Author's Notes: Enjoy this new chapter! I'm getting mixed feelings from y'all about Matt...which I love;) Thanks for the feedback. Until next time, take care!
Someone Else's Star
by Kristen Elizabeth
Man seeks to escape himself…and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, lies…give him a few moments of comfort. – Jean Cocteau
March 2006
One of the advantages of being a CSI was having access to many otherwise restricted online databases. Grissom had never abused this power before, and he hoped he never would again. But the need for knowledge, or rather the need for the control that knowledge had given him in the past, had been too great. And before he could come to his senses, Grissom found himself typing a single name into the search engine.
Matthew Wilson.
It was a common name, he realized too late, after receiving several thousand matches. He refined his search.
Matthew Wilson, San Francisco
That narrowed things down a bit. Matthew Wilson, age 37, according to his DMV record. A safe driver with no points on his California license. No outstanding warrants, no record of convictions or even arrests.
Matthew Wilson, graduate of UC Davis with a Masters in Sports Medicine. Licensed physical therapist in the state of California. Partner in a therapy group for the past ten years.
Matthew Wilson, author of "Everyday Therapy: Physical Fitness for Busy Lives." Praised by the American Board of Physical Therapists. Mostly ignored by the public.
Matthew Wilson, applied for a San Francisco County marriage license to Sara Sidle in September of 2000. The license was never issued. But…the request had never been formally withdrawn. There was one address listed on the application for both parties.
Grissom pushed away from his computer. A lump rose in his throat that he couldn't seem to swallow.
The man was law abiding, of above average intelligence, accomplished within his field…and he had lived with and been engaged to Sara.
He'd been looking for proof that Matt Wilson wasn't who he claimed to be. At the very least, he'd been hoping to find that it was all a misunderstanding. That Sara…his Sara…had never given her heart to anyone else.
What he'd found was confirmation of his worst nightmare.
The only proof he could see was that Matt Wilson was a major part of Sara's past. And now that the man had reappeared after six years, Grissom drew one logical conclusion that had him gasping for breath.
Matt Wilson wanted to be a part of Sara's future.
"Writing the book was the hardest thing I've ever done." Matt sipped his coffee. "But it was also an amazing experience. Even if it didn't exactly hit the bestseller list, I'm not sorry I did it."
Sara shook her head. "I can't believe you wrote a book. As I recall, you didn't even like to write emails."
"People change, Sara."
His words struck a deeply buried nerve. "I guess so." When she looked up at him, it was with a sad smile. "I'm proud of you."
He accepted this with a nod of his head. "All right. We've rehashed the past and talked about the last six years of my life. It's your turn now."
She'd been dreading this. Her coffee was cold, but Sara drained the cup anyways, needing the fortification of caffeine. "What exactly do you want to know?"
Matt laughed. "I don't know, Sara. Anything. Everything. When did you quit smoking? When did you start straightening your hair? Could I still go into your bag and find beef jerky?"
"Six years ago. On and off for about five years. And no, because I'm a vegetarian now."
"Oh, there's got to be a story behind that."
Despite herself, the corners of Sara's lips twitched. "I spent twelve hours with a dead pig, a heat lamp and…" She stopped just before she named her partner in the life-changing experiment. "And a whole lot of flies. Meat hasn't looked the same since."
"Say no more." Matt pulled at his collar. "Really…say no more. Please."
Her amusement manifested as a genuine smile. "I see that stomach of yours hasn't gotten any stronger in six years."
"Uh-uh. We're not talking about me anymore, Sara. We're still on you."
She sighed. "I don't know. I've…it's just been…you know…work. There's been interesting cases and I've made some good friends in the department."
"Have you dated?" he asked calmly.
Sara lifted her shoulder. "Never seriously."
"What about…"
"Matt." Her eyes pleaded with him. "Don't ask questions you already know the answers to."
A long moment passed. "I'm sorry."
"Really?" she asked, skeptically.
"Well…no. But I want to be. I'd like think that I'm the kind of person who doesn't hold a grudge."
"You hold a grudge against me?" Sara blinked. "I guess I can't blame you, but…"
"Not against you, Sara."
She didn't need to inquire further. "Oh."
"You never told him about us. Did you?"
Sara shook her head tightly. "It never seemed like the right…" She stopped. "He never asked."
Setting down his mug, Matt studied her. "I bet you're wondering why I came. Now…after all this time."
"The thought has crossed my mind."
"It's really simple." He reached for her hand. "I wanted to see you. I wanted…no, I needed to make sure you're all right. And that you're happy."
Sara tried to ignore the familiar warmth of his touch. "I am."
"No more lies," Matt said, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "Tell me that you're happy…and I'll get a flight back to California tonight." There was a pause. "But if you can't do that, Sara, then get used to having me around. I've been considering opening my own practice for quite awhile, and Las Vegas seems as good a place as any to set it up."
When she said nothing after a full minute, Matt threaded his fingers through hers. "Well, there's my answer."
Sara stared at their entwined fingers. "Why haven't you moved on…forgotten about me? I treated you…well, you know. You were there. It was bad." She lowered her eyes. "Why don't you hate me?"
"I'm the one who told you to take all the time you needed. And I also told you I wasn't going anywhere. Remember?"
"I do. I just…"
Matt cut her off gently. "We've done a lot of talking for one night. And you've just come off a shift. Why don't you go home and get some rest…and I'll take you to dinner tonight? You can show me the city."
"I'll be a shitty tour guide," Sara confessed. "I've only been in the casinos when they're part of an investigation."
"Then we'll explore Vegas together. What do you say?"
It was the nicest invitation she'd received in a very long time. She found herself nodding, sealing the date with silent acceptance.
Whether she was ready or not, Matt was back in her life. And yet…it felt anything but awkward.
He dialed slowly, pressing each button with extreme care and accuracy. By the time he lifted the receiver to his ear, her phone was already ringing.
"Grissom?" she answered, sleepily. No possibility of anonymity with caller ID. Technology was a bitch.
Several jigs of good Scotch had prompted him to make the call. It was just too bad that along with the courage came a fog around his brain that he couldn't seem to penetrate.
"I know it's you, Grissom," she continued, sounding a bit more awake now. "Are you going to say anything?"
He sat alone in his darkened living room, unable to form a single word.
"Okay. If you're not going to talk, I will." There was a pause. "I dislocated my shoulder not long after making CSI Level I in San Francisco. The department sent me to a physical therapist. That's how I met Matt. As soon as I was healed and no longer his patient, he asked me out. We obviously hit it off…and he asked me to marry him six months later."
Grissom silently drained the last inch of amber liquid from his glass.
"I don't know why I never told you. I guess…I didn't want to know what your reaction would be. If you were upset…I'd know that I'd made a mistake. If you weren't…" Another pause followed. "I'd know that everything really had been in my imagination."
"I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow," she admitted. "Now that these two big pieces of my life have collided. So if you called for answers…I don't have them. And I'm not even sure you'd deserve them."
A minute ticked by in heavy silence. Finally, Sara sighed. "I'm done, Grissom. Don't call me again unless you plan on making some confessions of your own. You owe me. Six years ago…I was faced with a choice. I chose you. And you promised I wouldn't regret it."
His grip tightened on his empty glass.
"You know the sad thing?" Sara sniffed softly. "Even now...when you look at me a certain way…I don't."
She hung up without saying goodbye.
Grissom held the phone to his ear until it started beeping at him, an automated prompt to hang up, to let go, to give up hope that she might come back.
He set the receiver down and picked up the bottle of Scotch.
To Be Continued