"Sara?" He waited for moment, ready to jump backwards and sprint out of the restroom. After a blissfully quiet moment, he continued. "Sara, come on. Let's go talk," he gulped, "somewhere else." Quiet. "I mean I almost got killed here by that, oh-so-nice lady." More quietness. It wasn't working. He mentally kicked himself for being so stupid. How could he even mention Catherine, much less her clothing! "Please?" Grissom begged, but to no avail. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the neighboring stall. With difficulty, he planted both legs upon the seat and placing an unsteady hand on the wall, he brought his body upwards. When he was situated in a position where he was pretty sure that his legs would not fail, Grissom peeked over the top.
He saw a sight that would bother his heart for many a days afterwards. Sara was sitting on the edge of the seat, face buried deeply in her hands, shoulders heaving up and down. Grissom weighed his possibilities, and picked the one he thought most effective. At least, at the moment it had seemed like a fine idea. He bent his knees and brought his head back up over the rim of the wall by pulling with his hands. He repeated this process numerous times before his feet were practically leaving the seat below and willing him to jump. Grissom, when he thought he had enough momentum to bring him over the edge, finally picked his legs up and carried his body over the barrier. He jumped right in front of Sara, missing her by a mere couple of inches. Startled, she jumped up, beating her hands against Grissom's chest.
"What..." thump, "the..." thump, "hell..." thump, "are..." thump, "you..." thump, "doing?!?" THUMP. Sara finally quieted down, and looked into Grissom's face, trying to keep an angry face on. But that was quite difficult to do when the tears just wouldn't stop coming. When Grissom remained quiet, trying to think of something soothing to say, Sara's head bent low and her shoulders resumed their quivering.
"Sara, Sara, don't cry. Please, don't cry." In a split second his large arms were around her, trying to crush the sadness out of her body. "Sara." He whispered so tenderly in her ear, "I'm sorry," he edged a bit closer, "I wasn't thinking." The sobs began to decrease in size and amount. "Can you ever forgive me?" His cheek was pressed against hers, sending burning chills down her body while he continued his whisperings. They were both standing upright in the small cubicle, his arms around Sara, while hers lay limply by her sides. As he inched away from her, a loud sob was emitted through the tense air, and placing his warm, protective hands over her arms he pressed his forehead onto hers. "Sara, please," he tugged her a little close to him, their bodies now touching, "please, "he took one more, tiny, step forward. "Forgive me."
Sara's eyes finally flickered upwards, meeting his own loving gaze. Her fingers played incessantly with the hem of her jeans, while her arms were still in Grissom's warm hold. How she prayed that he would never let go. Ever leave her alone, in this world that was crashing about her. Oh how she prayed.
"You," she feverishly glanced down to his lips, "you, mentioned. Cath..." a small sniffle issued from her nose, causing Grissom to crack a small smile, which thankfully Sara didn't notice. She blinked, and finally locked into Grissom's eyes. "Catherine's clothes? In your backseat?" Another sniffle rippled through the air and Grissom noticed how vulnerable Sara looked. Her eyes pleading with him, not to tell the inevitable. Not to tell her about the compromising situation. Her face was stained with blotches from the tears, yet her make-up remained intact. "Griss?" She whispered longingly.
To Be Continued fairly soon