As always I don't own these characters…nor do I claim to…well except for Griss' roomie from college…he's right out of my imagination. Enjoy!
Counterstrike: The Chess Series Part 2He picks up the phone, stares at the numbers and begins to dial.
One ring, then two. Then the familiar click of the answering machine and her raspy voice urging him to leave a message. For the fourth time that day he replaced the receiver without uttering a word.
If she wanted to talk she'd answer.
Grissom, ever the logical one, convinced himself of this. However as more and more time passed he began to doubt his convictions. He sighs and busies himself with getting ready for shift.
She sits in her living room, quietly reading a book and munching on some Chocolate Chip cookies when the phone rings. She looks at it for a beat, shrugs her shoulders and allows the answering machine to get it.
The caller leaves no message.
She had convinced herself long ago that he had forgotten about her since she left Vegas. Still every once in awhile when the phone rang and no message was left she pondered whether it could be him, wanting her back, silently in agony on the other end of the line.
Ridiculous, she wonders aloud, but her heart still skips a beat.
"Warrick I need you in my office…now."
"What crawled up his butt?" Catherine asks.
"I don't know but whatever it is it has my name on it." Warrick says.
Catherine scoffs and pats his back. With a sigh, Warrick heads toward his supervisor's office.
When he reemerges 15 minutes later Nick glances over at him with a mischievous grin. The rivalry between the two had subsided over the years but that sense of competition would never expire.
"What are you up to?"
"Me? Nothing, why?"
"Cause you have that look on your face."
"What look?" he asks.
"That one!" Warrick smiles.
"Relax. I'm just taking bets. You want in?"
"You know I don't do that anymore."
Nick raised an eyebrow at him.
"Alright, what on?"
"Griss doesn't go another week without calling Sarah and begging her back."
"Ha! You're on my man! He couldn't admit his feelings while she was here. You think it's gotten any better since she left?"
Warrick pulled his wallet out and places a five on the table.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder." Nick says.
"The easier to forget." Warrick adds with a smile.
The phone rings. Grissom almost knocks over his water bottle trying to reach for it.
"Grissom."
"Hey, it's Jim. I've got something you need to take a look at."
Gil's heart sinks. He glances at his watch.
"Be right there," he says.
He replaces the receiver before Brass has time to respond.
"Remember Paul Millander?"
"How could I forget?" Gil shudders. Paul was the one man who outsmarted Grissom and in the end took his own life rather than go to jail.
"Check this out."
Brass hits play.
click Hello, my name is Greg Nibers. I live at 1414 Reno Lane and I am going to kill myself. I'm sorry..."
Gil stares blankly at the audiocassette.
"Imitation is the highest form of flattery. I believe you said that once."
"Not when it leads to murder."
Brass sighs.
"Get Nick down here to handle it. I have a plane to catch."
"You still going out there?"
Grissom turns. "Any reasons I shouldn't?" He smirks.
"No, but I can think of at least one reason you better," he smirks back.
Grissom shakes his head and leaves the office.
Grissom removes his shades as he enters the airport, glancing around for his ride to the hotel. A chauffeur approaches him.
"Gil Grissom, I presume?"
He smirks and shakes hands with the young man.
"Sir, I have to say it's an honor to meet you. I've admired your work with beetles for years…"
Grissom tunes him out and lowers his frame into the limo.
Such extravagance for a man who plays with bugs.
As they pull up to the hotel the kid is still babbling about how great Grissom's work is and how it has changed his life. He offers a small smile, tips the kid and signs an autograph for him. Then he casually exits the vehicle and enters the hotel.
Upon entering his room he notices a small glass jar and a note. The note is an invitation to the banquet and the jar held chocolate covered grasshoppers, his favorite. Jutting his tongue out through his teeth in his little boy smile he carefully opens the jar and plops on his bed. Just as the first victim is about to enter his mouth the phone twitters.
He rolls over and reaches for the receiver.
"Grissom."
"Hey buddy. How the hell are ya," the caller asks.
"Jeff? Never better and you?"
"Good. Good. Hey listen. You goin' to that banquet party thing at the end of the week?"
Gil's mind passes over Sara. "Don't know yet. You?"
"Ayuh, the missus came in with me this time. I hear there's gonna be some big announcement. You know anything?"
"Not a thing." Grissom checks his watch.
"Alright pal, we'll catch up after your lecture, aiight?
"Of course. It's always good to hear from you Jeff."
"You too Gil. See ya."
Grissom hangs up and smiles. He'd know that Texan accent anywhere. Jeff Yates is not only a world renowned entomologist but Grissom's college friend….probably the only one who didn't find Gil's obsession with cockroach racing unnerving. He pops the first candy in his mouth, glances at the phone and grabs his book.
