Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of the characters. They do not belong to me in any way. Sigh
A/N: Thanks so much to all of you who have reviewed.
Huge thanks to Nightblight, who took time out of her incredibly busy life to Beta this for me, not once, but twice. If there's something in here you like, she probably either suggested it or tickled it out of my reluctant brain.
He had gotten more rope from the back and tied their feet then untied their hands. Then he brought them "chickenless chicken salad" sandwiches from the small refrigerator section of ready to eat foods and some sort of fruity tea.
Brass bitched under his breath about "god-awful tofu crap" but he ate the sandwich anyway. He needed to keep his strength up for whatever might happen over the coming hours.
Sara tried to eat hers but she was having a hard time mustering much enthusiasm; she knew she needed to eat. She needed the nutrition and she certainly didn't want to get lightheaded when she should be keeping her wits about her. She managed about half of it and was idly picking the rest apart with her thumb and index finger under Lurie's continuous scrutiny.
"Darling, if you're not hungry, I understand, but you need to drink your tea so you don't get dehydrated," he told her in a solicitous manner.
Sara bristled; she didn't care for the endearment or the tea; it had a bitter aftertaste under the fruit flavor. Some of the new infusions were like that or maybe the store had simply over-brewed it, she wasn't sure which.
"I don't like it," her voice sounded much more petulant than she intended.
He smiled at her as if she was a spoilt child, "Well, I'm sorry you don't like it, but you need to drink it. It's a green tea base; there are a lot of health benefits to green tea. I'm going to help you take better care of yourself. You need to start now by drinking your tea."
She didn't want to drink the tea, but more than that, she didn't want to agitate him, so she drank the tea, choking it down quickly, trying to taste it as little as possible.
"Good girl," he took the empty cup from her, lightly stroking her fingers when they made contact around the styrofoam. She cringed involuntarily at his touch, causing him to look at her with a wounded expression.
Before he disposed of their trash, he re-tied their hands and untied their feet.
As the doctor walked away, Brass looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"What?" she inquired, flatly.
He gave an exaggerated sniff and said, "I dunno, I guess my feelings are a little hurt he didn't care about the benefits of green tea for my health." He assumed a doleful expression, "Do you think it's something I said?"
She grinned at him. "You're an idiot," she said fondly.
"Compared to you and your boyfriend, yeah," he drawled.
Brass had had the same tea she had. "Didn't you think it tasted bitter?" she complained rubbing her tongue over the roof of her mouth, trying to wipe the last of the tea flavor off of her tastebuds.
He shrugged. "Not really, but I don't have the refined tea palate that you do, either. I'm used to drinking the police station swill that they call coffee; that stuff's as bitter as a middle-aged woman whose husband left her for the babysitter. "
Sara smiled, "Well, the tea wasn't that bitter."
Sara moved her head until she could see Lurie. He was back on the phone. Good. She leaned in towards the seasoned detective and spoke in a low tone, "Tell me what's going to happen. How is this going to play out?" She hoped having a better idea of what could happen might calm the fear that seemed to be twisting knots in her stomach.
He ran his top teeth over his bottom lip and then followed it with a pass of his tongue as he considered. "They'll keep talking to him, at least for a while, try to get him to surrender." He shook his head, "I don't think it's gonna work."
Sara swallowed; she was afraid he was right. "OK, so more talking. Then what?"
"I'm thinking another couple of hours and they'll cut power in here, make it uncomfortable, put more pressure on him to give up. If they don't get anywhere, the next step would be to storm the building…wait, does Grissom know you're pregnant?"
"Of course, he knows I'm pregnant." What she didn't add was he had actually figured it out before she had.
He met her at the door and kissed her as he relieved her of the grocery bags she was carrying. "You're late," he said.
"Sorry. Brass said he's sick of hospital food, so I thought I'd make him some soup. I had to stop at the store," she said as she began pulling celery and carrots out of the bags.
"No, I mean, you're late," he said as he jerked his head toward the magnetic "Insects" calendar on the side of the refrigerator; this months photo was a spider preparing a grasshopper as an arachnid snack. She would be relieved when this month was over; she hated watching grasshopper torture every time she went to get a bottle of water.
