A/N: I need to make sure that everyone understands that this is not a G/S fic but rather a G/S turning to S/OC fic. There are hints and spoilers from the show of the G/S 'unship', but Sara will be moving on in this.
For those who will continue to read this fic, as promised, here is the 2nd chapter.
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Approaching Kolkatta, West Bengal ~ Near Dusk
Like a feline, waking from a restful nap, Sara stretched in her seat, breathing in deeply. She hadn't relaxed in such a long time, she felt strange –drugged even. Her eyes opened, widening perceptibly as she took a deeper breath. She sniffed again, closing her eyes as she concentrated on the scent in the air. The window was down and, with another zephyr, the scent became stronger. Her head tilted closer to the opening and she took another long deep breath. She couldn't get enough of it; she'd have to find out where it came from.
With the crowd of people on board this train, she wondered that she'd been able to relax at all. A glance around the train car indicated that her surroundings hadn't changed. The only difference was the scent wafting in through the open window. Looking through it, she could see more stars than there were lights in Las Vegas.
The stars began to fade as the train drew closer to Kolkatta. The scent in the air also changed, mingling with the smell of spices. The train finally rolled to a stop. She slipped her back-pack on then gathered her other two bags and headed for the exit. The crush of people wanting to get off the train slowed the progress, but soon, she found herself staring up into open sky and looking at the few stars that were still visible.
A half hour later, she entered the hotel. A young boy, maybe twelve or fourteen, animatedly encouraged her to let him carry her bags. She allowed him to do so, and he led her over to the registration desk.
"Namaste," she greeted the clerk. "My name is Sara Sidle. I have a reservation for two nights."
"Good evening, Miss Sidle. We have been awaiting your arrival." The clerk smiled and indicated, with a wave of his hand, that she should sign the registry book. The man's English was very good and she'd had no problem understanding him. Picking up the pen, she put it to paper and signed her name. In the few seconds it took, the clerk had retrieved her key, placing it on the counter next to the book.
"Your room is 318. If anything is needed, please let us know." He then snapped his fingers and the boy came running forward with her bags. "Vijay will show you to your room."
"Dhanyawad," she thanked him and gave a short nod of her head as she followed the boy to the elevator.
Her room was tastefully done, but not over-extravagant. The overtones of red were everywhere, but it wasn't the blood red or bright red associated with brothels. The hint of orange or yellow, mixed with the primary color, subdued it to soft rust. The boy, Vijay, had placed her bags on two luggage trays then stood and waited. Having already spent one week in India, she was already well acquainted with the customs. She handed him a coin and dismissed him.
This was certainly a different area, located on the eastside of India and on the edge of the Bay of Bengal. A little further south and she'd be at her final destination, Piyali. It was on the edge of the Sundarbans National Park. In two days, she'd once again be on a train for a short ride to the resort. She opened the window on the farthest wall and felt the cool night air bathe her skin. She took a deep breath and although she could still smell the spices in the air, the scent she had earlier picked up on was much more pronounced. It was heavenly. She would have to discover its source in the morning. But her mind could only think of now and what she wanted most –a hot shower and to sleep.
SARA STRETCHED her long limbs, groaning lightly from her sore muscles. The extensive walking from the last week proved to her how out of shape she was. But she was determined to continue, working out her sore muscles with more of the exercise. It was obvious to her that the sun had not yet risen. The thin gauze that made up the curtains, blowing gently from the early morning breeze through the windows, would not have been enough to keep the light out.
Still, she rose and began her stretches.
A half hour into her exercise, a glint of light peeked through the curtains and she strode over to them, drawing them back with both arms so that they hung in the air, outstretched, as if she were praising it. The warmth of the rising sun was already strong and she felt the heat warm her body. Dropping the curtains back, she stepped away and headed out of the room to do a bit of shopping.
When she turned from locking the door, she stumbled upon seeing a familiar face standing no more than three feet away, in the doorway across from her room. A look of stunned recognition from him and she knew that he remembered her too.
"Hello… again," he greeted, a smile tipping the corners of his eyes up in amusement.
"Hello."
"Perhaps introductions are in order." He offered his hand and she took it. "I'm Aeric Devereaux."
