A/N Hopefully this nice long juicy chapter, broken down into two parts, will make up for the fact that it has taken me so long to write this. Thanks for your patience, your reviews, and for the nominations for some of my stories for best CSI fanfiction stories! And thanks always go to the wonderful Eileen, Leslie, smryczko, and Tracy for their constructive comments and suggestions.
Also, please note, this chapter is rated T (or R) to reflect mature content.
Chapter 7 Unraveling Part 1
Sara"So which of you lovely ladies wants to bet that I can make this shot from here?" Greg grinned infectiously, as he wadded his paper basketball more tightly together. It was an ambitious proposal, shooting from the doorway of the break room to the trashcan by beside the refrigerator, more than halfway across the room.
Graveyard shift had started twenty minutes ago, but Grissom had been summoned to an urgent conference call before he'd been able to give out assignments. So the troops were amusing themselves as they waited, thankful for a little down time.
"What's the stakes?" Sofia asked, with mild interest. She stifled a yawn, for they'd been working especially grueling hours this week.
Greg considered it. "How about dinner at Casa de Greg?" he playfully suggested.
The blonde shuddered. "No offense Greg, while you are a man of many talents, I seriously doubt that cooking is your thing. How about a beer after shift? You miss, you buy."
"I'll take that action. How about you Sara?"
The slim brunette was reclining in a chair at the conference table; with her feet propped against the edge of the table and her blue jean clad legs fully stretched out. The latest edition of a forensics journal was spread open in front of her, resting against her thighs, so it appeared as if she was engrossed in her reading. But truthfully, she was as exhausted as the rest of the team, with eyelids that tended to slide shut. And then her thoughts wandered from work to more pleasurable matters.
Greg's voice pulled her back to reality with a sudden start. It wasn't like her to indulge in such idle daydreaming, especially at work.
"Huh?" She tried to recall the gist of the conversation, for she hadn't been paying attention. "Um…no thanks."
"Your loss. Drum roll please."
Sofia dutifully banged on the tabletop.
Greg did his own commentary. "He carefully aims. He shoots, and he…misses."
"You owe me Sanders," Sofia reminded him with a saucy smile.
While their supervisor's entrance to the room would've put a damper on their playful exchange, Grissom's incensed scowl doused it entirely. Everyone swiftly took a seat, while Sara rearranged herself to sit properly. Grissom chose a chair next to Sara, so Sofia accordingly selected the other one flanking him.
As they got settled, Sara allowed her eyes to briskly sweep over Grissom, taking in his appearance. She'd only recently permitted herself to partake of this guilty pleasure, for in the past it had only lead to frustration. The frenetic pace of this week's caseload was getting to him too; she noticed more furrows around his eyes and lines of strain bracketing his mouth.
Since he was wearing a short-sleeved gray polo shirt, she could distinguish the well-developed muscles in his arms. The texture of his shirt looked soft, she wondered briefly what it would feel like between her fingers. As always, his beard was well trimmed, she remembered how it had prickled against her neck that night at the opera.
Careful Sara careful, you need to concentrate on work.
"Please tell me it's a light night," Greg begged earnestly. "I'd love an evening of catching up with paperwork without overtime or double shifts. My social life is starting to suffer, all I've had time to do this week is sleep."
Grissom dryly half chuckled as he shook his head, "Afraid not. We've got a B&E, and death under suspicious circumstances in Caliente."
"Caliente? That's in our jurisdiction? That's at least a two hour drive from here," Sofia complained.
"Call it a professional courtesy, the sheriff just offered our services," Grissom explained, with heavy sarcasm. "Sofia, you've got the B&E and anything else that comes up locally tonight. If you get into a bind, you can always contact Catherine and coordinate things with swing shift. Greg and Sara are with me."
"Three people for one case?" Sofia commented, as she perused her manila folder.
He shrugged with annoyance, "Actually, our victim was the brother of the town's mayor, who just happens to be the cousin of our junior state senator, found dead in the town brothel, which, by the way, everyone claims does not exist, and is really the local dance studio -- one of those political things, I guess. High profile investigation."
Sofia nodded with appreciation as she left the room.
"So who's driving?" Greg asked with a gleam in his eye. "I can cut that time down to only an hour and a half."
Suddenly some of the tension in Grissom's facial muscles began to dissipate. "I thought you could. That's why you're driving David to the scene."
Greg's expression clearly revealed his confusion, for this suggestion didn't follow any customarily established procedures.
The older man tried to explain, somewhat unevenly, "To help…" Was he merely searching for the right words or was he seeking an excuse to justify his suggestion? "…expedite matters." Sara and Greg exchanged perplexed glances. Then Grissom turned to Sara, and said, in better spirits, "C'mon, you're with me."
