Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone for their continued interest in my little story;) 'Til next time!
Letting Go
by Kristen Elizabeth
I used to take you at face value
You spoke, I listened, and the only thing missin' was the truth
You talk the talk
But you don't walk the walk, and I've had my fill
Goin' on like this is so absurd
I'm sick of these words, words, words
- Jessica Andrews
Dear Sara,
Greetings from the Mother Country. London is bloody cold. And boring, now that you're gone. In the wake of your departure, I've been hitting a lot of pubs that Doc Ashe recommended and I'm turning into what the British affectionately refer to as a slag. But then again, I might have been one already.
It's always been a dream of mine to live in a hotel, but I'll have to settle for living vicariously through you. The Sphere…not too shabby. It's one place that, until now, I've never sent mail to.
And now we come to the reason for my letter. It falls upon me to tell you that our intrepid boy reporter is no longer with us. Apparently the funding for his article ran out and he either had to appeal for more money or do with what he's got so far. He picked the latter and left a couple of days ago. Really quickly, I might add, which explains why he left one of his journals behind here at the IFFS center.
I wasn't going to look, but you know me and curiosity. We're eternally bonded. So, yeah, I went through his stuff. And I found something that might interest you. A letter to you from Gil Grissom. Is that the entomologist Gil Grissom, by the way? My friend Terri dated that Gil Grissom once, but he blew her off on their first date. What a jerk. Sorry, way off the subject. And kind of rude of me if it's the same guy.
It's your letter and Simon had it. Because I don't want to think badly of someone who looked so damn good in jeans, until I hear otherwise from you, I'm going to assume he had it with your permission. If you want it, let me know and I'll either keep it until you get back, or mail it to you straight away. Straight away. How British am I?
Take care. And Merry Christmas.
Jan
This is what happened when worlds collided. And to her great dismay, Sara was caught in the middle.
"Who's your friend, Vegas?" Simon asked, acknowledging Grissom for the first time.
Still reeling from his sudden appearance and even more sudden kiss, Sara could barely process it all. Grissom and Simon under the same roof. This had to be a bad dream and if she just waited long enough, the alarm would go off and wake her up.
Any minute now.
Finally, Grissom extended his hand to the younger man. "Gil Grissom."
"Simon Christiansen." He took Grissom's hand in a firm shake. "Any friend of Sara's is a friend of mine."
If she'd been looking at Grissom's face, she would have seen the smile he reserved for criminals he was about to put away for life. "Indeed."
Sara gave up on the alarm; this was one bad dream she'd just have to live out. "Simon is doing an article on Bosnia," she explained to Grissom. "He was with our IFFS team for research." Shaking her head, she asked Simon, "What are you doing here?"
He flashed her a smile and his press pass. "Covering the trial. Officially, I'm on Christmas break, but trust me, I'd rather spend it working and hanging out with you than with my sister and her spoiled brats." He rubbed his hands together. "I'm not too late for the good stuff, am I?"
She could feel Grissom eyes on her. "We should be getting back in there. Ten minutes is almost up," she said.
"Then let's go!" Simon hooked her arm through his. "And after court, you can show me around your town, Vegas." He nodded at Grissom. "You can come, too. The more, the merrier, right?"
Grissom continued to look at Sara as he replied, "No thanks. I'll leave painting the town to the younger generation." He looked at his watch. "I need to get to the lab, anyways."
"Grissom!" Sara called out as he started to walk away. He stopped, but didn't turn back around. "Retreating?"
Glancing back at her, he shook his head. "Conceding." There was a pause. "Have a good time with your friend."
When he was gone, Simon gestured to the courtroom doors. "Shall we?"
"Why not?" Sara extracted her arm from his grip. "This day can't get any worse."
"Aw, c'mon man! You can't just stop there." Greg took a huge bite of pizza and mumbled around it, "You got back to the house and then…what?"
Nick shook his own slice at the younger man. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."
