… part 2, chapter 8 …

They were back in the hotel, wandering the abandoned corridors. They'd checked three of the six conference rooms; all were deserted and cleaned. They'd checked the front desk, but they were not successful.

Sara sighed. "I was hoping we'd have found it by now."

"We have three more rooms to check, but honestly, I don't know. I'm pretty sure I brought it back to my room."

After the last room, they sat down at one of the conference tables. "Well, I'm fresh out of ideas," Sara said.

Grissom was staring at a door at the far end of the conference room. An unmarked door. "Where do you think that leads?" he asked her, but it was mostly a hypothetical question, as he was already standing and walking towards said door. Sara followed. It was unlocked. So Grissom opened it.

They found themselves in an all-white corridor; the service hallway most likely. "That door shouldn't have been unlocked," Sara commented. "The public isn't allowed back here."

Grissom shrugged and started walking down the corridor, opening each door he came across. Some led to utility closets, others to the conference rooms they'd just investigated. At the end of the corridor was a steel door. It was begging to be opened, so Grissom opened it.

They were now deep within the hotel, the corridors dark grey, the walls concrete. "This is the service personnel area," Sara said. "Let me go first."

"Why?"

"In case we run into a locker room, particularly a women's locker room."

"Oh? What if we run into the men's locker room first?"

"They'd be thrilled to see me, whereas the women would be horrified to see you. So I'm first."

"As you wish, madame."

Sara looked at him strangely before leading them through the grey, and somewhat damp, hallways.

They did hit the men's locker room first, but it had a door, and was closed.

Sara stood outside the door, peering in. "Wanna check it out?"

"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Grissom replied. "I had considered that an employee stole my kit. We should get permission first, though."

After fifteen minutes of negotiation with the manager, they led a very disgruntled Hispanic man with a large set of keys to each locker in the men's room. They found a couple of baggies of marijuana and a gun, but no kit. The Hispanic man kept looking over his shoulder, a half-concerned, half-panicked expression on his face.

The three of them stood outside the men's showers. "Do you want to check the women's lockers?" Sara asked.

"Yes," Grissom replied. The idea that a woman had stolen the kit seemed unlikely, but it was possible. Anything was possible. "We should check them, too," he said to the other man.

Fifteen minutes later, after evicting about half of the housekeeping staff from their locker room, Grissom held his precious kit in his two gloved hands. And the manager was in the kitchen, searching for a Juanita Hernandez.

"Can you drive me to your lab?" Grissom asked. "We need to get this printed."

"I agree," she said, with a hint of glee in her voice. "Well, aren't you going to say it?"

"Say what?"

"That I was right."

"How so?" he queried. "We don't know how this woman wound up with my kit in her locker. That's why we need to print it."

"Oh come off it. She took it from one of the conference rooms. She's not housekeeping, she's part of the kitchen staff. She doesn't have access to the guest rooms. However, she did have access to the conference rooms, with the catering and all."

"What catering? None of my seminars were catered. There were just pitchers of water on the tables."

"And where do you think those pitchers came from? Mars? The catering staff put them there."

"Hey," Grissom said in mock-defense, "there is no proof of the existence or non-existence of extra-terrestrial life. A Martian could have put it there." He was teasing her.

"Oh really? The next time you see one, do let me know. In the meantime, I'm sticking with my theory."

"Whatever floats your boat, m'dear."

Sara rolled her eyes at him as she walked towards her car.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Grissom sat at the desk in his hotel room, lightly drumming his fingers. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 2:13. Sara was late, and he was anxious.

A soft knock interrupted the staccato rhythm of his impatience. He rose and opened the door to a bright-eyed Sara and a rather frustrated-looking Jon Northwind.

"I'm sorry we're late," she said as she walked by him into the room, carrying two large plastic bags. "We had to drive down by the mall in Waterford to get the pillows, and Jon forgot to bring his cutting shears, so we had to go get them, but we're here. You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Jon handed Grissom a small digital camera. "Here. You know the drill. Do give me a ring if you need anything, although I definitely need to do some work at my desk, if you don't mind." He then leaned in a little closer to Grissom and whispered, "Was she like this in Vegas? Man, she's wound tighter than a tornado about this 'experiment' of hers."

