.
"I know. Soon, " he mumbled as he cut her off with another deep kiss. He was too busy savoring the moment, enjoying the feel of her body and the sensation of her tongue in his mouth.
Eventually the bedroom door opened, but Grissom and Sara weren't about to tolerate any more interruptions so they didn't stir this time.
Greg stood in the doorway with his mouth hanging open, stunned, and then he discretely closed the door. They could hear him yelling to Warrick and Nick who were already snickering loudly at his expense. "That isn't the bathroom. This is CSI hazing!"
Sara and Grissom started to laugh uncontrollably. Neither of the two of them had had a good hearty laugh in ages. Even before the accident, their lives had seemed very serious and, frankly, bleak. This was a welcome blast of fresh air. Grissom couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard. His chest was beginning to ache, but he couldn't stop. Sara was even getting tears in her eyes.
"Guess our secret is out," he grinned towards her, trying to catch his breath.
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand as she calmed down. "Oh, I think it was out before now."
He gave her a puzzled glance.
Somewhat embarrassed, she realized, "Oh, of course, you wouldn't remember the hospital."
He'd heard that line too many times before. "What happened at the hospital?" he asked impatiently.
"Let's not spoil the mood. Later, okay?" She leaned to gently kiss him one more time. "I promise." Her fingertips traced his bearded jaw line.
"Okay."
They quickly examined each other to fix stray hairs and rearrange rumpled clothing. The fact that their coworkers were aware of what they'd been doing was embarrassing, but they felt as if they could handle it. Grissom felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from him, he felt light and…happy. Sara was positively radiant, looking even more beautiful to him than he'd ever seen her.
Then it came to him. He could remember her face, the first time he saw her. It was at a forensics short course that he'd taught at Harvard. Although there were over one hundred people in the audience, Sara Sidle stood out from the crowd. She must've been a senior, to have been eligible to take the course. Unlike the typical undergraduate, she took care of her appearance. While not overly fancy or fashionable, that day she wore relatively new blue jeans with a modest rose print top. She always sat near the front of the lecture hall and inevitably she was prepared. Her enthusiasm, as she peppered him with probing questions, immediately caught his attention. It was irresistible and so was she.
She'd patiently waited for him after his lecture was completed, hanging back as droves of other students slowly filtered past the podium. He was flattered that she wanted to ask him even more in depth questions so he promptly invited her to join her for coffee. That was the beginning of their association.
He smiled, thrilled to have regained this memory.
"What?" asked Sara, noticing the change in his expression.
Echoing her words, he told her. "I'll tell you later." He kissed her gently, "Promise."
They opened the door. Grissom pushed his wheelchair over to the dining table while Sara snuck over to the living room to retrieve his letter from the floor. Everyone in the room wore awkward grins but no one was certain what to say. So Nick chose to respect their privacy and attempted to act as if nothing had happened.
"Hey Grissom, are you able to use crutches yet?"
"A little, the ribs have been holding me back. They're finally starting to heal." After six weeks, it was about time. The men took their seats around the table as Sara darted out to her car to retrieve something.
"So when does the cast come off?" Warrick asked.
"Next week, hopefully." Grissom shuddered just thinking about his upcoming appointment with the orthopedic surgeon; he was a grim man. At least he had a better reputation for his work than his bedside manner. "And then I start getting into physical therapy."
Forgetting himself, Greg enthusiastically insisted, "Then you'll be back soon, you can hobble around on crutches at the lab. I can finally do my proficiency tests. Catherine keeps putting me off, says she's got too much work."
Warrick and Nick exchanged cautious glances, somehow conscious that this might not be the case.
Grissom merely answered with a noncommittal, "We'll see." They'd discover soon enough what his true 'limitations' were.
Completely unaware of his blunder, Greg shuffled the cards with flair. "Hope you're feeling lucky today, 'cause I know I am."
The other men rolled their eyes and chuckled.
"You don't know who you're dealing with," Nick warned, in a friendly fashion.
As they discussed the stakes and the house rules, Sara returned with a vase filled with red roses. Ignoring the men's prying eyes, she carefully placed it on the coffee table in the living room and then joined them.
"Where do I get to sit?" she insinuated. There was an available chair on the side of the long table, completely opposite Grissom, but she didn't want that one. Warrick caught on immediately, and rose to offer his seat, which was next to Grissom. "Thanks," she beamed as she slid into the chair.
And with that, the game started.
"How about a little Five Card Draw? Nothing wild." Everyone threw their ante into the pot, and then Greg began to deal the cards.
