Chapter 7
Sara hovered near his door. She needed to talk to Grissom; only there was nothing appropriate to say. There wasn't anything new in her case to discuss, and she certainly couldn't tell him about therapy. The thing was, every now and then the desire to just engage with him in some way was so compelling she invented reasons to throw herself in his path.
In the cocoon he referred to as an office Grissom was almost a shadow. He rarely turned on the fluorescent overhead lights, opting instead to work in the small circle of illumination provided by his desk lamp. The walls were filled with objects that more or less defined him: equipment, pinned insects, and jars of specimens, bringing the space in close and offering an a safe and intimate feeling.
She went to the break room and poured two cups of Greg's private stash. Returning to his office she spoke into the open door, "Knock, knock. Thought you could use a wake up."
He smiled up at her, "Thanks…" when he brought the cup to his lips the aroma alerted him to her crime, "You pilfered from Greg!"
She shrugged, "I used gloves, he'll never find me." She stood in front of his desk, trying not to stare at him, trying not to look like she was nosing in on what was on his computer. Failing at both.
"Sit down Sara, you're making me nervous." He said it with a glint in his eye. He was in a good mood.
She sat, let her long legs unfurl in front of her, her back sideways in the chair, just two buddies having a coffee break.
Grissom drank his coffee and sat back in his own seat. "Greg's gonna miss this coffee, he's got court tomorrow."
Sara smiled, "It's cute how nervous he gets. I'll make it up to him."
A flash of pursed lips, was that annoyance from her supervisor?
"I know where he gets this stuff, I'll buy him a bag." Realizing she was out of things to say, she attempted a smooth retreat, "I'd better go check in with the doc, see if he knows anything else about my dead girl from Hutchins St." She stood, and sat again rapidly.
"Sara?"
"Whoa. That was… I stood up too quick I guess." She stood again more slowly and fought against the fuzz in her head. Suddenly she was so dizzy the goal of the door only a few feet away felt like miles. She shook her head to clear the tunnel vision and tried a few steps.
Sara moved sideways instead of forward and Grissom was instantly next to her, his hand under her elbow, she felt the heat of the other at her waist, "Sit back down, Sara, what's happening?" He sat her in the chair and crouched beside her.
Her face was mild, she tried to pass it off, "I don't know, I was fine just a minute ago. Maybe Greg spiked the coffee to catch a thief." She attempted a smile.
Grissom's fingers curled at her wrist and she was confused a moment and then realized he was taking her pulse. It must have been satisfactory because he stood and leaned on his desk.
"Has this happened to you before, recently?"
"No. Never. I guess it's just that I didn't have time to eat tonight."
He pulled his chair around next to hers then went and closed his door before he sat, so close that the small space between their thighs pulsed with energy.
"I'm concerned about you."
She swallowed hard, looked at her hands. "You don't have to be."
"I think I do. You aren't making the most self supporting decisions lately."
"Pot. Kettle." Sara countered.
His eyes softened, his lips twitching slightly, "I've been working on it. " for a moment he seemed far away. Snapping back to present he broached the smallest in the herd of elephants sitting sandwiched between them. "Have you been attending therapy?"
Petulant child. That was Sara's tone when she gave him the one word response, "Yes."
He chanced only a sideways glace at her. "Did you tell her about Sparks? About Adam?" He couldn't say "the attack" or anything that would imply Sara's victimhood.
"I feel much better now. I'd best get…"
His fingers on her knee stopped her.
"You don't' have to tell me what you said, I just want to know that you're taking advantage of this opportunity. That's you're opening yourself to this. It could help."
"I told her. I've dumped all of my skeletons on her couch, okay?"
"Good. We all need someone to help us sort the bones."
She bit her lip, trying to hold back something juvenile and accusatory. Instead she heard herself whisper, "What about you?"
"Me?"
"Who sorts your bones Gil?"
His cell phone chirped. The few words he'd uttered gave her little insight as to the nature of the call but his furrowed brow suggested the news wasn't good.
Snapping his phone shut he turned he addressed her, "I have to go. Are you going to be okay?"
"I'm fine. New case?"
"I'm not sure. Get something to eat. If you still feel dizzy take the rest of the night off." He stopped at the door and looked back at her still sitting.
"I'm FINE." She reaffirmed.
He half smiled at her, all of the supervisor gone from his voice, "I'll call you later."