Illusions
Author: Jess
A/N: You all are too kind. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. And as always, thanks to Rouch for all her help and CSI4nsicAce for making sure my grammar is correct.
Disclaimer: I checked I do not own CSI. But if you feel you must take all my belongings you may have everything except my classrooms new baby ducks and hissing cockroaches. :)
Chapter Ten
'And this is why I am not spontaneous,' Gil Grissom thought as he studied his lunch companion. Sara Sidle sat across from him, gently biting her lip, looking completely lost. Every so often, she fidgeted with the napkin in her lap and reached for her glass of water before hurriedly retracting her hand. She was staring intently at the menu laid before her, and yet, Grissom had a feeling she hadn't read a single option on the menu.
Sara was on edge, and he didn't blame her. At one time, the two of them had been able to comfortably have a meal together, but that was a long time ago. 'Before Vegas,' he realized. He tried to remember if the two of them had ever had a meal alone together since she had come to Vegas. As hard as he tried, he couldn't remember one. 'Surely we did when she first came out here,' he thought and scratched his chin in confusion.
"Penny for your thoughts," Sara said and completed another nervous interlude with the water glass.
"We've never had a meal alone since you've been in Vegas," Grissom mused.
"No," Sara said and looked back down at her menu.
He saw her jaw tighten and had a feeling that her chocolate eyes were a mixture of emotions. "I'm sorry," he said softly, unsure if she would hear him.
The confused look she directed at him let him know she did. The reappearance of their waiter deterred him from elaborating. "Are we ready?" the young man asked.
Grissom looked at Sara. She nodded at the waiter. "Manicotti, Caesar salad," she said and handed off the menu.
Grissom opened his mouth to give his usual request and froze. He looked questioningly at Sara. She looked perplexed for a moment, before offering a tentative smile. "I would never deny you meat," she said. "Just please don't order it rare."
Grissom nodded and turned his attention back to the waiter. "Sirloin Marsala, medium, spaghetti pomodoro with a Caesar salad," Grissom said and handed the menu to the waiter.
The man nodded and retreated from the table. Sara's attention was focused on her glass, her fingers drawing intricate designs in the condensation. "Sara…" Grissom said, his voice trailing off, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say.
Her hand ceased its movements and her eyes locked with his, waiting patiently for him to elaborate. A movement out of the corner of his eye distracted Grissom for a moment. "Do you ever see strangers on the street, or in a restaurant," he asked and motioned around before continuing, "and wonder—"
"—how they'll die?" Sara finished for him. Her lips curved into a smile and he watched her slightly relax. "Yeah, all the time."
"I thought it was just me," Grissom said as their salads were brought out. "Or if nothing else, I observe and learn details that I'm sure most people wouldn't look for."
"Do you need anything?" the waiter asked.
The two shook their heads and he left. "Like the couple at the table on our right," Sara said and nodded in their direction. "He has a wedding band on his hand. She doesn't. But they've been playing footsy under the table since we got here."
Grissom nodded. "You can take the CSI out of the lab…" he said with a small smile.
Sara smiled back before retrieving the pepper and sprinkling it on her salad. A silence fell over the two as they ate, but the uncomfortable atmosphere was no longer present. After a few minutes, Sara placed her fork on the plate and looked at him. "Uh, Griss?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied and lowered his fork.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but what's going on?" she asked. "Are you trying to make sure you have a meal with everyone you work with?"
Grissom cringed inwardly. 'Sofia.' "I gather you're referring to the dinner I had with Sofia," he said.
She nodded, refusing to make eye contact. "Dinner with Sofia was…" he sighed, and continued, "she had just told me that she was going to leave the department. I did not want to deal with the stress of losing another one of my staff, so I asked her to dinner to try and sort out her concerns over her new position."
Sara nodded, apparently accepting his explanation. 'Don't ask it,' Grissom willed her.
