Author's Notes: Thank you everyone for all the kind reviews thus far. I know I say this every time, but I really am always appreciative. And I want to make sure y'all know it;)
Letting Go
by Kristen Elizabeth
Say goodnight not goodbye
You will never leave my heart behind
Like the path of a star
I'll be anywhere you are
You are everything you want to be
So just let your heart reach out to me
I'll be right by your side
Say goodnight not goodbye
- Beth Neilson Chapman
Sara,
A young couple, most likely on their honeymoon, is sitting across from me in the lobby. They can't keep their hands off of each other. Is it wrong that I want to shake the groom by his shoulders and tell him to never let go of the good thing he's found? I wish someone had done the same for me ten years ago. If they had, I'm fairly certain I would be upstairs making love to you right now, instead of down here writing you this note.
But I understand that we can't go from friends (although I think that word inadequately describes our relationship) to lovers in the course of a single day. As much as I wish I could wake up next to you in the morning, I know that we'd both wake up with regrets. Not about being together, never about being together, but about how the sudden change will affect our entire world. We're methodical people, Sara; we can't escape ourselves and leap without looking, even if that initial freefall would be exhilarating.
I need you to understand that leaving your room a few minutes ago was the most difficult thing I've ever done in my entire life. Still, I have to believe that in the long run, our decision to take our time will pay off.
Now if only my body could be convinced.
Thinking of you always,
Gil
"All rise. This court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Harriet Keely presiding."
The judge, a formidable woman in her late forties, ascended the bench. "You may be seated," she ordered. "Ms. Darver, call your witness."
Karen rose just long enough to reply, "The State calls Dr. Gil Grissom."
When his name was called, Grissom rose from his seat in the very last row. He'd been one of the last people through the courtroom doors, and now he was the prosecution's first witness. He didn't mind getting his testimony out of the way. But it was a hell of way to see Sara again for the first time since he'd left her hotel room.
She was sitting two rows back from the ADA's table, looking pale in the harsh light of the courtroom, but steady. He'd been watching her profile as Callie Lamb entered, led by her lawyer. She hadn't so much as flinched. He'd been proud.
Now her eyes followed him as he made his way up to the podium. Even as he was sworn in, he could feel her stare. Rather than unnerve him, Grissom felt reinforced. He knew his testimony would help put Sara's kidnapper, crazy or not, in jail for a long time. It was the very least he could do for her.
Especially after everything that had happened between them the last time they were together.
Her mouth tasted like chocolate chip cookies. Her tongue was cold, but the rest of her body was on fire. And he could touch her…god, he could finally touch her in all the ways he'd only imagined in his dreams.
What kind of shampoo did she use that made him want to bury his face in her tresses and never come up for air? And why did she fit so perfectly in his arms, alongside his chest? No other woman had ever molded to him so instantly or so well. Just Sara.
Nimble fingers were pulling at his shirt buttons. His own fingers sought out the bottom of her pliant shirt, tugging it up the smooth length of her back. Without hesitation, she lifted her arms, letting him pull the fabric up over her head. It landed on the carpet carelessly. His shirt joined it a second later.
And then skin met skin and she was soft, so much softer than she let on to the rest of the world. There was nothing fake about Sara, just the real thing, perfectly shaped and now perfectly pressed against him.
Still kissing her, he never wanted to stop kissing her, he let his hands cup her softness. Her moan of pleasure was nearly his undoing. He…
"Dr. Grissom." The ADA looked at the twelve jurors. "For the record, can you please tell us a little bit about your background?"
Clearing his head of everything but the trial, he replied, "I hold Bachelor and Masters Degrees, as well as a PhD in Biology, all from UCLA. Currently, I am the Graveyard Shift Supervisor for the Las Vegas Police Department's Crime Lab. And I'm a Level III Crime Scene Investigator with over twenty years of field experience."
The questions went on from there, recounting the investigation into Julia Sommers' death. But then it started to get personal.
"How do you know Sara Sidle, Dr. Grissom?" Karen asked.
He cleared his throat. "Until six months ago, she was an employee of the crime lab, under my supervision."
"You were her boss when the alleged kidnapping took place?" She used the word "alleged" exactly as he would have, with a great amount of disdain for the legal formality.
"Yes."
She paused for a second. "Tell us about that day."
If it was this hard for him to return his mind to that day, how hard must it be for Sara? He did as the ADA asked, recounting the events leading up to his panicked visit to Sara's apartment.
"Why were you worried for your CSI, Dr. Grissom?" Karen asked.
Grissom blew out a short breath. "At the time, she was being counseled by the primary suspect in the murder of Julia Sommers, who had also been counseled by the same man."
