Sara arrived at the classroom long before she thought anyone else would be arriving and sat a cup of coffee on the podium. Quickly, she disappeared out of the classroom before Grissom could possibly catch her. She would not allow herself to miss giving him a cup of coffee on the last morning, but she did not feel strong enough to engage in talking with him. They had left on strange circumstances the night before.
It had been a mixed blessing when her cell phone had rung. It was always bittersweet to get something you want and leave something else just as potent behind. She wanted nothing more than to put that case behind her, but she wanted to spend the time with Grissom. Just as she wanted to spend as much time with him as she could, Sara was unsure how the night would have ended.
She was not known to have one night stands, and she felt he deserved more than that. In fact, Sara was quite sure she would want more than that from him. He was someone she desired to get to know and likewise share more of herself with him. A casual fling would never be enough.
Sara hid out in the bathroom until she knew she would barely be on time for the lecture. Walking into the room, Sara noticed she was the last to arrive. She mused to herself that it was fitting that their time together would end as it had started. Grissom turned around from the board to look at her.
Much unlike the first day, he wore a bright smile when she appeared and took her seat in the front row. He mouthed the words 'thank you' and winked right before he launched into the lecture. Sara savored every last word, fearing it would be the last time she heard his voice.
They ate lunch together one last time. It had not been uncomfortable like both had expected it to be. The topics of conversation had been about some of the latest developments in forensics and how they could be applied to every day cases. It was liberating to have someone to talk to outside of their normal circle of coworkers.
As the lecture grinded almost dramatically to a halt, Sara found herself sitting alone in her seat after the rest of the students had left the room. She watched as Grissom packed up his notes, experiments, and displays. Sara pushed herself out of her seat and walked up to the podium.
"Let me help you get those out to your car. How are you going to get all of this on the plane, anyway?" Sara's face twisted in confusion.
Grissom chuckled at her. "I pack light. Most of this will fit a large box which is the just barely within the airlines baggage restrictions. The rest will be packed in my suitcase and my carry on." He looked at her earnestly for a moment. "You need to get to work, don't you?"
"So I'll be a few minutes late... I max out on overtime every month. My supervisor will probably breathe a sigh of relief to see that I'll save the department a few dollars this month." She smiled broadly at Grissom.
"I'm sure Ben would be pleased to know you're looking out for him," Grissom teased her. "Let's go before you're too late and he blames me. I like to stay on his good side."
Standing beside his packed rental car, Grissom turned to Sara. She looked up at him for a moment before speaking. With each ticking second, it was becoming increasingly harder to tell him good-bye.
"It was a pleasure. I've said it before, but I really mean it: Thank you for your insight and for your help. If you're ever in San Francisco again, look me up." She thrust her hand out to him again as she had done the night before.
Grissom shook her hand and replied, "You're right, it was a pleasure, and I will."
Sara turned and began walking towards her car a few spaces down. This is the last time I'm going to see him, I know it. He's leaving, and I'm staying, and this is it. It's over. She never felt more empty in all of her life.
"Sara," he called out to her, walking the few feet to catch up. "Here's my card. I wrote my cell on the back of it... If you would like to talk or keep in touch that is... about the cases we worked on or forensics or if something about entomology comes up."
Grissom had gotten the card ready the night before. He had been wavering over giving it to her or not. He had been unsure if she would take the gesture wrong or if she would even call. Rejection was not foreign to him, and he could not fathom what would happen to him if Sara was the one who turned him down.
Sara took the card from his shaking fingers and turned it over in her hand. She held onto it securely as if her life depended on the information it held. "I don't... I don't have a card or anything to write my number down on." She looked helpless.
"I'm sure you'll give it to me when you call. But, whether you call or not it entirely up to you." His voice spoke calmly despite the inner turmoil threatening to break his steely exterior.
This woman was driving him over the edge. It was quickly threatening the walls around his world. He felt them crumbling as they stared into each other's eyes. Grissom had found himself on many dates in his life, but none that compared to the week of non-dates he had shared with her. He had found himself in the arms of a beautiful woman for a night or maybe a few nights over a period of time when his work would permit it, but it could not compare to spending the evening scrutinizing a crime scene or evidence with this woman.
It was definitely peculiar how one's mind compares instances in life. It catalogues them for later reference, sometimes as good or bad, and oftentimes as better or worse than something else. It was in a moment such as this that Grissom felt the cells in his body screaming out to him that everything would be compared to this woman whether she had ever really been a part of his life or not.