"Well, I'm not leaving," she said. "So, sorry for sounding like a broken record, but what's going on?"
'Damn, she asked it.' Grissom's brow furrowed in thought as he tried to think of the best way to express what he was thinking. "Look, Griss, never mind," Sara said and picked up her fork. "I keep doing this. Things were going okay and then I opened my—"
"—stop it," Grissom interrupted and watched Sara's mouth drop open slightly in shock, her fork falling onto the table.
He studied her confused look and continued, "I can't quickly formulate a response to that. You need to let me gather my thoughts before deciding the conversation is finished."
Sara raised an eyebrow and leaned back in the chair. "Then by all means, gather," she replied.
"What did you mean when you said, 'Turns out he didn't think I was worth the risk'?" Grissom asked.
Sara shifted uncomfortably in her chair and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. She sighed and looked at him. "I was in the observation room when you were interviewing Dr. Lurie," she finally said.
Grissom nodded. "I thought that was what you were referring to," he said and pushed the salad to the side. "I wish I had known you were in the room."
"Well…" Sara said, her face twisting in a mass of conflicting emotions.
"There is no such thing as bravery; only degrees of fear," Grissom stated.
"John Wainwright," Sara said and bit her lip. "Are you trying to tell me that I scare you?"
"No," Grissom said. "You terrify me."
Sara's eyes clouded in confusion. "I saw myself in him," Grissom continued.
"In Dr. Lurie?" Sara asked.
Grissom nodded. "He killed Debbie because she left him and he couldn't stand living with the light she had in her and knowing he was no longer privy to it," he elaborated. "I rationalized that if I never tasted your light, if I never allowed it to get too close, then I would never destroy you like he did her."
"But my destruction of you was more subtle than Dr. Lurie's," Grissom tilted his head in thought. "I pushed you away. I was cold, distant. I hurt you," he said bitterly. "I wouldn't allow myself to take the chance with you, but I couldn't stand to let you leave either."
Grissom noted the moistness in Sara's eyes and reached out a hand towards her. "Honey, don't cry," he said, his voice full of emotion.
She opened her mouth to speak and was cut off by the ringing of Grissom's phone. He glared at the offending object. "Answer it," Sara choked out. "I'm going to use the ladies' room."
Grissom watched her rise, and he gently grasped her hand as she passed. She gave a gentle squeeze before disengaging their hands and continuing on her course. Grissom picked up the cell phone and flipped it open. "Grissom," he said with more force than usual.
"Well, good day to you too, Gil," Brass answered.
"What can I do for you, Jim?" Grissom asked, closing his eyes in frustration.
"I got a warrant for the SPCA. I know you and Sara both wanted in on the meeting with the director," Brass said. "I'm meeting Mr. Doyle, the director, in forty minutes at his office. He's a veterinarian. Sara said that the first two women were both members of the SPCA and attended the monthly meetings."
"It is possible that is where they met the killer. Directions?" Grissom asked and mentally recorded the information Brass relayed.
"Do you want me to call Sara?" Brass asked.
"No," Grissom said. "We'll meet you in thirty."
He flipped the phone shut. A few seconds later Sara rejoined him. Her eyes were red and it looked as though she had splashed water on her face. "Who was it?" she asked as she sat down.
"Brass," Grissom said. "We have a meeting with the director of the SPCA in forty minutes."
Sara nodded as he motioned for their waiter. "I need you to box our meals," Grissom stated.
The young man nodded and returned a few minutes later with their meals boxed and in a restaurant bag. Grissom quickly paid the check and stood. Sara seemed to be on auto pilot and walked with him out of the restaurant. He unlocked the car and placed their meals in the back seat before turning to look at her.
"We'll finish this conversation later," he said. "I promise."
She was running on auto pilot, merely making the appropriate movements so as not to cause alarm. She had been blindsided, there was no other way to describe what had just happened. A million thoughts and emotions were running through her at the moment and she wasn't sure which one to latch onto.
