Author's Notes: Thank you, so much, for all the kind feedback. Yes, it is nice to escape the fluffy bunny stories every now and then, but don't give up on the GSR just yet. I am, after all, a devoted pristess in several shipper fandoms, and one of them is Grissom and Sara.
Giving Up
by Kristen Elizabeth
When it came time to pick a CSI to accompany the police in serving a warrant to Dr. Lawton Forbes' home, Grissom was naturally at the top of the list. He was waiting, field kit carefully stocked, almost like he had been anticipating the event, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Brass when he arrived at the upscale, suburban house.
"Got the warrant?" Grissom asked, before he was even out of the car.
Brass patted his coat pocket. "Ink's still wet. How long have you been here?" He thought better of the question. "Never mind. We've got clearance for a DNA sample and anything in plain view, got it?"
"Plain view? Did you tell the judge…"
"I told the judge everything we've got. Which isn't much. An accusation from a near teenager, who happens to have a record for possession. So plain view's the best you're gonna get. I mean it, Gil. No poking into cabinets or drawers or drains. No chemicals, no ALS, no…"
He was interrupted by a man clearing his throat. "Excuse me, officers." Dr. Forbes stood on his front stoop, his arms folded over his expensive shirt. "Can I help you?" When he recognized the two men from his office not too long ago, his expression became friendlier. "Hello again. Do you have more questions about Julia Sommers?"
"In a roundabout way," Brass replied. He pulled out the signed and sealed document. "We have a warrant, Dr. Forbes." He smiled without mirth. "Let's talk inside."
"You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have…" Sara loaded her toothbrush up with mint paste and paused to stare at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Had the woman staring back at her really and truly kissed her rape counselor, the man who might be connected to a murder she was investigating? It didn't seem quite possible. Like it had happened to someone else, and Sara had just heard about it.
She stuck the brush in her mouth and started scrubbing.
Brass probably had his warrant by now. Grissom had likely pushed him into expediting it. For someone who merely followed the evidence wherever it lead, he had certainly formed an iron-clad opinion as to where this evidence might go. What she couldn't understand was why.
Her three-times daily ritual continued, unhampered by her heavy thoughts. She brushed and brushed and brushed, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.
What had sent her into Lawton's arms? What had taken hold of her body while he was kissing her, touching her? And what had kept her from going over the edge, from making another mistake?
The only answer she could come up with…was Grissom.
Sara rinsed her mouth out and reached for her floss. "…the facts of life."
"A warrant really wasn't necessary. I would have volunteered a sample." Lawton opened his mouth and allowed Grissom to swab the inside of his cheek.
"Are you admitting to having a relationship with Julia Sommers?" Brass asked.
"I'm not admitting to anything without my lawyer," the doctor replied. "Guilty or innocent, that's just legal common sense."
Brass watched Grissom close up the sample swab and carefully label it. He wasn't cutting any corners, taking any chances. Brass recognized the look in his friend's eye. Grissom was out to hang the guy.
"Well, since you're not under arrest, there's really no need for a lawyer," Brass said. "Why don't you just answer our questions, and maybe we can clear this whole thing up."
Lawton sat back in his leather chair. Like everything else in his neat and orderly home, it was well out of a state employee's price range. "I'm sorry, Captain Brass, but I don't think so. We'll talk if I ever am arrested."
"Dr. Forbes." It was the first time Grissom had spoken to the man since they'd entered his house. "Would you mind if I took a look around? It's in the warrant."
Their stares met and suddenly Brass felt like he was the Crocodile Hunter, observing two alpha males sizing each other up before a territory battle.
"Go right ahead," Lawton finally said. "Take your time."
Sara wandered around her apartment, absent-mindedly straightening up. There wasn't much out of place; she didn't spend enough time in her home to mess it up. But there were some books that needed to be re-shelved, and a light layer of dust that required elimination.
The last book in the stack that had been accumulating on her coffee table was the entomology text Grissom had given her several Christmases ago. Instead of sliding it back into its place between Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus, a well-intentioned, but never read gift from a former college roommate, and a battered copy of Valley of the Dolls that she'd read a hundred times during her short stay with her first foster family, Sara took the book over to her favorite armchair and curled up with it.
She glanced at the couch sitting catty corner to the chair. Grissom had sat there not so long ago while she poured out her heart and her life story. It was the only place in her apartment where she could visualize him. Shaking her head, she opened the book.
Grissom didn't just hand out books as an afterthought gift. No, he was a note-taker. Or more appropriately, a note-leaver. Scattered throughout the text, in margins and beside diagrams, he'd scribbled footnotes for her in black pen, addendums to the information that he'd thought useful. An anecdote here about how a certain species of beetle related to the timeline of a body's decomposition in tropical heat; a one-line notation there about how to deal with a fire ant bite. Always interesting, always appreciated.
Sara closed up the book with a fair amount of force. She'd read too much into those notes at the time. Back then, she'd thought them Grissom's way of telling her that he wanted her to be a part of his super-intelligent, bug-driven life. Now, she was certain that he was only trying to educate her, to make her a better CSI. It was a nice gesture.