As Grissom had feared, it was difficult for him to keep track of what was going on. He could remember most of the names and the rankings of the hands, yet he used to conceptualize the game differently. Like Scrabble, his strategy needed to be altered. Currently, it was just about how to stay in the game as opposed to going in for the kill, which wasn't as entertaining. But, surprisingly, it didn't bother him as much as he'd anticipated. He was actually enjoying himself. It was pleasant to listen to the men banter and tease one another; he'd missed working with them.
Their anecdotes from their latest cases made him laugh. Apparently, Nick, while perched on the lid of a dumpster which was overflowing with rotting trash, had fallen in head first while trying to secure some crucial evidence. Warrick even brought along the photos he'd snapped to 'document' the scene.
Not to be beaten, Nick shared about the hot suspect, a tall trim brunette, who took a shine to Warrick and took every opportunity to literally press herself against him and attempt to seduce him. The poor man fidgeted uncomfortably as Greg and Nick reveled in relaying the lurid details. In the end, although she was undeniably attractive, the evidence conclusively proved what they'd suspected all along, that she was bad news. She'd precisely orchestrated the murder of her husband and her lover.
Sara played an occasional hand, however after the events of the last twenty-four hours; she was physically and emotionally worn out. Once in a while she'd discretely sneak her hand under the table to squeeze Grissom's hand or leg. Once she even teased him by moving her hand to caress the upper portion of his thigh, until he sharply glared at her.
Although it was distracting, Grissom was pleased by her discrete displays of affection. He felt like he was fourteen years old and had kissed his first girl. A man almost fifty years old shouldn't be feeling like this. Falling in love was a myth, wasn't it? He'd been infatuated with some women in the past yet it certainly didn't compare to what he was feeling now. He prayed that he didn't have an asinine grin on his face.
It was the final betting round during a game of Baseball. Greg thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "I'll raise you ten."
Warrick mumbled, "You don't have anything. I'll match that."
Even Grissom realized that, while Greg was a skilled lab technician with burgeoning talent as a field agent, his body language betrayed him so he'd never be a decent poker player. He was bluffing. Warrick, on the other hand, was inscrutable. He was smooth with his expression remaining neutral during the entire course of the game.
It was Grissom's turn so he examined his hand. He thought it was decent, a three of a kind, comprised of three sixes. Yet, he had no idea what was going on with Warrick, so he chose to play it safe and fold.
He could sense Warrick's growing confusion and disappointment, he'd expected to be challenged by the boss, not easily take his money. Most likely he was the only person at the table who was aware of his former expertise. But that couldn't be helped. At least no one had yet broached work topics that he couldn't follow. He was thankful that they'd avoided that situation thus far.
Nick chose to stay in the game, calling the bet.
When they revealed their cards, it was no surprise that Greg's hand was worse than Grissom's had been. Nick eagerly displayed a full house with a flourish, and grinned as he reached towards the pot. But Warrick interrupted, holding up his hand, which was a higher-ranking full house.
"Oh man, " Nick threw down his cards in disgust.
After Warrick collected his winnings, Nick handed the deck over to Grissom.
"Looks like you're buying the pizza." Grissom commented as he declared, "How about Jacks?" They threw in their ante and then Grissom dealt the cards.
As they examined their hands, Greg complained, "At the rate Warrick's going, this is gonna be a short afternoon. We should've invited Rob."
"Who's Rob?" Grissom asked, as he studied his cards.
"I would've been happy to take his money," Warrick grinned. "He's the new temp guy who's helping out. He's a bit naïve, so he'd be the perfect pigeon. But he's pretty sharp when it comes to lab smarts. I hope they can find a place for him on staff once things get back to normal."
Greg teased Sara, "What do you think? Being he spends so much time following you around like a puppy dog?"
That caught Grissom's attention. His jealousy gene was alive and fully functional. He abruptly turned to glance at Sara.
"He's got potential to be a good CSI," was all she would say, while lightly squeezing Grissom's thigh under the table.
Needless to say, after a few more rounds, Grissom had won a few hands by pure luck. However, overall he'd lost more money than he'd won. Warrick was still on his winning streak with Nick vying to catch up. Greg continued to drown his sorrows with beer, which wasn't necessarily bad since he became more entertaining, with his jokes becoming even funnier.
There was an awkward moment when they took a break to eat pizza. It was almost impossible to avoid, after all, they were co-workers. Nick started to talk about the details of a case; he wanted Grissom's advice on the best type of assay to perform on some especially delicate evidence. Under normal circumstances, he could've easily handled the question. But these weren't normal circumstances.
It was as he had feared. There was a strained silence. It was painfully apparent to everyone in the room that Grissom wasn't following what Nick was saying. That their mentor no longer had all the answers. He could feel their eyes all fixed upon him, filled with confusion, while his face became flushed with embarrassment.