Her heart foolishly started beating faster, for this would be the first time they'd been alone for more than a few brief moments since their interrupted date three nights before. The cautious side of her warned that maybe she was being foolhardy. She could be reading far more into their evening together than it actually meant to Grissom. Regardless of the depth of her feelings for him, his outer shell remained relatively intact. His true feelings were still a mystery to her. She desperately wanted to believe that he felt the way she did. The man who had taken her to the opera seemed completely captivated by her, and already starting to fall in love with her.
It had frightened her that night to see how quickly his professional mask had fallen into place. Though, perhaps that was a result of years of experience in this field, rather than indifference to their time together.
Or perhaps their evening together had meant the same to him as his dinner with Sofia?
No, that's not true.
Very uncharacteristically, Grissom had made an effort to discuss personal matters with her while they were at work. As she and Sofia were processing the Raines' house, only a few hours after their interrupted date, she had spoken to Grissom on the phone. After discussing the case, Grissom briefly assured her that he had her evening gown, and that he would take good care of it. The dress was still in his custody. In a later call, he'd even invited her to join him for lunch.
However, since they'd closed the case far later than expected that day, the timing hadn't worked out. She'd hung around the locker room for a reasonable interval, hoping he'd stop by. Although it was sorely tempting for her to stop by his office, she sternly reminded herself that she was done chasing him. Since she didn't want to appear too eager and Sofia seemed far too curious, she reluctantly left to get some sleep, assuming he'd try to contact her later.
Grissom's voice pulled her back to reality. "I'll drive," he volunteered with some enthusiasm. His pleased grin rapidly faded as his cell phone rang once again. As he grimaced and flipped it open to answer it, he told her, "I'll meet you at the car in a few minutes."
Sara packed up her field kit and waited in his car for at least ten minutes before he came rushing out.
"Sorry, this case is a political and logistical nightmare," Grissom explained as he got into the vehicle and slammed the door. Then he started searching his pockets for his keys.
"I thought you tried to stay out of those," Sara smirked.
"I do, but unfortunately this politicking resulted in allowing an understaffed, inexperienced lab to botch up evidence, and that I will not tolerate," he stated indignantly.
When he put the keys into the ignition, she could swear that there was a brief moment when their eyes met and they held each other's gaze.
He's glad to see me too.
Sara was actually looking forward to their two-hour ride. Presumably there would be sufficient time for some personal conversation after they'd prepared for the case? Perhaps cell phone reception wouldn't be the greatest en route to the scene? Or would that be too much to hope for?
Those issues became irrelevant as Greg dashed across the parking lot, dramatically flung open the car door and sank into the back seat of their vehicle.
Gasping for air, he explained, "David already left, I'm sure glad I caught up with you guys."
"Yeah," Grissom sighed.
Sara sighed too, trying not to be conspicuous. There went the best opportunity she'd had over the past few days to chat with Grissom about their date. Greg's unexpected arrival put Grissom into an especially foul mood that he took out on the unlucky folks at Caliente whose incompetence had bungled the homicide investigation of a prominent figure. He spent most of the journey arguing over his cell phone with the investigators. Sara sighed again; it was going to be yet another long night.
XXXXXX
As she stood beneath the steamy spray, Sara thought that a shower had never been quite so welcome. She was thrilled to wash off the accumulation of almost two days of grime from her skin. As expected, the situation at Caliente was enormously complicated. Grissom lost his temper and essentially threw the inept local team off the scene. She'd rarely seen him in such form before, the unflappable Gil Grissom on the verge of losing control. Then the three of them methodically made the case, piece by piece, from the very beginning. It was a long and painful process, due to the careless mistakes made by their local counterparts. Given the delicate nature of the situation, everyone in the small town had a vested interest in the outcome, so it was difficult to determine the truth.
After methodically collecting the evidence, they sent the more critical pieces back to their lab in Vegas to be further process. David transported the samples, along with the body. They processed what they could at the local hospital lab, and pressed on, taking minimal breaks, anxious to complete the job and return home.
Even though Sara didn't require large amounts of rest, she still had her limits. She caught some sleep on a battered office couch, just as Greg and Grissom had. However she'd woken up only a few hours later to discover Grissom elbow deep in evidence, so she joined him, ignoring his half-hearted protests. Despite their exhaustion (or possibly because of it), they were able to work smoothly together, not needing many words, anticipating one another's needs. They were too tired for any distractions, purely focused on the job at hand.
Sara dozed during most of the return trip to Vegas, and Grissom was so exhausted that he actually allowed Greg to drive. Once they pulled into the lab parking lot, Sara hurried inside to retrieve her purse before heading home to crash. After slamming her locker closed, she turned and almost bumped into Grissom.
"Sorry," she gasped, startled to see him and somewhat flustered by the feel of her shoulder grazing his chest.
"Let's get something to eat," Grissom blurted out.
Even though she was bone weary, she smiled. "Ok."
Was this it? Would they finally get the opportunity to talk? Due to so many false starts and her exhaustion, she was cautious about getting excited about the prospect.