Sara put a few small potatoes on the granite countertop and sighed. Sometimes being intimate with a biologist was a little unnerving. Almost from the time they had become lovers he had started tracking her cycle, telling her about miniscule changes in her scent, sensitivity and physiology during various points in the monthly process.
She had not hesitated to tell him she thought that was weird. He, in turn, had explained how as a life scientist he found the entire process completely fascinating. She had kissed his cheek and repeated, "Weird."
Sometimes she felt a little like a control group constantly under observation. "Yeah, I know. I figured it was stress from the thing with Brass."
He had both hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans. "Why don't we take a test?" he asked as he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet.
God, he was cute when he was excited.
She smirked at him. "First of all, we? And second, no, I just got home; I'm not going back to the store. Third, it's just stress," she said as she looped her arms around his neck and kissed the cleft in his chin.
"What if we already had some tests around here?" He asked with an innocent expression.
"What? Why would we have…Gil," her tone turned scolding "you said we weren't trying, you said we'd just see what happened…" she shook her head at him. "Wait, tests? As in, more than one?" She narrowed her eyes at him, pretending to be aggravated, when she really found his behavior endearing. The man really was one of a kind.
"Please?" he cajoled.
She rolled her eyes. "OK, but you have to promise not to be disappointed when it's negative." She gave him a quick peck on the lips.
Five minutes later she came out of the bathroom and said, "Set your timer. Use a glove if you're going to touch that thing." And she went back to the kitchen to start her soup.
She was peeling an onion when she heard him behind her and turned to face him. The look on his face as he studied the stick in his gloved hand was completely blank.
"I told you so," she declared.
"No," a huge grin split his face as he turned the stick towards her, "I told you."
He had swept her up into his arms and twirled with her around the kitchen. Brass's soup was entirely forgotten as they spent the rest of the day in bed, making love and making plans, finally falling asleep wrapped in each other's arms.
Brass nodded. "Ok, good. So, he'll warn them not to use tear gas." Brass heaved a sigh as he continued to contemplate the situation from a tactical perspective. "Best bet would be a sharp shooter but there are too many ads and posters on the windows; I doubt there's a clear shot," he shook his head and wondered how honest he could be with her. "I don't know…they might let him think they're giving him a car and letting him go and get him into the open that way, but that's risky."
What he didn't add was it was most risky to them as the hostages; more specifically to her.
But this was Sara; she'd figure that out on her own.
Jim Brass was a smart man and a good cop; he could accurately evaluate most situations and name the most likely outcomes. But right now he was hoping there was some angle that had escaped him, because none of the options he had considered so far had a high probability of getting the two of them away from Lurie unharmed.
He hoped his fear for Sara and the child she carried were exaggerating the negatives of the situation. Thing is, he was almost sure they weren't.
Once upon a time, Tom Gardner had been a cop. He had left the job after fifteen years when his wife had died from an aneurysm, leaving him a single parent of two adolescent boys and a ten year old girl.
He couldn't keep putting his life on the line when his kids were already one parent down.
They had been smart; they had just as much life insurance on Steph as they had on him. So, he put half of it away for the kids' future, resigned from the force and used the rest of the money to set himself up as a PI.
Twelve years later, his oldest son was a successful architect, his youngest son was in his final year of law school, married and about to make him a grandfather and his baby girl was about to start med school at UCLA. His modest little PI firm had gone from just him and assistant to fourteen investigators, six assistants, two of the best A/V guys Vegas had to offer and one extremely talented computer geek with slight anti-social tendencies and barely manageable OCD.
His firm was reputable, discreet and expensive. They were the best. He wasn't aware of every case that went through, but he supervised most of them. And if someone was willing to pay the extra fees, he would work their case himself. It surprised him how many people were willing to pay.
He was working late, waiting on a couple of his team to report back from tailing the wife of the CEO of one of the town's newer hotel/casinos. It seems the wife chose to gamble at other hotels and money wasn't the only thing she was gambling away. He hated cases like that; they had a couple of young kids and when this turned into a bloodbath in the middle of divorce court it was the kids that would be the bloodiest.
