Thanks Radz for the beta. And I bet you wanna know what song I'm talking about. I bet you do. Mahaha!
The first thing that she did upon entering her apartment was not to slip off the ungodly high heels she had on her feet. It was not to shrug off her peacoat and toss her keys on the counter. There was nothing normal about the night and the normalities of her movements had died away too as soon as she had left the dance floor.
No. Sara Sidle shut the door to her apartment and made a beeline for the computer. Once seated behind the desk, tapping out a staccato rhythm with her foot, she powered it up and waited for the pleasant sound of the welcome screen to greet her.
The events of the night were beginning to cool from a boil to a simmer in her mind and while her emotions weren't as unchecked as they had been earlier, she was still smiling and there was still a blush upon her cheeks. The blush hid the deeper, guiltier parts of her soul. Her fingers still remembered the gentle texture of his suit and the heat of the man it surrounded. The sensuality of the entire situation was still filtered in her bones and it just felt so very lovely but the type of lovely that wasn't everlasting.
For a moment, she began to spiral down the Cinderella-metaphor route but halted herself before she got too far. A little bell sounded on her desktop and she shook herself out of the comfy reverie she'd blanketed herself in. It wasn't likely to last long anyhow, that's how she had to look at it.
A little click-click, type-type and she'd pulled up her file sharing program and for the first time in a long time, typed in a song title into the little box. The cursor moved slowly, just as her fingers moved, as if she were loving each letter as she typed it in and pressed 'enter'. It felt odd to want to cherish a song, to want to keep it. It was a memento, a marker of a time that she would press close to her heart until it dried up, turned to ashes.
The song. She had to hear it again. She had to burn it onto a CD so that she could bring it with her in the car, so she could sing to it in the shower, so she could fall asleep with it and wrap herself up in the brief, wonderful warmth that he had lent to her for one dance.
As she watched a list of possible downloads pop up, she thought deeply about the probability that tonight had been the one and only time she would ever really get to hold him. It was a thought laden with thick, heavy sadness that stole all of the delight from her marrow.
The titles had stopped scrolling and she positioned the cursor over the first title and clicked, watching as the song appeared at the bottom of the screen. As the percentage of the completed download increased, something inside of her tore open wider, allowing years of grief to diffuse and weigh down her body.
She did slip off her shoes then. She pushed out of her coat and draped it over the back of her chair haphazardly. Curling one foot beneath her, dangling the other back and forth, she allowed a brief sob to echo through her body and escape the confines of her throat. There it was, the familiar twang of never. The never that lingered all about her; the never that taunted forever with its constant presence. She'd expected the pain; there was no way she would have been able to touch him and not hurt.
But the gut-wrenching, soul-searing heat of it was so brilliant that the tears that slipped out between her lashes scorched their way over her skin. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. Things that made a person so happy weren't supposed to be able to shred them to pieces simultaneously.
One hundred percent of the download and a tiny 'ding' went off. Shaking her head and laughing a little bit at herself, at her hiccoughing emotions, she double clicked the completed song and sat back to listen. She didn't pay much attention to the lyrics though they were quite pretty and rather appropriate. The woman's voice filtered through the air and she simply felt the beat and remembered how he'd held her, where he'd laid his hands, how he spoke.
Sara could recall the exact feel of his skin, of his lips. Dear god, his mouth had been so warm when it had pressed that kiss to her temple. That had sent her down her own little fairy-princess spiral all on its own. She wondered what maybe his lips might do if they were pressed to hers. Massive heart failure wasn't out of the question.
She laughed at her joke and the tears slowed. They slowed, but didn't stop. How could they? Tearing away from him was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do.
The song ran its way through and she listened again, the slow, sensual beat making the hairs on her arms stand straight up. Bristly facial hair over her scalp almost set her keeling right there on the polished floor, but like she had been practicing for so long, she swallowed it all and just felt.
His shoes, she wished she'd gotten a good look at them. Were they new? Were they special? Were they perhaps his regular dress shoes? Would those shoes hold that one dance until the next time he wore them? Hers would, as she was sure she'd have no time soon to sport them.
It was tempting to put the song on repeat, but she just pressed play once more and said that that would be it; just once more was all she needed.
She retreated to her bedroom and placed the shoes back in their box and tucked them back into the depths of her closer along with all of the other pairs of heels that she never wore. That in itself was depressing, and as her throat constricted again she emitted a heavy, fast breath that stirred her hair.
It was nice while it had lasted. It was all she had wanted, that was what she had convinced herself... then again, she was never really good at that.
With feet bare, she padded back into her living room. She couldn't help but noticing how the song would be more at home in a space with wine and candles and... a man to hold. Sara reclined on the couch and closed her eyes, tapping out the beat against the leather.
Fingers plucked her dress away from her skin, picking it up, letting it fall back into place like tiny lover's kisses. Whispers of silk along the skin that he'd never touch. Her other hand kept with the song, trailing it out, feeling it.
Somewhere amongst the taps, the knocks on her door fell in sync and her brain melded them in with the music. It was a moment before she realized that there was someone actually at her door. And with hips swaying, eyes slightly red, she made her way to the door.
A quick flick of her wrist and she pulled the door open to reveal Grissom standing there, shoulders square, back straight, eyes focused directly on her face.
"I have no reason to be here," he said, and stepped inside.