Thankfully the moment was brief, for Sara rapidly interceded, reminding the guys that Grissom was still recovering from a serious head injury and that he needed to take it easy. Although the men weren't fully satisfied with her brief explanation, they wanted more details; they didn't pursue it. They knew their supervisor and they respected Grissom's desire for privacy. Well, at least it was out in the open, Grissom sighed.
After they'd finished their pizza, they resumed playing.
Warrick grinned as he shuffled the cards. "You ready?"
"To lose to you? I don't know," Greg sulked.
"C'mon Greg, give it your best shot," Sara encouraged.
"Okay, just a few more games, since you bought us dinner. Wanna pay for the beer too?" Greg teased Warrick.
"That's on you. Okay, how about Baseball?" Warrick answered.
Grissom stifled a yawn, it was early but, like Sara, he hadn't slept much over the past twenty-four hours. Yet, up to their break, he'd been having fun. And after Sara's tactful suggestion, the guys had been sticking to light conversation, thus avoiding additional tense situations.
Warrick took the first game, while Nick won the second.
Grissom tried to remember some of the techniques he used in the past with this game. It helped to be able to gage the probability of obtaining certain hands, yet the kicker was the ability to read people. Over the next few rounds, he discretely studied Warrick's expressions and body language.
Greg got lucky with a straight flush and managed to win a round. He whooped loudly with excitement. A few rounds later, Grissom, Nick and Warrick had each won some games.
Then Nick chose the next game and dealt the cardsNear the final betting round, Grissom assessed his cards. He had a decent chance, with a flush. And if anyone could pull off a bluff, he certainly could. But before he could commit himself to raising, Warrick was the deciding factor. What was in that man's hand?
At that moment, something almost imperceptible occurred. Some of the cogs in his brain began to fit together a little better; the neurons began to speak to each other more coherently. Somehow he was able to integrate his observations and suddenly Warrick's formerly unreadable expression became crystal clear to him. He didn't have good cards, Grissom felt certain, so he raised the bet.
Nick and Greg folded, so that left Warrick and Grissom in the game. Warrick calmly bet more. Grissom matched him. When they finally showed their cards, he was thrilled to discover that he'd been correct, Warrick had one pair. Grissom smiled as he swept the pot towards him.
"Nice," Warrick conceded, somewhat taken aback that his bluff didn't work.
Grissom was distressed to find some strange emotions welling up within him so he quickly excused himself, telling the others to start the next round without him. He asked Sara to hand him his crutches so he could hobble over to the bathroom, it was easier to maneuver in small spaces with them. It struck him as horribly ironic that the room of his nightmarish ordeal, which still disturbed him, was the one he was fleeing to for sanctuary. Yet, he didn't have a choice, it was the only place where he had any guarantee of privacy. He needed to be alone.
As the door shut behind him, he found himself shaking while tears practically came to his eyes. Something had happened. Maybe it was only a brief spark, a tiny ember, but he felt it. It was real. His mind had been able to process his observations, to pull the information together in a coherent fashion. He was overcome by his emotions, incredibly relieved that he might regain more of his mental acuity.
He spent the next few minutes trying to compose himself, trying to slow down his breathing. He tried to remind himself that this event might not have huge significance; it might just be a blip, an isolated incident rather than a true spark. He still had a long road to travel towards healing and a complete recovery might never be in the picture for him. Yet, it began to restore a glimmer of hope that there could be a more positive outcome for his future than he'd originally envisioned.
Minutes later he emerged from the bathroom, carefully composing his features. He was half afraid to rejoin the game, it would be tempting fate, he would feel crushed if that inspirational streak didn't kick in again. Yet, another part of him was dying to try it again. So he did.
Five rounds later, after Grissom had won all of the games, he was feeling cautiously optimistic. Yet, it was fading, the newfound clarity was starting to become dimmer.
"You've been holding out on us, Griss," Nick teased.
The men were pleased that Grissom was playing more like they'd expected. It gave them the sense that things would eventually be moving back towards normal. Sara's eyes were practically fixed upon Grissom, as she tried to process what she thought she was seeing.
At that point both Grissom and Sara were muffling yawns, so the guys decided to call it a night. Greg and Nick packed up the extra snack food, but not before Sara snagged their box of microwave popcorn.
Warrick approached Grissom and shook his hand. "Lookin' good there. I don't know if we can afford to do this again," he joked.
"We'll bring Rob," Greg insisted. "More money for the pot."
As the men gathered their coats and belongings, Grissom looked towards Sara, hoping that she understood how badly he longed for her to stay with him. He couldn't catch her gaze yet she hung back, seemingly intent on neatening up his kitchen.