Sitting at his dark mahogany desk he was trying to decipher his new accountant's monthly reports when Kimberly Holt, his top investigator and head of second shift burst into the room, breathless. "Hey, boss, what was the name of that doctor you did the shadow and research for a couple of weeks ago? Was it Lurie?"
He placed the P & L statement carefully on the desk and looked at the young woman over the top of his glasses, "Yes, Dr. Vincent Lurie, head of surgery at Desert Palm." He shrugged carelessly. "Ordinary stuff, nothing scandalous; just a snoop job. Why?"
"Wasn't the subject somebody from PD?" Kim was speaking unusually rapidly; she seemed to vibrate with tension and nervousness.
"Crime lab." He clarified. "And again, I ask, why do you ask?" He was using his boss voice.
"Jess just called; she had gone down to PD to try to sweet talk that night guy into letting her look at those logs, but she said almost everybody on the force is at this health food store where a doctor, she thinks they said his name was Lurie, was holding two people from PD hostage."
Holy fucking shit.
"It doesn't make any sense," Greg said flatly. "If he was stalking her and planning on abducting her, why would he do it when she was in the middle of a store with a bunch of other people?"
Nick was already nodding, "Yeah, wouldn't it make more sense to wait until she was alone and grab her then?"
Grissom pursed his lips. "Something spooked him, caused him to act impulsively." Maybe if they knew what had motivated him they could find something that would convince him to release Sara and Brass. What was it? What happened that caused the doctor to take such a dangerous and exposed risk?
The night shift supervisor had arrived at the scene a little over an hour ago; he and Ecklie had immediately met with McKeen, Vartan and Ben Nichols, the head of Clark County's SWAT team and trained hostage negotiator. The SWAT command post was set up in the far corner of the parking lot, as far from the media as possible and out of sight of the store's windows. The other CSIs had watched from a distance as information was exchanged and discussed.
Then Grissom came to stand with them and informed them the only strategy for now was to continue to try to talk Lurie into surrendering. So far it had been futile.
The store's parking lot was an overly bright hub of activity that was doing absolutely nothing to get Sara and Brass out of that store.
The tight knot in the center of Grissom's chest would not go away. He felt completely helpless. He was a man very much used to solving puzzles and fixing problems, but this time, when the outcome meant the most, there was nothing he could do.
Lurie kept saying he wanted a car with a full tank of gas and no tracking devices; he wanted to be able to leave and not be followed. To the law enforcement personnel this seemed to demonstrate how unhinged the man was; surely any sane person would know that wasn't going to happen.
For right now, they were playing a waiting game.
Warrick thought about what Texan had said for a moment and posed, "Gris, didn't Sara take the week off specifically to take care of Brass? If she's been holed up in Brass's house for the last few days without leaving maybe Lurie thought his opportunities to take her were limited." Warrick was overwhelmed by the night's events and desperately hoping something would begin to make sense soon.
Grissom nodded; it was a sound theory. "Yeah, I think she's been there with him since he came home except for…" and he stopped. Except for her first official OB appointment this morning.
He had wanted to go with her but he was in court. When he had found out about the conflict last week he had tried to get her to reschedule and she had laughed.
"Gris, there's no need. Do you know what the doctor is going to do?" They were standing in the middle of their kitchen preparing dinner together. She had just added spaghetti to a pot of boiling water. She turned to watch him as he chopped vegetables for a salad. "She's going to confirm I'm pregnant, which we have already done twice. She's going to give me a prescription for pre-natal vitamins and a bunch of reading material, most of which you have probably already read." She snagged a piece of lettuce from the bowl, "She's going to schedule an appointment for me in about a month and that is going to be it."
He had abandoned his salad and wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her in tight against him, saying with deep sincerity, "I just don't want to miss anything. I don't ever want you to feel like you're going through this by yourself."
She had cupped his cheek in her palm and answered tenderly. "Babe, you're not going to miss anything. Down the road, when we get to the heartbeat and ultrasound appointments you should come, but right now it would just be a waste of your time."
He had known she was probably right and had agreed. When he had left court there was a voice message from her on his phone. She sounded pleased and playful. "Hey there, Dad! It's not just our little secret any more. We are officially on record; we're having a baby." He had smiled when he heard a happy little laugh before she continued. "Dr. Porter says I am in perfect health and everything looks good. I'm headed back to Brass's house." She had paused briefly before continuing in a more serious tone, "I miss you so much. I'll try to call you tonight after he goes to sleep. Love you Babe."
