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 Seventeen

The only thing Gil Grissom was sure of at this moment was that he had no idea what he was doing. He wasn't a spontaneous being. He preferred planning things out and weighing the different possibilities before deciding on an appropriate course of action. Maybe it was the scientist in him, he wasn't sure, but it was a system that had worked well for him over the years, and today he was throwing it away; or at least giving it a temporary leave of absence. And it was all because of the young woman anxiously eating pizza at the table across from him.

He watched Sara eat; mesmerized by the sensual way her mouth was devouring the slice. The past couple of years had taken a toll on both of them, changing them in ways that he thought were irreversible, yet she still held the same enigmatic qualities she always had. And lately it had become harder to resist the temptation that was Sara Sidle. Now, sitting across from her, it was damn near impossible.

Today he had already lived out an inkling of one of his Sara fantasies sans Dr. Doyle—shopping for groceries followed by reading quietly in each other's company. It wasn't anything grand, but it was the kind of thing he longed for in his restless moments. He blinked and focused his attention on her when he realized she was talking.

"—duffle bag?" she finished, pointing casually behind her.

Grissom turned and looked behind, understanding coursing through him as he saw that she was pointing to his duffle bag. "Extra clothes," he replied and took another bite.

"Someone thinks awfully highly of himself," she smirked.

Grissom ignored her comment and continued to eat his slice.

"Grissom, what's going on?" Sara asked, pushing her plate away from her.

He sighed knowing that eventually she would have asked that question but wishing that it hadn't been right then. "I don't know what to do about this," he said.

She looked at him questioningly. "Okay…" she replied, uncertainty in her voice, waiting for him to continue.

Grissom frowned, trying hard to formulate his next words. "What I mean is, I have no idea how to proceed with…wooing you," he started.

"Wooing me?" she asked, and he saw her trying to bite back a laugh. "People still use that expression?"

He glared at her.

"I'm sorry, go on," she said, motioning for him to continue, a small smile tugging at the corner's of her mouth.

"I meant what I said in the park. I want to make this better," he continued motioning between them. "I miss what we had, the flirting, the easy banter, your smile. Do you know how long it's been since you've truly smiled at me?"

She shook her head and he continued, "The Todd Branson case when I called you away from the seminar."

"You said you needed me," Sara replied, her gaze on her hands.

"And I did," he said and reached for her hand. "I always do. Why do you think I asked you to come to Vegas to help me out after Holly Gribbs died?"

She looked up at him and he knew her own words from weeks ago were playing in her mind. 'Why do you think I moved to Vegas?' "You were the only name I could think of, the only person I wanted to see," Grissom admitted, running his thumb along the back of her hand. "And then you were there, and you smiled at me. It was heaven."

She didn't say anything and he continued his gentle caress. "I didn't know you had feelings for me then," he said. "I thought I was merely an old friend and you would appreciate the chance to work at the Vegas lab. And after, I was short staffed and I didn't want to relinquish seeing your smile every day. I offered you the job and you stayed."

"Yeah, I did," her voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean it, Sara, I don't know what to do about this," he said.

"Neither do I," she replied.

"I thought you did," he said, remembering her answer when he rejected her dinner offer.

She shrugged. "I lied," she said and offered him a smile. It wasn't one of her earth shattering smiles, but it was a small step towards it.

"It should be rather interesting then," he said.

"Isn't it always," she said. He watched her lower her head again, fighting some inward battle. Sara looked back up at him and continued, "Is this because of Dr. Doyle?"

Grissom frowned. "No," he said firmly, squeezing her hand gently in emphasis. "It's because of many different lights finally going off in my head. I finally began to reprioritize my life. The job will not hold the same power it has over me for so many years."

"And when Ecklie learns about this and threatens to put an end to your career, what then?" she asked, pulling her hand out from his.

Grissom looked intently at her and saw the scared seven-year-old girl peeking out of Sara's eyes, desperately wanting to believe what was being told to her, but putting up a wall to soften the blow of disappointment that she was sure would follow. "He who has a why to live can bear with almost any how," Grissom stated.

Sara nodded and he knew from her uneasy expression that he would need to work hard at rebuilding her trust in him. They sat in silence for several moments, each mulling over what the other had said. He watched Sara fight hard to stifle a yawn.

Grissom smiled. "I think its past somebody's bed time," he said, smiling gently.

She began to shake her head, but another yawn escaped her mouth. She looked back at the duffle bag and then at him, her eyes widening. 'The sleeping arrangements are definitely something I don't know what to do about…' she thought to herself, wondering what he was thinking about as well.

"Spare sheets?" he asked and began to clear away the dishes. "The couch will suit me fine," answering her unasked questions.

