Excuses

By Joan Powers

A/N Warning, this is NOT a warm and fuzzy story. Recent personal events along with the continued irritation of Sofia's presence, have motivated me to write this atypical piece. Some parallels have struck me between my relationship with a supposed friend and Sara's perceptions of Grissom. If TPTB continue to play these silly games, these are the results I think they'll reap. Thanks to Loisarah and Ms. Grits for their input.

Summary: When Sara walks into Grissom's office, she is stunned to discover Grissom holding Sofia. Her reaction to the scene surprises her even more. G/S Possible Spoilers Season 6

Type: G/S angst

Timeline/Spoilers: possible Season 6 spoilers Rating: PG-13 or K+

It was odd, the emotion which filled her when she stumbled into Grissom's office and found him holding Sofia in his arms. Sara had frozen, momentarily stunned by the abnormal sight. The feeling wasn't quite what she expected. True, there had been a momentary flicker of pain, yet it had been fleeting in nature, rather than a prolonged ache. Neither had she experienced deep sorrow or even despair. The strange sensation was unfamiliar at first. It was light and almost pleasant in nature. It was relief.

Before she swiftly backed away, she knew Grissom had seen her. Their eyes had made brief contact with one another; his face had certainly been flushed. And she could've been misinterpreting the cause of that tender scene, particularly given that Sofia was currently the main focus of their investigation. But for once, she didn't care. She was tired of making excuses for him.

As she calmly strolled back to the locker room, she wondered how many years she'd been doing this. She wasn't sure. With the sparseness of information available from Grissom, she'd taken it upon herself to become an expert in interpreting his every nuance and glance, every minor sigh and pause, every cryptic statement as if they were some how loaded with deeper hidden meaning.

Now she couldn't even begin to justify how the man who could barely hold her hand in the privacy of her apartment, apparently had no trouble hugging another woman in his office. Even yesterday Sara might have labored to convince herself that it was because he didn't have deeper feelings for Sofia, he wasn't emotionally invested in her. The embrace didn't mean as much to him. And perhaps she'd misinterpreted what she'd seen.

But today, she wasn't taking that all too familiar route, today she knew. It was all a matter of perception and hers had been radically altered within that fateful moment. She was a scientist so she recognized that her conclusions had been based on faulty assumptions. In that instant she'd critically re-evaluated the data and drawn the conclusion that all those deep feelings, all that pent up emotion that she'd previously attributed to him were a lie. He didn't pursue her because he didn't want her. He was incapable of making any emotional commitments. End of story. She'd been fooling herself.

All of his lame excuses. Or, she needed to put the blame squarely where it belonged, all of her lame excuses for him.

His job is so important to him; it's a vital part of him. It's hard for him to break away from it.

He's scared of getting hurt.

He's not good with personal relationships, he has trouble getting closer to people he cares for deeply.

She didn't even bother to consider Sofia's role in whatever she'd just seen. For she was irrelevant, if it hadn't been her eventually it would've been some other interchangeable female in Grissom's arms. Sofia was not worth wasting another iota of effort or energy on.

When Sara arrived at the locker room, she was amazed by her overall lack of feeling. Her steps felt lighter than they had in months. She hadn't realized she'd been shouldering such a heavy burden – her hopes and dreams of a future with Gil Grissom. The relief was satisfying, to say the least. Like an unsuspecting frog placed in a vat of water with the temperature gradually rising to boil it, she'd become aware that she'd been nearly suffocating beneath the staggering weight of her unrealistic expectations. She'd been living for some subtle glance or comment to infuse her with enough hope to sustain her for yet another few months. She'd been starving on the paltry diet of the crumbs of his limited attention. Currently she wasn't happy per se, but something within her had definitely changed. She was free of the crushing weight of Gil Grissom.

Once she sat down on the bench, she knew she'd be okay. Originally she'd planned to work voluntary overtime on the case. However, she didn't feel like staying anymore, so she opened her locker to grab her coat.

Gossip apparently traveled rapidly for Nick appeared in the doorway of the room, slightly breathless. Trying to be casual, but failing, he asked, "Hey Sara, you okay?"

"I'm fine," she smiled, touched by his concern, and rose to leave. Walking out of the building, she found herself wondering how to enjoy her newly discovered freedom. For once, in addition to skipping overtime, she also fully intended to utilize her night off. It was time for a change.

XXXXXXXXXX

That afternoon in her apartment, she sat in front of her laptop while munching take out vegetable Egg Foo Yong. She wasn't searching for anything in particular; she just clicked wherever her whims took her.

It astounded her that several hours had passed and yet there was no blinding pain, just the sudden absence of it as if the afflicted area had been amputated. Had the part of her that believed in love and hope been removed, she idly wondered. Even though she'd worked a full shift, she hadn't slept yet, half-afraid that like some surgical procedure, the pain would sneak up on her when the anesthetic wore off. But she wasn't feeling numb or even the dullness created by alcohol. In fact, the future seemed strangely open and filled with new and exciting possibilities.

FBI crime lab in Quantico had an opening. That caught her eye.

She didn't feel as if she had to run away from the lab with her tail between her legs, for she'd done nothing to be ashamed off, other than pining after an unavailable man. If anything, Gil Grissom was the one whose face should be burning. Though to be fair, the crumbs of attention he'd tossed her over the years had been far too scarce to constitute any promise or even a shadow of serious intentions towards her.

