A/N Great to hear from all of you! Thanks for your comments! Real life has been challenging so I haven't had as much writing time, but I'll do my best to keep updating this story. Special thanks go to Leslie, Ms. Grits, and smryczko for their greatly appreciated feedback.
NOTE: Due to mature subject matter, this chapter is rated R or T.
Chapter 3 When Dreams Come True
GrissomEven though, he'd come closer to committing himself to a decisive course of action, he progressed slowly. After all, he was still Gil Grissom; that was his style, caution was almost second nature to him. Although he hadn't gotten up the nerve to actively pursue Sara, he'd taken a step. He'd made a conscious effort to speak with her more at work, to attempt to ease any tension between them and rekindle their friendship.
At first it was a little awkward, as he stopped by the lab more frequently, ostensibly to discuss the progress of her latest cases with her. It was tricky for he didn't want her to think that he was checking up on her or that he had any doubts about the quality of her work.
Yet, despite the initial discomfort, after briefly discussing business, he'd linger, to ask one or two more personal questions, as he fixed his eyes upon hers and focused solely on her. His preliminary attempts at this type of conversation backfired, her replies were clipped because she was involved in her work and she didn't want to be disturbed. She seemed suspicious of his motives, as well.
While he was slightly discouraged by her lack of response, he persisted and as the days passed by and they fell into a more predictable routine, she appeared to welcome the opportunity to talk with him, sometimes greeting him with a smile.
They never spoke for very long; after all they were at work. Nor did they speak about anything too personal. He'd ask about how she was doing, not expecting intimate details, yet he'd wait patiently, hoping for more than a cursory single word reply. He'd also ask about how she slept or if she'd seen certain shows on TV about Shakespeare, opera, baseball, or some other shared interests, and even if she'd tried the new Chinese restaurant that recently opened down the block from the lab.
Although his dreams relentlessly prodded him to ask about her counseling, he refrained, for this would only be the proper setting to express his concern as her supervisor, not as a man who cared deeply about her.
Soon he discovered that he was enjoying his new ritual and that he looked forward to spending those few minutes each shift with her. He became bolder, starting to pair them together more often on assignments, so they occasionally drove to crime scenes together. He'd go out of his way to bring her coffee, prepared the way she liked it.
Had she noticed his efforts?
Perhaps. Sara appeared to be paying more attention to her hair and makeup. Rather than the natural look she'd favored over the last year, she'd started choosing more becoming shades of eye shadow, with a hint of blush accentuating her cheekbones. She'd even taken to wearing more complementary clothing, which, though practical, were more stylish. These included slim cut pants that showcased her wonderfully long legs, and more fitted colorful tops that were equally flattering.
While he had always considered Sara to be a beautiful woman regardless of what she wore, he noticed and appreciated these subtle changes. Perhaps her appearance impressed him even more lately because he was finally allowing himself to look at her, for his eyes to rest upon her, without quickly darting away. It was a hard habit to break, one that he didn't even realize that he'd developed, sneaking furtive glances at her. He surprised himself by complimenting her on her appearance on several occasions.
Yet he wasn't completely sure that these changes were purely for his benefit.
He nearly collided with a wall the first time he witnessed Detective Larson flirting with Sara. They were finishing up at a crime scene when he caught the tone of their voices. Instantly, he ceased paying attention to where he was going, his eyes latching on to her face as his temple simultaneously grazed the wall. Thankfully no one else noticed his gaff for they were too busy looking at each other. The tall, dark haired detective, newly arrived from LA, was smiling at Sara, shamelessly checking her out while quizzing her about her social life. And she was smiling back.
As he absently rubbed the bump on his head, his stomach tightened. He froze, rooted to the spot, while pointedly listening to their exchange. The old tapes started to play in his head.
It's too late; she's given up on me. She's moving on. She'd be happier with him anyway. He's closer to her age.
But rather than wallowing in those thoughts as he'd done in the past, he abruptly shut them off. He laughed ruefully at himself, for he finally construed how Sara must have perceived his interactions with Sophia. He made a mental note to be more circumspect about his behavior around Sophia, for although he had flirted with her, he realized that he had no interest in pursuing a relationship with her.