Love at first sight? No, Gil Grissom was not a believer. He had long warded himself off from thoughts of love. His life was set. He had his work, his job, his mind, his books, and his experiments to keep him happy. Life was just easier that way. It was his equilibrium. If someone stepped into that life, it would be thrown off balance, and he savored the feeling of order he had brought to his life.
His life was a carefully weighed and balanced equation. The variables were always counted and placed strategically on each side to offer him a semblance of finality – of completeness. There was no way he could throw Sara Sidle into the equation and not tip the mathematical solution into oblivion. Yet, yet his mind was working on that very thing.
How could one week with this woman threaten his very existence? One week he spent at that college as a guest lecturer at a forensic seminar had changed him dramatically. Maybe there was hope for the stoic Gil Grissom after all. Or maybe he would go home and forget this had ever happened. He had to go home and forget about this woman.
It was an infatuation. Infatuation with the mixture of her mind, body, and spirit, the very intricacies of it. He would be able to go home and plunge headlong into work, and this would all be a dream or a nightmare – or at least he could dare to hope.
Sara's eyes held his gaze for just a few seconds before she felt herself blush and look away. She stared back down at the card in her hand. Steadying her emotions, she glanced back up at him. His face was unreadable, but the card in her hand told her what she wanted to know.
He was offering a little piece of himself to her. Sara was elated. It was simply a business card thrust haphazardly in her general direction, but Sara felt giddy holding it in her hand. The proffered card was a way into Gil Grissom's life, even if it was on a work-related premise.
It was amazingly scary for Sara to admit to herself that she was so excited by the thought of the card. She had not really pondered where she wanted to go with Grissom, but this was at least a way to keep him close until she had time to think it through. Sure, Sara had felt something between them, but only time would tell what exactly their futures would hold.
A flirtatious smile crossed her lips as she poked him once on the chest. "I'll, uh... I'll do just that," she cooed with a wink. With that, she spun on her heels and strode purposefully to her car, a distinctive swagger in her walk.
Grissom watched her walk away, wondering just what he had gotten himself into.
"Hey, Grissom. Man, good to see you're back," Warrick said in passing, patting Grissom on the shoulder.
Grissom had never been known for being a touchy-feely guy, but Warrick had involuntarily made the gesture. When Grissom did not flinch at the touch, Warrick almost turned around. Almost. He knew it would be worse if he acknowledged the response, so he let it go. Something had changed in Gil Grissom in the week that he had been gone.
He grunted an affirmative response to Warrick's greeting. Grissom was elated to be home and getting back to normal, but his mind was in San Francisco on a leggy brunette who was claiming his every subconscious thought. Will she call me? he thought, Was I too pushy? Will she take it the wrong way? Is this what I want?
Catherine, Nick, and Warrick were sitting in the breakroom waiting dutifully for their assignments. It was business as usual as Grissom walked in and took his seat as well. Brass walked in a few minutes behind him with a couple of assignment slips.
"Okay, we've got a couple new ones on the table tonight. Take your assignments and head out. Time's a wastin'," Brass said gruffly. "Grissom, Nick, you have a DB in the desert. Catherine, Warrick, you've got a couple DBs of your own at the Bellagio."
Grissom was eager for the distraction of the job at hand. He grabbed the sheet of paper and sped from the room with Nick close on his heels. It was nothing new for Grissom to be eager to work, but there was something distinctly different about him. And, not a one of the CSIs missed it.
He came back with an almost bounce in his stop. There was a monumental shift in his demeanor upon his arrival into the LVPD Crime Lab. He was happy and talkative, much unlike his usual distant self.
Two weeks later the rough exterior was making a comeback as they settled into the breakroom to await any new cases for the evening. It had not been a complete reversal to his old habits, but everyone could see that something was bothering Grissom.
Chalking it up to him just getting settled back into the job after his break to teach, they let it go. Frankly, they were all a little unnerved by the new Grissom. They had known each other for a couple of years, and Grissom being all business at work was a constant they counted on.
Brass came stalking into the breakroom and was about to start handing out slips when Grissom's cell phone rang. They all looked quizzically at each other and then expectantly at Grissom as he pulled the phone from his pocket. If each of them had said what they were thinking, it would have echoed around the room as if they were at the edge of a canyon. That has got to be the results of some case. Wait. What case? Personal call? He never gets personal calls.
