But Satisfaction Brought it Back
Disclaimer: Someone richer, more powerful and far better looking owns these characters.
A/N: Response to YTDAW Improv Challenge. First and last lines provided.
The cat stared at Grissom with an evil glare. Even as he lowered his chin and raised an eyebrow in silent challenge Grissom felt a rush of heat and prickle against the back of his neck telling him his sympathetic system was about to produce a cold sweat.
"Sara…" he whispered hoarsely, finding that the sweat on his forehead seemed to have been drawn from the moisture in his throat. Swallowing, he tried again, "Sara?" It came out a little louder this time.
"Sara!" His request was answered by quick footsteps and the appearance of CSI Sara Sidle.
At the sight before her, Sara stopped abruptly, her hand frozen on the butt of the gun behind her right hip. The early dawn allowed enough gloomy light into the room so that she could make out her boss, standing slightly crouched, mouth open and both latex-gloved hands in the air. Following his line of sight, she spotted what appeared to be a rather agitated tabby perched atop a bookcase.
"Grissom, what's wrong?" Seeing that that he was pale and visibly sweating, she stepped toward him, concerned, "Are you okay?"
"The cat…" he began, his voice tight. At the sound of Grissom's voice the cat allowed a low growl and angrily swished its tail.
"Ooookkaaayy" Sara breathed more as a way of processing the scene than as a means of addressing either Grissom or the flustered feline. "Gris, can you take a couple of steps back, nice and slow?" To her surprise, Grissom immediately complied and Sara would have found the setup rather comical had her boss's uncharacteristic caution and pecked physical appearance not suggested that there was more to the situation than she currently understood.
Three steps back and Grissom stood almost abreast of Sara. Keeping a peripheral eye on fluffy, she turned to him. A cursory look up and down his person and Sara was relieved that Grissom bore no outward appearance of injury. Hands still in the air, Grissom's eyes remained on the animal. The look in his eyes however could only be described as haunted.
"Grissom," she repeated "are you ill?"
"No." the reply still tight.
Sara's hand found his forearm. Tugging it slightly toward her she tried again, "I'm sorry Gris, but I don't understand what is going on here."
Her touch seemed to break the spell and he cleared his throat and dropped his hands. "uhm, I think we need to call animal control." As plainly as Sara had seen fear in her supervisor's eyes seconds before, the look was corralled.
"Did it try to attack you?" she asked.
"No. But it could be dangerous—cat bites, and even worse—cat scratches are almost as bad as human." With this, Grissom took another couple of steps back so that he stood in the archway to the room.
Returning her gaze to the puss, Sara tried her luck. "Hold on a sec, Griss, let me try. It could just be frightened." Without looking back, Sara slowly approached the cat, clucking sweetly as she did. "Why hello handsome, aren't you a stellar looking specimen?" In response the cat visibly relaxed and arched its back as it rubbed it's cheek against the corner of the bookcase. "It's okay you magnificent feline, did the bugman back there scare you" Sara cooed as she reached the bookshelf. "You just want some lovin' don't you? How about a nice scratch?" she asked, reaching up behind the cat's ears. Met with a loud purrr, Sara lifted the cat from its spot and allowed it to settle in her arms, its front paws reaching over her right shoulder as it looked back toward Grissom. Grissom could have sworn the look it gave him was the kitty-cat equivalent of a raised middle finger.
Composure regained, Grissom ordered: "Take it out to one of the officers up front and have him hold it until animal control arrives." The tone was one Sara had long identified as not-so-thinly-veiled annoyance. "I'm going to process the bathroom." And before Sara could turn around, Grissom was gone. The cat looked at Sara with large golden eyes as if to ask what had just transpired. "Hey—at least you got to growl at him." Sara said to the now content animal as she headed towards the front door.
The case turned out to be uneventful. A straightforward autopsy demonstrated that the owner of the house (and thus, the owner of the cat) had died of natural causes. In addition to carrying the benefit of not adding to Las Vegas' crime statistics, the simplicity of the case allowed Grissom to hide in his office for the next couples of days. Unfortunately for Grissom, it also meant that his partner on the case was able to complete its paperwork quickly and his exile was cut short by a knock on the door one morning near the end of shift.
