Illusions
Author: Jess
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews :o). Rouch is my hero, thanks for all your help, and CSI4nsicAce for making sure my grammar is correct.
Disclaimer: I still do not own CSI.
Chapter Sixteen
The silence in the car was excruciating and comforting at the same time. On one hand it allowed them both to fall into the same routine allowing a sense of security to wash over them. On the other hand, it was the same routine they followed constantly. It would be strange for Grissom to openly talk about anything, and Sara acknowledged that she would wonder what had happened to the real Grissom. However, at the same time, it would be nice to break from this tired game of give and take. She sighed and looked out the passenger seat window, watching Las Vegas come alive. She always seemed to be the one doing the giving.
"Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself as Grissom parked the Denali in her apartment complex's lot.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and looked at him. His entire demeanor had gone rigid, his eyes narrowing as he focused on something outside of the car. "What?" she asked and followed his line of vision.
Sara's eyes widened as she saw Dr. Doyle talking animatedly with one of her elderly neighbors. 'This is not my day,' she thought, hung her head, and silently counted to five before turning back to Grissom. "I have an extra room," Grissom stated and reached to turn on the vehicle.
"No!" she shouted and grabbed the keys from the ignition. "We have no idea why he is even here. It's probably a coincidence. He's talking to Edna Davis, one of my neighbors. She has a cat. He's probably her vet. I'm not letting fear run my life Griss."
"Sara…" he said, pleading silently with her.
"You don't understand!" she said, her voice rising. "If I run off and stay at your place, it's like I'm ten years old again, running to my brother's room, or the attic, or the tree house out back to get away from it all. I can't keep running away. I just can't."
She hiccupped and sunk into the seat, closing her eyes. She felt a hand gently caress her cheek and she opened her eyes. Grissom nodded at her and offered a small smile. She expected him to drop his hand, but he kept it where it was, continuing its slow, steady caress. "Will you at least indulge me in getting us out of here until he's gone?" he asked. "I doubt you have anything of sustenance in your apartment. Let's go to the grocery store. That should take some time."
She handed him the keys and nodded. His fingers traveled one last path down her cheek before he turned to start the car. Immediately, she missed the soothing movements. "And don't worry," Grissom added playfully. "I promise not to contaminate your place with meat."
Sara smiled to herself as they pulled out of the lot, leaving Dr. Doyle and their fears behind them for the moment.
Gil Grissom tried hard not to laugh at the intent expression on Sara's face as she studied the apples. He watched her continue her routine, picking up one at a time, slowly turning it over in inspection and then feeling every last inch of it for an unseen bruise, before placing it in the bag or back on the shelf.
"What kind of apple man are you, Griss?" she asked and looked at him. She hit him on the arm. "Are you laughing at me?"
"I don't think I've ever seen anyone inspect an apple so thoroughly; in fact I don't think I've ever seen you inspect evidence so thoroughly," he remarked, amusement in his voice.
She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the apples.
"To answer your question, I prefer the Granny Smith ones," he said.
She nodded and began to inspect a few of that brand as well. After choosing three more apples, she seemed to have decided that was enough and placed them in the cart. Grissom resumed pushing the contraption through the fruits and vegetable section, wincing slightly at the bruise forming on his shin. They had started out with her pushing, but after the cart had hit him twice, he had quickly taken over.
He watched her place a couple bags of salad into the cart and frowned. "How do you get enough protein?" he asked as he wheeled after her.
She looked up from her tomato inspection. "There are other sources of protein besides meat," Sara said and smiled. "As a scientist, you should know that."
"I'm well aware," Grissom said and took the bag of tomatoes from her. "But what exactly do you have?"
"I'm a pesco vegetarian," Sara replied and headed for the tofu section. "I eat fish, well, I rarely eat fish, and nuts, yogurt, tofu, garden burgers."
Grissom nodded and looked warily at the tofu. Sara laughed at his expression and proceeded to place various items into the cart. "Seafood?" he asked.
She nodded. "Whatever your heart desires," she replied dramatically and started towards the seafood counter.
Grissom raised an eyebrow and followed her. He eyed the selection carefully before deciding on a half pound of shrimp. "Will that satisfy your animal urges?" Sara asked as they left the counter.
"For now," he replied and followed her down one of the freezer aisles.
"Someone has a sweet tooth," Grissom remarked as she placed three cartons of ice cream into the cart.
