Chapter 18
Opening the door with her free hand, she held her home phone to her ear. Staring into the blue eyes that light up at the sight of her, Sara stammered into the mouth piece. "Um… Greg, I'll call you back in the morning, that ok?" She held the door open as she hung up. "Come in."
Grissom shredded his jacket and hung it over one of the dining chairs that Sara was using as her base camp for marking. He sighed and shook his head slowly, thinking that she really needed a desk and a decent filing system.
"What?" She asked, feeling like he was scrutinising something. "It's a little messy."
"I didn't say anything." He said wistfully, turning and walking towards the couch, where he dropped himself down to relax, his left arm stretched out across the length of the back.
Looking at him with a speculating look, she nodded and shrugged. "A drink?"
"Beer?"
Sara smirked. "I guess." She turned away and entered her kitchen.
Taking a moment to just look around the room, he raised his voice so he could be heard in the kitchen. "Was that Sanders you were talking to?"
After a moment of silence, Sara entered the room again with two glasses, one filled with orange juice and the other with beer. "As a matter of fact it was," she look down at him before extending the beer to him with a raised eyebrow. "Though its none of your business."
He pursed his lips and nodded, taking a sip of beer as he smiled. "I guess the lunch date didn't work out then."
Sara scoffed as she sat down in the armchair she had spent the night in. "Like I'm going to talk about that with you."
Grissom shrugged and sipped his beer again. "I don't see why not. We're not exactly who we used to be. We've both changed." He looked over at her with an obvious clear mind. "I don't see why we can't talk about things, about ourselves-" He drifted off when she sighed.
"I see." She nodded, cradling her glass between her hands.
"Sara," He set his drink on the coffee table and sat forward, his hands clasped together. "We can't change what happened-"
"You don't think I know that?" She snapped, then took a deep breath and sighed. "Sorry." She apologised when she saw the surprise on his face.
Grissom's eyes wandered for a minute, thinking.
"I just…" She sighed again and leaned into her right hand, her face hot against her palm.
"How about this," He suggested, looking at her intently, watching her reaction. "How about we just start again?"
Sara dropped her hand and stared at him, thinking furiously that he was joking with her. Seeing no humour in his eyes worried her. The break down the night before sprung to mind and she was instantly onto his brain. It was obviously in control. "You can't honestly think we can start over?" She narrowed her eyes and leaned into the side of the armchair, trying to figure out what else his brain was up to.
"No. I don't." He frowned and closed his eyes, his hands coming up to rub his forehead. His voice was strained and it concerned Sara.
Taking a leap of faith, she tilted her head thoughtfully for a second before taking the actual chance to move and sit beside him. When he didn't move, Sara knew exactly what was going on. How she hadn't seen it from the beginning was beyond her, but she had a fair idea why she hadn't seen it before.
"Gil," She began, using his first name not only because she felt she could, but because she wanted to get him to see that she was trying to help him. "Have you talked to anyone?"
He snorted into his hands. "I don't need a shrink Sara."
Swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, she tried again. "Gil," She reached hesitantly for his left hand. "Just hear me out."
Feeling her fingers slip around his, he squeezed them and held her knuckles against his cheek, not moving.
Taking that as her cue to continue, she allowed her fingers to relax in his. "Think about it ok?" She deliberately kept her voice calm and soothing. "You didn't do anything after Catherine died." His back tensed and his breathing stopped. "You didn't mourn. You worked, you looked after me." She paused when he let out a rush of air and his back tensed more.
"Gil, you bottled your emotions up. I didn't see it at first because I ignored it." She sighed, not knowing if what she was saying was going to help one bit. "When we went to that conference, I had a vague idea why we were there and I went along with it, though it wasn't exactly settling at the time, but again, I ignored it."
"It was a bad idea." He said through his fingers. "I shouldn't have taken you."
"Yeah, maybe." She sighed, a little relieved that he was listening. It gave her the courage to continue. "But what happened there was something I haven't stopped thinking about since we got back."
They were both silent for a long time. Grissom let out a shuddering sigh. He squeezed her fingers and gently rubbed his cheek against her knuckles, his whiskers tickling her skin. "I've been thinking about it too. It's eating away at me. I can't stop thinking about it and it's really confusing me."
His confession caused Sara's stomach to cramp and her chest to tighten. But she wasn't sure if he was talking from the heart or if it was his brain over thinking. His head was a mess and she was worried he was going to break down again or carry on with what he'd been doing to survive the several months since the conference and almost the year since the explosion.
"I'm sorry." She said honestly, though she wasn't entirely confident why she was apologising. It seemed the right thing to say. He was still struggling with Catherine's death and somehow she had managed to complicate that. Inadvertently. Though she was never comfortable with the idea of Grissom dating in the first place, she would never have wanted him to be like this. Alone and emotionally falling apart.
Turning his head, he looked at her with nothing but a plain stare, perhaps a little confused, but said nothing. Thinking back to moment he met Sara and the time in Colorado, he was suddenly stunned at how she had grown from an inexperienced CSI, to a top in the field forensic expert with all the knowledge of what can happen when doing what they did every night. The dangers, the risk, it all made her who she was at this very moment, and to think that the explosion had taken something from him, but had left something, someone, behind, who he could still see growing and adapting to the horrors of their work.
At one moment, in Colorado, he had seen her almost crumble from the low self-esteem and the guilt. Even now, he could see that she had adapted to her injuries, which he hoped, deep down, that he had something to do with it, because he hadn't wanted to see her crash and burn with the aftermath of the accident.