Grissom gave him a neutral glance, and mumbled something purposely incoherent. Sara was sitting on his bed, wrapping some kind of sheet around what appeared to be a doughnut. More doughnut-shaped items were scattered across his bed.

Jon returned with a 'yeah right, pal' look, and said, "Well, have fun. I just adore her you know, but I thought she was going to kill me when I forgot the shears. Consider yourself warned."

"Uh… thanks," Grissom murmured.

Sara was finished with her doughnuts, wearing one around each wrist and looking at him expectantly from the bed. "So, I'm thinking we'll try the general tape first, then that HVAC tape, and then the electrical. Do you want to start with the showerhead or the closet?"

Grissom mentally sighed. He was in this for the long haul. Although she did look cute in her little pink bracelets. He wondered where she got the material; it reflected the light like satin. "Wherever you want is fine."

She came over towards him, wrists out, one hand holding a roll of green utility tape. It was similar in consistency to duct tape. Grissom had reservations about this whole idea of hers, but he did as expected and looped her wrists together. It was surprisingly difficult to use, but the foam around her wrists did hold the tape in place, despite the slip of the satin-like material.

He stood back when he was done, both of them making sure the positioning of her wrists was correct. Plus, having her so close was distracting. He tried to keep his mind clear and focused on the task at hand. Instead of on her hands, and how soft they'd felt when they'd brushed against his arms as he bound her. God, help me. Really. I'm begging here.

He followed her into his bathroom, and she hopped into the bathtub, lifting her arms up to the metal pipe leading from the wall.

He stood outside the tub, realizing if he was going to do this, he'd have to be standing in the tub with her. He was hoping he'd be able to stand on the side. Guess not.

His body brushed against hers as he murmured, "Pardon my reach." He felt like he was on fire. However, Sara stood calmly and appeared unaffected by the whole ordeal. In fact, she looked moderately impatient and bored. That cooled Grissom's ardor drastically.

He looped the tape around her wrists and the showerhead's metal pipe about 3 or 4 times. She was standing on her tiptoes in order for her wrists to reach, and her face was pressing against the side of his neck. But he ignored it, and when he had finished, he stood back in the tub and studied her.

"Put weight on your wrists," he told her.

She did, and she dangled there for a few moments, her knees slightly bent. Grissom went over and examined the memory foam. It seemed to be cutting into the foam at the right places, confirming Sara's suspicion about how they were bound, but the tape wasn't folding like he'd expected.

"This isn't it," he told her. "The tape's too wide, and too thick." Grissom cut through the tape with the Stanley utility knife he'd bought the evening before. Might as well use it like their perp did. It took him a few cuts with the knife to make it through the thickness of the tape.

Once he'd set Sara free, she stabilized her weight and immediately looked at her wrists. "Cut it off," she said. He did. Then he unwrapped the tape, taking most of the fabric with him. She studied the foam, watching it slowly return to its normal shape.

"Well, they were definitely bound like this. The impressions are consistent. And I agree; this isn't the right tape." She took the fabric from Grissom's hand. "No way. This would have left a much wider mark. And really, it distributed the weight better." She snorted lightly in disgust. "Great. Now I'm learning the best way to dangle people from showers."

"Always something new," Grissom said with a shrug.

"Let's do the HVAC tape next. It's the blue set on the bed."

Grissom left Sara standing in the shower while he went to get the other doughnut/bracelet things. There were three of them lying on the bed, one blue, another green, and another pale yellow. Each had a roll of tape directly next to them. All were wrapped in the same satin-like material. He picked up the blue set, and returned to the bathroom. He bound Sara like before, asking "Do you want to try the closet this time? Or keep testing in here?"

"Honestly, I think he did it here. I think he bound them, and then taped them up in the shower. Realistically, it is easier to clean them up…" Sara stopped abruptly, an intense look on her face. "Grissom, maybe that's it. Maybe he's obsessed with cleanliness. You know, OCD."

"Maybe. Maybe he's just smart."

"That too. But really, it makes sense. I wonder… tape me up again."

Grissom complied, this time using the light silver tape that was supposed to be the new duct tape. It looked metallic, felt like plastic, and it was much easier to use.