She jams to her I pod as she runs around the house dusting. When she comes to the picture of her and Gil she pauses a moment, gently rubbing the frame and replaces it on the mantle. Ironically the tune she's playing is a dance remix of "What Might've Been."
He flips the scrap of paper over and over in his hands. On it, Sara's address and phone number. He stares at it again, exhales softly and readies himself for his lecture.
He stands in the hotel lobby waiting for his rental car when his cell phone rings.
"Grissom."
"Hey, it's Nick. Sorry to disturb you but did you tell Brass to let me handle the Millander copycat?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"What do cows drink, Nicky my boy?"
"Mi-Water."
He scoffs. "You're ready."
"But sir I-"
"Pancho, you'll do fine. I trust you. Oh by the way, what's the bet on me up to now?"
He hangs up the phone leaving a mystified Nick on the other end of the line.
Grissom pulls up to her house, flowers in hand, heart thudding inside his chest. He swipes at his pants, a nervous tick, and rings her doorbell.
No answer.
He rings the doorbell again.
"Coming."
She gazes through the peephole and almost passes out but opens the door a tiny bit anyway.
"Surprise," he says handing her the flowers.
"You're just full of them, aren't you?"
She notices the way he's dressed and the shorts and sports bra that he she has on and immediately blushes. He smiles as she steps away from the door to find a vase and t-shirt.
"What brings you into town," she asks from the bedroom.
"We're having a reunion of sorts. Sort of an entomologist convention."
"Small crowd then?"
"Quite," he chuckles. "But we're all giving guest lectures while we're here to some of the local college students and I figured I'd be remiss if I didn't come see you."
"You'd be remiss?" She reemerges, dressed and pissed.
"I just thought that-".
"You just thought what, Gil? That after 8 months of no phone calls, no letters…I would just fall in your arms and all would be forgiven? I spent 15 years of my life pining after a man who is so emotionally shut off I get better responses out of his pet crickets…"
He lowers his head but chuckles at the analogy.
"…only to have him tell me that maybe he feels the same way and then disappear without a trace? What am I supposed to do, Grissom? What do you want from me?"
"I don't know, a rational conversation? Which is obviously out of the question."
She is stoic, glaring at him.
"That's your problem. You're always analyzing everything!"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. What do you want me to say? I never meant to-" he stops, noticing for the first time that she still wears the butterfly around her neck.
She takes a step toward him.
"…Hurt you."
For a moment he stares into her eyes and he yearns to kiss her, make all the pain go away. All to suddenly the rage boils inside of her and she backs up again.
"That seems to be the story of us, doesn't it," she mumbles.
He bites his lip and scuffs his foot on the floor.
It's now or never.
"I'm scared, Sara," he blurted.
Her brow furrows. He waits a beat and then, "I've never felt this way for anyone before." His eyes search for that lost spark. "Ever."
"I'm in love with you and that scares the hell out of me. What does it mean for our future, if we have one…where do we go from here?…I love you."
Tears emerge in both of their eyes. She bites her lip and looks up at him again.
"There was a time when I would've packed up and left everything….for you…for US …but the truth is I don't know if WE can go anywhere from here," she cracks.
The words sink in and both hearts are yanked in two.
"You can't collect me Gil. I'm not a specimen you can bottle up and take samples of when the mood strikes you. I can't allow you to pin me to the wall like one of your dead butterflies….again……Life is screwed up, Gil. You showing up, looking good, announcing that you love me, it doesn't change that. I love you too but it's all or nothing. The truth is I don't think you're ready for it."
She removes the necklace and places it in his hand.
"I can't keep hoping. Not anymore." She starts to walk to the door, to escort him out when he thrusts the invitation forward.
"If you change your mind," his lip trembles as he covers the tears with his sunglasses and steps outside.
He sighs as he hears the door lock behind him.
"How did you keep them from falling asleep in there?"
Jeff and Gil are seated in a booth at a bar down the street from the hotel.
"I'd like to think they were genuinely interested."
Jeff smirks.
"More likely it was my rugged good looks."
Gil puffs his chest in a boyish attempt at machismo and brushes at his beard. They both laugh and take sips of their beers.
"It's good to see you. How long has it been?"
"4-5 years I'd say. Since I gave that lecture at Texas A & M."
"Riiight, and the sad attempt afterwards to ride the mechanical bull."
"Yes, well…" Gil blushes.
"How's Vegas been treating you? You're looking good."
"You too. It's been alright." His thoughts turn to Sara. "Mostly."
"Uh oh. I've seen that look before. Audrey was her name I believe?"
"Allison but close," he snickers.
"What'dya want? It was years ago."
"Thanks for reminding me."
"So what's her name this time?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Gil…"
Grissom takes another swig of his beer and orders another round.
"Sara Sidle."
"The infamous Sara Sidle?"
Grissom swallows hard.
"The very same," he says, knowing this is going to be a very long night.
Finis.