"Dr. Lawton Forbes," she clarified. "And when did you realize that Ms. Sidle was missing?"
"Several hours later, when another CSI, Greg Sanders, informed me that he couldn't reach her. Before that, she was never out of contact. Her cell phone was always on; it's part of our job. And Sara…Ms. Sidle…was nothing if not dedicated to the job."
She was determined to drive him crazy with the little noises of pleasure she emitted as he explored her body. Somehow they'd made it to the bed. He was now sitting with her straddling his lap. The heat from the center of her body was maddening, rubbing against long neglected parts of him through layers of cotton.
Twenty-four hours ago, he'd thought she was on the other side of the world. But now she was back, and they were half-naked and twisted up in each other, about to go over the edge into everything he'd ever wanted.
And yet, as much as he wanted to take the plunge and damn the consequences, they were still going to be there in the morning. And they were going to be big.
"Sara," he whispered, nearly out of breath. "Are we…rushing this?"
Her lips found the place where his ear met his neck. "Six years of foreplay hasn't been enough for you?" Her throaty chuckle made everything harder.
Six years, his ass. Try ten. From the moment she'd blown him a taunting kiss across the parking lot after stealing the last free space right out from under him, making him late for his own lecture. He hadn't recognized himself since.
"I want you," he told her, closing his eyes as her tongue traced the contours of his ear. "You have no idea…" Steeling himself, he gently grasped her bare shoulders, pushing her back. "But what happens tomorrow?"
She studied him, her eyes moving back and forth between his. "You're retreating. Already."
"And you're shaking. Maybe…it's not just because of what we're doing."
She threw her head back and looked at the ceiling for a long moment. The pure line of her throat was like a bare canvas, waiting for him to paint it with kisses. Before he gave in to the urge, she dropped her chin back down. "If you hadn't stopped, I would have." The delicate tips of her fingers stroked his beard. "I want you, too. But when I left, it was with the intention of finding the person I used to be."
"Have you found her yet?"
She climbed off his lap and picked her shirt up off the floor. "No."
"What was Ms. Sidle's condition when you and Captain Brass found her?"
Grissom blinked. "We found her four miles off Highway 95 in the Wildlife Refuge. She was…badly sunburned. Suffering from heat exhaustion. When we reached her, we weren't sure if she was…" Behind the podium, his fingers dug into his palms. "…dead or alive. The paramedics were five minutes behind us, so we checked to see if she was breathing. She was. Then I tried to wake her."
He allowed himself a peek at her face in the crowd. There was moisture on her cheeks.
"Upon waking, did Ms. Sidle say anything to you?"
Love you. I love you…Gil.
"Anything about her kidnapper?" Karen prompted.
"Objection," the defense lawyer argued. "Leading."
The judge replied, "Overruled. The witness may answer."
Grissom shook his head. "No. She was rushed to the hospital. And I didn't see her until later. By that time, she'd already given her statement."
Karen nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Grissom." Walking back to her seat, she told the opposing council, "Your witness."
He did his own buttons back up, but he'd never be able to wear the shirt again without remembering how she'd stripped him of it. When the last one was done up, and the tails tucked back into his pants, he looked at her.
She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, like a girl, not the woman she'd been, wrapped around him minutes earlier. Her hair was half-dried in tangled waves around her shoulders. Every instinct compelled him to go back to her, but he couldn't undo what was done.
"Goodnight," he told her, one hand on the doorknob.
She looked up, but her eyes didn't quite reach his, settling instead a bit lower on his face. "Bye."
"Dr. Grissom, you had been at Ms. Sidle's apartment on that day," the defense attorney asked.
"Yes."
"You had seen her, she was fine, and then you left."
"Yes." Grissom glanced at Karen; she was frowning. That couldn't be a good sign.
Callie's lawyer approached the witness stand. "And where did you go after you left Ms. Sidle's apartment?"
His stomach dropped two feet. "Where did I…"
"Objection." Karen shot to her feet. "Relevance?"
"The prosecution established their timeline, Your Honor, but they left out several pieces that I find interesting."
The judge thought for a second. "I'll give you some leeway. But not much."
Nodding, Callie's lawyer looked back at Grissom. "It was almost six months ago. I'd understand if you need to be reminded."
Across the courtroom, Sara gave him a puzzled look. He let his eyes linger on her for a final second before he gave his answer. "I went to see a friend."
"Does this friend have a name?"
Grissom swallowed. "Her name is Heather."
"Heather." The lawyer paused for effect. "Perhaps better known as Lady Heather?"
