Author: Jules524 AKA Scully34

Title: Untitled

Summary: Gil Grissom was my soul mate- is my soul mate. He always has been and always will be. We were never supposed to be together, but fate had other plans. The cosmos and the universe came together and set our paths in motion. It was destiny that a distinguished entomologist and a brainy physics major would meet one day, at the ocean.

Parings: Grissom/Sara. Rating: Not Rated yet.

Disclaimer: I am just a poor college student that doesn't have any money. Therefore I do not own any Characters from CSI, and I am not getting paid to write this, so don't sue CBS!

Announcement: As always, thank you all for reading and reviewing: Special Thanks go out to sarah makinson, sara kicks ass, and nithe. Special thanks also go out to drakien for being my beta! Enjoy all!

THANK YOU ALL VERY MUCH FOR BEING PATIENT WITH ME! I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY MOVED FROM CONNECTICUT TO NORTH BETHESDA MARYLAND! IT HAS BEEN ONE HECK OF A WEEK. SO THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE, KINDNESS, AND SUPPORT!

Untitled: Chapter 9

I awoke the next morning with a jolt, screaming, shaking and drenched in a cold sweat. I could feel the rivulets of perspiration dripping down my face and coming to rest in a pool on my chest. I looked down and realized that my nightgown was saturated and uncomfortably clinging to my body. It was happening again…I was reliving the nightmare. I could never figure out when the bad dreams would strike. They just did. It didn't matter what was going on in my life at the moment, or whether I was happy or sad. When the dreams did resurface, hell hath no fury, and as always I was petrified.

The series of dreams are always so vivid—so uncaring and real. In these dreams, I relive the worst night of my life. A night plagued by violence, blood, death and terror. I witnessed my mother murder my father. It happened in my room, my sanctuary. They had gotten into yet another fight, and as was predictable, the yelling and screaming led to physical violence. Only this time, things spiraled terribly out of control. In a frantic and desperate attempt to save the lives of her children and herself, my mother stabbed my father to death with a kitchen knife. The image is permanently etched into my memory for all eternity.

I remember it was an uncharacteristically hot evening. It was so humid that every time you stepped outside, it felt as if you were drowning in a glass of water. My mother was angry at my father because she had not seen or heard from him in four days. You see, part of his routine was to go on alcohol and drug binges, in order to satisfy his addictive cravings and impulsive urges. My mother was not pleased with him in the least. He was always in and out of our lives, and she was sick of having her children witness the unthinkable and unimaginable whenever he did come home.

My father didn't like being told what to do, and was more concerned about having his wife and children subservient to his every whim at a moments notice. Fueled with alcohol and God-knows what other substances, he flew into another one of his terrifying rages. My bothers and I could never figure out which one of us would get the brunt of his fury, but we knew one thing was certain: one day our mother would shatter like broken glass.

Irate and staggering like a crazed and belligerent animal, my father started screaming at my mother. He said that he didn't like being controlled by her, and that she should be 'thankful that he had put up with her and her bastard children for so long'. Can you imagine that? He wouldn't even acknowledge the fact that we were his. My mother screamed something back at him, and in response, I felt the wall quake as her body was slammed against it. The pummeling continued for several more minutes.

Huddled under my bed with the comforter pulled tightly around my body, I silently started to sob as I tried to wish it all away. I knew not to make noise, because if you made noise during one of Daddy's tirades, it was guaranteed that you would wake up sporting fresh bruises or broken bones the following morning. Sobbing as quietly as I could, I tried in vain to reach up and wipe the stinging, salty water from my eyes. By then, it seemed as if I were holding on to a piece of debris for dear life in the middle of a category five hurricane. No matter what the outcome, we were always left behind on the path of destruction and devastation. It seemed as if the Sidle children always had to deal with chaos, fear and absolute desperation.

Terrified, I had covered my ears as sounds of yelling and screaming erupted through my house. I knew that this was the loudest and the most violent they had ever been towards one another, and that the night was going to end badly. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would ever end like it did… oh my God. I can't even think about it further. I won't allow my brain to relive it again.

xxxx

I propped myself up against the pillows, as I begged my heart to stop banging in my chest. I had to mentally remind myself: it was just a dream. It wasn't real. It was over. Done. Yet, even as I tried to rationalize my brain, I couldn't contain my emotions. I felt as if I was about to crawl out of my own skin. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, I noted that it was 3:33 am. I needed to get out of that hotel room, and into the world of the living...even if the living were sound asleep.

I didn't want to be alone. No, I couldn't be alone. Not tonight. I needed someone to protect me and tell me that everything was going to be okay… I wanted someone to tell me that I would be okay, and that everything that had happened to me in my childhood wouldn't adversely affect who I became as an adult. Panicking, I called the only person I could think of, that seemed to make my world a little brighter. I dialed the number to Gil Grissom's hotel room.

