Disclaimer: These characters belong to Paramount Pictures, CBS Alliance Atlantis and other sundry corporation.No financial gain is made by sharing this story. The only thing I get out of it is obsession.
This story is the result of my fevered mind, dealing with a flushing episode in the middle of the night.
Thanks to my beta, Joan, who graciously stepped up to the plate when I threw it at her.
Shadows
"Sara, Ruth Blaine is in interrogation. You're doing this alone, right?" Grissom's left hand was holding onto the door frame of the break room, his head just peeking around the corner.
Sara nodded. "I think she'll be more open with only a woman present. But I'm not going in just yet. Let her wonder what's going on for awhile. It will keep her unbalanced."
"The case is pretty well open and shut with the evidence we have. It's just procedure at this point." The tension in Sara belied her nonchalant conversation.
"I've got to check on Greg & Warrick and Nick & Catherine. Both Warrick & Catherine have paged me. There may be problems with their cases. When I'm done, I'll be back at my office. Join me when you're done, or wait for me if I'm not done with them yet, and we'll wrap this up."
Grissom headed toward the layout room and ran into Warrick and Catherine standing in the hall talking. They were each holding two bottles of water.
"You two paged me?" he said in their general direction.
Warrick nodded as he took a drink from one of the bottles. "I wanted to let you know that they found the vic's car. It's being towed in as we speak. Greg is in the garage now, waiting to sign for it. It's going to be a long night, so I came up for some water. It will likely put both of us over the limit for overtime, so you'll need to OK it."
Grissom nodded, and then turned to Catherine. "How are you and Nick doing on your case?"
"A witness saw the suspect near the dumpster behind the apartment building. Nick is in the layout room going through the sixteen bags of trash we collected there. Looks like it'll be a long night for us as well. I'm on my way to join him with refreshment." Catherine indicated the bottle of water in her left hand as she drank from the one in her right.
"Sara is interrogating the prime suspect in our case. Evidence is open and shut. We should be wrapping that one up within the hour. Page me if you need anything."
Warrick and Catherine walked away in different directions. Grissom headed toward his office, but stopped. On second thought, he'd go watch Sara's interview of the supsect. He headed out the door toward interrogation.
This case had been strange from the start. Not the case, really. It was a relatively simple case of stalking. Scott Nichols first had received a rose, placed on the seat of his Camry. He thought it odd, but assumed someone had bought it at the fundraiser for Cancer research held that day and put it in the wrong car. He dismissed it. Then, last week, he couldn't find his favorite sweat pants and t-shirt that he wore around the house. The next day, he noticed a picture of himself with his mother was missing from his fireplace mantle. The following day, his book of inspirational verse he kept on his bed stand was gone, along with his brush. That's when he called the police. As an escalating case with potential danger, they called CSI. Fingerprinting the areas of loss, viable prints were eventually found and a suspect was located.
What was strange about this case was the discomfort it was creating within each of the investigators.
Grissom's discomfort had begun during the second interview with the victim. The only complete prints they had found were on the car. They belonged to Ruth Blaine. When Grissom questioned Nichols about the suspect, he emphatically denied that it could be her. Ruth had been a co-worker, subordinate actually, at his previous job. Her prints were likely there because she and several others had ridden with him to the office Christmas party. She was a wonderful person and he was certain it wasn't her.
The way in which the man talked about this woman, Grissom was certain that there was more. He probed and discovered that Nichols was emotionally attached to Ruth, but refused to act on it. That was one of the reasons he had left that job. He felt that if they didn't work together, he could pursue her romantically. They had stayed in contact - as friends. He was just waiting to get himself established at his new job before he asked her on a date and move it to the next level. Grissom was impressed with the man's willingness to change his life around for the possibility of being with the woman he loved. At the same time, it made him uncomfortable. And he couldn't figure out why.
No, Scott Nichols was certain it wasn't Ruth Blaine because his heart would tell him. He suggested Harry Roberts, the man who had been passed over when the job Nichols currently held became vacant. But there was no evidence to incriminate Roberts. Ruth Blaine remained the prime suspect, even before the partials found on Nichols' bed stand were identified as hers. It would seem Scott Nichols' heart was not a good judge of character.
With the fingerprints, they were able to get a search warrant for Ruth's apartment, where they found all of the missing items. Since Ruth had been out of town on business at the time, they had to wait until she returned to bring her in.
Grissom had noticed the change in Sara immediately after finding the stolen items. There was a tension that he couldn't quite identify. It was different than the usual application of guilt one assigned to suspects when evidence was found incriminating them. Sara kept going over the evidence, as if she wanted to make sure everything was in order. She watched him when she thought he wasn't looking. She was more pensive than usual. He would be worried about her if he didn't have his own odd feelings about this case as well.
And so, Grissom was inclined to view the interrogation.
Grissom entered the viewing room, leaving the lights off. Ruth Blaine sat nervously at the table, glancing around the room as if trying to get her bearings. Her auburn hair swished against her shoulders each time she moved her head. Her thin arms were crossed and she rocked slightly. Her flawless skin was lightly tanned and her slight figure was an advertisement for a health club. It was easy to see why Scott Nichols had fallen for her. She didn't look like a stalker. They never did.