"Sara Sidle." They shook hands, but she withdrew quickly –her flesh burning from his touch. She recovered quickly and asked, "Are you following me?"
His chuckle filled the silent hallway. "If I were, do you think I'd admit it?"
Sara bit her bottom lip. The question had been more direct than she'd intended. "No, but then many suspects aren't smart enough to lie."
His eyebrow arched. "Suspects? Are you a policewoman?"
With a shake of her head, she answered, "No."
He tilted his head, his eyes seemingly looking through her, the dark brown depths mirroring her own curiosity. "You work with them though, correct?"
"You're good," she answered. "I do work with the police. I'm a CSI –Crime Scene Investigator."
"Oh." His eyes scanned her as if not believing her words. Before he could say anymore, a door opened further down the hallway and a head popped out, looking in their direction. The man's hair poked out at all different angles and he wore a black mask over his eyes. He cocked his head at a strange angle, staring at them. The rest of his body was blocked from view by the wall, making him appear as though he was coming through the wall.
A small snicker escaped from Aeric before he firmly grasped Sara's elbow and guided her down the hallway. "Perhaps we should take this outside where people aren't still sleeping."
For some reason, Sara allowed him to direct her. She glanced at his face, and saw the determination apparent in his set jaw. If she didn't know better, she'd think this was staged. They reached the elevator and he asked, "Going down?" She nodded and they entered.
His hand released her arm, but she didn't move away. Before the doors closed, she peeked out again. The man from the doorway was still staring out into the hallway. The smile returned to her face and she couldn't help the burst of laughter from deep within. Aeric stared at her, slack-jawed, until he also joined in her laughter.
When the elevator stopped on the first floor, both were out of breath. Aeric stabbed the stop button with his finger to keep the doors from opening. Sara shook her head, wiping at the wetness on her cheeks. "All he needed was a cape to go with that mask." She held her stomach and doubled over from the pain of laughing too hard, while Aeric attempted to support himself by leaning against the elevator wall. By the time Aeric released the doors, they'd composed themselves appropriately.
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Grissom put the Denali into park; Sara didn't move. He turned the motor off and watched for any indication that she knew they'd stopped. Her lack of interest in their location, let alone the case, puzzled him. Where is she?
"Pleasant memories?" he asked kindly.
Her eyes refocused after registering his words. His reflection mingled with the background of the dark sky. The reflection faded, reshaping into a warm, intimate face from India. The twinkle of dark brown eyes, hair gently blowing in the air and a sad smile made her breath hitch.
With a quick flick of her fingers, the door opened and she jumped out. Grissom, made speechless by her abrupt exit, winced, realizing he'd hit upon a nerve. Something had occurred while she was away –something significant. Whatever it was, she didn't seem to want to share it… with him.
Later, wearied by the night's events, Grissom carried his tired body to the locker room preparing to head home. Another solved case to add to his teams solve rate and yet he felt unsatisfied. Every case took him that much further away from understanding people.
Before he opened his locker, his head fell against the cool metal. Not only did the case affect him strongly, but also Sara's behavior toward him had changed drastically. He'd waited in his office for her visit, as she always did after a hard case. This night she didn't. She'd already left, on time in fact. The old Sara always came in early and always stayed late. If this was a permanent change, whatever had brought it about had to have been a strong influence. He knew she had feelings for him, and yet he'd never succeeded in getting her to let go of a case so easily.
Nick entered at that moment and Grissom shuffled quickly to assume a natural posture. "Hey, Gris. Good to have Sara back, isn't it?"
"Uh, yeah, it is." He had no idea how to respond. It was good to have her back, but he longed for the days when he had an inkling as to what she was feeling. Now, he wasn't so sure. Their performance at the crime scene was as any other time. They always worked well together and seemed to read each other's minds. That same symbiotic relationship was still there and yet, it was different. He shook his head and put on his jacket. "Sleep well, Nick. I'll see you tonight." With that, he left the lab and went home.
Alone.
Sara also went home alone. But unlike Grissom, she didn't feel it as profoundly. She'd found the satisfied feeling of a job well done returning, after it had been missing for such a long time.
