Disclaimer: Ask my dog. He thinks he owns the whole damn house.
Rating, Beta Props, etc. – See Chapter 1. Many, many thanks to Cybrokat and Jennie because I haven't mentioned them in a while. I adore my betas.
A/N: I'd like to thank all of my readers and reviewers. Really. I ain't writing this for my health – it's for you readers and I love it when you leave a review! Even if you think it sucks – I still want to hear your opinion. I love opinions. (Ask Jennie!)
Oh, and watch out for that huge pile of fluff over there. I think some of it has drifted into this fic, and it's damn hard to get out. Sticky stuff, that fluff. Sorry about that!
First and last lines of the YTDAW Improv challenge were provided, and are italicized. Microsoft Word says 3,028 words. Wow - word limits are obviously not my thing!
"Crazy? I was crazy once." Grissom smiled at her softly, reaching out two fingers to gently lift her bangs out of her eyes.
Sara blushed slightly and turned away from his gaze. Her assumptions about him were right on the money; he was incredibly intense. "That's not exactly what I meant, but you won't hear me disagreeing." They sat side by side on the bench behind the Inn, doing nothing more than watching the clouds cross the pale sky as they talked of nothing and everything at all. It was the last day of Sara's scheduled vacation, and a week after she'd allowed Grissom into her bed.
Well, sort of. Technically, he had allowed her into his bed; she'd moved her things into his room at his request. And he hadn't pressed her further, in a physical sense, than she was willing to go. How he knew her limits was indeed a mystery, and although they'd pretty much explored every millimeter of each other's bodies, they hadn't actually done the deed… yet.
When he suggested they extend their stay through this week, Sara had agreed, albeit hesitantly. Her uncertainty disappeared around Tuesday afternoon, when he'd grinned at her like a total goofball before ditching his sneakers and socks and running like a madman into the bay. He was in up to his knees before he turned to her and waved.
"What?" she'd hollered from beneath a shade tree, their picnic lunch abandoned off to her left.
"Hi!" he called.
Sara's eyebrows rose in question as she responded, "Hi yourself!"
He plodded his way through the water, searching methodically for stones and shells and other items that intrigued him before eventually emerging. Gritty sand covered his feet as he returned to the blanket. He lowered himself slowly, taking care not to dirty the blanket as he shifted his weight closer to her. He deposited his findings next to her, shaking them dry. Sara couldn't take her eyes from him; she was dumbfounded. "What was that all about?"
"Beach scavenging, it was fun," he said, brushing the sand from his toes. "You should try it sometime."
"Fun."
"Yes, Sara," he said, cupping his hand along her cheek, his fingers slightly scratchy from the bits of sand still attached. "Fun - as in, not serious or morbid or dramatic or depressing. As in…" He paused for a moment before murmuring, "happy."
"Wow. There is another you, isn't there?"
"He's fun. He's intriguing. He likes to tickle helpless and confused women who are stuck in a world where everything has to have meaning." And he wiggled his fingers at her in false threat.
Sara giggled; it was the fingers that did it. And watching his face light up at her smile made her realize that although she did love the man that was her supervisor, she would enjoy learning about this new man who hid behind that man she loved. Her smile broadened, and his did as well. They collapsed together, him tickling her fiendishly and her squealing in protest. The tickling progressed to something a little more interesting, and they'd spent the remainder of the afternoon and half the night indoors, intertwined in the trappings of his bed. It was a good thing that the Sterling Inn had room service or else they would have starved to death.
Despite the enjoyable times spent beneath the linen sheets, there were more significant ones spent along the grounds of the Inn and within the town. They talked, finally, about each other and their expectations. He'd told her about his parents, his mother and her deafness, his father and his philandering and abandonment. He told her about his younger days, and the relationship with a woman named Lucille that shattered his heart. She'd told him about her mother, and where she was living now. It took a while for her to tell him about her father, and her brother, and he'd held her the entire time while she sobbed.
They talked of the lab, of their co-workers, and of the cases from their pasts. Neither mentioned Hank, or the bad times between them. They reminisced about when they'd met and how bizarre it was that they'd kept in touch. "The fickle hand of fate apparently cannot be denied," he had said as he squeezed her hand gently as they walked along the shoreline. She had silently agreed, and had marveled at how easy it was to just go with the flow.
They spent quite some time saying nothing at all, just relishing in the closeness of another human being. Sara feared it would be too much for him, they were together twenty-four hours a day, but he seemed comfortable with her presence in all situations. It was new for her as well, this constant companion, but she found she enjoyed having him around.
Now, sitting next to him on 'their' bench, knowing that their time together was coming to an end, concerns about their return to Vegas fluttered to the forefront of her mind.
"Gil," she said softly, "what happens when we go home?"
He ran his fingers softly against her cheek. "You're worried. Don't be honey, it'll work out."