"Grissom," he answered the phone.
"Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I never even considered the time," Sara's voice floated through the telephone like heaven's breath.
A smile crossed his face involuntarily. "No. No, I'm at work right now." At that instant he realized there were other people in the room, and all of their eyes were trained on him. Grissom looked up nervously, glancing at each of them.
"Working late? I'm not interrupting, am I? I had something I wanted to tell you." Her voice was strained with anticipation, barely able to contain her excitement.
Grissom hated to tell her no. He hated to put off the conversation. He really hated having to make it appear as if he was unaffected by the call. Truth be told, he was barely able to hear her through the intense beating of his heart in his ears.
"Um, actually, I work the night shift, and we just started. Can you, uh, call me back in about five minutes? Or... I can call you, unless..." He hated the stammering, babbling fool he became when he talked to her.
"Five minutes. Got it. Bye," she responded, severing the connection.
Grissom pulled the phone away from his ear and snapped it shut. Putting the phone back in his pocket, he pursed his lips in thought. He silently pleaded with each member of his team to let it go. They had either not heard it or ignored the pleading – or at least one of them did. She voiced her opinion as always.
"Who was that, Gil?" Catherine's voice broke through the silence.
He looked up as earnestly as he could and answered as vaguely as possible. "A contact in San Francisco. I worked a case there while I was gone, and the results just came back in. The CSI there was giving me a courtesy call." He had no idea if that was the truth of why she called, but it sounded like a plausible excuse.
"At midnight?" she grilled him further.
He avoided the pointed question. It was entirely conceivable that the person on the phone had worked the midnight shift as well, but he wanted to avoid the entire conversation. "We're here, and that phone call had nothing to do with a case here. Can we get on with it?" His voice was irritated enough to warrant the end of the conversation.
"Ah, yes," Brass said with eyebrows raised in disbelief, "Grissom's five minutes are ticking. Let's get these handed out before we hold him up."
True to her word, Sara's call rang into Grissom's cell phone while he was heading to the CSI SUV. He answered almost immediately, with his heart beating in his ears again. Sara Sidle had really called him.
"Hey," he whispered in greeting.
"Hey, yourself." Her smile was contagious, even through the phone line. "Is this a better time? If not, we can talk another time. I don't want to interrupt you while you're working."
"I'm on my way to a crime scene... I can talk for a few minutes. Hold on for a second." He turned to Warrick, covering the mouthpiece of the phone a little. "Warrick, can you drive to the scene?" He tossed the keys across the hood without waiting for a response.
Warrick's surprise, thought evident, was lost on Grissom as he grabbed the keys out of midair and walked around to the driver's side. His eyes still large, he tried to listen in on the conversation.
"Okay. Sorry. So, what is this great news you have to tell me?" he eagerly asked her.
"Well, it's... Both of the cases we worked together are closed. We got the guys. I thought you'd be happy to know. Two less pieces of scum are walking the earth tonight because of the work we did." She was beaming.
"That's wonderful news. I couldn't be happier if I was there to watch them get arrested." Grissom was barely aware that they were driving. Sara's voice was music to his ears, even if it was work-related.
"So, how was your flight?"
"It was good. A little bumpy, but I survived." He stopped, at a loss for what else to say to keep her on the phone just a little longer. "Oh, does this mean that I'm going to be subpoenaed to testify when it goes to trial?" His voice was straining to remain detached. Grissom did not want to scare her off with his over-eagerness to be near her again.
"Probably not. You left really good notes, and I'm sure I can testify to the evidence as collected." Her voice carried a note of sadness that he felt.
"Um, what about the insect timeline?" He was reaching for any excuse possible to warrant a return trip to San Francisco.
"The guy gave it up in the interview room. He's verified your finding on his own. All I'll have to do is present them."
"Oh." This time Grissom's voice was dejected, no matter how much he tried to restrain it.
"Well, there's always the chance that the DA will want you to tell them yourself, but..."
"Chances are pretty slim. And, you did really well on that case. You can handle the information. If they have half the faith in you that I do, they won't hesitate for a second to let you present the information on your own." He looked up, suddenly realizing the vehicle was stopped. "Oh, hey, I've got to go. We're at the scene."
"Oh, okay... Well, I'll... um..." Sara stammered, unsure how to end their conversation.