The flowers in one hand and her keys in the other, she juggled as she unlocked the door, kicking it shut behind her. The weight of the vase and flowers were taking their toll and she rushed over to place them on her island counter. The scent carried through her apartment and immediately a smile lit her face.
Sleep was a long way off yet, so she pulled out a kettle to heat water for tea. She rummaged through one of her unpacked bags by her bed and pulled out a canister –jasmine tea. While waiting for the water to boil, she changed clothes and put her hair up in a ponytail then grabbed her journal. It was something new she'd started when she began her trip and decided to continue with when she'd gotten back.
The kettle whistled and she set the tea to steep as she began her writings. So many thoughts swirled through her mind. What to put down? She grinned giddily. Start with the best. She snipped off a small blossom with her fingers, handling it delicately.
My first shift back and I received the jasmine bouquet. It reminded me of that moment in India when I first smelled their intoxicating scent; it also reminded me of that last night in his arms.
Of course, Catherine had to ask who had sent them. Tact was never Catherine's middle name. Nick seems to be taking lessons from Catherine. Warrick, I think, understands or at the very least, suspects. Grissom was his normal analytic self. He seems to think I found a new diversion with the flowers, like his collection of butterflies… a hobby. If he only knew how far that word was from describing the changes I've made in my life.
I almost feel guilty at how I compare Grissom to him. There is such a difference between them –an openness I never shared with anyone before. And yet, Grissom hasn't changed at all. His questions were the only thing that showed he had an interest in where I had been. I wonder if he even thought about me while I was away. There was no 'welcome back' from either him or Catherine. If it hadn't been for the guys, I'm sure no one would've said anything.
Before I left, this would've torn at my heart. Now as I sit here, writing this, there's no self-pity over it.
I really have begun to change.
She laid her pen down and took a sip of her tea, staring down at the blossom she'd snipped off the bouquet. Glancing back at her journal, she decided to end it there for the day before she got maudlin. She picked up the flower, placing it gently between the pages before closing the book.
Taking her cup with her, she went over to her bed and placed it on her nightstand. Her accumulated mail sat next to it. With a sigh, she grabbed it and started filing through them.
Way too many magazines, she thought. She piled them up. Fifteen different magazines and all of them were, in some way, work related. For a moment, she thought it was strange, that was until she glanced around her apartment.
The computer, the police scanner, and her books filled her apartment. The few photos she had on her shelves were of her and her co-workers, one or two of family. This place had become work, away from work. She took a mental inventory of the websites she'd saved on her computer. They were all in some way, again, connected with her work.
Grissom's words in his interrogation with Dr. Lurie came back to haunt her –allowed their work to consume their lives. Another quick glance at her belongings sent her into a whirlwind of action. She grabbed her magazines, holding them in one arm as she walked to the police scanner and, with the other hand, she unplugged it. The magazines she took with her to the kitchen and threw in the trash. Upon turning back around, she caught sight of the police scanner again and realized it was on battery back up.
She turned it off.
The pictures stared back at her vacantly. She felt no connections with the memories they brought to mind. What to do? A glimpse at her open, but unpacked suitcases, gave her the idea. She grabbed her purse and keys and left her apartment. A change in her apartment was needed and she had some photos to pick up. They would be the perfect pictures to add to her others.
When she returned, she emptied her sacks on the bed and began replacing her curtains, adding more flowers to the room and placing some of her photos in frames. She sat on the bed and picked up one of them. The photo had been taken toward the end of her time in India. They were laughing. He'd just told her a story about one of his misadventures while shooting a photo of an ostrich in Kenya. Chuckling, she thought about his tale of the ostrich. He had been trying to capture its 'regal' pose on film when, in his great surprise, the huge animal charged him. He back-pedaled, but in his attempt to get away from it, he tripped over his feet and fell back on his rump into a thorn-thistle patch.
Her laughter from the memory of his tale overwhelmed her until tears streamed down her face. The laughter turned to anguished tears when she realized what she'd walked away from. Sure, they'd made arrangements to meet up again… in a couple of months. But that was a couple of months away. "I want him now," she cried aloud, flinging herself back on the bed, burrowing her face into the pillow, soaking it with her tears until, finally, sleep found her.