IV
And she had waited until the words had come, cryptic and ambiguous in the beginning. Later, when he had offered her breakfast at a quiet diner, the words had become infused with him, with the persona that had been repressed so often that the temporary freedom it was given confused him and made him insecure and scared. But Grissom had talked, and she had been patient. And she had spoken, and he had listened. The rift that had been between them seemed to have grown a bridge, albeit it a rather wonky and fragile one. But it was a bridge, and a start. And an answer she had sought, but never received.
The engine was shut off but the headlights remained on, illuminating the desert grasses and stone pavement in front. Turning her head to the side, she spoke. "So, how am I going to get to work tonight?"
He frowned, and she couldn't supress a smile. "Bet you didn't think of that, huh."
"I suppose I could drive you back to work, so that you can pick up your car."
Sensible solution, but it would mean the end of their breakfast/talk/date, or whatever their little outing could be called. Then again, she needed a bit of time to absorb and reorganise all the thoughts that were currently haphazardly twirling about in her mind.
"That'll work."
Again, the car was put in park, except this time Sara grabbed the doorhandle and pushed it open. Turning around, she took one last look at the driver and nodded a little, her features soft and shy. A face to fall in love with all over again, he thought.
"Sara…?"
"I had a nice time tonight," She grinned, "Or well, this morning. Thank you."
"The pleasure was entirely mine." His eyes locked on hers, and they stared at each other for a moment, conveying a deeper meaning than just the "So thank you" that followed.
---
The dreams were composed of home-video sequences, the ones you would sometimes take out of an old box and pop in the VCR; to watch footage from days gone by. Days where you were happy and smiling, where your dad would tower you high and mighty over the flower beds and twirl you around until you got so dizzy you'd have to stand still and get your bearing for a full minute.
They were days of simplicity and joy, of the sheer fun of being a young girl who thought she had it all. How naïve she had been.
The reality was anything but fairy-tale wonderful. And the dreams replayed those scenes too. The sequences would start with laughter, but end with eyes wide open in shock - or was it hatred? With that scent of copper which was so strong, she was still able to recollect it so many years later, manifesting itself in nightmares that she wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy.
She flipped over her pillow and curled up in bed, dragging the blanket tightly around her and tucking it around her shoulders. It was safe and warm and dark, and a welcome reprieve from the nightmares. Unfortunately, she was awake now, and trying to go back to sleep would be of no use. Either she would just toss and turn trying in vain to fall back into slumber, or she would actually succumb to the dreams, or nightmares, and be cranky when the time came to wake up.
She sat on the edge of the bed and hung her head, taking deep and slow breaths. Her hair felt lisp and gross, her tanktop and shorts were sticking too much to her body to be called comfortable. Three more hours until she had to get ready for work. A long shower, maybe some reorganizing of her books and clothes… It had the ability to provide the distraction she felt she needed.
The pearls of hot water splashed against her skin and she luxuriated in the feeling. The sounds of the water wooshing through the pipes, travelling through to the shower head before creating that near sensual cloak of steaming fog and angry water droplets. They calmed her somewhat, and she braced her hands on the tiled wall, ducking underneath the spray. Little rindles of liquid swivelled down her hair and over her shoulders, mingling with the rest of the water on her skin. With her head down, she followed the irregular patterns that some of the droplets chose to make, until they flowed over her ankle and heel onto the basin before they were swallowed up hungrily by the drain. If only that drain would swallow her nightmares as easily as the water.
'Toute tête est un entrepôt, où dormant des statues de dieux et de démons de toute taillet et de tout âge, dont l'inventaire n'est jamais dressé.'
The quote entered unbidden. 'Every mind is a warehouse, where images of gods and demons sleep, of every size and every age, of which an inventory has never been made.' Or something similar. For some reason, she remembered the French words perfectly, but the exact translation by a former professor had slipped right by her. The meaning however, was one that she was all too familiar with. Her mind harbored memories and demons dating back to her earliest years, and when they awoke from their dormancy and created havoc, peaceful sleep was out of the question. And there were always unfamiliar ones to appear a next time, just when she thought she had battled them all.
Why did the dreams appear now? Breakfast had gone so well, and she had felt somewhat freer, like she could breathe in deeply and smile without her imaginary facial mask cracking and her heart weeping at the pretense. Her real self could now acknowledge her more-than attraction without the rational part in her self screaming at her for setting herself up for heartache and disappointment.
Picking up her beach towel, as soft and luxurious as it was old, she huddled in its comfort and trudged back to bed. The shower had oddly worn her of energy, and she stretched on the bed, flipping over onto her stomach, her back a shield against all the horrors of life.
---
His fingers rubbed the tender skin underneath his eyes and he closed them for a few seconds, before reopening them again against the darkness of the room. Muffling a yawn he stretched and laid back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
A fragile looking spider had started to weave a web between the lamp and the plaster, dangling from what seemed like a single strand of spider silk. Tenacious and magnificent in their complex simplicity, the little creature reminded Grissom of his earlier breakfast with Sara. The fact that she had stuck around for years on end still amazed him, and when he had sat across her in the dinner, he told her so. He even tried to explain some of his behavior, for as far as that had been possible. Seeing that even he couldn't rationalize his past decisions, he had shrugged his shoulder and told her that he didn't know many of his reasons either. And while he had felt inadequate, not for the first time in his life, she had simply smiled and moved on to another topic, accepting his apology with grace and more understanding than he deserved.
Tbc…