"Give me your phone number," Grissom spouted, "In case I need to call you."
Sara's jaw dropped. He really wanted to get her number, and he really wanted to keep in touch. It had not been just a way to find out about the case. Then, she mentally smacked herself. If that had been all, she or her supervisor could have called him for an update by his contact information at the Crime Lab. She had actually not been reading too much into him giving her his card.
"It's, ah..." For a few brief seconds she literally forgot her number. "Are you ready to write it down?" she covered for herself.
She gave him the number, and they hung up. The night shift took on a whole new feeling as Grissom made his way around. He was walking on air, like a five year-old in a candy store. There was no containing the giddy feeling in his gut as he thought about the phone call.
He was still unsure about calling her. What would he say? He had no reason to call her unless it was work-related. She had not really made her intentions clear as to whether it was more than work, but she had still called, after all. He decided to give it a few days and see what happened from there – he would give himself time to think of a reason.
Once a week, their informal arrangement of the phone call would take place. At least three times a week they found themselves e-mailing the other. The conversations were generally work-related, or at least had work thrown in for good measure. Their discussions ranged from what type of print powder to use to how to lift prints off of certain items to how to coax a suspect to talking.
They discussed developments in cases that bothered them the most or a case that just would not let them go. A lot of times one of them offered the other an outside viewpoint that aided them in finding that one last piece of crucial evidence. And, sometimes, even their work relationships would come up in conversation, talking about the most recent incident involving coworkers at their lab.
The day she wrote him an e-mail, two years into their long-distance relationship, telling him she had been promoted to a CSI Level 3 was a day burned forever in his memory. He immediately called her, not paying any attention to the time. Her enthusiasm was unmatched in any conversation they had had before. He thought back to the day he had been promoted, and briefly pondered whether he had been that happy. He wished he could see her face, but felt oddly content that at least he could hear her voice and imagine what she looked like. Her progress through the ranks had been fast, almost as fast as his.
There were times they would discuss movies or books or quotes, but there was always that imaginary line they had drawn. Both feared what crossing that line might mean for their forged friendship. The idea that there could be more was intoxicating and frightening to both of them. Their friendship was rewarding, both able to share things with each other that no one else would understand.
At that same time, though, it was even more terrifying to think that that friendship could crumble if they were wrong about their feelings. They took the distance of five hundred and fifty miles that separated them to heart. As long as there was a physical chasm that needed to be bridged, the emotional part of the relationship did not have to be addressed.
It was far easier to hide the feelings when they were not afforded the opportunity to see reactions to comments, touch them on accident, or smell their scent after they had left the same general vicinity. Life would carry on the status quo with these two good friends sharing ideas, goals, and camaraderie.
"Yeaaah?" Sara whined into the phone. She peeked at the alarm clock beside her bed. It's nine in the morning, and I've been asleep forty-five minutes. This is had better be important.
"Sara?"
"Whatever you're selling, I don't want it. Good-bye," she spouted.
"Sara! Don't hang up the phone."
It was too late. He heard the dead silence hanging on the line. He scrunched up his face and redialed her phone number immediately.
Sara rolled over in her bed and snuggled back down in the covers. I'm never going to get back to sleep now. Damn it. I hate starting my workday early and pulling a triple. The shrill ringing of her phone again caused her to sigh heavily.
"What!" she spat into the receiver.
"Sara, I need to talk to you," he said calmly.
"Grissom?" she asked, completely confused. "It's nine in the morning. What's wrong?"
"I've got a problem..." Grissom was unsure how to continue. This had to be the hardest thing he had done in a long time.
"This sounds serious. Talk to me." She sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Whatever it was he had to say, she wanted to be ready and eager to listen.
"One of the CSIs on my team was shot this morning. I was just put in charge of the unit. I need some help." His voice was low, tired, and spent with emotion.
He remained strong in front of his team, but with this woman on the other end of the phone, he let all his pretenses go. They had five years of agonizing together. This time would be no different.
Sara straightened her back. This was incredibly important. "What can I do to help?" she asked eagerly. Sara knew she would do anything for him.
"I hate to ask you this, Sara. There's no one else I would call... I know it's sudden..." His voice trailed off, at a loss for how to ask her.
"Grissom, spit it out already. Just let me know how I can help you... Anything."
"Anything?" he asked hesitantly, "Are you sure?"
"Grissom, anything," she repeated.
