Author: geekyfrog
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Spoilers: general through the end of Season Six
Disclaimer: I'm not affiliated with CBS and don't have any claim to these characters.
Author's Notes: Nomadic Soul, thanks as always for the beta work. Hope you enjoy the changes - I decided the part we discussed was too out of character.
Thank you also to those who have been commenting. It means a lot to me to know that you are enjoying this.
Chapter Six: Solar Flare
Grissom gave up trying to read the latest issue of the Journal of Forensic Sciences on his laptop. He appreciated the ease of searching offered by the new online format, but missed the familiar comfort of curling up in his favorite reading perch with the old-fashioned paper version. Turning off the desk lamp, he wandered aimlessly into his living room and rubbed his thumb over the worn leather of that chair.
Come on, Gil, what's eating you tonight? It isn't like you to be so unfocused.
Sara's been gone for over a week. Eight days to be specific.
Well, you knew she was getting an open-ended ticket. She has more than plenty of vacation time coming.
I don't begrudge her the time. I just want to know why she hasn't called since the day she got there.
Shivering, he flipped the switch on the wall to light the gas fireplace and poured himself a scotch. Sipping slowly, he sank onto his couch and stared morosely at the flames. The night was cool by Vegas standards, but he knew that his pervasive chill came from the ice numbing his heart and not the brisk February air.
What if she's changed her mind?
Be reasonable. She's waited for you for how many years now? She isn't going anywhere.
Okay, what if something happened? What if she's hurt? I know this is a tough trip for her, why couldn't she reach out and let me help? One phone call after the service… just to let me know how she's doing…
Unaccountably, surprisingly, he felt a hot needle of anger stitch its way through the cold blanketing his heart.
What if she's punishing me?
In the distance, he heard the clap and roll of thunder, and then a strong pattering sound as a rare rainstorm began to pelt his windows.
Perfect. Even the weather has caught my bad mood.
Pouring himself another scotch, he began to contemplate getting resoundingly drunk. He moved to the bookshelf and selected a CD, slipping it into the player and queuing up the second cut - Johnny Cash's cover of Hurt. The Man in Black: his old, reliable friend. He sank back down on the couch, puzzled by the sudden tightness in his throat at the truth within the familiar lyrics.
Halfway through the second stanza, the spare rawness of Cash's voice was disrupted by the maddeningly melodious chime of the doorbell. Briefly, he pondered who it might be.
Catherine, needing my signature on something?
Nah, she would have called first.
Jim, then, wanting a drink and a chat.
No, he's on duty tonight.
Deciding it must be someone selling something, he settled back to ignore it. In a moment, the soft two-tone summons came again, this time punctuated by a pounding.
Sighing, he put his scotch down and walked to the foyer, feeling aggrieved as he turned the knob and pulled the door inward.
A gust of wind dashed his face with a few of the raindrops, but he didn't feel them in his shock. Standing on his doorstep, Sara looked waiflike. He couldn't discern her face as she was backlit by the streetlamp, but he could see that her hair clung damply to her head and her shoulders were hunched against the chill and the rain. All around her a light veil of fog shifted in the wind, illumined by the watery blue glow of the halogen overhead. There was an otherworldliness to the scene that made him want to pinch himself to be sure he wasn't dreaming.
She said nothing, simply studied him in the same measured way that he took stock of her. After a long moment, he stepped aside to allow her entry. She walked past him as he shut the door. Scorched by a solar flare of pure emotion, he gripped the knob hard to calm himself before he turned to face her.
Deep breath, Gil.
A small pool of water was already forming on the tile around her feet as she stood there, dripping, chin lifted defiantly. Her skin was pale, but there was a red bloom across her cheekbones and a cold glitter in her eyes that told him she felt the supercharged moment as much as he did.
Overcome by a tide that was equal parts relief, fury, and desire, he moved quickly, pinning her against the wall before she had a chance to react. He tasted the rain on her lips, noticing the contrast of cold and hot, catching her soft moan with his tongue and feeding it back to her.
She tugged his shirt free of his jeans and slipped her hands inside, running them up his torso. Her fingers were icy, but they burned a trail of fire. Hot and cold again.
He mirrored her actions, spanning her ribs with his strong hands, skating his thumbs along the underside of her breasts. He hummed deep in his throat as their tongues tangled together.
ChristSaraIwantyou. Wantyou. Want to lose myself in you until I don't know where I end and you begin.
Her frozen fingers worked open the top button of his jeans. Frenzied, she kissed him, biting hard on his lower lip.
It hurt.
It really hurt.
Stunned by the taste of blood in his mouth, he pulled back. Her eyes were wide with shock and alarm, and he knew she had tasted it too.
Breathing ragged, eyes a wintry blue, he looked at her for a moment, then turned away. Disappearing into the living room, he silenced Johnny mid-verse and turned off the gas to the fireplace. When he returned to her, his mouth was set in a grim line.
"Come on." He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the door.
"What… where are we going?" The fear in her eyes calmed him slightly.