Catherine made a scoffing sound. "Only when he hasn't done any kissing to tell about."
"All I'm gonna say is that Jessica and I had a great night." He popped a pepperoni slice into his mouth. "End of story."
"Uh-oh," Warrick said. "Looks like our boy is serious about this one. Are we gonna be planning a bachelor party sometime soon?"
Nick shrugged, a mysterious smile on his face. "I'll let y'all know in plenty of time to hire a really classy…"
Grissom stalked into the break room just then, interrupting their pizza brunch, a well-deserved reward after a long double shift. "I need a favor," he announced without any further greeting.
Setting down her slice, Catherine blotted her lips with a paper towel. "What's wrong? Why aren't you in court?"
"I'm done for the day," he answered impatiently. "Did anyone hear what I…"
"How did it go?" Nick asked. "How's Sara holding up?"
Grissom glared at his CSI. "It went fine, if having my credibility shattered on the witness stand qualifies as 'fine.' And Sara's holding up just great now that her boyfriend from Bosnia has arrived."
Warrick arched an eyebrow. "We miss everything when we pull double shifts."
"Sara has a boy toy?" Catherine frowned. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd say."
"And it's not me?" Greg pouted. "Words cannot adequately express my disappointment."
Upon seeing the growing tick in Grissom's eye, Nick held up his hand, bringing the chatter to an end. "What's the favor, Gris?"
"Simon Christiansen."
"Is that the boy toy?"
He turned his glare onto Catherine. "I want to know everything about him. Who he is, where he comes from and what he's done along the way."
"Are you looking for something specific?" Warrick asked.
"No."
Greg looked around at his co-workers. "But you think he might have a record?
Grissom scowled. "It wouldn't surprise me. Regardless, I just…" He stopped.
"You just what?" Tipping her head to the side, Catherine studied him. "What, Gil?"
"I just…can't let her get hurt again." He walked to the door. "Let me know when you find something."
"'When' we find something," Catherine repeated a minute later. "Not 'if,' but 'when'." She picked up her pizza. "That open mind of his really comes and goes, doesn't it?"
Even after living in the city for six years, sometimes Sara felt like just another tourist in Las Vegas. Hopelessly lost, dwarfed by the casinos and surrounded by nothing but a desert that, after her experience in it, she couldn't even find beautiful anymore. She was hardly fit to play tour guide to anyone. So why was she in Ghostbar at the Palms at two a.m. after a long day in court, sipping her second beer and watching Simon get hit on by girls who couldn't be old enough to legally drink?
Fifty-five stories separated her from the rest of the city, and if she looked down, she could see every inch of that space through the acrylic floor. But she wasn't going to do that, no matter how many times Simon insisted she had to. He'd managed to get her up here, but that was as far as her tour guide duties went.
In fact, her patience was starting to run a little thin. She set down her beer on the nearest table and tapped Simon on the shoulder.
He spun around, a gleam in his eye. "Time for another round?" he yelled over the pounding music.
"Time for bed," she yelled back. The gleam turned into a leer and she had to correct herself, "Alone. I have to be back in court tomorrow."
"Six hours from now." Simon reached for her hand. "Sure I can't convince you to dance?"
"You really don't want to see me dance."
"I really beg to differ on that." When he saw that she wasn't going to give in, Simon sighed, dramatically. "All right. Let's go"
He had a car and she didn't, so Sara let him drive her back to the Sphere. He pulled up to the valet parking area and got out at the same time she did.
"I'm seeing you to your door," he explained.
Sara frowned. "Why?"
"Because my mother always said that's what you did at the end of a date."
"But…this wasn't a date."
Simon grinned. "We had dinner, saw a show, played the slots and ended up in the hottest bar in town. What would you call that?"
"Sara Sidle's one-time only whirlwind Las Vegas experience?"
"Maybe." He tossed the valet attendant his car keys. "But back home, we call it a date."
