Disclamer: See chapter one.
Author's Note: Thank you very much for the feedback, particularly for the last chapter. I felt like I was loosing you for a bit there. I'm glad to see that you are still along for the ride. I think you'll be quite happy with this chapter. :)
Chapter eight
Grissom was tired. Physically and emotionally. He leant back on his motel bed, hand hovering wearily over his face as he recalled the events of the last few hours.
Their case was seemingly never ending with its complications, and it was becoming clear their presence was not going to go tolerated in town much longer. Exhumation of the body was the only logical step he could come up with to prove that they were dealing with two bodies instead of one—or one body instead of two – and they needed a court order to do that. He didn't have the permission of Ecklie, or the department, to attempt to get that kind of authorization.
He wondered if he was at the breaking point of his career, and why that didn't worry him as much as it once might have.
He lowered his hand, glancing listlessly at the door separating his room from Sara's. The answer, of course, lay just out of his reach, behind that door. The answers had always been there, with her; his beautiful, vibrant, living Sara. She had told him once she knew what to do about this, and he had no doubt she still did. It didn't change any of his doubts or insecurities; it didn't mean he could just give in.
He knew he had hurt her earlier, and had only deserved her later rebuff, though it had hurt, when he realised she was just as capable of burning him so deeply. He knew he was being selfish. He couldn't win. He couldn't let himself have her, but he couldn't let anyone else, either. He was limiting her to a life in constant limbo, and he hated himself for doing it.
Grissom slid off the side of the bed, staring at the door hesitantly as he slowly padded across the carpet. His closed his eyes, leaning his head against its smooth surface, as if by touching something tangible he could somehow connect himself to her.
He straightened, slowly lowering his fist, knocking gently. "Sara?"
She took a moment to respond, and when she did, her voice was cold and emotionless. "What?"
"Can I…?" He lowered his head, exhaling deeply. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
He heard no movement, and wondered if she was just going to ignore him, leave him hanging forever. It would be fitting payback.
Slowly, the door opened inward, and she stood on the other side, staring at him mutely.
Her beautiful, porcelain features reflected none of her inner misery, and he marvelled at the strength of this woman, and everything she had been forced to harden herself to. Her childhood, her job. Him.
She remained fixed in the doorway, barring his entry, and he braced his arm against the frame tiredly. "Do you want to get something to eat for dinner?"
She blinked back at him stoically, unimpressed with his poor attempts to broach their situation. "I'm not very hungry".
"Me either", he admitted, lowering his eyes. He frowned, fixing on a stain somewhere on the carpet, feeling the intensity of her deep brown gaze penetrating his detached veneer. "Sara… I want to… be able to tell you why this can never work…" he started haltingly. She was wrong. It wasn't any easier to wear your heart on your sleeve when you weren't looking in their eyes. But she had been right about one thing she said before. They couldn't pretend this didn't exist forever. And their current close quarters made it almost impossible.
He sighed. "But every time I'm around you all of those reasons just disappear… and I can't remember them."
Her lips parted; surprised by his unexpected confession, and the low, husky, seductive pull of his voice made her swallow.
"Why do you have to remember them?" she asked softly.
He closed his eyes. "Because eventually, I always do. I know… that I always hurt you, and I wish that I didn't. But it's for the best, Sara."
She shook her head, clenching her jaw disbelievingly. "According to you".
He finally lifted his eyes, and when he did, he saw the familiar spark of anger in hers.
"Is it really what's best, Grissom?" she hissed, with surprising ferocity, leading him to believe she'd been thinking about this for a long time, and not just today. "Is it for the best that I go home, everyday, after shift, and feel like I might die if I have to be around you any longer?" She flicked her head back, angrily, meeting his gaze head-on. "Is it for the best that I have nobody, because everytime I try to move on, you become so jealous I ruin my friendship with you, and just getting through every day is so unbelievably painful?" She stepped away from the doorway, leaving it ajar, stalking angrily back into her room.
"Is it for the best that… this thing between us had gotten so noticeable that our colleagues are afraid to work with us sometimes? Tell me what you're doing that is helping us, Grissom, because I think you're doing what is best for you. Not us, and certainly not me".
Grissom stood in the open door for a moment, struggling to find his voice, striding into the room after her. "That's not true".
"Yes it is", she snapped impatiently, running a hand through her hair as she turned back to face him.
The frustration in his voice was plain, and he sighed deeply, overcome with the honesty of this conversation. "Do you think I enjoy doing this to myself, Sara?"
She lifted an eyebrow at him, and her expression held no hint of malice when she spoke. "Yes. I do".
He frowned, and a pang of hurt erupted in his stomach at her words. "Well, I hope it comforts you to believe that", he managed at last.
Sara shook her head, slumping on the edge of her bed with a sudden show of dejection. He could see the fight had drained from her, and she linked her hands on her knee as she lifted it on the mattress. "Of course it doesn't comfort me. Do you think I want to believe that? You said so yourself, we need rationalisations more than anything. Well, that's the only way I can understand you".
Grissom remained silent, glancing down at her as she stared at the floor, regretting his role in this even as he wondered how she could possibly look at him that way.
