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I love GSR!
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of the characters and I am gaining nothing from playing with them here! Just having some good fun!
Tell Me
Sara stands baffled outside Grissoms closed and empty office as Nick walks up behind her.
"Hey, Sar," he greets her, "Isn't it your night off?"
She turns to him not bothering to mask her confusion or her heavy breathing.
Nick is instantly concerned. "You okay?" he asks her.
She swallows hard and nods. "Yeah," she breaths out as if she's run all the way to the lab from her apartment, her heart racing with anticipation of what she has come here for. "Nicky," she asks, "Where's Gris?"
Nick looks at her like she has two heads before laughing at her slightly. "Come on, Sar," he told her. "It's both your guys' night off. You practically live here. You should know that."
She calms slightly, "I came in anyway, as usual." she replied.
He places his hand on her shoulder and squeezes it slightly as he says to her, "You should go home and sleep. You could use some relaxin', Darlin'." His accent is thicker now since his brush with death a few months ago.
She forces a smile and assures Nick she'll be heading home soon. "I have something I've gotta do first." she tells him before turning quickly and practically jogging to the locker room to gather her things.
Nick watches her for a moment before shaking his head and heading down the hallway to meet Warrick in the lounge. Whatever was up with her, he'd wait to ask about until tomorrow night's shift.
As Sara grabs her jacket from her locker and changes out of her sneakers and back into her good shoes she thinks over what she's about to do. She's been wandering around the lab for a week now working as close as possible to Grissom. It wasn't a hard thing to do. Every assignment she'd had the past seven days he always placed her with himself. Her brow furrows as she closes her locker and thinks over the past week.
He had found a way, during every case, to touch her in some way; just a slight brush on the arm as they surveyed a scene, a brushing of fingertips as he'd pass her a case file or an evidence bag, a light touch to get her attention while she was prosecuting evidence or using the microscope. She'd thought nothing of it. That is, until last night she'd thought nothing of it.
He had come up to her after she had finished a particularly trying interrogation. The criminal, a male, had been particularly crude with her. He had been a shrewd bastard. He could sense how angry Sara was, after all, the man had beaten his wife until he believed her dead and had attempted to put her in the trunk of his car then drop her off in the desert. He hadn't expected her to awaken and lunge at him as soon as he placed her in the trunk. That's when he had taken the crow bar and stabbed her repeatedly in the chest. He preyed on Sara's anger thoughout their brief time together. He found sick pleasure in it.
He hadn't taken any measures to cover up his crime. That hadn't surprised Sara. "He was trying to make a statement," she had wispered to Grissom, "He wanted to teach her a lesson. He was trying to teach us a lesson too."
She hated domestic abuse cases. They hit too close to home. She didn't handle them well. Grissom knew how hard it was for Sara to cope under these circumstances. He knew what she had grown up with, with her father's alcoholism, the beatings he'd given her mother, maybe even her. He also knew how her mother had stabbed her father as Sara watched helplessly.
It was because of Sara's pain that Grissom hated domestic abusers so much. He could only imagine what she had went through. He could only imagine how alone she felt. Though he would never say it aloud, he cared a great deal about Sara and he wanted nothing more than to fight away her demons.
He looked at her probingly as she watched the murderer be escorted away by the cops. She scrunched her nose disgustedly as he turned his face to blow her a kiss and wink. Grissom involuntarily stiffened.
Before he could even think, Grissom's arm was wrapped around her waist pulling her against him in a tight sideways kind of hug. It was her turn to stiffen. She turned her face to the side so she was looking him in the eyes. For a moment she saw past his shields right into the depths of Grissom, the man, not the scientist. It was often assumed that the man and the scientist were inseparable when Grissom was concerned. Sara always knew there was more to him than his work. She always knew he really did need more than just the crime lab, even if he tricked himself into thining he didn't.
She couldn't make a sound. She was captivated by his eyes. For a moment she could see the pain he felt and the loneliness, but there was more to him than just that. She could see the protectiveness he felt towards her and the incredible pride he felt in her. He whispered to her tenderly, never turning his eyes from her's, never letting her go or loosening his grip on her, "I'm proud of how you handled that, Sara..." He trailed off as if he was afraid of what else he may say to her. He trailed off as if he were afraid that some deeply hidden emotion may make it's way to the surface of his swirling blue eyes. Yet, in spite of his best efforts, an emotion did pass over his features as he watched her. Had she not been so engrossed in him, had she not come to be able to read him so well, she would not have caught it's significance.
Before Sara could reply, Grissom released her and took a small step back from her. He blinked slowly as if to wipe away any evidence of what had just passed between them. When he looked at her again, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape, his emotions were once again encrypted in the depths of his soul. He smiled sheepishly at her before turning around and shuffling down the corridor of the police station.
Sara stood there unable to move, never wanting to move. She had never wanted to leave the place she had just been. She had always dreamed he would open himself to her like that. Her greatest desire the past six years had been to simply get inside of him, passed the scientist to the man within. She had never imagined it would be like this. She had never actually thought it would happen at all. Never before had she experienced something so intimate and raw. In a matter of moments she had seen into Gil Grissom, into the most sacred of places, and she had learned all about him. She had seen exactly what he kept so deep inside his heart, loved, hidden and protected from the world: herself.