"Shower or closet?" he asked again.

"Shower." They went through the same routine as before, but when Sara went to put her weight onto the tape, it ripped and her arms fell forward, causing her to lose her balance. Grissom stepped forward to catch her, and they found themselves entangled in each other, her wrists pressing against his leg. High against his leg, and very close to dangerous territory.

"Hey," he'd said as he caught her. They stared at each other, a small heat burning between them, until Sara turned away, killing the flame. Grissom stepped back, lifting her gently as she regained her balance. "Guess that wasn't it," he deadpanned.

Sara said nothing; she just stuck out her wrists. Grissom undid the tape, and went for the third set. He brought back the green set, with one of the two types of electrical tape, and wrapped her wrists again.

"I have another theory," Sara said softly, lifting her arms. "Tape me up." He did. "Now," she said, almost hesitantly, "pretend you're him. In here…. with the women. What would you do?"

He paused, studying her to see if she was really serious. She looked it. Grissom was getting annoyed. This was a dangerous game she was playing. His whole body was tense, and his mind knew this was crossing the line. He should just tell her no. But he'd had enough of her attitude, and enough of her toying with him and his emotions.

He reached with his right hand for her wrist, and pinned it against the shower wall for stability. With his left, he reached around her waist and grabbed onto her ass, stepping between her legs and pinning her hips against the shower wall with his own. The surprised gasp that slipped from her lips clearly told him that she wasn't exactly expecting him to be this forward and familiar with her. You wanna role-play, sweetheart? Fine. We'll role-play.

His eyes were steel as they bored into hers. There was shock, and confusion, and a bit of anger brewing in there. He felt her rapid pulse through her wrist beneath his palm, and he felt his own heartbeat throbbing against her as his hips pinned her against the wall. She had to feel his arousal; he certainly did.

Her eyes narrowed, and with one twisting movement, she'd lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, locking her ankles and pressing them against his ass. She glared defiantly at him. He'd surprised her, so she was surprising him in return.

Grissom couldn't help himself, and he uttered a soft groan as her movement pushed him in closer towards her. He shifted her weight in his hand instinctively, so that the right part of him was exactly paired up with the right part of her. The clothing that separated them must have transformed to gossamer; all he felt was heat and heartbeats. His eyes met hers, and the gloating expression on her face at his weakness shifted his focus. So, it's a game, hmm? Means nothing? We'll see.

"So," he murmured, "our perp secures his victim. To make his enjoyment easier, he uses the wall as an aid. He holds her here," he said, pushing against her wrist firmly, "and here," he repeated, squeezing her ass. That warranted a stifled noise from her, most likely a squeak of indignation. Too bad.

He lowered his face next to her left ear, whispering softly. "Our victims are unconscious, Sara, so they most likely aren't wrapping their legs around our perp in unrestrained desire." With a quick movement, he released her wrist to unlock her legs from around him. It wasn't difficult, as she's releasing them herself. He watched as red seeped down the skin on the side of her face to her neck. He'd embarrassed her. Good.

"Most likely, he positions her properly," he continued as he used both hands to position her properly, "gathers his bearings, and there you have it." Grissom returned his right hand back to her wrist, and he lifted his head to meet her eyes. He's pressing his body against hers, and he can tell she's realized she underestimated how far he'd go with this. He drops his restraint and gazes at her for what seems like forever, opening the darkness of his soul to her. Whatever she sees there seems to bother her, as the fire of defiance he saw before has faded into something softer, with a hint of alarm.

"And now you know," he whispered, his voice almost a growl. "Experiment over." He released her body first, and she scrambled to find her balance as he cut through the electrical tape with his knife. He lowered her wrists to her, and showed her the results. "This is the tape he used. You can go now." He sliced through the bindings on her wrists and walked out of the bathroom.

Grissom's heart was pounding and his body was on fire as he walked across his hotel room. I went too far. He stared out the large window, watching a small boat make its way up the river below. That was inappropriate, disrespectful, and absolutely grounds for sexual harassment. At a minimum.

A small voice in the back of his brain echoed evilly, "Oh yeah? She asked for it. It was her idea. She's been asking for it since you've arrived."