If he'd been looking at Sara, he would have seen recognition of the name in her eyes. She might never have worked a case that involved the woman, but with the lab's rumor mill, she was sure to know more about her than Grissom would have liked her to.
"It's her professional name, yes."
"And what is her profession?"
He was trapped and under oath. "She runs what is best described as a fetish house."
"A brothel? They are legal in some parts of the state."
Grissom gritted his teeth. "No. As I said, it's a fetish house."
"I see. Any particular fetish?"
He could feel Sara's stare boring into him. "Bondage. Domination and submission."
"So, let me get this straight. After you left your CSI's apartment…you went straight to the house of a whips and chains dominatrix?"
Karen finally interjected. "Objection! Does the defense have a point to make or are we just chatting here?"
"Goes to character of the witness, Your Honor," Callie's lawyer retorted.
"Wrap it up," Judge Heely ordered.
He smiled. "That's all. The defense has no further questions for this witness."
"Dr. Grissom, you may step down."
When he passed by Sara's row, she turned her head away from him. His heart sank.
"Call your next witness, Ms. Darver."
Karen cleared her throat. "The prosecution requests a ten minute break, Your Honor."
"Done." With a bang of her gavel, the judge made it official. "Court is in recess."
Grissom stood with everyone else until the judge had stepped down. As the crowd began to disperse, he saw Sara. She was heading straight for the exit as fast as possible.
He tried to go after her, but Karen caught him first.
"How in the hell did the defense know where you were after you left Sara's apartment?" she demanded to know.
"I was going to ask you the same question," Grissom shot back. "The only thing I can think is that they did their homework. They must have been fishing around for some dirt on me, and they found her."
Karen sighed. "Some people saw you there, maybe?"
"A few of her staff, yes."
"Great. I mean, I knew they'd have to bring out the big guns to call your character into question. But you could have given me some warning that they might actually be able to find something this big."
Grissom glanced at the exit. Sara was already out of sight; he didn't have time to argue. "Karen, I have to…" He pointed to the doors.
"Yeah. Go." She waved him away. "I've got damage control to do."
He caught up with Sara in the courthouse vestibule. She was standing in a beam of sunshine from the skylight, but her expression was anything but joyful. As he approached, she backed away from him.
"Let me explain," he started.
"There's nothing to explain." She wet her lips, making them glisten. "While I was fighting to stay alive in the desert…you were with a woman who makes a living off of pain and degradation."
Grissom shook his head. "It's not like that, Sara."
"Oh." She let out something resembling a strangled chuckle. "I suppose you two just had a cup of tea together."
"Actually…"
"I know you slept with her," she cut him off, her voice small. "Everyone knows you slept with her. But I didn't know…you were still…" Sara shook her head. With each word, her tone grew harsher. "I grew up watching my father beat my mother. There is nothing erotic about pain, Grissom. That you could be with a woman who thinks there is…" Still shaking her head, she backed away even further. "I don't know if I can look at you the same way."
Somewhere, buried deep beneath his guilt, a spark of irritation flared up. "What happened between me and Heather was over and done with a long time ago. She is a friend in the sense that I value her opinion. But that's all there is to it. As for her profession, I don't agree with it. I've never agreed with it. But I don't judge her for it." He paused. "And if you do, I'm not sure I can look at you the same way."
There was a long, excruciating pause. Finally, Sara pushed a tear away with a flick of her thumb. "I guess I just don't understand one thing. Why her? Why could you risk everything for her…but not me?"
"She wasn't special to me."
Her eyes were wide and wet. "And…I am?"
Grissom frowned. "Why are you acting like you didn't already know? Wasn't the letter pretty clear?"
"Letter? What letter?"
"What do you mean, 'what letter'? The letter! The letter I sent you that said everything! The one you chose to ignore."
"Grissom, I don't know what you're talking about. You never wrote to me while I was away. I got letters from everyone. I got two in one week from Greg alone. But from you? Nothing."
"You never got the letter?" he breathed.
Sara shook her head. "You sent me a letter?" Nibbling on her lip, she dared to ask, "What did it say?"
He stepped towards her and she let him reach for her hand. "It said…"
"Vegas!"
She looked past him, over his shoulder. Her expression melted into confused amazement. "Simon? Oh my god…"
Grissom turned his head to see a tall, good-looking man of about thirty sauntering over to them, a broad smile on his slightly stubbled face. His blue suit was rumpled, like he'd slept in it. And he had a press badge clipped to his belt. But more importantly, he was heading straight for Sara without even giving Grissom so much as a glance. When he reached her, the man named Simon planted a kiss right on Sara's lips.
It was entirely possible to hate someone on first sight.
To Be Continued