"Our first time together is not going to be about anger, Sara.We are going to the park. And we're going to talk."
"But it's freezing. And raining."
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." He opened the door and stormed out into the night.
He wouldn't look at her as they walked, block after block. The cold rain was slowing, but the silence between them was glacial. Her long legs easily kept pace with his, and he could feel the waves of terror emanating from her.
It made him feel small and shamed. He had wanted to get them outside and away from temptation so they could confront the anger that was carving a rift between them, not scare her to death.
Without breaking his stride, he reached out and caught her hand in his, squeezing their fingers together in mute reassurance. He thought he heard a sob, and the sound pierced the fury raging in his heart.
You really are an ass, Gil.
As they turned into the park and he led her toward the nearest bench, he realized that his anger had quelled, dissolved by the remnants of the storm into something less frightening.
Drawing her down onto the wet wooden seat, he asked simply, "Why?"
Looking stricken, she touched the wound on his lip with her thumb. "How badly did I hurt you?"
Ignoring her question, he simply shook his head, dislodging her tender contact. "No, Sara. I want to know why you're so angry."
The cold glitter was back in her eyes. "Well, aren't you solicitous all of a sudden."
He flinched, but years of interrogation experience had taught him the value of silence. Watchful waiting could yield results unmatched by the most aggressive questioning.
Bite your tongue, Gil. Let her have her say, all of it.
"You want to know why I'm so angry? Well, for starters, how about because I'm alive and Lisa is dead. Is that a valid enough reason for you?"
He simply looked at her, blue gaze infuriatingly steady on hers. She tipped her head to the side, narrowing her eyes as the attack became personal.
"Or, did you mean…" Her voice was deceptively quiet. "…why am I so angry at you?"
He nodded slightly, drawing in a deep breath, and she drew a perverse satisfaction from his apprehension.
"Well, let me see. I lose one of my two best friends in the whole world. I'm feeling worse than awful about the loss, because I know I should have been there for her at the end, and I wasn't. So I'm heading off for a tough time.
"I call my other best friend to let him know my flight landed safely. And his voice is such a lifeline for me. Even after we hang up, I can't put down my cell phone. I keep it wrapped in my hand, close to my heart, because I can't quite release the last vestiges of that connection. And I think to myself, I can do this. If I can hear the love in his voice each night, then I can get through this."
Her voice cracked. "He doesn't call the first night and I think, Well, we just talked last night. He'll call tomorrow. And the next night I think, He knows tomorrow is the service. I'm sure he'll call in the morning."
"And the next day I sit through the service, thinking how I've never seen anything like it. The whole thing was beautiful. Joyous. A celebration of her life, and at the same time, exquisitely, excruciatingly sad. And all I could think about the whole time was telling you about it, when you called that night.
"But you never did call, did you? And even then, I'm such a glutton for punishment, when my plane landed tonight, all I wanted to do was get here as quickly as I could, to lose myself in the comfort and love that would surely be waiting for me."
As the realization of what he had done set in, Johnny's voice sang in his mind.
"What have I become, my sweetest friend…
Everyone I know goes away in the end…" (1)
She was crying in earnest now. "Because you said to me, you said, 'I want to be your partner, Sara, for wherever life takes us.' And then you opened the door tonight, and the look on your face was like… like I was some kind of annoying disturbance.
"You can have it all… my empire of dirt…
I will let you down… I will make you hurt." (2)
"So – now you know." At some point in her impassioned speech she had stood, and now she sank back to the bench, deflated. Staring brokenly at the trees fringing the park, she gathered her courage and looked over at him.
He was shaking his head slowly, a look of horror on his face as the full import of his actions washed over him. As she watched, he dropped his face into his hands. She could barely make out his muffled words as he rocked back and forth.
"Sorry, Sara. So sorry. So sorry. So sorry."
Abruptly, he raised his eyes to hers. Her throat constricted at what she saw etched on his face.
Naked longing.
Infinite sadness.
Bleak resignation.
Running his fingers through his wet hair, he sighed and began. "I didn't call because I thought… You wanted to drive yourself to the airport, and I thought it was your way of telling me you needed… space to do this. That you had to attend to this first. I had my finger on that speed dial button so many times, and I had to keep talking myself back down from it. And by tonight… I was… I was furious at you for not calling all week. For trying to be tough and not letting me share the load with you…"
Her shoulders started shaking and her mouth twitched as she tried, unsuccessfully, to control the nervous laughter.
How can you laugh when you're leaving me?
"This isn't funny, Sara. I told you I'm terrible at relationships."
"It is funny, Griss, in a sad way. We're both terrible at relationships." She smiled ruefully. "We're perfect for each other. We just… we just need to be patient. And learn to talk a little more."
A stunned joy broke out on his face. "It isn't over?"
She traced a finger down his cheek. "It will never be over, Griss. We're like wolves. Mated for life." She sneezed.
"Oh, honey." He stood, drawing her up to join him and wrapping her in a bone-crushing hug. "Let's go home and get warm."
(1) (2) Lyrics to Hurt by Trent Reznor