"A woman must have plenty of ice cream on hand in case of emergencies," she replied.
"Really?" he asked. "Cite your source."
"Catherine Willows," Sara said and closed the freezer door. "She told me that after Hank and I…"
Grissom frowned at the mention of the paramedic and Sara's frozen stance. "Well, Catherine would be an expert in that arena," he said breaking the silence.
Sara forced a smile and looked back at the freezer. "What's your guilty pleasure?" she asked and pointed at the ice cream.
"I'm quite fond of vanilla ice cream with chocolate covered grasshoppers," he stated and smiled at the disgusted expression on her face.
"Sorry, all out of chocolate covered grasshoppers at the moment," she said.
"The vanilla with the fudge swirls then," he replied.
Sara removed a carton from the fridge and placed it in the cart.
"Sara, Dr. Grissom, what a pleasant surprise." All color drained from both their faces at the sound of Dr. Doyle's voice behind them.
Grissom pushed the cart forward slightly, blocking Sara from the man's arm range. He forced a smile. "Hello, Dr. Doyle," he said in greeting.
Sara merely nodded, taking an instinctive step backwards as the veterinarian came closer. "Shopping?" Dr. Doyle asked raising an eyebrow in surprise.
"We're getting ready to go over a case file," Grissom answered. "We thought it'd be prudent to eat something as well."
Grissom tensed as the man turned his attention to Sara. "Did you get the flowers?" Dr. Doyle asked.
"Yes," she replied.
"I wasn't sure what your favorite flower is yet," he said. "But most women like roses."
Sara nodded. "It was a little…" she paused. "Excessive."
"A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady," Dr. Doyle replied.
Grissom frowned. "We really do have to get going," he bit out.
"Of course," Dr. Doyle said and smiled at him. He looked back at Sara. "Until we meet again."
The two watched him leave and Sara shivered. "Okay, I'm scared now too," she said and looked at Grissom. "At my apartment building and my grocery store in less than half an hour is more than a coincidence."
"Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do. He hasn't violated any law," Grissom sighed. "Let's get this back to your place and we'll figure it out from there."
They started towards the checkout lanes, Sara keeping extra close to him.
Sara shifted the bags in her hand while she fumbled with the key a few times before finally opening the apartment door. She pushed the door open and walked in, Grissom following close behind her. Placing the bags on the kitchen island, she began putting away the perishable items, but stopped for a moment and looked at Grissom.
He was holding two boxes of pasta and looking at her kitchen cabinets as if he were trying to figure out a very intricate puzzle. "Go," she said and took the boxes from him.
Smiling at his puzzled expression she continued, "I'll put the groceries away, it'll be quicker. Go read or something."
He hesitated for a moment before walking away and taking a seat on her couch. "Can I get you anything?" Sara asked and froze at her own words.
Clear as day she saw him standing where she was now, answering her question with 'Sure. An explanation.' She shook the memory from her mind and turned to look at the real Gil Grissom. He shook his head, looking intently at the forensics journal in his hands, showing no sign of remembering the last time she had uttered those same words to him.
Sara turned back to her task and quickly put away the rest of the groceries. She placed the bags underneath her sink and walked into the living room. Stopping when she reached the chair beside the couch, she touched the back of it. Images of her openly crying about her past in front of Grissom replayed in her mind. She pulled her hand back. She hadn't been able to sit in that chair for awhile.
She looked around the room, silently weighing her options. 'Desk chair is too far. Couch too close,' she thought, her lips scrunching in frustration. She needed to make a decision soon or she risked alerting Grissom to her odd behavior. Her eyes fell on the plants occupying the end of the island and walked towards them. 'Water the plants.'
She slowly completed the task before looking around the apartment for something else to keep her busy. She spied a small black duffle bag resting near her door. She pursed her lips as she tried to remember where she had seen it before. Then it hit her. It was usually underneath one of the seats of the Denali. 'Why is it in here?' she wondered before continuing to look for another task.
Her gaze swept over the living room before it landed on Grissom. He was staring intently at her and she inwardly cringed. She really didn't want to have to try to explain what she was doing and why. Grissom moved over on the couch, picked up another of the forensic journals cluttering her coffee table, and held it out in her direction.
Sara smiled and released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding as she took the journal from him. She sank down onto the couch and kicked off her shoes, tucking her long legs underneath her body. Silence passed comfortably between the two as they read their respective journals.