That didn't make it right. He'd let his emotions overrule his better judgment.

Sara's voice was soft as it interrupted his thoughts. "Grissom?"

He said nothing.

"Grissom."

"You should go," he told her firmly, not letting his eyes stray from the river below. A white motorboat with a blue canopy was moving upriver now; the previous boat having passed behind the trees moments ago.

"Are you going to pretend that didn't happen?" she asked. She wasn't angry, but there was that familiar hint of defiance in her voice.

"No. But you can, if you'd like." The white motorboat was almost out of sight now.

He heard her sigh heavily. "What do you want from me?" she asked, emotion dripping from every word.

"I'd ask the same of you," he replied.

"You have no basis to ask that. I can assure you, I want nothing from you."

"Except an argument."

"Jesus! What do you expect? You're here, okay? I left the lab with the sole purpose of leaving that part of my life behind. And now it's back, in all of its twisted glory."

"I've been nothing but polite and respectful to you, Sara. I'm here to do a job."

"Yes, and isn't that just peachy, because the one thing you neglected to be towards me in Vegas was respectful! And, why is it you that's here, anyways? Why'd it have to be you that showed up? And why's Sofia running the night shift?"

"I was on business travel when I got the call about this case. I had to… change my plans." He still wouldn't face her. The ripples in the river from the wake of the boat had calmed somewhat.

"Oh, gee, let me really express some sympathy for you in that regard. What are you missing? A lecture at a university? More cockroach racing? Or maybe another forensics seminar? Going to go hunt yourself down another bimbo to fill my place and placate your ego?"

Grissom stiffened visibly. She was pushing him, and his temper was brewing. "The last. I am supposed to be recruiting your replacement."

That stung her, as he heard her sniff softly and the room got deathly quiet. After a moment, she murmured sadly, "Where?"

Grissom paused, but answered truthfully. "Here. In Connecticut."

"Do… do you have a candidate in mind?"

"Yes."

"I… I need to go. I… don't need to hear this." He heard her pack up her little doughnuts and her kit. When she turned the doorknob, he spoke.

"It's you."

A pause. "What?"

"I came here to recruit you." He turned to face her, and wasn't surprised to see the welling of tears in her eyes. "I'm here to bring you home, Sara."

"No. noooo…" she moaned. "You can't be."

"The case got in the way. And I behaved poorly today. I apologize for that. But that is why I'm here." He paused, letting his words sink in. "For what it's worth, the team misses you too. There's a card for you - from them; I left it on the dresser by the door. I meant to give it to you when you left today. They'd be upset if you didn't have it."

She looked to her right, and lifted the somewhat scuffed envelope. He watched her as she opened it slowly, and as she read the notes from the team. Grissom had no idea what they said, but her tears started in earnest, running unheeded down her cheeks. She was mumbling softly, "… they didn't know… think it's about him… god…" She chuckled for a moment, and Grissom assumed she must be reading Greg's little note. Greg could always make her laugh. After a while, she put down the card on the table.

"They miss me."

"Yes, they do."

"They want me to come back."

"Yes."

"Why do you think I left, Grissom?"

"You left for personal reasons. I read it on your Leave of Absence form."

"I'm sure you did," she murmured to herself. "And…" she continued, her tone harsh, "you assumed that these 'reasons', that they involved you, right?"

"To some degree, yes. I saw your apartment."

Sara frowned at that, realizing he'd seen what she'd left behind. "They…" she said, pointing to the card. "They think my leaving is because of us. The non-relationship or whatever between us."

"Yes, they do."

"Do you?"

"I don't know."

"No, you wouldn't. Well here Griss, let me give you a clue. I didn't leave because of us. I didn't leave because of my inability to deal with the lack of an 'us' Broken hearts do mend after all. But don't doubt your instincts; I did leave because of you."

Grissom got a sick feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He did assume she left because of how he'd handled their relationship. Their personal relationship.

"In a way, you should be thanking me. I covered for your ass, and nobody suspects a thing. You see, I didn't leave because you were destroying my heart, Grissom. You'd already succeeded in that. I left because you were destroying my career."

…continued next chapter ->