He'd finally made up his mind. He wasn't going to settle for safe or easy, or for a relationship that was destined to be devoid of passion. No more excuses. He wanted it all. He wanted Sara.
Now he just needed to figure out the best way to proceed. Dinner was usually a good way to start, yet in light of his recent dinner with Sophia, asking Sara out for the same type of date seemed like it could be considered to be in bad taste. Whatever he planned, he wanted it to be special. And for Sara to understand how special she was to him. This was going to take some thought, though he'd always been intrigued by challenges.
Lately Sara seemed to be responding more positively to him, but she still didn't actively seek his company. Fortunately for him, although she seemed to enjoy talking with Detective Larson, she wasn't throwing herself at him either. Somehow the subtle balance of power between the two of them had shifted, he was no longer calling all the shots. He hadn't even realized that he used to have that power over her, and that he'd blatantly taken advantage of it in the past.
As he embraced his decision to pursue her, he found himself becoming more daring. The next day, when Sara casually asked him what he did that day, while off work, he told her. The widening of her eyes revealed her surprise in his candor. Also, under her keen observation, she lead him to confess that he was having trouble sleeping, though he didn't go into the reasons. For Grissom, these were significant steps; he'd always had trouble letting people into his personal life. He hoped that she appreciated that.
He was also surprised to discover that he felt somewhat relieved. Up to this point, the only battle being actively waged had been within himself; now he was focused on an external goal. Not to say he wasn't nervous, or that all of his doubts had been extinguished; they just weren't screaming as loudly as his growing need to be closer to Sara. He was also keenly aware of the possibility that his actions could be construed as far too little and too late.
A plan was beginning to emerge in his head when, it happened. His dream, or more aptly, his nightmare became a flesh and blood reality before his eyes. Sara and Greg had a potential domestic abuse case. Sophia had been chatting with him in his office, much to his chagrin, he was having trouble getting her to break that habit, when Greg stopped by with preliminary case information.
Sophia asked him if he was feeling all right, for she noticed his immediate reaction to Greg's report. He abruptly brushed her aside and strode out the room while trying to control his breathing and maintain his composure.
The feelings weren't any where near the intensity of the dream, they were uncomfortable yet they were manageable. He was unsteady, but he was able to keep his emotions in check. After splashing some cold water on his face in the men's room, he returned to the lab to change the assignments, much to the dismay of Sophia and Greg, without a hint of explanation. He was the supervisor; he didn't need to explain himself. Or, more importantly, he could get away with it because he was Gil Grissom. No one expected an explanation from him.
Sara wasn't thrilled by his actions either; she bristled, most likely believing that he lacked confidence in her ability to handle such a case. Thankfully, unlike his dream, he was able to control himself during their investigation such that his behavior appeared somewhat normal and it didn't interfere with their work. Still, he caught himself staring at Sara on a few occasions, trying to gage her reactions.
When the two of them examined the body with Doc Robbins, it appeared that there might only be surface similarities to the case of his recurring nightmare. However, it was a disturbing case, nonetheless, even for a seasoned veteran.
The female victim's naked body, which had been wrapped up in a blanket, was stashed in a secluded area of the woods. Seasonal rain along with the insects and animals that had been attracted to the blood had advanced its decomposition. A pair of hikers had the misfortune to stumble across it. If additional time had passed, there would have been few distinguishing features left to identify the victim.
The woman had been violated by a foreign object, which pierced her internally and resulted in massive hemorrhaging. Most likely within minutes, she'd bled to death. There were other irregularities as well; her body seemed to have sustained multiple lacerations of an undetermined nature, though they could've occurred postmortem. There were also ligature marks on her wrists, suggesting she'd been restrained during the assault. Doc Robbins needed more time to analyze these findings, he hadn't completed his examination.
He'd initially concentrated on uncovering sufficient information to attempt to identify the victim, and to determine the preliminary cause and time of death. Evidence of a formerly dislocated collarbone, along with some older facial fractures, produced the red flags that suggested the possibility of spousal abuse.