"Let me ask you something", she said seriously, not looking up. "Why did you come here, really?"
Grissom frowned uncomprehendingly. The soft amber lamplight made her dark eyes glint and cast a glow over her silky hair. She looked up at him, studying him like she examined an unknown piece of evidence; interminably struggling to put the final pieces in place.
The previous passion had left her voice, and left in its wake an increased tension between them, electrifying the room with its intensity.
"You know why I came here", he said hoarsely.
She lifted her other knee, resting it under her chin. She stared up at him with her wide brown irises, almost childlike in her desire to know him. "No", she corrected slowly. "I know the reason you gave me. You knew there was a huge possibility we weren't going to find anything up here; that this would all be a waste. You risked your job for some nameless victim, and I want to know why."
He didn't answer, and she rose to her feet again, stepping up in front of him. "Something's bothering you. We all know it, even if we don't say anything. Something hasn't been right with you for a long time."
"There are a lot of things bothering me", he admitted, disliking the way she was suddenly analysing him.
Sara appeared unfazed by his discomfort, tilting her head patiently. "Like what?"
Grissom sighed, looking at something over her shoulder. He rarely confided in others, and though it was normally against his will when he did, he knew the knowledge held no real risk with Catherine. Sara was another story. Sara knew him. She had the ability to look into his soul. He resisted giving her that. Sara already had far too much power over him, more than he had ever wanted to give to another person. People who had power could hurt him, and he didn't want her to be able to do that.
"The lab", he answered, unwillingly, after a pause. "Loosing my team because Ecklie thinks it's time for payback. The bureaucracies… the games."
Like the ones we play.
Sara remained fixed on him intently. "Sounds like you don't enjoy your job anymore".
He laughed humourlessly, a low, rich sound that sent a faint shiver through her spine. "I haven't enjoyed my job for a long time, Sara. Sometimes, I…" He sighed, lowering his head. "Sometimes I don't know what I'm even doing there anymore".
She stared at him, eyes soft and open, remaining judgement-free despite her obvious personal investment. "You want to leave", she stated quietly.
He shrugged. "It feels like there isn't anything keeping me in Vegas".
She nodded, a small perfunctory gesture as if he had just made her point. He realised she had guided him into this statement, and he knew with just as much clarity what her next words would be.
"What is?"
Grissom met her gaze, growing weary beyond his years and resenting her for such a manipulation. How could he explain to her how much she tempted him, how she was the one, sole constant thing in his life he knew he wanted and would always hold him at an immovable standstill?
"You know what is", he answered quietly.
She smiled, a sad quirk of her lips that disarmed him with its beauty. She took a step closer; invading his personal space so suddenly he drew in a sharp breath. "Then why do you keep refusing it?"
At that moment, Grissom honestly couldn't remember why he did. He ran his hand over his bristled jaw, an agitated motion that conveyed his inner conflict, and Sara inched closer, lifting her eyes to his.
He had admitted more about his feelings for her tonight than he ever had, even to himself, and she knew, if he turned around and walked away right now, she would be content with that. But contentment was never enough. She wanted to know just what he would do if he could have her. She wanted to know if this was just some fleeting physical attraction for him, or if his feelings ran as deeply and intensely as hers did.
The air was static between them, pulsing with heightened emotions. Grissom startled her with his movement, slowly touching her waist-- a small gesture that was the height of intimacy between the two of them-- pulling her to stand directly in front of him.
His fingers slid around the hem of her blouse, and Sara drew in a sharp breath, allowing herself to move into him, surprised by the utter softness in his touch, and realising just how much he really needed her, and how much he really kept at bay.
She clutched the front of his shirt, savouring the soft, warm cotton under her fingers, and the firm strength of his body. His mouth lingered over hers; holding them forever on the chasm of pleasure, hot breath fanning her features. He slid his calloused hand behind the slope of her neck, dipping her lips to meet his.
Her breath hitched in her throat at the sudden, raw hunger that met her lips, grazing her cheeks against his rough stubble. She enjoyed the texture as his mouth moved over hers, with a sensuous tenderness he had never been able to express with words, and doubted he ever would.
She felt like she was falling in mid-air, and it took a moment for her to realise that Grissom had backed onto the bed, falling onto his back and taking her with him, increasing the passion of their kiss as his tongue began an earnest exploration of her mouth. His hand tangled in her hair as his other hand slid over her waist, splaying over the small of her back, pulling her into him with no small ounce of possession. She knew in that moment she was as lost to him as he was to her, and she would never be able to go on without the gentle caress of his mouth and the warm taste of him.
She pressed the length of her body over his, and he groaned against her mouth, rolled them so he was over her. He broke the kiss, staring down at her, the single object of his most unfulfilled desires, lying beneath him with her hair deliciously tussled and her eyes darkened with longing, features flushed with passion.
He buried his face into her neck, inhaling the sweet, feminine fragrance of her, breathing haggard and raw with unexpressed emotions. "God", he whispered, voice wracked with lament and yearning. "You are so beautiful".
Their lips met again, and the burden of tomorrow became forgotten in the unity of soft, warm flesh. Sara allowed herself to escape in his warmth and his taste; feeling like the love she had always craved was just a little more within her reach.
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