He heard her release a breath of relief before leaving the room. He had no intention leaving her alone tonight after two close encounters with Dr. Doyle. When he turned around he saw her reenter with a folded sheet, quilt, blanket and pillow in her hands. She looked at him, a little tense. "I believe I'm the one who is supposed to be tense with this situation," Grissom laughed as he walked toward the couch.

Sara picked the pillow up and threw it at him. "You know where the bathroom is," she said. "Sleep well."

"Pleasant dreams, Sara," he said and watched her leave.

He raised an eyebrow as he heard her murmur, "You better believe it," before grabbing his duffle bag and heading to the bathroom.


Sara Sidle groaned and swatted at the offending object making such ridiculous amounts of noise. Hearing a dull thud, the noise became slightly muffled and then stopped. She sighed contentedly, rolled back over and snuggled down into her pillow. Her respite was short lived as the noise began again in full force. Letting out another groan, Sara turned over and reached for her cell phone. Her eyes opened when she realized it wasn't in arms reach.

She frantically searched her bedside table as the phone began ringing again. 'Not there,' she thought as she listened intently to the sound. She reached under her bed and pulled the phone out. Flipping it open, she said a breathless, "Sidle."

"What were you doing that took me four tries to get you to answer the phone?" She smiled at Brass's voice.

"I was sleeping, emphasis on the word was," she replied. "What's up?"

"I narrowed the list down to three missing women that fit the victim profile," Brass stated. "I'm going to pay a visit to their residences to learn what I can from neighbors. Want in?"

"Give me an hour?" she said, pushing the covers off. "I need to shower."

Brass gave her directions to the first house and hung up. Sara placed her phone on the table and ran her fingers through her hair. 'God, I need coffee,' she thought as she exited the bedroom.

She strode into the room and froze when she saw Grissom standing behind her kitchen island, drinking from a mug as he read some journal. Her sleep deprived brain slowly began to work, and she remembered that he had spent the night on her couch.

"I made a pot of coffee. Do you want a cu…" he asked, his voice trailing off as he looked up.

Sara pondered his awestruck expression before blushing in embarrassment as she remembered what she was wearing—bikini bottoms and a tank top that ended just above her belly button. "Let me just change," she replied and quickly walked back to her room.

Closing the door behind her she struggled to hold back the laughter that was bubbling inside of her, the look on his face was one she was going to remember for a long time. She threw on a pair of sweatpants and a Berkley shirt and walked back out. Finding Grissom reading at her dining table, a cup of coffee and a plate of French toast beside him, she spotted another cup of coffee and plate of French toast were set next to him. She took the seat and looked at the food before her.

"Breakfast, wow," she said as she picked up her fork. "I haven't had French toast in ages."

"Do you prefer syrup or sugar?" he asked and put the journal down.

"Uh, sugar," she replied and picked up the sugar bowl from the table. "Not as messy." She took a bite and smiled. "This is good," she informed him. "Brass called."

"I know. He called me also. There are three potential candidates for victim number three," Grissom said and sipped his coffee.

Sara nodded and took another bite. She watched Grissom take a bite of his portion and couldn't hide a smile. Here she was eating breakfast with Grissom in her apartment. A breakfast that he had cooked. And neither of them were fumbling for something to do or say. She was glad he hadn't brought up her lack of clothes from earlier and was surprised that he wasn't acting awkward with her after the event. Maybe something had changed in Grissom, because a few weeks ago he would have stumbled for something to say. Not that he was saying much now, but there was no strained silence between them. It was comfortable in a weird, yet fantastic way.

Sara looked down at the empty plate and then at Grissom. He was also finished with his toast. She reached for his dishes. "I got it," he said and waved her off.

"You cooked. I clean," she replied and piled his dishes on top of hers. "There are spare towels in the linen closet if you want to take a quick shower before I do."

Grissom's eyes clouded over before he shook his head. "Yes, thank you," he said and stood.

Sara watched him pick up the duffle bag before proceeding to the bathroom. She cleared the table, rinsed the dishes, and placed them into the dishwasher. She looked around the living room for something to keep herself preoccupied with. Moving towards the couch and she looked down at the folded sheet and quilt. She lifted the quilt up to her nose and breathed in, his scent filling her senses. 'I just might never wash these,' she thought as she scooped up the bedding, entered her bedroom, depositing them on the bed.

She laid down on the bed a smile playing on her lips. 'Maybe he really means it,' she thought. 'Perhaps he is willing to give us a try.'

A knock on the door ended her musings and she sat up. "Yeah?" she called.

"Bathroom's all yours," Grissom's muffled voice said through the door.

"Thanks," she replied and grabbed her robe from the back of her door. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to leave the bathroom in her usual manner after a shower. No matter how much fun it would be to see Grissom's reaction to her in nothing but a towel.