"Except for what, Gris?" Warrick prompted. Grissom had paled.
It's not just our little secret any more.
"Excuse me," Grissom muttered as he turned to walk back toward the command center. God, if that was the reason…if discovering Sara was pregnant had set Lurie off…both Sara and the baby could be in more danger than he had first realized.
"That's weird," Warrick said as he watched the man walk quickly away.
"No," Greg retorted, "That's Grissom."
A disheveled Vartan was crossing the parking lot to meet him. "Grissom, they need you over there," he jerked his head toward the command vehicle. The detective looked exhausted and stressed; his tie was loosened far down his chest and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.
As he and Vartan approached, Grissom saw McKeen, Ecklie and Nichols speaking with a newcomer to the group. He was a mountain of a man, easily 6'4" and 290 lbs. with craggy features, steel grey hair and blue eyes; he appeared to be about McKeen's age, maybe a little younger and he was holding a stack of files.
McKeen looked up and made introductions. "Gil Grissom this is Tom Gardner."
The men shook hands solemnly, "Dr. Grissom, I'm sorry to meet you under such unpleasant circumstances, but I came here with the hope of helping."
The Under-sheriff explained, "Tom's an ex-cop. He's a PI now and he has some information that might be useful."
Grissom trained his intense azure gaze on the man, "Mr. Gardner, anything you could do to help would be more than appreciated." They were formal, polite words but no one could fail to miss the intense sincerity in his voice.
The PI took a deep breath and began, "First of all, I want to apologize for any part I or my firm has played in this situation. We were doing our jobs, but if we had known he was unstable, we would have warned Ms. Sidle." He could almost feel the other man's impatience and he hastened to continue, "About three weeks ago my firm was approached by Dr. Vincent Lurie. He said he had met a woman at the hospital while she was visiting a friend and it had been love at first sight. He wanted to know everything about her, so he could sweep her off her feet. He had gotten her name but wasn't sure of the spelling; he also said he had walked her to her car and memorized her license plate."
"And?" Grissom prompted.
"We located what we could on the web. I, uh, have a very talented computer guy. We were able to find out a lot. We shadowed her for a few days at his request. When he came in for the full report, I had to tell him she was already living with," his eyes darted briefly to McKeen and back to Grissom, "a guy, but he said that was all right he would wait until she wasn't living with him any more."
"I didn't know Sara had a boyfriend; has anyone called him?" Vartan asked and then wondered at the odd looks on the faces of four of the five men standing with him.
"Detective Vartan…" Ecklie began but was interrupted by a loud sigh from Grissom.
"Me." He looked at the now embarrassed detective. "She lives with me. We live together." He looked at Gardner, "I appreciate your efforts at discretion, but AD Ecklie and Under-sheriff McKeen are both aware of the situation and obviously, privacy is the least of my problems at the moment."
"Sorry, Grissom," Vartan mumbled, his cheeks flushed.
"It's Ok." Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose and released a breath, attempting to still his pounding heart. "How long ago did you meet with him?"
"A little over two weeks ago. He paid his bill and I haven't heard from him since." He held out a folder to Grissom. "I don't think there's anything in here that would have set him off, it's all fairly ordinary stuff, but you should know what information we provided him with."
The CSI accepted the folder with a brusque. "Thanks." The idea of their lives being so thoroughly examined without their knowledge was repugnant to him, but at least Gardner had come forward and offered to help. Another PI might not have been as willing to help undo the damage that had been done.
Gardner cleared his throat and looked appraisingly at McKeen "The next part is completely off the record." His eyes never left McKeen's face until the Under-sheriff gave a barely perceptible nod. "As I said, I have a very talented computer guy, but he isn't always clear about what information it is, uh, ethical to access. I had him start pulling everything he could get on Lurie."
He handed another folder to Grissom, with identical copies going to Vartan and Nichols. "I'm sure you've already got warrants in place but I'm fairly confident what Chad can get will cover more ground faster and deeper than what you can get." Again he looked at McKeen, "It's best if you don't ask how."