They left the locker room and walked swiftly through the lobby, trying to dodge the inevitable distractions. When they stepped out into the sunny parking lot, Jim Brass approached them.
"Hey, how'd it go in Caliente?"
Grissom muttered, "You don't want to know." He attempted to keep moving, but Brass had stopped.
"C'mon, I used to know Detective Akins. Hard to believe that he'd be part of such a mess. You gotta tell me about it. We're off the clock, let me buy you a drink."
"Sara and I were just going to breakfast," Grissom hastily explained.
"Great, I'll join you. I wanna hear all about this."
So their intimate breakfast became a post conference of evidence and observations. It was about as romantic as the mandatory department ed. day.
Sara silently began to fume, becoming increasingly frustrated by this ridiculous situation. She wished that Grissom had been man enough to tell Brass to leave them alone, that their breakfast date was private. But, that would've been rude since Brass was more than just a co-worker to Grissom. It also would've drawn undue attention to their changing relationship, which was far from clear at this moment. Grissom wasn't ready for that, neither was she for that matter.
Frankly she found it astounding that he'd had the guts to ask her to breakfast at all. At least it appeared that he was still interested in her, despite the fact that it seemed as if the fates were against the two of them ever having any privacy.
Yet, as she worked up lather with her soap, she wondered if Grissom really wanted to talk with her about pursuing a relationship, why didn't he just call her on the phone like any normal human being would? What was the big deal about that? Or even drop by her apartment? That would be effective.
She sighed, knowing neither was Grissom's style. Being a private individual, he'd hesitate to drop by unannounced. Talking about his feelings was so foreign to him that he'd avoid the phone, and he'd have extreme difficulty discussing these things at work, with such potential for an eavesdropping audience. It wasn't his way. And to be fair, she also had to admit that they'd barely had enough time to sleep during their exceptionally limited off-duty time this week.
She hoped that he'd figure it out soon, for it was becoming more challenging to concentrate on her work at the lab, as if seductive invisible pheromones were irresistibly drawing her attention to her man. It was both an exhilarating and exasperating sensation. A part of her long dormant was reviving, starting to blossom. It was a heady, giddy rush counterbalanced by cold fear.
It flabbergasted her that her emotions were becoming this over powering, for over the past years she'd successfully managed to squelch those impulses. What was different now?
In her heart, she acknowledged that she already knew the difference. Now, there was a faint glimmer of hope. Hope that he might have the same feelings for her. Hope that he could conquer whatever demons had been holding him back for the past years.
Just thinking about Grissom and their kiss made her body feel warm and tingly. Had it been that long since she'd been with a man?
Yes.
Her emotions were confusing her; she didn't want to rush into things, yet her body was demanding more. After all it wasn't as though Grissom was a stranger, they'd danced this tango for years. Now that they'd taken the first steps towards a closer relationship, she was anxious to follow them to their logical conclusion.
After their evening at the opera, she'd started to relax some of the rigid mental boundaries she'd erected for her peace of mind. She allowed herself to daydream about the possibility of a future with him. She also let her thoughts meander, wondering about him and his body. She let herself taste the passion for him that she'd buried in heart and body for so long.
She began to fantasize, imagining that Grissom was standing behind her, naked, in the shower. She breathed deeply, trying to recapture the memory of his taste and smell. She envisioned his hands reaching around her, cupping her breasts, so she moved her own hands there to fill the emptiness.
She'd seen his hands countless times meticulously handling delicate insects or other specimen. How would they feel against her skin? Would he be tentative, slowly caressing the pliant flesh, letting the anticipation build? Or would he be carried away by passion, squeezing her nipples until they became taut peaks and she moaned with urgency? With her hands, she began to fulfill both versions of the fantasy, her slow caresses gradually becoming rougher. She gasped as her arousal increased.
As she continued to stroke herself, she wondered what would he say as he touched her? Would he murmur sweet endearments or did he prefer to talk dirty while making love? What would she call him? Grissom seemed a bit formal yet she wasn't entirely comfortable with Gil.
C'mon…Grissom…touch me.
As the warmth between her legs increased, she was aching for him to touch her core, so she began to stroke herself there, pretending her hand was his. She imagined the hot kisses he would trail down her neck as he murmured more sweet words in her ear, with his firm erection pressing against her thighs. Her breathing became more rapid as she began to rub herself faster.
"Oh god..oh god" she moaned.
What endearment would he call her when he came? Would he scream her name? What would it be like to see the stoic Gil Grissom totally out of control in the throes of ecstasy?
She gasped as her body began to writhe and her strokes became more frantic.
How big was he? How would it feel when he entered her? She used her fingers to mimic that action as she continued rubbing herself frantically with the other.
"Oh…god…baby," she shuddered.
XXXXXXX
TBC in Chap 8 Unraveling Part 2