Title: Last Chance - Chapter 14
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. No making any money. Please don't sue me. I don't have enough to give you for what they're worth anyway.
Authors' note: This chapter is a little long. I am thinking that the next few chapters are a little long. Well notREALLY long..but long for me. Which makes me weary to type them. This desk chair isn't really very comfortable. Do I complain to much? Anyway...Please R&R. I love feedback. Enjoy!
Grissom led her to his car, walking three or so steps ahead of her, when all he wanted to do was hold her. Chase her pain away and kiss away the tears on her face. Instead he got into the vehicle, started the engine, and just stared straight ahead as she buckled her seatbelt and turned her face away from him.
He berated himself for what he'd said. He knew done it wrong again - the tears he'd seen in her eyes were proof of that. He put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space. As he pulled from the lot, he chanced a look in Sara's direction. Even as a mess she was beautiful. Even as tired as she was she still had a poise about her. She had her face away from him, her right hand tucked under her left arm, and her left hand splayed over her eyes. Like she was hiding . . . from him. As they drove in silence her breathing evened out and figured she was asleep.
He drove through her neighborhood wishing the drive had been longer. He wanted to make sure she was going to be ok. Besides, he was enjoying the simpleness of listening to her breath.
As he pulled up outside her building, she sat up straight. "Griss . . . my car . . . " She trailed off still not looking in his direction.
"Sara, you're tired. I'll take you to get it tomorrow." He meant it with the best of intentions and he hoped she took it that way. "Go upstairs, get some sleep, and call me when you wake up."
She made no move to get out of the car. He was looking intently at the side of her face when she turned her sights toward him. What he saw there was unmistakable. She was scared. "Sara . . . "
She interrupted him. "Come upstairs." Two words. His heart jumped into his throat. For a second he forgot to breathe.
"I just don't want to be alone - and we need to talk - and I know my timing really sucks - and this was a bad idea - God, I'm sorry - I'll go now." She rushed the words out and began frantically searching for the door handle.
She stopped as he shut off the car. With a hand that seemed steadier then it should have been, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His heart was racing and his stomach seemed to be at war with itself. "You're right honey . . . " There was that word again. Why couldn't he stop himself from saying it today? "Your timing does suck. You're exhausted Sara. But if you truly want me to go inside with you . . . I'll be there. Always, Anytime, Anywhere, Any Reason."
When she caught his hand with hers, he caught his breath in his throat. He saw tears forming in her eyes again. He caught one with his thumb as it fell down her cheek. "Honey . . . please don't cry."
She smiled a soft smile. "These tears Grissom . . . these are the good kind."
That made Grissom smile back. He hadn't done anything wrong. "Good."
Sara opened the door and got out. Before shutting it she glanced back at him before looking at her shoes. "So. uh." She cleared her throat. "Do you want to come up? As tired as I am . . . I'll be up for at least another hour, probably more. And I could really use the company."
He smiled at her even though she wasn't looking at him to see it. He didn't say anything, knowing his history. It would probably be the wrong thing. Instead he pulled the keys from the ignition and opened his door. He walked around the car to stand beside her.
She turned and walked toward the apartment complex, magically producing a set of keys from her pocket. "I don't have my purse, my car, my coat, or my sanity . . . but I managed to keep my apartment keys. Nice huh?"
Still afraid to say anything he just nodded. She opened the door to her apartment and led him inside. "Make yourself at home. I'll be right back."
She walked into the kitchen and her answering machine beeped. He heard her set the keys on the table and then the faucet start. He realized he was still standing by the door like an idiot. He walked over to the couch and relaxed into the soft material.
He listened as her footfalls changed as she slipped off her shoes and then disappeared all together as she stepped onto carpeting. He watched as she walked down the hallway and ducked into a room. The sound of a closet door opening . . . he assumed she was changing.
He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds, the wonderfully domestic sounds, of Sara Sidle. The running of water in the bathroom. The flipping of light switches. The flushing of the toilet. And a radio playing softly from somewhere in the apartment. They were all such simple sounds. He heard them every day but tonight they were better then any symphony he'd ever attended. It was Sara's music, and it was lulling him to sleep better then Bach or Mozart ever could.
He heard her coming back down the hall and opened his eyes. She'd washed her face, pulled her hair back, and changed into pajamas. He'd never appreciated a woman in pajama bottoms until he saw Sara. The purple was such an innocent color. She looked young and relaxed in her own home.
She caught his stare and he smiled. "I like your pants . . . "
She sat down on the couch beside him, one leg curled up beneath her. "You must really be tired."
That elicited a smile from him. "No, really, they're cute . . . "
Sara was turning a beautiful shade of red. He reached out and took her hand, his face growing serious. "Sara? Can I ask? Should I ask? Why are you leaving?"