So why did she suddenly want to hit something?
Unlike most bachelors, Dr. Forbes had invested a good chunk of money in a large, luxurious four poster, hand carved Victorian bed. It was obvious to Grissom, who'd made his career out of interpreting such things, that Lawton Forbes invited women into his bed on a fairly regular basis. He'd made it a place women wanted to be, the realization of a typical female fantasy.
It turned Grissom's stomach to think about who might have been in that bed, realizing her fantasies.
"I had the frame imported from England." The doctor entered the room on silent feet. "The antiques dealer swore that Queen Victoria slept on it once."
When Grissom said nothing, and failed to even acknowledge his presence, Lawton came around in front of him, forcing a confrontation.
"I know you work with Sara Sidle," he began. Hearing her name coming from him boiled Grissom's blood. "She's…a special woman. Isn't she?"
"Sara has nothing to do with this investigation," Grissom said, struggling to keep his voice even and detached. "She's no longer on the Julia Sommers case."
"Because she was raped? Like Julia?" He paused. "Or because of me?"
Grissom's eyes narrowed. "What happened to waiting for your lawyer?"
"Am I incriminating myself to suggest that there's a connection between me and Julia Sommers, when you've shown up with a warrant for a DNA sample that you couldn't have gotten unless there was a connection?" He smiled. "Of course I'm connected to Julia. And to Sara. I counseled them both after their ordeals."
"There's a word for what you've done, but it's not counseling."
Lawton stepped forward. "Does it upset you that a woman working under your supervision was assaulted? Do you feel responsible for her, Mr. Grissom?"
"Doctor," he corrected the man.
"Avoiding the question?"
"Ignoring. It has no relevance." Grissom paused. "If I were you, I would get my affairs in order."
The man smirked. "We're intelligent men. We don't need to resort to empty threats." His eyes followed Grissom as he left the bedroom. "Have a nice day, Dr. Grissom."
Brass was waiting for him in the living room. "Let's go," Grissom glowered. "I've got a DNA match to make."
It was supposed to be her day off, but after an afternoon spent trapped in her apartment with nothing but political babbling on TV and emotional landmines on her bookshelf, Sara needed the sterile comfort of her real home, her lab.
She was just settling down with her notes from the Julia Sommers case when she noticed Grissom pass by the glass wall. He wouldn't be happy to see her putting in overtime, but she couldn't seem to care. They'd been avoiding a real talk for days, and it was only serving to give her an ulcer.
She caught up to him in the DNA lab. Standing just outside, in the corridor, she watched him approach the tech, a new guy she didn't recognize, and ask him something. When the young man shrugged his shoulders, Grissom ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.
Sara stepped in front of him as he tried to leave the room. "Can we talk?"
He blew out a breath. "Sara, this isn't a good time."
The words stung, but she was used to it. "Is there ever a good time, Grissom?"
"Sometime when you're actually supposed to be here," he retorted. "Haven't you already maxed out on overtime?"
"What have you got running in there?" she asked.
"DNA."
She didn't need a sixth sense to read between his lines. Suddenly, she knew just what DNA sample he had running. "You really did it," Sara said, coldly. After a moment to collect herself, she went on. "Well. Tell me about it."
"I can't." Grissom adjusted his glasses. "You're not on this case anymore."
If he'd expected the news to push her over the edge, he'd be sorely disappointed. Sara wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "It's probably best," she told him, slipping her shaking hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "I'm too connected."
He blinked. Her calm response had thrown him off. It gave her a mean bit of pleasure. "What did you want to talk about, Sara?"
She never got to answer the question. The unnamed lab tech interrupted them, waving a piece of paper at Grissom. "Results are in," he chirped, obviously proud to show off his skills to the legendary CSI. "Perfect match, Dr. Grissom." He grinned. "Your suspect left a little bit of himself behind on Julia Sommers. And we nailed him!"
Sara tried to swallow a massive lump that suddenly formed in her throat, but it wouldn't go down. She refused to meet Grissom's eyes, convinced that if she saw even a hint of triumph in them, that she might do something she'd later regret.
She didn't expect his next words. "I'm sorry."
"Why?" she struggled to ask. "For being right?" She shook her head. "It might be true that he had a sexual relationship with her, but the presence of one pubic hair is hardly indicative of a murder."
"Are you really so blinded?"
Her head snapped up. "Get off your high horse," Sara whispered. "And try to pretend, just a for a second, that you have a beating heart."
"Sara." He considered her for a long moment. "Go home. As of now, you're on a week's leave. I don't want to see you in this lab for the next seven days."
"Good." Gathering her strength, Sara faced him with a straight back and a head held high. "Because I don't want to be here."
"She's right about one thing, Dr. Grissom." The young lab tech pulled at his ear once Sara had disappeared down the hallway. "I can only say that the guy had sex with Julia Sommers. Not that he murdered her."
Grissom fixed him with a look that could have frozen Lake Mead. "If a word of what just happened gets around this lab, I will fire you myself."
To Be Continued