Grissom picked up the phone on the third ring. He sounded as if I had awoken him from a deep sleep. I regretted calling him over something so stupid and selfish the second I heard the sheer exhaustion in his voice. I wanted to hang up the phone, and let the man go back to his seemingly peaceful slumber, but I was not able. I needed to hear his voice. I needed him. "Griss," I stated. I knew my voice sounded uneasy, and I just hoped that it would not alarm him too much. "It's Sara. I'm so sorry to call you this late but—" I was interrupted when Grissom cut in. "Sara! Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"I—I'm fine," I replied. "I just…well this is going to sound so stupid, and needy, but I—I had a nightmare…and it scared me…I just—just needed to hear your voice," I said embarrassed, and held my breath as I waited for his reply. "Sara, there is no need for you to apologize. And I'm glad that you felt comfortable calling me after what happened tonight," he replied soothingly, yet a little uncertain of himself. I had to stop and think for a moment why he would think that I did not want to speak to him, and then it dawned on me. He was referring to the kiss.

The Kiss- that wonderful, sweet, blissful, good night kiss. I smiled at the recollection of the tender moment. I had to clear up what ever misconceptions Grissom was having about that said kiss, and fast. "Griss, you did nothing wrong, I am not angry. Actually, I enjoyed myself immensely." I replied as a smile crept across my face.

"Good," was his only response, but even though I couldn't see his face, I knew that he was smiling. I also knew that he seemed to be relieved that I was not upset by his boldness earlier that evening. "Griss, would you mind coming over here for a few minutes?" I asked, before I even realized the words had flown out of my mouth. "Sure," he replied. "I'll be over in a few minutes, okay?"

xxxx

I yanked open the door the second I heard Grissom gently knocking. In an instant, I was in his arms sobbing quietly as hot tears started streaming down my face like a river. I couldn't explain it, but that night the dreams had left me completely terrified. Normally, I could shake them off, and at least pretend to function normally. This time, I couldn't. So I clung to Gil Grissom as if my life depended on it, calmed by his steady grip, soothing voice, and that Grissom scent—masculine with a trace of lemon at the same time. And yes, even then Gil Grissom smelt of lemons. I guess it is true when they say some things never change.

Gently, Grissom guided me back into my hotel room. Keeping his arm around me, he turned to face me, and pushed a wayward curl out of my face. "Sara…calm down. Everything is going to be alright. I promise. It was just a dream, it wasn't real. I won't let anything hurt you." He led me over to the couch located in the small sitting area. Grissom sat down, and proceeded to make sure that I was seated comfortably as well. He touched my hand lightly, and reached up to run his fingers through my hair.

"I—I'm so- s—sorry, G-Griss," I stated in between my almost controlled sobs as I began to hiccup. Grissom looked into my eyes and pulled me to him in an embrace. "Shhh…Sara. It's alright. Don't worry about me. I was up anyways…" he stated sincerely, even though I knew he was lying through his teeth. "Do you want to talk about the dream? Tell me what's bothering you?" he asked softly. "No," I declined simply. I couldn't let this wonderful man see what a nuthouse my life was. I couldn't let him get a glimpse of the Sidle gene pool that was so fatally flawed.

Grissom sighed gently as he proceeded to shift his position slightly. In one tender movement, he leaned back to almost lie on the couch. His back rested against the armrest as he pulled me in closer to hold me. "Then I won't push you. You can tell me about the dreams when you are ready. Until then, I'm here," he said calmly, and as I placed my head back on his chest he began to trace small circles on my back with his hand.

We stayed tangled in each other's arms on the couch for quite some time, and I eventually calmed down. Little conversation was passed between the both of us. There was comfortable silence, peace and tranquility in our hearts and minds that night. I smiled as I heard the calming and rhythmic sound, of his steady heartbeat. Chuckling slightly, I picked up my head and covered his heart with my hand.

"Thank you, Griss" I stated in a breathy whisper that was barely audible. To my surprise, he heard me. "For what, Sara?" he asked sincerely. "For being my life line tonight," I whispered as I leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips, my hand still draped across his heart. I was secretly amused and delighted when my one gentle kiss was returned with great fervor by Dr. Gilbert Grissom.

Breathlessly breaking our succession of kisses, Grissom looked at me with a twinkle in his eye as a sly grin danced happily across his face. "The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer," he said looking at me now with a full blown smile. Laughing softly, I reached up and caressed his handsome face as I proceeded to place feather-light kisses down the side of his face and into the nape of his neck. "Did you just come up with that yourself?" I asked him in between kissing his lemon scented skin.

Laughing as he reached up to run his fingers through my hair once again, Grissom replied, "Oliver Wendell Holmes. Smiling back at him, I told Gil Grissom that Oliver Wendell Holmes was a very smart man. And that was the beginning of millions of quotes a la Gil Grissom that I secretly cherish.

TO BE CONTINUED! Read & Review