He flipped open the folder he was holding. "This is the first wave, mostly financial. He's still working on getting more." The men opened the folders and began studying the information in front of them. "As you can see, he's liquidated most of his assets over the last few weeks. I'm waiting on confirmation from Chad, but there's a money trail to the Cayman Islands. Again, I'm waiting on confirmation but it appears he may have purchased a home there."
Grissom cleared his throat; "Do you know anything about his activities in the last few days?" He was hoping someone could give him a different reason for Lurie attempting to abduct Sara other than the one he feared.
Shaking his head, Gardner replied, "No. I've got Chad working on tracing his professional and financial activities over the last week, anything that was tracked by a computer. Obviously, something happened that caused him to panic, but nothing is showing up that we can trace so far."
"I think I know what did it," Grissom stated grimly.
Warrick Brown half leaned, half sat against the bumper of one of the county SUVs with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his long legs stretched in front of him. He kept watch on the group of men huddled by the SWAT vehicle.
Greg and Nick had gone to talk to the cops who were first on scene. The cop had already been over it with the CSIs but understood their need to detail it again.
Warrick stayed where he was so he could keep an eye on Grissom. The older man looked bad.
Yeah, this was a bad situation but so was the situation the year before with Nick and Grissom hadn't seemed this…this what? Warrick couldn't put his finger on it…Grissom just didn't seem right.
He looked almost ill. Normally when Grissom was working a case he seemed detached, but right now he seemed distant, as if he wasn't really there.
Warrick just couldn't believe this was happening.
He was trying not to let his fear get the best of him. If this ended badly…the idea of never seeing Sara's smile again was painful. They had gotten off to a bad start, but they had become good friends. He felt about her as he imagined he would a sister…affectionate and protective. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her.
And Brass. Hell, you'd think what he had gone through a few weeks ago would have bought him some sort of karmic immunity, at least for a while.
Weird thoughts. Warrick shook his head. He sure as hell didn't need to be thinking weird and weighty thoughts this time around. Every time there was a crisis his thinking seemed to get messed up and he did things he shouldn't do.
He considered that his brief marriage had been bracketed by traumatic events in his friends' lives. In the aftermath of Nick's rescue he had married Tina and as Brass was fighting for his life that same marriage had crumbled.
He didn't know if the marriage was beyond saving, he just didn't know if he wanted to save it.
That particular weird and weighty thought was one that bothered him the most.
Was this the man he had become? A man who was oddly relieved his marriage was probably over? A man who didn't consider the consequences of his actions? When had he become that man?
His Grams had raised him to be a good man, an honorable man.
She had passed just before he had come to work at the lab and met Gil Grissom. She seemed to be shining a light down from Heaven straight onto Grissom's head telling her grandson, "This is the man, Warrick-child, this is the man you need to be."
He had understood that he was supposed to live right and do the right thing and be the man his Grams had always told him he could be, but he hadn't really tried until after Holly Gribbs had died. Then he understood the cost of not being the man he was supposed to be. And when Grissom had refused to fire him, he understood then about forgiveness and redemption and he had tried everyday to be that man, the one his Grams had raised him to be, the one Grissom believed he could be.
He wasn't sure when he had stopped trying as much. Maybe it was realizing Grissom wasn't perfect, maybe it was the move to swing or maybe it was just the heavy weight of life and the work. He didn't know.
But Nick got out of the box and Warrick wanted to celebrate and the way he had always celebrated best was gambling. Only this time, instead of dice or cards he gambled with his future and someone else's happiness.
Oddly, the thing he hated most about being married was the wedding itself. He knew Grams would never have forgiven him if she'd been alive. A drive-thru chapel. She would have tanned his hide but good.
He smiled at the thought.
It should have been a church; a real church with stained glass and pews and prayers. He wondered if it had been a real church if the marriage would have been any more real to him and not just one more relationship with a few more complications.
He looked at the halo of lights rising above the activity in the parking lot. He watched the moths fluttering their dangerous dance, flinging themselves joyously into the perilous brightness and he thought of the man he had become.
He had become a man who was not steady in a crisis, who made rash decisions and hurt people. He didn't want to be that man. He wanted to be the man his Grams had raised him to be.