Ruth's head jerked toward the door as it opened, admitting Sara. Moving in as she read the file in her hand, Sara pulled out the chair opposite Ruth and sat down. After a few minutes reviewing the file, which Grissom was sure she already knew front to back, Sara lifted her head and smiled empathetically at Ruth.
"You're in love with Scott Nichols," she said with a tenderness that unexpectedly made Grissom's heart ache.
Ruth just stared at Sara, her mouth working wordlessly.
"To deny it is impossible for you, isn't it, Ruth? You've been in love with him for so long, you don't know what it's like not to love him. It's a part of you. You might have even tried to cut it out. But you can't. It's become who you are.
"And he keeps your hopes alive, doesn't he? You thought it was over when he left Atkins & Jenkins. But he kept in contact. He called you regularly. He flirted with you on occasion. He made you think…" Sara sighed.
Grissom's stomach muscles bunched into knots. Why was this so uncomfortable?
"But nothing happened. After another two years of waiting." Grissom frowned. That wasn't right. He quickly grabbed his copy of the file. Grissom's mouth dropped. Nichols had been at his new job for two years! Why had Grissom thought it was only a couple of months? If he loved her, which Grissom was sure he did, what was the man waiting for?
"A girl can only live on phone calls and hopes for so long. You forgot what he smelled like. So to help you get through those long nights alone, you took his shirt to remember. Sleeping with his shirt that smells just like him, you can imagine it's him curled up in your arms. Although his face is forever branded in your mind, you took his picture. What does he think about as he drifts off to sleep? The poetry he reads before bed. You imagined him reading it to you. Brushing your own hair with his brush – it's an intimate act, isn't it? It's as if his hands are in your hair." Sara's voice is dreamy, emphasizing the word 'his'.
Grissom is mesmerized by it. The feeling of discomfort was making him sweat. He forced his gaze to Ruth and saw tears streaming down her face, her head slowly nodding affirmation.
"You understand. Someone holds your heart in his hand, too?" she inquired of Sara. Sara ignored the question.
Grissomwas both relieved and disappointed.
Ruth shook her head. "I just need to hold on a little longer. He loves me. I know he does. He talked on and on about that split level country house he wants and then asked my favorite color for a bedroom. Doesn't that mean he wants me in his dream house? He wants me in his bedroom? He just hasn't found the courage to ask me. His…things, help me to hold on. They are the part of him that I can have right now while I wait for him to act on his feelings."
"Ruth, if his feelings aren't strong enough to make him act now, to make him fight for you now, they are only shadows of love. It's time to come out of the shadows. You're being charged with burglary."
Ruth looked at Sara, confused.
The door opened and Sofia walked into the interrogation room looking first at Sara, then at Ruth. "Mr. Nichols has declined pressing charges."
Ruth looked at Sara, triumphantly. "Where is he?" Ruth asked of Sofia.
"Outside," replied Sofia. Ruth stood, frozen, looking at the door. "You're fee to go."
Ruth ran from the room. Sara dropped her head with sadness and said, "Of course he dropped the charges. You have to really be obsessed to take someone's most intimate possessions. He's flattered by the attention of this otherwise intelligent, beautiful woman. He thinks he's doing her a favor by dropping the charges. She sees this as evidence of his love for her. But the whole incident will just be another excuse for him to do nothing." Sofia shrugged at Sara's comments and left the room.
The look of sadness on Sara's face as she glanced at the open door made Grissom want to reach out and comfort her, hold her in his arms, make the pain go away. But he was rooted to the spot. He didn't move.
And then her words echoed in his ears. "If his feelings aren't strong enough to make him act now, to make him fight for you now, they are only shadows of love."
He felt as if he had been hit by a brick. What was he waiting for? He had pushed away his feelings for Sara for much longer than two years. She was right. It was time to come out of the shadows. It was a big step and, after all that she had just said to Ruth, he was afraid that she might reject him.
He wouldn't let that be his excuse.
That nagging discomfort that had plagued him was gone. He left the viewing room and headed for the interrogation room.
Sara still stood in the room, her head bent as she organized the file. She looked up when Grissom came in and sighed, shaking her head. Grissom spoke softly. "Ruth and Scott could be Sara and Gil, couldn't they?" Sara's mouth dropped open in confusion. Her eyes never left Grissom. "I watched the interrogation and suddenly realized what an ass I've been." With a deliberate slowness, he walked to her and took her into his arms, holding her tightly. Stunned, Sara was unresponsive at first. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in his shoulder, and began to cry. When she was spent, Grissom pulled back and took her chin in his hand.
"I care for you Sara. I've ignored it, hoping the feelings would go away. Even when the feelings refused to go away, I refused to do anything about them.
"I'm acting upon my feelings now. And you will see so much action from me, you'll be exhausted." Sara smiled wickedly and he realized the sexual innuendo in the statement. He tried, "I mean relationship wise." Realizing that was no better, he blushed and stammered, "I …" But he could think of nothing to say that was not sexually implicit. Sara began to laugh. Smiling he said, "Maybe I'll just let my statement stand. You can make of it what you will. I hope," he said with a twinkle in his eye.