"How soon can you be in Vegas?"
"How soon do you want me there?" Despite her previous sleepiness, she jumped out of bed and started rummaging through her closet for a duffel bag. Never had she been this impulsive in her life, but he sounded desperate. Added to that that she would get to see him again. He asked her to help him. He was calling her to Vegas.
"I can arrange the next flight out of San Francisco into Vegas. How soon can you be at the airport?" Grissom asked, clicking on the internet to search for flights at that moment.
"I'm packing now. I'll call Ben on the way to the airport and arrange some personal time. You know I'm still off on Thursdays. So, it shouldn't be too hard for me to slip out. I can be there in probably 45 minutes." She threw clothes into before zipping it up.
"I'm booking a flight for two hours from now. I'll e-mail you the details for you to take to the airport with you."
"Let me call a cab from my home phone. Hold on a minute." She was back on the line with Grissom in what seemed like seconds. "Okay. Cab should be here in a short while. Fill me in on what I'll need to know while I print the e-mail and finish packing."
Grissom recalled all of the details that he was aware of and finished up, "... I'll have an officer meet you at the airport to take you to the lab. You can check in there, and they'll and tell you where to meet me." He paused, letting it all sink in. "You're really doing this? You have no idea how much this means to me, Sara."
"Grissom, I'm more than happy to do it. This is what friends are for, and well, I'd be there for you whenever you needed me. Besides, it'll give us a chance to catch up in person, and I'll get to see where you work since you already know where I do." She added the last part with a lift in her voice, making an attempt to ease a little of the weight on his shoulders.
"You, ah, sounded tired when I called..." He trailed off, not knowing for sure just how to say what he was thinking. This had always been the tricky part for them when it veered out of work conversation.
"I just pulled an extra shift. I'll be okay. I'll catch a couple of winks on the plane. You know me and my insomnia. Nothing that a hot cup of coffee won't take care of." She threw the bag over near the door and started packing the supplies she would need while she was there. "Oh, how long are we planning? I'll need to pack accordingly and tell Ben how long I need the leave for."
Grissom was thoughtful for a moment. He mulled it over in his mind. They were short one person on the shift, and he could use someone like Sara. No. No, he needed to keep her at a distance. Then, why call her in the first place? Just to see her for a few minutes to get his fix after all these years, and then she would be on her way back home.
She could stay to complete the inquiry into Holly Gribbs' murder, and maybe a few extra cases until the dust settled. Then, she would go home, and only come back to see him if there was a subpoena. Safer. Secure. Maybe she should just stay until the rookie CSI's death is resolved and go home. The last option would be the most prudent.
"Um... Well, we're short a CSI with Holly in the hospital, and depending on the outcome, I might be short another one. If you want to take some semi-long-term time off from there... you can stay on here and help out until I can get the team resettled." Shit. Where did that come from? I just decided not to keep her around. "So, the time you take off is up to you, and I'll be grateful for whatever you give me."
"How about we play it by ear?" Sara tried her best not to sound hopeful. She was thrilled to be spending any time with him. "I'll take a few months off to stay in Vegas... If you get tired of me being around, I'm sure Ben won't mind if I come back sooner."
Indeed, being off on that night would give her supervisor a little time to settle into a new routine without her there. Unfortunately, this was the only the second investigation that had come at a semi-opportune time – second only to the bug case during Grissom's lecture.
Grissom scoffed at that remark. He knew there was no way he would tire of Sara Sidle. It was she that he feared would tire of him. It was all very simple in his mind. He was the middle-aged, eccentric, odd, stoic, emotionally unavailable man that would be thrown to the side after a she recognized all of those qualities.
"I'm sure that won't be a problem," he agreed.
"Shit, Grissom. The cab's here. I gotta go. I'll see you as soon as I'm in Vegas." It had been a lie, but Sara needed off the phone. She was beginning to find it hard to concentrate with him on the phone.
Sara dialed Ben Harrison's phone number at the SFPD Crime Lab. She filled him in on the basics of the situation, knowing that most of it was privileged information. Ben would not give the information out, but it was still a matter of protocol. He was understanding and assured Sara that she could have all the time she wanted.
As she was talking, Sara filled another bag with clothing. Enough clothes for two weeks were packed in her bags, and she would buy anything else she needed while she was there. She mused that it would be nice to have a few new articles of clothing anyway, and what better excuse.
To Be Continued...