Due to her chaotic upbringing, she had no roots, at least none with any depth. Her shallow attempts to integrate into communities over the course of her life had been easily disrupted. Gil Grissom had been the dominant force tethering her to Vegas. Now that was gone, so it was time to re-evaluate her situation. Although her co-workers were nice enough, they'd never become an integral part of her life. She'd certainly miss them if she left, but by nature she tended to be a loner and preferred solitary pursuits anyway. A change in scenery might be welcome, some place where she could have a fresh start, not branded with the reputation as the girl who had a crush on her boss.

As she read the description of the FBI position, it sounded intriguing, she'd always liked challenges. She'd always been strongly motivated achievement wise. It would definitely be a move up career wise. And to graduate to the Number one crime lab would certainly be a feather in her cap. Yet she sensed, a new job in itself wouldn't be sufficient. Her time in Vegas had shown her that something was missing in her life that a career alone couldn't fulfill.

She also doubted that a man could fill that gap within her, though she was open to consider dating. To be courted, to be openly pursued by a man who wasn't too cowardly to profess his feelings for her. It would be a refreshing change. Even a casual date could be fun. Yet she needed to find her own way, she needed to focus on what might make her whole.

The D.C. position had captured her attention so she book marked it so she could return to it later. As she continued to scan for CSI positions, she remembered that D.C. winters were cold. She hadn't enjoyed that season during her time at Harvard, though hopefully, being further south, it wouldn't get as cold for as long.

Then another web page caught her attention. Actually rather than being a job advertisement, it was an advertisement for a hotel that displayed a photo of the beach. While Sara had never been a devote participant in any organized religion, she did believe that God acted in ways to direct her during her times of need. Just looking at that picture of the beach caused something to tug within her.

She'd spent most of her childhood in California. While she had no strong ties to any people, she longed for the beach. She'd spent a lot of her childhood there; sometimes happily playing, other times merely escaping her parents' heated arguments. She missed the beach; suddenly she ached for it, the salty smell, the warm sand, the constant ebb and flow of the tide. She felt that the beach could heal her more than any cold D.C. winter.

The phone ringing interrupted her. Rather than her cell phone, it was her private line. She casually wondered if it was Grissom, then she quashed the foolish notion and answered it. It was just some salesperson.

It was astounding that so many hours had passed before she'd even thought about Grissom. She hadn't envisioned a single scenario in which he'd call her or stop by her apartment, desperate to convince her that his actions were innocent because he cared so much about what she thought. She hadn't even bothered to come up with any pathetic excuses to explain away what she'd seen.

Why had she fixated upon this man for so long?

His intelligence had impressed her, not only was he well versed in entomology and forensics, he was well read as well, truly a Renaissance man who appreciated the arts and music as well as science. And unlike any of the other intelligent men she'd met, he wasn't totally obsessed with himself, had decent social skills, and he was very sexually appealing. It was a rare and irresistible combination that she craved. The odds of meeting another man like this were rare indeed. Maybe that's why she started making excuses for him, simply wanting to be near him, drawn to the aura that he exuded. The suggestion of more, prompted by his casual flirting, was just too alluring.

But that's all it was. Casual flirting. He was incapable of anything more. For what type of man can claim to have strong feelings for a woman while at the same time sleep with little more than a glorified prostitute? What type of man can essentially see the dead body of the woman he supposedly loves and yet be motivated to do nothing? What type of man can see his love's life threatened before his very eyes and yet not be spurred into irrational action, only remaining calm and professional throughout the entire ordeal? What type of a man can claim to have strong feelings for a woman and then flirt with another woman right in front of her? No woman with any healthy sense of self-respect should put up with all this.

What type of a man can claim to have has such strong feelings for a woman and then sit on them, doing nothing for six years?

Actions speak louder than noble intentions. If his intentions had ever been honorable, she had no idea. How much of their so-called relationship had only been inside her head? Were all those supposedly deeply repressed feelings ever truly there? Was Grissom's greatest fear that once she got to know him she would learn that he was hollow? Instead of being privy to a treasure trove of deeper emotional thoughts, was there simply a void?

The burning torch she'd carried for years had been fading due to lack of fuel. Now, dripping wet, any last faint glowing embers had died

XXXXXXXX

Sara sat at the conference table, carefully filling out her leave request form. After her night off, she'd taken a few more vacation days to update her resume and compose some cover letters. She couldn't resist applying for the FBI position, but she was also excited about some possibilities she'd uncovered in San Diego. In addition to a position with the crime lab, she'd found a position for a forensics professor at a prominent university. That could be a nice change, a new routine. Possibly dealing with more people and less death. It could be good for her. She was planning to check out her options within the next few days, given that she'd already been contacted to set up interviews.

Her leave form was ready. She planned to bi-pass Grissom and hand it directly to Ecklie. She hadn't dealt with Grissom since the incident. She wasn't avoiding him, and she wasn't afraid to face him. She just didn't feel like dealing with any last minute head games he might play.

Suddenly she realized that she wasn't alone. Grissom was hanging back in the doorway. Her radar had already desensitized, for she hadn't noticed. Usually the hairs on the back of her neck would prickle if he were within ten feet of her. It was apparent that he hadn't been sleeping well. Perhaps there was pain in his eyes; yet she didn't take the time to analyze. He would have to express himself like a normal human being for her to listen to him.

"It's not what it seemed," he murmured.

What had she ever seen in this man? Whatever spark had drawn her to him had died. Where he had once looked intelligent and distinguished, now he looked aged and faded. Pathetic.

"No, it never was. You were never the man I thought you were."

She walked past him without hesitation. It was time to move on.

THE END

A/N I haven't given up on GSR. I'm just extremely annoyed by TPTB. Love to hear your thoughts on this one.