He wanted to be the man that would know what to do. He wanted to be the man that could help save Sara and Brass, the man that could offer comfort to Cath, the man that could say the right thing to Greg and Nicky, the man that Grissom could trust with anything.
He wanted another chance to be the man his Grams had always said was in him. An honest, honorable, caring man. He wanted to be that man; he felt he could be that man.
He hadn't even realized he was crying until he felt one of his own tears fall on his hand.
He raised his face to the Nevada sky and looked beyond the lights to see stars through the tears in his eyes and he repeated what he used to say as a boy, "One more chance, please, Grams? I swear I won't let you down this time…just give me one more chance."
He couldn't stop staring at her. She was so beautiful, so full of life. How many men were blessed this way? To be given one more chance and have the second chance be sweeter than the first?
Debbie was the shadow, Sara was the substance. She was everything Debbie was not.
He finally understood now; he understood why Debbie had to go away. She had to go away so Sara could come to him.
He was a fool; he had been sad when Debbie had to go away. It had hurt so much when she went away, but it was Debbie leaving that brought those men into his life and they brought Sara. He understood now.
He had understood from the moment he had seen her.
Of course he had heard about the police detective who had been shot and almost died. His advice had even been sought by one of the surgeons. Considering the delicate nature of the surgery, under other circumstances, he might have volunteered an assist. But he tried to stay away from anything having to do with the LVPD. He didn't want the scrutiny, the possible ramifications if anything should go wrong. Then, when he had heard the detective's name, he had been doubly glad he'd stayed away. No, no, better safe than sorry. His involvement would not have gone unnoticed. He did not want to bring himself to their attention again.
Of course, no one around the hospital knew what the police suspected of him. Well, was it the entire police department or just the detective and the scientist? Didn't matter. No one in his world believed it. Most of the people around the hospital thought it was just a general interview. No one knew he had been involved with her. And certainly no one knew what he had been accused of that day.
So, he knew the police detective was there; moved from ICU to a room right across from the fourth floor nurses station a couple of days after his surgery. He tried to avoid the fourth floor whenever possible, but sometimes, it just was not possible.
He was writing patient notes at the desk there early one morning when he heard a woman speak to the nurse sitting at the desk, "Excuse me, I know it's a little early," he automatically looked up and forgot to breathe when he looked at her; the woman smiled as she continued speaking to the nurse and his heart started beating again, "but I was hoping I could visit Captain Brass. Or is he still sleeping?" The nurse replied in the negative, saying the patient in question was awake and finishing his breakfast and he would probably appreciate a visitor.
She never caught his eye, never fully looked at him, never saw him.
But he saw her.
She gave a light tap on the door with her fingertips and pushed the door to the hospital room open. "Are you up for some company?" she inquired as she fully entered the room, purse slung over one arm, a department store bag in her hand.
The bed's occupant looked toward the door eagerly, "Sara! Am I glad to see you! There's nobody around this joint as pretty as you."
She smiled at him and gave him a smacking kiss on his cheek. He looked washed out in the blue patterned hospital gown as he rest against the institutional white sheets, but he was still here and she was grateful.
"Careful there, don't get me too excited, the ticker's been through the ringer lately, can't take too many more jolts."
She had laughed as she looked around at the varied size and color of flower arrangements placed on every flat surface in the room. "Careful, Brass, your Jersey is showing."
"Yeah, well, these hospital gowns don't leave a lot to the imagination," he stated in an exaggerated New Jersey accent.
Sara snorted just a little and replied, "Then you should be doubly glad to see me. I brought you something with a little more coverage." From the department store bag she pulled a pair of navy pajamas with light blue piping. "I took the tags off and washed them." She took in his raised eyebrows and half surprised expression. "Brass, please, I know you. I knew you'd hate the gown." She waved the pajamas at him. "And, yes, I figure you more for a boxer and tee-shirt type but the doctors and nurses still need access to those lovely holes in your chest, so, you can suck it up and wear traditional pajamas."
By the time she finished he was grinning. "Thanks, doll. But tell me something," he waggled his eyebrows at her, "how much thought have you put into what I wear to bed? Or do you think of what all your co-workers wear to bed?"