She decided to bring up the one thing they hadn't discussed much at all this week. "I… I want to sing."
He turned away from her, focusing on the sunlight dancing along the tips of the waves in front of him. "I know. I'll sign the paperwork for you and Warrick when we return."
She placed her hand gently on his, communicating her concern. "I know you don't approve. If you want me to…"
"No." He placed his other hand atop hers. "It's what you want, and I'll support it."
"Would it help if I toned down the sex kitten act a bit?"
He chuckled softly to himself. "How about only when I'm in the audience?"
She stiffened at that. "You don't plan on attending every Thursday now, do you?"
He turned and faced her with a slight rise to his lips. "Do I make you nervous?"
"You know you do."
He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "My pretty siren. If I can't hear you sing in public, will you sing for me in private?"
"Only if you make me," she said huskily before he deepened their kiss.
"My pleasure," he replied.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
He rose slowly, pushing aside his comforter. Odd how lonely his bed seemed without Sara in it. They had flown in last night, giving them each time to sleep through the evening and long into the day. Shift started in two hours. Part of him was expectant, eager. The other part, well that part was quaking in its boots in the far corner of his mind and whimpering.
He stretched with a groan. Mentally, he again reviewed the speech he intended to give his team. It was short, to the point, and provoked no question. If he could get out half without stumbling over his own tongue, it would be a miracle.
Those two hours came quickly, and Grissom found himself standing at the head of the table in their meeting room, the questions on each face clearly visible. He'd glanced at Sara when he'd walked into the room and had seen nothing but support and love in her eyes. It was brief, but it was enough. Taking a deep breath, he began.
"I'll make this brief, as we all have work to do. Sara and I are involved, and neither of us will let it interfere with how we do our jobs. If you have any problems, I suggest you address them with me, with us, right here and now."
Sara was subtle in her surprise; perhaps she hadn't expected him to be so direct. Catherine's expression wore more humor than astonishment, which wasn't unexpected. Catherine could read him well; she had always known. He met her gaze calmly, and he could have sworn she was holding back an atta-boy wink of approval.
Nick and Greg were more focused on Sara, both wearing twin expressions of concern and mild disbelief. The question of "Are you okay?" was threatening to fall from either of the young men's lips. Sara gave a subtle nod in response, causing both men to lean back against their chairs in mutual acceptance. Greg's grin, however, appeared much more sincere than the half-grimace attached to Mr. Stokes. Greg's acceptance surprised Grissom; he expected more of a flicker of disappointment and rejection. It was touching, in a way. Greg put Sara's happiness first.
Unfortunately, the cat's-eye green of Warrick Brown's stare was neither surprised, nor cheerful, nor full of atta-boys towards Grissom. The panther from before had reemerged, and he was not a happy kitty. Warrick stood and left the room without a word.
Sara's face fell as she turned to Grissom, distraught. He tried to convey the sympathy and support in his silent reply. Catherine's eyes didn't leave Warrick's back as he continued down the corridor, his destination unknown. With a soft sigh, she spoke to the remaining members of their small family.
"This is going to be difficult for him," she said, focusing her attention more on Sara. "We discussed it… and I would recommend you both speak with him separately. And give him time."
Grissom raised an eyebrow at the unspoken question crossing the gap between him and the third chair in from the left. Catherine knew his look and shifted her hazel eyes towards the table and then the ceiling, basically anywhere but at him. Well, that answers that question, and I owe Jim twenty bucks. Damn.
He returned his focus to the most important person in the room, his Sara. She was fighting back the tears; he knew that look well. It was time to move this along before things got any worse for her.
"So, anyone else have anything they'd like to share? No? Then we get back to work. Catherine, you have the arson on Lafayette. Sara, you go with Nick to help with his missing persons case. I'll have you both know that there were quite a few messages on my voicemail regarding that, so the sooner you can wrap it up, the better. Greg, you're with me. We have a partially buried body to exhume." He ended his words with a grin. Exhumations were always intriguing.
Greg didn't look nearly as excited as Grissom did, but he was complacent and followed Grissom down the hallway as they all dispersed.
Halfway through their processing of the scene, Greg finally asked The Question. "So, are you going to let her and Warrick sing again? Well, assuming that Warrick gets over the fact that you and she are slee… uh, together now."
Grissom chose to ignore Greg's slip of the tongue. His physical relationship with Sara was private, and it would remain that way, no matter what rumors flew or what questions were asked. "I won't stop her from doing what she wants, if that answers your question. If she chooses to sing again with Warrick, I won't disallow it."
"Oh," Greg replied, slightly mollified. "Well, that's good, I suppose. It's very important to her you know."
"Yes Greg, I know."
Greg took the hint from Grissom's tone and they continued their work around the skeletal remains in silence.
Once they returned to the lab, Grissom left Greg with Al and began his own search for Warrick. He knew Sara was still out with Nick; their SUV wasn't back in the lot behind the lab. But Warrick's car was in the lot, which meant he was here… somewhere.