Judging from the lack of surprise on her face she knew it was coming. His heart broke as she sighed. She sounded so . . . sad.
"Because it hurts too bad."
The statement was simple and honest, but his heart fell. He waited for her to say more, needed her to say more, but she only shrugged.
"Sara . . . " The words were eluding him again. He didn't know what to say and he didn't know how to say it.
"Grissom, it's a lot of things. It's coming home and not sleeping. It's the fact that I've lived in this apartment for six years and I only know one of my neighbors . . . and that's only because she came knocking on MY door." She paused and pulled her hand away."It's because my best friends are my co-workers. And when I'm not with them . . . I'm alone. It's the fact that I'm afraid to have kids because of the terrible things I see every day, and because I'm a workaholic. I'm a workaholic because I hate being alone. Because when I'm alone I hate being me. I hate how I remind myself of my parents. Being around so much violence day after day . . . Grissom, I can feel the potential in myself to be just like her. To get angry . . . so angry I just lose it."
He had a flashback of sitting here before. The only things different were that she wasn't curled up into herself. She was right here beside him, open to him. And she wasn't crying. She was calm and collected and as relieved as he was that tears weren't the case this time . . . he couldn't help but be worried by her lack of emotion. She was shrugging it all away. Rationalizing it again. Running from it again.
As if to confirm that she was indeed running, she looked at him. "I just need something new in my life. And nothing here ever really changes. I get up - go to work - come home - and lay in bed pretending to sleep for hours before I finally do. Always alone. It gets old after awhile."
She stood up. "I know I invited you up here for this conversation, but I'm so tired . . . " She turned to walk him to the door.
He stood up and followed behind her slowly trying desperately to think of something, anything, to say. He knew what he wanted to say he just couldn't figure out how to say it. After so long - how could he say it - so that she believed him.
By the time they got to the door and she'd reached for the knob, panic had overtaken the rest of his emotions. Including, it seemed, his thought process. "I don't want you to go."
Her hand stilled on the knob but she didn't turn to face him. "Grissom . . . I can't play this game again - it's not fair to me and . . . "
He interrupted her. "...and I don't want to play either. Because you're right. It's not fair to you. And I'm not being fair to me either." Sara dropped both hands to her sides. "The idea of you leaving scares me, Sara, because then I'd be alone."
She turned to face him, her eyes blazing. "You've always been alone Grissom - because you never let me in. Never. And that's your fault."
Grissom opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted him again. "No. I am alone because you're the only man I ever really trusted. Hell, the only person I ever really trusted. And that's my fault. But I opened myself up to you. Made myself vulnerable to you. And I'm still alone."
Grissom's heart actually hurt. "Sara . . . I'm sorry." He dropped his eyes to the floor. "I never meant to hurt you. I would never hurt you on purpose. Never. I've always just wanted you to be happy. And it never seriously, at least, occurred to me that I could do that. I'm bad at these things . . . horrible really. And like an idiot, I assumed that being your friend was as good to you as anything else. Even though it would never be good enough for me. I just wanted you to be happy." He said it again.
This time when Sara looked at him there were questions in her eyes. "If you wanted to be my friend . . . why do you ignore me?"
To his surprise the answer came easily and truthfully. "Because to be near you is to love you. And you can't fall in love with your friends. At least not the way I fell for you." He heard Sara's sharp intake of breath. "Every single time I worked with you I was reminded of how beautiful, smart, sensitive, and just pure wonderful you are. And honestly . . . I didn't consider myself good enough for you. You deserve more." He looked at the floor again.
Sara reached out and lifted his chin. "Dr. Grissom, I believe your insecurities are showing . . . " his eyes darted to her face and caught her smiling. "Griss . . . you are good enough. You are a good man. An honest man. Someone I can confide in . . . someone I trust enough to confide in . . . and . . . "she smirked. "...you are a very attractive man."
Grissom's eyes slammed into hers again and he saw truth there. Then again they were filled with sadness. "Every night . . . I go to sleep alone. But you're here . . . " She placed his hand against her heart.
His heart slammed against his rib-cage. He wanted to pull her to him. He wanted to push her away. He wanted to stay with her forever - he wanted to turn and run.
He ran his hand up her neck and into her hair. She took a step closer to him, their bodies just inches apart. "Sara . . . " He brought his lips within an inch of hers. He could feel her breath tickling his skin. He locked his eyes with hers. His hand was on her face now . . . his thumb caressing her jaw. His other hand slipped behind her and pulled her to him. "Sweet Sara . . . " His heart was calm now. This fate, their fate, was out of his hands . . .
To Be Continued . . .