Sara looked out of the car window and watched Las Vegas unfold around her. The vibrant colors and busy streets were making her dizzy and she had to shut her eyes to keep from vomiting. Her time in the restaurant bathroom had done nothing to help her compose herself. If anything it had made her even more tense and on the brink of losing control.
'What the hell just happened?' she wondered and clutched a hand to her stomach.
Her eyes reopened, and looked out the side window. She could see Grissom's eyes reflected in the window. 'Stop looking at me!' she screamed in her head. She really did not want to be in his company right now. Confusion flowed through her. Nothing with this man was ever easy. His words from earlier echoed in her mind, 'But my destruction of you was more subtle than Dr. Lurie's.'
She shook her head in frustration. How many times did she tell herself over the years that she needed to end this…this…god, she had no idea how to define what exactly this was between them. Exhaustion and the emotional loop she had just been wrung through were beginning to take their toll. Sara took a deep breath, trying to regain her self control. She could do this. They had an interview to get to, Brass was expecting him, and the victims needed her to find who had done this.
In her minds eye, she saw the three victims and vowed to recapture her self control. She would do it for them. She had to do it for them. She took another deep breath and felt his fingers' feather light touch as he brushed them against her arm. Images of another victim rose in her mind, pushing aside the latest ones. Her father's body lay on the bed, the knife wedged in his chest as he gasped for his last breath. The walls of the car seemed to slowly come crushing in on her.
Sara closed her eyes again, and gripped the door tightly. "Stop the car," she said her voice barely audible.
"What?" Grissom asked.
"Stop the car," Sara repeated.
She didn't see his reaction to her statement, but he did oblige her. She quickly fumbled with her seat belt; a small whimper of frustration escaped her lips until she finally freed herself. Opening the door she almost fell out of the car. She regained her balance and began walking as fast as her feet would take her away from the car.
She didn't see anything around her, but somehow managed to work her way through the crowded sidewalk. Hearing Grissom call her name she refused to turn around, but continued her path. She had no idea where she was going, but she was trying to get there fast, to move away from the images in her mind. Her only problem was that she knew you couldn't run from the past. It had a sneaky way of catching up with you when you least expected it.
She turned off the busy sidewalk and into a relatively empty park. A hand caught her arm and Sara almost stumbled, but the grip kept her aloft. She turned to see Grissom, his hand refusing to relinquish its grip on her arm. The look on his face was a mask of worry. 'Or is it concern?' she thought. "Sara?" he asked.
"No," she said stubbornly, forcing him to let go of her. "You can't keep doing this. I won't let you."
"Doing what?" he asked and reached a tentative hand out.
She slapped it away. "That!" she said, her voice louder than she meant. "You…say those things…like it's supposed to make me feel better. You want me to think: 'Oh, well he really does care, Sara, but see he's afraid he might end up hurting you or himself. Really he's actually looking out for your best interest, so cut the guy some slack'."
She looked up into his eyes, every emotion she felt at the moment laid bare in them. "Its bullshit," she finished.
Sara broke eye contact and breathed shakily. She looked up and expected him to be gone, to have run from her and whatever this was, like he had so many times before. Instead he reached and gently brushed away tears she didn't know she had shed.
"I don't know how to make this right," Grissom stated. "Honey, I don't know how to repent for all the hurt I caused you."
'Honey.'It was the second time he had used that phrase on her in the last thirty minutes. "I want to make this better. I'm trying to figure out how to do that. Trust me," he said, his hands cupping her face.
"I…I can't," she replied and looked away from him.
"Then let me work on regaining your trust," Grissom said.
Sara looked up at Grissom and was astonished to see how old and weary he looked at this moment. His eyes pleaded with her. She nodded and his eyes closed in relief. He gently pulled her into a hug, resting his chin on her forehead. 'Do not make me regret this, Gil Grissom,' she thought.
He tightened his hold as if silently whispering, 'I won't.'