Back then, seeing her and being with her, had almost torn himself apart. He was angry with himself for many things and he was angry with Sara most of all, but he didn't show it to her, or anyone else. He knew it wasn't her fault, but something inside of him wanted to break through and blame her. At the time, Sara said she wouldn't have blamed him if he did blame her. After hearing her say it, and left the opportunity open, he had been tempted, but he had stopped himself when he saw in her eyes, just how much she was already blaming herself.
Lowering his gaze to her neck, he saw the scaring that still persisted. Looking lower, he noticed her right hand still held the same scaring as it had done when he showed her that it didn't matter. That the scaring was nothing but a small reminder and that beauty was skin deep. Deeper even. That if she believed beauty was all she needed to know and didn't forget it.
Flickering his gaze to her eyes, he sighed and looked away. "You still feel guilty."
"A little." She reluctantly admitted, standing to walk to the window to look out at the small green garden and the school playground that was situated along side the university. She folded her arms and rested her right fist under her chin. "I guess I can't stop feeling a little guilty."
Grissom listened as he stared at the coffee table, staring at his warming beer and the condensation dripping down the glass to collect at the bottom, leaving a wet sugary puddle on the wood.
Sara sighed. "I still have nightmares. Even when I think I've put it all behind me, I dream about what I could have done to prevent it. I could have done something different and maybe it would end differently." Her voice was sad, heavy with sadness and regret. "I keep thinking that it 'should' have ended differently."
"How?" He asked on a choked breath, not looking away from his glass.
Closing her eyes to see the images, the dreams, more clearly, she tried to tell him without letting her voice waver. "I have this recurring dream, and I 'still' think it should have been me instead." She paused, opening her eyes to seek out the sunning grass. "Why should I live and Catherine die? It's not like I had something to keep me locked in this world. I didn't have a daughter, the loving family, someone to come home too. I didn't have any of that, but I came through it with scars for life and a thousand to one chance of anyone actually touching me again." Shuddering from the intense feeling of loneliness and guilt, she shook her head pitifully. "God was obviously too busy to check out who he was letting live, because life sucks."
"God doesn't choose who lives and who dies, Sara." Grissom sighed, rubbing his eyes.
"Yeah, well, he should have that day." She scoffed, unfolding her arms to hug herself. "I know it sounds stupid and pitiful, but that's how I feel and that's what I think."
Pushing to the edge of the couch, he stood and walked towards her. "I can't tell you to stop feeling guilty. I can't tell you the whys and the what ifs." He stood behind her, though not close enough to invaded any personal space. He was battling with his own emotions and his own guilt, reaching out my just tip him over the edge again.
"I…" He hesitated, suddenly unsure if to continue. Sara turned to him as he looked up, her arms still wrapped around her stomach, her shoulders hunched up as though she was cold and shivering. Deciding to just say what he was going to say and leave it at that. He just hoped it would make him feel better.
"I don't blame you." His voice hitched, his eyes blinking and his shoulders shrugging just slightly it was barely visible. "I don't."
Sara shook her head sadly and looked down at her toes. "I'd like to believe you Grissom." She sighed and looked back at him. "But I know you blame me. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, or trying to make yourself talk to me."
His brow furrowed. "I'm not-"
"Grissom." She interrupted. "I was a CSI for a long time. I still do some consulting, profiling. I know what you're doing here. I know now, what this is all about. I'm just trying to go along with it and help you." Sara dropped her arms at her sides and turned to open the window slightly. Some fresh air would help clear the suffocating atmosphere that had been created.
… …Taking the half step to touch her, he raised both his hands to rest on her shoulders. She tensed as he began to lightly run his hands over her shoulders and down her arms to her elbows. Guiding her to turn to him, he stepped closer and gently pulled her against him. His voice was soft and shakily emotional. "This is why I'm here Sara," He kissed her cheek, whispering against her skin. "and it's why I'm so confused." He sighed, warming her cheek as he descended to her lips, kissing her chastely, once, before pulling back to look into her cloudy brown eyes… …
Blinking back the image, he cleared his throat and retreated back to the couch. He took a long swallow of his warm beer and with both hands, rubbed his face vigorously.
Sara looked over her shoulder in time to see him drain his glass. "You want another?"
Staring at the empty glass, he leaned back to try and relax. He nodded. "Yeah." He sighed, raising one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose while the other gripped the arm of the couch.
Walking over to the table, she reached for the glass and headed into the kitchen to refill it. "Who needs a shrink huh?" She said in jest, trying to lighten the dark and uncomfortable air.
Surprising himself, Grissom chuckled. "Yeah." He smiled down at the glass in his hand. "Better keep the alcohol to a minimum. Don't want to be crying on your shoulder again."
Sara smiled and sat down in her armchair again. Distance always helped when talking with Grissom. She had a strong feeling that he wasn't going to talk to some shrink, so she'd just try and help him, the best she could. Who knows, talking about it could help her too.
Grissom stared into his glass as he cradled it in his hand, resting on his thigh. The image, the daydream, had been a shock, but he guessed it was probably just the stress and the conflicting feelings he was feeling. But he knew one thing, he wasn't going to use Sara again, not like that. He needed to talk and the only person he could talk to was dead and since he'd crossed the line with Sara, he was sure she was the only one he could talk to. Besides, she was the only one who knew what was going on, and he didn't have to fill her in on all the details or relive what had happened. He only needed to confront his nightmares and his anger, and he'd be fine.
Not privy to Sara's thoughts, Grissom wouldn't have known that she was thinking along the same lines. Though she was thinking more about what he needed, rather than what she needed. She was telling herself that if he came through this and got his life back in order, she'd just say her goodbyes and she'd be able to live her life without the burden of guilt.
All they had to do now, was to talk and get everything out in the open.