"I'm glad you came over. Let's do this again." Grissom genuinely smiled as he moved towards the door with his guests. Nick, Greg and Warrick bid their farewells, and finally the two of them were alone.
Sara rushed over, ignoring the rest of the dirty dishes. "What happened?"
He'd never been a superstitious person; still he was half-afraid to say it out loud for fear that it wouldn't happen again. "Something clicked." He was trying to downplay it, to be casual about it, but his unruly emotional side wouldn't let him get away with it. His eyes betrayed him, conveying his feelings directly to her. She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around him, pressing his head against her chest. He fought to control the odd burst of emotions welling up within him, yet Sara sensed this.
"It's okay. Don't try to keep it in. It is a big deal." They held each other tightly as Grissom's body once again trembled. Sara rubbed his back as she wrapped an arm about his shoulder
He felt ashamed that she was seeing him like this, so out of control. It was embarrassing. It also scared him because loss of emotional control was associated with his injury. How could it be possible that he was experiencing improvement in one area and not another? He desperately wanted to believe that what he experienced was real, that his mind was in fact healing. That it hadn't been a one-time experience. He clung to Sara, feeling reassured by her presence.
As his trembling subsided, she asked, "Do you think…do you feel any different?"
He started to caress her hair with his fingertips. "I don't know. It sure felt like something was coming back." He was practically whispering.
She smiled, "One day at a time, right?" She kissed his lips gently. "You're exhausted, you want to lie down?"
Sara was right, yet he was reluctant, he didn't want her to go. While earlier in the day, they'd both agreed that they wanted their relationship to move forward; he wasn't sure how to proceed. This was new territory for him. And he was so damned tired.
"Do you still have the movies?" Sara asked, while motioning towards the couch.
That was an excellent suggestion, a good way to relax, and already part of their routine. But he'd had enough of that couch. "Yeah, but I have a better idea." He hoped that he wasn't being too forward; he didn't want to offend her. He spoke before he could overanalyze himself. "You want to watch them on the smaller set in my bedroom? We could get more comfortable."
"Are you asking me to spend the night with you?" Sara teased, seductively.
"Yes," he replied, in deep tones
"I don't have any of my stuff."
"You could wear one of my T-shirts and sweat pants. I have a new tooth brush for you."
It didn't take long for her to make up her mind. "Okay," was her breathless response.
He changed into a T-shirt and sweat pants then sat on his bed and examined the movies that Sara had selected. Minutes later, she entered his bedroom, clad only in one of his faded black T-shirts, which barely covered the curve of her rear end. His eyebrows rose.
"The pants are a little too big," she explained as she blushed.
Being a normal red-blooded American male, he automatically took note that she wasn't wearing a bra. He also had to examine her closer to determine if she were wearing her panties. She was. Hell, either scenario was arousing. Maybe he wasn't as tired as he thought.
Sara took the cassette from him and inserted it into the VCR. Then she joined him on the bed. It took a few minutes to determine what positions were most comfortable for both of them. Once Sara settled by his right side, he instinctively reached to pull her closer so he could kiss her. Before their kissing could be become more heated, Sara pulled back.
He frowned.
She explained, "We don't need to rush. You need to rest; it's been a big day for both of us. I'm tired too. I want it to be special our first time."
Reluctantly, he agreed.
"But…do you…can you…" Sara was struggling with a question.
"Just say it, it's okay." He reassured her.
"Can you make love to me? There any medical reasons you can't?"
He chuckled. "Other than exhaustion, there is absolutely nothing that will hold me back."
"Good," she grinned.
Sara cautiously leaned against his chest as he slipped an arm about her shoulder. She pressed the remote to start the film.
"Do you know this one, Shadow of Doubt? I noticed there was a remake so I thought it'd be fun to compare the two," she asked.
Grissom had been delighted to discover that he did remember this film. "This is a good one. You spend most of the movie trying to figure out if this girl's uncle, who is a ladies man, actually steals his women's jewelry. It's done well. I even remember reading about the remake. Supposedly in the opening scene they show the uncle raiding a woman's jewelry box. So much for subtly."
"Sometimes subtly is underrated."
They cuddled as they watched the movie. It was wonderful to have her soft warm body next to his; he'd been such an idiot to have waited so long. It figures that he practically had to die before he'd been brave enough to pursue her. Thank goodness he'd gotten another chance, with life and with Sara. Hopefully he'd have another chance with his mind becoming more functional as well. He could feel her chest rising and falling as she breathed. The rhythm was soothing to him.
About fifteen minutes into the movie, Sara thought she saw Hitchcock's cameo but when she pointed it out to Grissom, he'd already fallen asleep.
TBC