He found him in the ballistics room, nose buried in a microscope. He approached cautiously and laid a hand on his protégé's shoulder.
"We should talk."
Warrick didn't move a muscle, and a tense moment passed between them. Finally, he sighed and green met blue in an unstable truce.
"Alright," Warrick growled softly, stepping away from the scope and standing to face Grissom, "Talk."
"I was wrong. I've been wrong for a while, about a lot of things. And I apologize for that. But she needs you, and I hope that you can take that into consideration before you shut her out of your life."
"I'm not shutting her out. It isn't her that's that problem."
"Then tell me. Tell me how I'm the problem and I'll fix it."
Warrick studied him for a moment, his tense expression wavering.
"I want her to be happy," Grissom said intently. "You know that."
"Can I trust you?" Warrick's voice was thick, heavy with emotion. "Can I trust you not to hurt her? Again?"
"She does."
Warrick scoffed, "She's running blind, basing her decisions on faith and dreams that she wants to come true. What are you gonna do when things get tough? What are your plans when she's hell on earth and making your life hell too? You gonna leave her in the dust, like you've done before?"
Grissom kept his temper in check, although the hostility coming from Warrick was fierce. "What do you want me to say? I can't predict the future. I can only live in the now. And right now, I have no plans of leaving her side, no matter what life may throw at us."
Warrick wasn't placated. "Sounds a little lame. Cowardly."
"What do you want from me, Warrick? I have no idea what will happen - today, tomorrow, ten years from now. If you want me to tell you I love her then consider it said. I love her. More than anything." Grissom was direct, his features intense. "But you've already known that."
Warrick's demeanor shifted. "Maybe. But hearing it helps. She needs people, you know. More than most do. She needs me as her friend, and I'll be damned if I'm not gonna be there for her. So as her friend, you should keep in mind that I'm watching out for her."
"I understand."
"You should keep in mind that I will protect her."
"I'm sure you will."
"I trusted you once. I believe deep down you do right by people. You did right by me before, and I haven't forgotten that. Not by a longshot. So," Warrick said with a shrug, "I guess I can take a chance on you, like you did on me."
Grissom nodded and both men left the room and headed towards the kitchen. Conrad Ecklie stopped them midway, right in front of the DNA lab.
"Hello there, Gil, War-rick," Ecklie purred with a smile. "Off to find Miss Sidle? She's in the kitchen." He stepped aside to let the two men pass. As they walked away, Ecklie called, "I'm surprised you both are willing to share her, but hey, whatever floats your boat and all…"
Grissom froze, Warrick at his side. Both men turned slowly as Grissom politely asked, "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Conrad stated clearly as he raised his head in superiority.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Warrick said as he stepped closer to the dayshift supervisor, "but I thought I heard you say that Grissom and I were 'sharing' Sara Sidle. And I don't think I cared for what you implied." Grissom followed Warrick, mere inches between them, and the two men closed in on the still confident Ecklie.
"I did," he replied. "And I'll say it again. I find it humorous and intriguing that such different men can A) Find Miss Sidle attractive and B) Be willing to share her. Do you switch off, like every other day or something?" Ecklie chuckled to himself as he rolled his eyes dramatically.
Grissom glanced at Warrick for approximately one millisecond before both men grabbed Ecklie by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall.
"Do not insult her name or character in my lab. Are we clear, Conrad?" Grissom hissed out his words in a harsh whisper.
"And do not assume what you do not know," Warrick growled, tightening his grip. "Sara is my friend, and I won't tolerate you talking trash about her."
Ecklie was visibly shaken, and in his attempts to retain some shred of dignity, he sputtered, "Wow, that's very impressive, from both of you. Such defensiveness. I see the rumor is true. I'll have to ask her if she plans on picking between the two of you sometime, or if the nightshift is just going to turn into one big orgy. I'm sure that Sheriff Atwater would be …"
Two fists silenced him in synchronized tandem. The force sent Conrad's head slamming into the wall with a hard thud. Grissom and Warrick watched as the pale gray eyes rolled up towards the balding head while Ecklie's scrawny body slid to the floor.
Grissom raised an eyebrow at Warrick, surprised that he too had responded in the same manner at exactly the same time.
Warrick responded with a half-shrug. "Great minds think alike?"
"Works for me."
"Think we'll get suspended?"
Grissom echoed the half-shrug. "Maybe." He thought a moment before continuing with, "Probably."
"Worth it, though."
"Absolutely."
Grissom followed Warrick down the hall towards the kitchen. In the distance he heard that annoying lab tech, what's-his-name… Hodges… let out a yelp and hollered, "Omigod! Mr. Ecklie, sir, are you okay? Omigod! Help! Quick! Anyone! I need help! What's the number for 911?"
... continued next chapter ->