Sara had been pouring over dental records and domestic violence reports, when Grissom joined her on the investigation. After narrowing down the hits they obtained from her search, they were able make a positive ID. Grissom and Sara were accompanied by Detective Larson to notify and interview her spouse, as was customary.
Grissom wasn't pleased with having to deal with Detective Larson. With so many unsettling aspects of this case, he would've preferred to work with his trusted friend, Jim Brass. He had good instincts, which would be extremely useful in this type of investigation. Yet, he wasn't being fair, Grissom hadn't worked with Detective Larson long enough to develop a well rounded opinion of his investigative skills. He also knew that his objectivity was compromised; that he instinctively disliked the man because he paid undue attention to Sara.
When the husband heard the news about his wife, he seemed sad, yet he didn't visibly grieve. He claimed he thought his wife was away, visiting a friend. It was immediately apparent that he didn't have a reliable alibi for his location at the suspected time of his wife's murder. These observations lead Detective. Larson to grill the man more intently; he implied that the man could be in trouble if he didn't cooperate fully.
The detective's intimidation tactics didn't impress Grissom. He should know that solid evidence was far more reliable than a person's words. Didn't he know that there were also inherent dangers in following gut hunches? He could prejudice the entire case. An investigator had to remain objective or he was useless. In fact, Grissom was concerned that if any pertinent information would be obtained at this time, it could be considered tainted due to the questionable manner in which it was obtained.
So Grissom insisted on conferring privately with Detective Larson, to stress his objections to his tactics. The infuriating man simply gave him a condescending look and assured Grissom that he knew a guilty man when he saw him. In that instant, with a passing glance, the two men tacitly acknowledged their mutual dislike of each other.
The victim's husband was a prominent business man in the area, with a solid reputation, he wanted to avoid even the appearance of impropriety so he agreed that Grissom and Sara could search the premises while Detective Larson brought him to the station to examine his wife's body. Since Grissom felt this consent would hold up in court, he didn't protest.
When the door closed behind Detective Larson and the husband, Grissom fought the urge to comment on the detective's forceful methods, sensing he'd come off as jealous rather than truly concerned about the case. They began to methodically scan the rooms for anything unusual. The couple was well off; their home was a showplace, filled with stylish modern furniture, various pieces of art along with gleaming metallic tables and shelves.
Sara analyzed several sharp utensils she'd discovered in the kitchen, taking swabs and testing for the presence of blood. Her results were negative. They searched the laundry and garbage cans, both interior and exterior, for bloody bedding or articles of clothing, with no results.
Finally, Grissom and Sara entered the enormous master bedroom, which appeared to be in perfect order, like the rest of the house. Grissom was starting to wonder if the spouse was involved in the crime after all. He grinned slightly thinking that at least he'd get the satisfaction of having Detective Larson's infamous gut instincts proven wrong.
Then he paused by the bed. "Do you smell that?" It was faint, the windows were wide open with the breeze blowing into the room, but his sensitive nose could detect it. It amazed him that so many people thought they could get away with this stuff.
Sara stepped closer to him and sniffed carefully, recognizing the familiar odor. She grinned as she met his eyes. "Bleach."
Grissom closed the blinds to darken the room as Sara tried to track the source of the odor. Spraying the bedspread with luminol didn't yield anything. The mattress itself was clean too. However, the wooden floor from the bed to the sliding glass patio door lit up a bloody trail.
"Crimes of passion usually take place in the bedroom," he commented wryly.
"We'll have to get a warrant to search his vehicles." Sara thought out loud. "So he kills her in the bed, then drags her outside to his car or truck to get rid of the body. But why isn't the bed showing anything if this is where it happened? He must've gotten rid of the bedding, but the mattress should show something."
He took a closer look. "This is a new mattress, I'd bet money on it. We can check this guy's financial records to see if he recently purchased this. He's had at least three days to cover up his trail. I think we may have our primary crime scene."
He began to file through dresser drawers while Sara concentrated on the walk-in closet. They took their time, hoping to locate a possible murder weapon or anything else unusual that might account for the sadistic manner in which the victim had been mutilated.
After searching the walk-in closet for over thirty minutes, Sara called out. "Grissom, I think I found something."