She gave in. It was kind of cute. After the short elevator ride up to her floor, Sara let him see her all the way to her room.
"No nightcap?" he asked.
Sara was only half listening to him. The white edge of an envelope stuck out underneath her door. She unlocked the door and bent down to pick it up.
"What's that?"
She walked into the room as she tore into the letter. Simon followed her without an official invitation. "It's from Jan," Sara answered his question.
He froze for a second. "Jan? Our Jan? Why would our Jan be writing you a letter?"
"Let's find out."
"Or…" Simon located the mini-bar. "We could just have that nightcap."
But Sara was already reading. It only took her a few seconds, but when she finished, she looked up at him with cold eyes.
"What was in the letter, Simon?"
He gave her a puzzled look. "How should I know? You just finished reading it."
"Don't even play dumb with me." Sara held up Jan's letter. "Seems you left something behind in London. Only it wasn't something of yours; it was something of mine. A letter. A letter addressed to me. A letter I really would have liked to have gotten. Is it all coming back to you now?"
Cornered, Simon could only nod. "Okay. Yes. I intercepted a letter you got from your boss. But if you knew why…"
Anger coursed through every vein in her body. She was sure she was beet red with it. It was the kind of anger that couldn't even be expressed in coherent thought. "I don't care why, Simon," she managed to spit out. "Just leave before I call hotel security."
"Just let me explain, Vegas…"
"To hell with hotel security. I know just about every cop in this city and I can have a dozen of them here in a matter of minutes. And I will if you don't leave right now!"
Simon plunged his hands into his hair. "I did it for you!"
I did it for you. Her mother had used that excuse years earlier when Sara had finally gathered the courage to ask her why she done what she did. I did it for you.
She said the same thing to him that she'd said to her mother. "I don't believe you."
"I swear," he went on. "Look, I made the mistake of falling for my boss. My editor at the paper. And it was great. She was great. Until seven months ago when I broke up with her. She didn't take it so well. She pretty much did everything in her power to end my career. I thought Bosnia would be too far for her claws to reach, but she got me there, too. So now I'm stuck with a half-finished article and no paper or magazine in southern California will hire me. All because I made the mistake of sleeping with the boss." He took a breath. "I didn't want that to happen to you someday."
Sara's eyes narrowed. "You don't know anything about my situation, Simon. But even if you did, it's none of your business. My life…my choices." She shook her head. "You didn't do this for me. You did this for yourself. And you got caught." She walked to the door and opened it up. "So unless you want the entire Las Vegas Police Department up your ass tonight, I suggest you get the hell out of here."
He hesitated a second before heading towards the door. He stopped right in front of her with the saddest expression. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"Goodbye, Simon."
She slammed the door shut behind him, but her anger didn't dissipate. If anything, it just grew, bubbling over in her chest until she couldn't breathe. There would be only one way to release it. And only one person to release it on.
When Grissom opened his front door to stop the incessant knocking, the last person he expected to see was the woman standing on his stoop. The look on her face could have frightened away a lion. And it was directed straight at him.
"Conceding!" Sara pushed past him, straight into hallway. She spun back around to face him. "You're conceding! What the hell was that supposed to mean?"
Grissom closed the door. He hadn't been sleeping; his body was far too conditioned to sleep during the day. Still, he wasn't exactly dressed for a confrontation, being that he was in his oldest pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from the Millennium Force coaster at Cedar Point. "Sara, I…"
She threw up her hand. "Shut up. That was a rhetorical question. I know exactly what you meant by it. You saw another man show some microscopic sign of interest in me and your first instinct was to forget everything that had happened between us, and jump to the automatic conclusion that I was stringing you along while I kept a boy toy on the sidelines. I can't believe you! Will you ever trust me? Or is this what life with you would be like? Constantly on guard, always aware that at any second, you could get spooked and call the whole thing off? I couldn't live like that, Grissom. And if that's all you could ever give me, tell me now. Tell me right now so I can cry and…and eat ice cream and listen to sappy music…whatever it takes get you out of my system. So I can finally…finally move on."