Sara became engrossed in her article and it took a few seconds for her to realize that Grissom had stopped reading. She looked up at him questioningly.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"I could eat," she said, marking her page with her finger.
"What are you in the mood for?" he asked as he placed his book on the coffee table.
"Pizza," she replied.
It was Grissom's turn to have a questioning gaze. "I don't think we bought pizza," he stated.
"Nope," she said. "But we could always order some."
"I don't feel like making anything," she added and reached for her cell phone. "What do you want on it?"
"Cheese is fine," he said.
Sara nodded and dialed the number of her usual pizza delivery service. She placed an order and looked back at Grissom as she hung up. "Twenty to thirty minutes," she said and placed the phone on the coffee table. "So…"
She pulled her knees up to her, wrapping her arms around them as she rested her chin on top. She had no idea how to finish her sentence. "What do you usually do when you come home?" Grissom asked.
"Um…I water the plants. Make myself something to eat, take a shower to get all the grime and muck from the crime scenes off, listen to music, and then I go to bed," she answered. "You?"
"Pretty much the same, except instead of watering the plants, I feed the bugs," he said.
Sara smiled at the thought of Grissom feeding a room full of bugs. Then, she looked around the apartment, hoping something interesting would jump out at her. "Are one of those the plants I sent you?" he asked, pointing to the foliage on the kitchen island.
"No," she said. "It's in the bedroom."
"Oh," he replied.
She nodded and frowned at the lull in their conversation. "Your toenails are painted," Grissom stated.
"Huh?" Sara asked, looking down at her aforementioned toes. "Uh, yeah. I got a pedicure last Friday after shift." She could feel the heat rising to her face, 'Too much information, Sara.' It was an appointment she made on a whim after a long shift.
Looking up she noticed Grissom was transfixed on her feet, he seemed confused. As he leaned down slightly, her face scrunched into a question, "Grissom?"
She stifled a startled cry as he removed one of her feet from under her and brought it closer to him for inspection. He was studying her toes intently, his left hand holding her foot still, while his right hand's fingers traced her foot. "What color is it?" he asked, still looking at her toes.
'Color? He wants to know the color?' She stifled a chuckle, it was so Grissom, leave it to him to do something that would look intimate, and turn it into an inquiry. "Uh, it's called 'sea breeze'," she said and reflexively tried to pry her foot away when he touched a ticklish spot.
"Tickles," she informed him.
He merely nodded and went about his inspection. Eventually, he released her foot and picked up the other one. His eyes traveled to her ankle and he pushed her pant leg up a bit. "Sara Sidle, the woman who promotes the use of nonoxinol nine when sleeping in a hotel, has a tattoo?" Grissom asked slightly amused.
She squirmed trying to get him to release her foot but he refused to relinquish his grip. He raised her foot slightly, allowing him a better look at the tattoo. "A flower?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said.
"I'm sure there's a story behind that," he replied.
Sara sighed. "College spring break trip in Cancun. I was drunk and don't really remember the circumstances behind getting it," she responded. "It was a right of passage, I guess."
She shrugged and off of Grissom's amused expression she asked, "What, did you never do anything stupid when you were younger?"
Grissom's eyes traveled to her tattooed ankle. "Never like that," he replied. "I was too busy winning everyone's money in poker games."
Sara raised an eyebrow, surprised that he had revealed something personal about himself. "That needs an explanation," she said.
"It's how I financed my first body farm in college. I'm not politically savvy so I was unable to obtain grants. I used my earnings from poker to fund the farm," he stated. "Poker is also a great game to observe people."
"And we all know how astute your power of observation can be," Sara replied.
"Well, it doesn't work all the time," Grissom said, his fingers lightly tracing the tattoo.
"Oh?" she asked, shivering slightly at the sensations his touch was causing.
"Sara…" he said, his eyes dark with a passion she had never seen in them before.
She opened her mouth to reply but a knock at the apartment door cut her off. "Pizza's here," she stated.
"So, it is," he said quietly, gently caressing her foot one more time.
"I got it, Griss," she replied as she reached for her purse.
He waved her off, stood, removed his wallet, and walked to the door. Sara watched him pay the delivery boy and take the pizza.
"Hungry?" she asked as he closed the door.
"Oh, yes," he said his eyes fixed on hers.
She nodded and instinctively licked her bottom lip. "Shall we?" he asked, placing the box on the kitchen table.
All Sara could do was nod.