He discovered Sara seated on the floor towards the back of the dimly lit closet. Due to the clutter, he stepped cautiously towards her. Her eyes were fixed upon a formerly concealed compartment in the wall that she'd located, which was now open. His initial curiosity was over come by other emotions, for Sara's face was pale and her eyes were fixed upon her discovery. He crouched down beside her, to glance into the chamber.
Sara's voice trembled slightly. "What are these? Sex toys or torture instruments?"
Although Grissom wasn't into that type of thing himself, normally he'd vehemently defend those whom society discriminated against. He could feel his familiar diatribe about tolerance automatically about to spout from his lips. He loathed the way that society judged people that it didn't understand, and he wasn't about to do it himself. But the pain in her eyes stopped those thoughts cold.
He settled on his knees beside her, almost leaning against her. He put a hand on her shoulder, longing to comfort her.
She continued, "I mean, don't get me wrong. I know people experiment – some people tie each other up or use handcuffs, and there was that lady with the clowns. A little weird, but essentially harmless. But this…" her voice trailed off. She swallowed hard and finished, "This just seems sick."
"I agree," he replied softly, while gently massaging her shoulder.
"What does this have to do with love?" her voice broke.
Once again, typically Grissom would've philosophically replied that for some, there was a thin line between pain and pleasure. His conversations with a seductive dominatrix had confirmed that. He'd appreciated her unique insights into those darker aspects of the human psyche. But that wasn't what Sara needed to hear from him.
Then he remembered something else he gleaned from those discussions.
"It's not about love. For most, it's about power, and control."
"It's sick," she whispered sadly.
Although it was hard, he sensed that he needed to take off his public mask and be as honest as he could with her.
"Yes, it is," he agreed.
He wanted to hold her, to console her; he could sense that she was struggling for control. Yet he also was aware that Sara longed for him to view her as a competent investigator. He didn't want his actions to be perceived as motivated by pity. For several minutes, they sat quietly in the dimly lit cramped space, their thighs nearly brushing against one another, as he clasped her shoulder, his eyes set upon her. Heaven help him, if Detective Larson had the misfortune of gracing them with his annoying presence at that moment, for neither of them was acting very professionally.
After a significant interval had passed, he reluctantly tested the instruments for blood. The results were positive.
Back at the lab, Grissom and Sara discussed the results of their analysis. The blood on the instruments came from two sources, the victim and an unknown male. They obtained a sample of the husband's DNA for comparison purposes. They also positively identified vaginal tissue from the victim on some of the instruments.
Sara surprised him. "Grissom, I want to lead the interview."
He sighed, for he didn't think it was a good idea, and the fact that it mimicked his dream so closely made him very uneasy.
She assumed he was holding back to protect the lab. "I understand why you might have objections. But I can do this. My counselor thinks it would be a good idea. We've been doing some role-playing and she feels I'm better equipped to handle it. It's part of the healing process. "
He felt some relief that she'd taken his advice to pursue more vigorous counseling, yet his stomach was still tied up in knots at the prospect of her directing the session. However Sara had lead dozens of interviews in the past; she'd fully proven herself to be a competent investigator. And the fact that she'd actively sought additional help ought to be sufficient reason for him to continue to support her. He also understood how it important it was for her, so he allowed her to proceed, but only if he was present as well.
When they entered the interrogation room, Grissom noticed that the husband had gotten himself a lawyer. Despite his rising anxiety, he almost chuckled, thinking that this might cramp Detective Larson's heavy-handed style. He and Sara sat across the table from the suspect and his counsel, while Detective Larson lurked in the doorway. He'd been advised to let the crime lab handle this.
Sara began by opening a file and displaying pictures of the contents of the secret closet chamber. The man blushed and laughed uncomfortably, as if he was both embarrassed and shocked that they'd been able to uncover his cache.
"Can you tell us what these are and why your wife's blood and vaginal tissue are on them?"
He swallowed uncomfortably and whispered to his lawyer. After conferring in hushed tones, with a blush spreading over his face, he confessed.
"Um…they're sex toys. Nobody else has to know about this, right?"
