Remembering Forward
Chapter 6
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. You guys make my day. I hope you like this next chapter :)
Grissom wiped the sweat from his brow, and sighed. He and Warrick had been working the case of Ben Spenser, a prominent business man, who had disappeared seemingly without a trace. His car was found at his home, and promptly towed back to the lab. But after three hours of processing, the silver Lexus hadn't given them any clues.
"There's not much more we can do with the car. We'll start looking at Spenser's business accounts tomorrow," Grissom said. "You should probably head home to your wife."
"Yeah. And I bet Sara's looking for you," Warrick replied. "See ya later."
Warrick never had a problem with staying after shift in the past, but since he married Tina, he tried to leave the lab on time as much as he could.
Grissom now understood that line of thinking; it felt good knowing there was going to be someone at home.
After changing out of the navy blue coveralls, he headed to the break room, knowing Sara would be there. He stood in the doorway, unnoticed, as she filled in her planner. Following shift, she'd list the duties she needed to complete the next day, and then carefully highlighted the list. The organizer was color coded: blue for evidence to be processed; green for locations to visits; and pink for the victim's families, friends, associates, etc to interview. Her tongue stuck out a little while she swiped the marker across the paper in straight lines.
He thought of Alexandrea's words to Nicholas III: "I love you--those three words have my life in them."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
"Why don't you just tell me?"
"Because we're almost there. Trust me, you'll like this."
She let out a mock sigh. "Fine."
Grissom drove the Denali along the dirt trail toward his destination. Earlier he had picked up Sara for an outing on their shared night off. She kept asking him where they were going, but he only told her to dress warm and bring a notebook. Catherine had mentioned to him Sara had always wanted to visit this place, and he decided to her unofficial tour guide.
He came to a stop just before the gates, with the headlights illuminating the sign. Turning to gage her reaction, he saw her smiling.
"You brought me to the body farm?" Her tone full was of surprise.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I hope you don't mind." He quietly tapped his fingertips on the steering wheel, waiting for her response. How many women wanted to spend the evening looking at bodies hanging from trees?
"Are you kidding? This is great." She opened the door, and jumped from her seat.
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Following introductions with the farm's director, Grissom and Sara explored the grounds. The full moon shone brightly in the clear night sky. Insects, birds, and other animals chirped and whistled throughout the woody area. The slight stench of decaying flesh wafted in the air. At the first corpse, they started quizzing each other on the various states of decomposition. Her knowledge amazed him, especially when she almost stumped him a few times. Almost.
The next body was partially submerged in water, and the face looked as if wild animals had chewed on it. Two pens scratched across the notebooks as the CSIs observed.
"So how long have you been coming to the body farm?"
"Several years. I actually didn't know this place existed until I met the director at a seminar in Indiana."
"Always had a thing for dead bodies?" she smiled.
"Yes," he answered seriously. "I dissected my first animal specimen when I was five."
"You didn't want to become a medical examiner?"
"I didn't want to go to medical school."
"How did you did you get into forensics, then?" she asked as she finished examining the corpse.
During their first few dates, he would give vague answers to questions about himself. Not that he didn't trust her, but it was his nature not to reveal anything personal. Sensing her frustration, he asked she remain patient while he tried to change. And over the course of two months, he gradually shared more of his life. He found her to be an excellent listener. She always gave him full eye contact and waited to speak after he finished.
"There were a couple of police officers in the neighborhood where I grew up. When I was twelve, I overheard them talking about a case at a Fourth-of-July barbeque. It was a robbery; a suspect entered a bank, pulled a gun on the tellers, and demanded money. Just as he was leaving, a security guard tried stopping him, and the suspect opened fire. The guard was killed and three people were injured."
"A few days later, a gun was found in a ditch about seven miles from the bank. The officers were able to trace the gun back to the robbery through test firings and ballistics. The suspect was eventually found, tried, and convicted. I pestered the officers with questions about the gun and the bullets. Eventually I started going to the station after school. That's where I met Phillip Gerard."
At the mention of his former mentor, there was a brief flash of anger in her eyes. Apparently she hadn't forgotten when the man railroaded the nightshift crew a few years ago.
"He wasn't always consumed by politics," he added. "What about you?"
"What?"
"How did you become interested in forensics?"
"Oh. There was a lecture I went to in grad school. Some geeky guy spoke about bugs or blood or something like that. I found it mildly interesting."
He knew she was poking fun at him, but he still felt proud that he brought her into the forensics world. He remembered being bombarded with her questions before and after the lecture. There had never been anyone quite so enthusiastic. They shared smiles, and walked to the next body; the corpse was buried in mud.
Sara reached into her jacket pocket to pull out another pen. In fact, she'd been switching pens all evening, each one a different color. As an observer of human nature, he had to ask about this…interesting behavior.
"Why are you always changing pens?"
She laughed and her face turned slightly red. "Just a way to keep my notes organized, that way I don't get information mixed up." She blushed more as she continued, "Actually I keep all my notes on my computer, backed up on discs of course. Everything is filed either on an indoor or outdoor scene. Then it branches to cause of death, then to time of death, then to…what?"
He didn't realize he'd been staring at her the whole time. How anyone could put that much time and energy into arranging information? Wasn't that a little…neurotic? Obsessive? He only had one answer for her.
"I love you."
Huh! Where did that come from? For the past six years he tried convincing himself his feelings were nothing more than an infatuation for a co-worker; a high school type crush that would disappear. He couldn't have been more wrong. Once he admitted he wanted a personal relationship with her, he found those feelings ran incredibly deep. The little hairs on his neck stood up when she brushed her hand across his forearm. The bags from the grocery store became heavier as he bought more food, knowing she'd come over for breakfast or dinner. He slept easier listening to Sara's breathing as he held her in the afternoon. It scared Grissom when he realized how much he loved her, how much he needed her. He never had the courage to say the three little words…until now.
Here he stood, in the middle of the woods, in the dead of night, ankle deep in mud, over a rotting corpse telling Sara Sidle he loved her...talk about a romantic setting.
She hadn't responded to his admission, with the exception of dropping her pen and her face going very pale. His heart pounded incessantly while he hoped he hadn't just ruined their relationship.
As soon as he uttered her name, she said, "Say it again."
"If you don't feel-," but she interrupted.
"Just…say it again."
He said it already, so he knew he could say it once more. "I love you."
"Yeah?" Her eyes reflected a deep mahogany in the moonlight.
"Yeah," he nodded his head a little. Dizziness struck him when he felt her breath on his face.
A few tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but a wide smile lit her face. "I love you too," she whispered.
Even though the evening was chilly, Grissom felt as if he were wrapped in a warm, fuzzy blanket. He rode many roller coasters in his life, but never experienced such an adrenaline rush. His hands trembled, and he thought his heart would explode from the fast beating.
A nervous laugh escaped his mouth, and she chuckled too. He cupped her face in his hands with a new surge of confidence. He tilted his head and murmured "I love you" before their lips touched.
Eventually, she looked up at him. "What?" she said slowly.
"Nothing," he answered, unable to conceal the smirk on his face.
"It's not nothing. You have that 'I'm going to marry an organizational freak, what have I got myself into' look. You're out of luck buddy; you knew what you were getting when you proposed."
"You're right honey; I've always wanted to be with a fanatical, obsessive-compulsive."
She walked to where he stood, and kissed him quickly. "You better not forget it."