He looked down at the grey tile floor. "Am I allowed to talk now?"
"Make it good," she snapped.
"I have only ever wanted your happiness."
"Why do you get to decide what's going to make me happy?" She almost choked on a bitter laugh. "When did I start letting men decide my life for me? You and Lawton…Kevin…and now Simon. Everyone thinks they know what's best for me! I am so tired of it! This isn't me! Sara Sidle makes her own choices. She came to Vegas of her own free will. Sure, she wanted to see you again and see if maybe she wasn't just imagining interest on your part, but in the end, she really came because of the job. She wanted to be a CSI in the best crime lab in the country. She wanted to make a difference."
Grissom watched her, awestruck. This was the woman of passion he remembered. This was Sara Sidle. "Sara…" He moved towards her tentatively. "I think you found her."
Her chest rose and fell with each breath. "What did the letter say, Grissom?"
His expression clouded over. "Does it matter now?" His words weren't harsh, merely tired.
She blinked back hot tears. "It matters even more now."
"Even after today?"
Sara lifted her shoulders. "I've never met Heather. Maybe she's a great person with a terrific sense of humor. But if you're going to get insanely jealous of someone as insignificant as Simon, I'm certainly allowed to have my issues with her."
Grissom inclined his head. "Okay." He fortified himself with a deep breath. "The letter said…everything I've never been able to tell you."
"And I'm supposed to know what that is?" Sara closed her eyes. "Whatever it was, Grissom, good or bad…I can take it. I have to know. Please."
Instead of hearing words, she felt lips gently brushing across hers. "I love you."
Her eyes popped open. "What?"
"I love you," he repeated. There was something akin to a rush of relief in his words, as if it felt good to say them. "I didn't just say it in the desert because it was a life or death situation. I've always been in love with you, Sara."
"You love me? You love me."
Grissom nodded. "I'm just sorry that the first time you heard the words had to be after such an ordeal."
"You told me you loved me that night?"
"You knew that." He frowned. "Didn't you?"
Her hair swung back and forth over her shoulders. "I can't remember. So much of that night is a blur. I remember you being there, but I don't remember…that." A smile slowly spread on her face. "You love me."
He nodded. "And it scares the hell out of me."
"Me, too."
"I got spooked today. I admit it." Grissom drew in a breath. "I wish I could say it was just an after effect of having my character called into question on the stand. But it wasn't. Seeing another man be so comfortable with you…when I can't even hold your hand in public…" He paused. "I hate it. And it's just easier to take myself out of the equation."
Sara shook her head. "We've never even tried to be together. How can you be so sure of what we could or couldn't do?"
"Sara, you were my employee. At best it would have made our work together awkward. At worst, it could have gotten us both fired."
"Well. I'm not your employee now. Simon is gone, for good I hope. We're not in public." She approached him and put her hand over his heart. "And you love me."
He didn't need to be a very smart man to catch on. "What about not rushing things?"
"That was then. This is now. And the old Sara Sidle wouldn't ever kick you out of her bed."
She was about to kiss him. In a matter of seconds, it would be too late to turn back. Grissom's senses were overwhelmed with her, but he was just able to get out, "You have to testify tomorrow." Her lips hovered less than an inch away from his. "You need to sleep before then.
"Don't you have a bed?"
He swallowed heavily. "If you stay here, Sara, you won't be sleeping."
She smiled coyly as she stepped back. "Fair enough." A moment passed and her tone grew more somber. "I'm going to put her away. Not because of what she did to me. For Julia."
"For Julia," he echoed.
He walked her to her waiting cab a few minutes later. Back in his house, with the faintest traces of her alluring scent lingering all around him, Grissom was finally able to rest.
To Be Continued