Sara opened the door to find her usually courageous supervisor sitting behind his desk with only the desk lamp on to illuminate the room. Stepping forward into the room, she set the completed casefile on his desk, noticing that his computer had gone to sleep and there did not appear to be any open work in front of him. Instead, he sat slumped moodily, allowing Boris the tarantula to wander slowly from hand to hand.
Sara simply sat across from him and looked at her boss expectantly.
Minutes passed as Grissom avoided her eyes, only half hoping she'd give up and leave. He was inwardly please when she didn't. Swallowing, he gave a resigned sigh, set Boris back in the open terrarium on his desk and slowly met Sara's gaze. She didn't say anything, opting instead for a raised eyebrow.
He blinked. Once. Twice. But held her gaze.
"Growing up my grandmother had this big house in Hancock Park near Los Angeles. It was great for exploring and hiding and generally snooping. The only problem was she had this great big grey cat. It loved her. It hated everyone one else." At this Grissom paused. Sara swallowed, not quite sure where he was headed with the story but not wanting him to stop. She nodded and smiled softly, hoping it would encourage him to continue.
Grissom licked his lips as his eyes dropped to the desk blotter where he began tracing slow eights with an index finger. Frowning at the swirling finger, he continued, "When I was five, my two older cousins and I were playing, uhm, secret agent. They were the secret agents. I was the toady sent to scout out the enemy. Anyhow, they sent me into what was once the library. It was dark, musty. I came around a corner and must have startled the cat. It jumped up, lost its footing on the bookcase where it was sleeping and fell off. All 20 pounds of the thing landed on my head. A number of embarrassing things resulted, not the least of which was a wet pair of shorts and the months of ridicule from said cousins." At this Grissom looked up at Sara who froze mid-smirk when she saw the hurt and embarrassment of over 40 years passed.
He shrugged, "I was mortified. The worst was my dad. He was incredibly disappointed in me and I got the general impression that he thought I'd failed him as a son. After he left my mom and I—well, for years, I thought it was because of the incident in the library."
And with that it was out. In the span of a few sentences Grissom shared more of himself with Sara than he had in the years that spanned their relationship. Unsure of what to do, Sara stated the obvious, "and the crime scene put you right back in that library."
Grissom's eyes left Sara's and focused on Boris's terrarium, "Yeah. It smelled the same, the lighting was the same—and that damn cat...one minute I was working a scene, the next I was five."
Sara resisted the immediate urge to cite research indicating the power the olfactory senses along with the 1,001 questions fighting to escape from her lips. Those could wait. At the moment she was simply grateful. "Wow. Griss. Thank you."
"For what?"
"Sharing with me."
With a shy smile, Grissom replied, "I'd like to share more...with you."
"I'd like that too" Sara breathed out, unable to hide her trademark smile.
Looking up, Grissom caught the expression and returned it with his own half-cocked grin as a silent acknowledgement passed between the two. Sara gave a slight nod to his questioning expression and both knew that in this moment, their relationship made a subtle shift. Grissom once again removed Boris and allowed the arachnid to return its lazy lap from palm to palm and Sara sensed that Grissom had shared as much as he was going to for the moment.
Deciding that some levity might help Sara teased, "You know Gris, I am thinking of adopting the cat. He and I got along quite nicely. You might want to consider making friends."
With that Grissom looked up at Sara mischievously. The fact that she always allowed space between herself and Boris had not escaped his notice over the years. Grissom's mouth twitched as he looked up at her over his glasses and extended both hands with Boris perched keenly on top, "I'll pet yours if you pet mine." Sara felt her cheeks go pink and suddenly became interested in her knees, but not before a deep throated chuckle escaped her lips.
Unfortunately, Sara was not the only one to hear the unabashed flirtation. Catherine had her hand raised to knock on the slightly ajar door when she heard the remark and the unmistakable laugh in response. Eyes large, Catherine took two quiet steps back, turned around and as she headed down the labitrail muttering under her breath, "What was that all about?"
End.