He received a full snort this time, but she decided to play along. "I figure Nick for traditional pajamas, but bottoms only, so whatever sweet young thing he has over can wear the top half. Warrick probably wears boxer briefs and a tank. Greg, well, Greg I bet wears pajamas," and she grinned, "probably Spiderman pajamas."
Brass hooted and then asked with raised eyebrows, "Wouldn't those be more appropriate for Grissom?"
"Yeah," she tried for nonchalance, "so not going there." Sara hoped he wouldn't notice the slight blush she could feel staining her cheeks. Grissom, she knew for a sweet fact, wore only boxers to bed and more times than not over the past year, he had gone to sleep completely nude, the boxers discarded somewhere around the room and they had both drifted into slumber, skin on skin. They might sleep spooned together or just holding hands, but always connected, always touching. She never wanted to go back to not touching.
Deciding it was best to move to safer topics, she pulled the blue padded guest chair as close to the bed as possible. "How are you feeling?"
"Not too bad for an old man with a couple of holes in him. I'll be glad when they spring me, though. I want to get home and get back to normal." He sounded just the tiniest bit wistful. "And I'm kinda bored. Daytime TV leaves a lot to be desired and the drugs they still have me on make it really difficult to read."
Sara smiled brightly, "Then, in addition to my stimulating CSI sleepwear discussion, you will be even more delighted I came to see you." She reached back into the bag, pulling out a portable DVD player, some headphones and a stack of DVDs. "It also works as a cd player, but I don't know your taste in music. If you'll enlighten me, I'll pick you up some tunes."
Brass took in the player and the stack of movies and suddenly found himself swallowing past a huge lump in his throat. "Aw, thanks, hon. You're too much." He lowered his eyes, anything to keep from having to meet her gaze; since waking up he had found his emotions more volatile than he was used to and he was uncomfortable with the emotional rollercoaster he seemed to be on. His eyes swept over the movie titles. "Reservoir Dogs? You hated this one."
He looked at the young woman in front of him, truly moved by the gestures and the thoughtfulness behind them. His own daughter couldn't be bothered to visit when he was conscious. Was it him? Was there something missing from him that made him a bad father but an acceptable friend?
"I didn't hate it. I just said Pulp Fiction was much better. Besides, you liked it. I brought movies you'd like…I'm fairly sure you won't find a chick flick in that stack."
It was his turn to snort. "No Bridget Jones? I'm heart broken."
"Yeah, but your surgery was supposed to fix that," she grinned at him.
"You're a funny girl. Now, tell me what's going on at the lab." Sara filled him in on all the gossip and the less serious cases that had passed through the lab over the past few days. Then, he began yawning and she got up to leave.
"Oh! I almost forgot…my car is going in the shop and I'm catching a ride in with Grissom tonight. He said he was going to come by here on the way to the lab, so, I thought I could bring you some real food…what would you like?"
"Hey! That would be great, I am kinda sick of the food around here." A sly look came over his face. "What are my chances of getting a Kingburger from the Fatburger over near the MGM Grand?" He duly noted the quirked eyebrow and pursed lips. "What? You object because of your vegetarian status or the theory my heart wouldn't withstand another explosion?" The one quirked eyebrow changed to two drawn together in a rather fierce scowl. "Aw you're cute when you're tryin' to be a bad ass. I ain't scared. But I am kidding." He shrugged, "Surprise me."
She gave him half of a Sara Smile and kissed his cheek again. Brass lightly patted her cheek and gave her a soft smile as she moved away. "Get some rest. I'll see you tonight," she said as she walked out the door.
She turned her phone back on as soon as she made it down into the lobby and it began ringing almost immediately. "Sidle," a slight pause, "Oh, hey, Nicky, what's up?" She continued through the lobby. "Yeah, I'm just leaving the hospital." She gave a short laugh into the telephone, "Fat chance, frat boy. I'm headed home for some much needed sleep. I'll run the model for you tonight if it's quiet…no, it's not a problem…yeah, I'll see you tonight." She happily hummed under her breath as she made her way out of the hospital to her car.
The early morning bustle of patients, families and visitors arriving prevented her from noticing the tall, distinguished man following some distance behind.
He watched her now. He could never get enough of watching her. She was his.
He was a very lucky man.