She ignored his pathetic plea. She was becoming angry, much to Grissom's displeasure. Her voice became louder. "So we're supposed to believe that your wife liked being in pain?" Before he could utter a response, she removed his wife's facial x-rays from the folder. "Tell me about these. How did your wife sustain these injuries?"
The spouse was clearly uncomfortable. "I…don't know."
Her response was animated. "Sure you don't. You want to know what I think. I think you liked to use your wife as a punching bag. And when that didn't get you off anymore, you got your thrills torturing her with these things."
Grissom's heart was in his throat. At least the suspect wasn't responding in a hostile fashion. Yet.
The man objected, "No, it's not like that. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. But, please, I have a reputation to protect. Cheryl and I are passionate, physical people. Sometimes we'd get into fights and hit each other. She'd hit me too, gave me a few black eyes. It was kind of like foreplay for us, but we always resolved our differences. And as to our sex life, she was the one who introduced me to…alternatives. She liked it."
Was that going to set Sara off?"Take off your clothes." Sara requested.
Grissom and Detective Larson directed confused looks toward her.
"If you're both into this type of sexual activity, then perhaps we'll see similar markings on your body."
Grissom smiled, feeling some of his tension release, she was right. Some of the 'toys' left distinctive markings on the victim. Depending how they were used, they could penetrate the skin, leaving angry red welts or simply produce unusual abrasions that would fade over time. The husband stripped and Grissom and Sara examined him. They found fading ligature marks about his ankles, and deep abrasions on his buttocks that were similar to some of those on his wife's body.
After the suspect redressed and conferred with his lawyer, he explained. "Okay, I'm going to be completely honest with you. I didn't mean to kill her. It was an accident. I didn't realize what was going on until it was too late. Am I off the hook? Does anyone have to know about this?"
With a grin, Sara turned to Grissom, indicating that he could field that question.
"You may not be indicted for consensual sex play, if that's what it was. But rather than seeking medical attention for your wife when she was critically injured, you transported then concealed her body, dumping it in the woods. And then you tried to cover up the rest of the evidence. That's going to buy you some time for sure."
Grissom and Sara had returned to examine the victim's house one last time. While there was more than enough physical evidence to support their case, there was still the nagging unresolved question about extent of the victim's willing participation. They'd searched for more secret compartments, scrutinized her wardrobe, and attempted to locate any diary or journal. They even checked her computer. Nothing. This line of questioning shocked their friends and family; so that was a dead end too.
They were able to link the husband to the sex toys via his blood and tissue. But that was the extent of the evidence.
Sara was frustrated. She continued to make excuses to examine different portions of the house. Finally Grissom had to stop her.
"Sara, there isn't anything else."
She objected, "How can you say that? Aren't we supposed to be the voice of the victim? We're just not thinking about it the right way."
He stepped closer to her. "I know, it's upsetting that this crime might be even worse than it appears. But, he's getting jail time. And his reputation has suffered; it's already hit the press. So he's paying for it. We've done all that we can do."
She stubbornly shook her head, reluctant to let it go. They began to assemble their evidence collecting kits.
Detective Larson stepped into the room and called over for Sara. She walked towards him. Since the case was essentially over, he was turning on the charm again. He smiled at her as they spoke near the front door. Although Grissom was wildly curious, Sara's back was to him so he couldn't see her expression. After a minute or so, the detective left the room and Sara returned to Grissom.
"Detective Larson wants to know if I'm busy tomorrow night."
Damn, she wants to go out with him.
Then he calmed down some, realizing that she wasn't asking his permission to date that man; she was more likely making sure that he didn't need her for work purposes on her night off.
She wants to date someone else
His heart felt heavy. Then he realized that she was waiting for an answer. He who hesitates is lost.
"Sara, let's…let's do something."
She wasn't following what he was saying. "Oh, we need to finish up the paper work for the Reynolds's case?"
It's now or never. You know you want her.
He cleared his throat decisively. "No…I mean…let's go out and do something. You and me." He quickly added, "Unless you'd rather be with Detective Larson?"
She laughed and then grinned sweetly. "What did you have in mind?"
Up to that moment his mind had been blank. But then it came to him. It was perfect.
tbc