Ch. 2

2001

He turned on the water for the shower. As he waited for it to heat up, he rested his dizzy throbbing head against his folded arms on top of the bathroom sink. He could hear Sara through the door. She was pacing around her bedroom, talking on her phone to someone. Listening to her, he heard the worry in her voice. She only told him about her family once, last year, when she let him know about her parents. The source of all her anger and pain. Lifting his head, the man he saw in the mirror was unrecognizable. He looked as unsteady as he felt on the inside.

He was also really drunk.

He'd gone out to breakfast with the rest of the team after they wrapped up the Strip Strangler case. Everything had been going well, he'd felt really good, but then on the drive home it all turned as he realized how reckless he'd been going to Syd Goggle's place alone and without backup. He could have been killed by the psychopath.

As he sat at a red light, it struck him why he'd done it. It wasn't absentmindedness. He knew the danger. It was the danger that he wanted. That thrill of being alone with the serial killer, looking death in the eyes and seeing if he'd come out alive or not. That realization hurt his heart, burned at his chest, and nearly broke him. At the first liquor store he spotted, he pulled over and bought some beer and a bottle of whiskey. Then he went home and drank half the beer before calling Sara and asked if it was okay if he came over. He had to see her.

She had also acted so reckless.

He stared hard at FBI Special Agent Rick Culpepper as he heard the words that he'd spoken echo in his head before the world faded around him. Once the fog of deafness lifted, he shot back, "I don't care what you know, you have no right!"

"You're not her supervisor, Grissom. Ms. Willows gave the okay."

They were in the FBI surveillance van and Sara Sidle, his colleague and friend, his lover, was being sent into a shopping center as bait for a serial killer. It was a known fact that when it came to serial cases that he seemed to falter somehow. If he were to have a chance to be alone with this serial killer, he would want to talk to him first. Gain understanding of how they worked so he could stop them in future cases without there being more victims.

Or at least that was what he told himself.

Culpepper smirked at him as he said, "I'm making the decisions—"

"–You're putting an unqualified—"

"I'm putting a qualified—"

"She's not qualified—" he nearly snapped in anger.

"—member of law enforcement in a controlled environment—"

He turned away and let out a deep breath before he really lost temper. Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head. This was getting them nowhere fast. And it wouldn't stop Culpepper. He glanced over at the monitors as he watched as Sara entered the store.

Not taking his eyes off the screen, he said, "The moment anything happens—"

"We will get her out of there."

Peering over at the Special Agent, he pulled out a chair and sat down before returning his eyes to screen.

It wasn't long, only a couple of minutes, before he heard Culpepper say, "She is the Strip Strangler's type. Not just in features but attitude. She's a strong woman. Is your refusal to put her in danger solely from a professional standpoint, or a personal one?"

Refusing to even answer that question, he kept his eyes on Sara as she wandered the aisles of the store. He didn't take his eyes off of her until he was moving, pushing open the van's doors as he was the first one out and running across the parking lot. He didn't carry a gun and if he did it would have been out and pointed at the man who was being apprehended by the FBI agents in the store.

He grabbed Sara by the arm once they were out of the store and ushered her toward the awaiting SUV.

"Grissom! Will you let go," she said as she yanked her arm out of his hand. "I want to stay—"

"There is nothing to stay for. It's a blown operation—"

"We can—"

"I am done having this conversation," he strictly told her with absolutely no room for debate. "I'm driving you back to the lab."

She stared at him with disbelief as he yanked open the door for her to get in the SUV. "You didn't have to grab me." He didn't say anything as she shook her head at him and got into the passenger seat saying, "I can take care of my—"

He shut the door on anything else she was about to say. Taking in a deep breath then letting it out, he walked around to the driver's side and got in.

Sara didn't speak to him, she wouldn't even look at him, as he drove them back to the lab. Truth was, he was afraid. Terrified. He didn't want to see Sara as a victim.

"Just say it."

"Say what?"

"That you think I'm crazy."

He looked over at her, saying, "You're not crazy."

"That I'm irrational, and being stupid—"

"Will you knock it off? Yes, you got overly emotional, but you're not stupid nor are you irrational. You care. Last I checked, caring isn't crazy."

She was quiet as they stopped at a red light. Then she said, "Another one is going to die, you know."

"We don't know—"

"We do know because we have nothing. Bait-and-catch—"

"I said I wasn't going to have this conversation. It's done."

"Grissom, it's far from done. He's still out there."

"There is a pattern. We just have to—"

"Figure it out," she said, echoing her words from earlier.

The light turned green; he didn't move. A car beeped behind him as he glanced into the rearview mirror before finally hitting the gas. He did a U-turn and started to head away from the lab.

"Hey, where are you going?" Sara asked but he didn't answer her as he took a right and then a left before pulling into a parking lot. Red and blue neon lights of the business sign blinked at them. "You're in the mood for Moo Shu Pork now?"

"Actually, I want the chicken," he said as he got out and shut the door behind him.

Once they placed their orders and took a seat at a table by the back wall, he looked her over and said, "Sara, I have over twenty years' experience in law enforcement; first as a coroner and then a CSI, and I know how hard it is to wait. Patience in this job is not only a virtue but practically a requirement. It always takes time."

"Gil—"

"Will you let me finish," he said. She gapped a little like she wanted to protest but then resided herself to remain silent as she leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms in irritation. He saw the server coming with their orders and waited for her to leave before continuing, "You feel compelled to help—"

"I don't need a lecture from you about how I sympathize with the victims. I need you to understand."

He realized that no matter what he said she wasn't going to listen. Sara was normally an excellent student; attentive and eager to learn. She listened, except for when it came to things like this. Her emotions, her ability to empathize, overwhelmed her. She was ruled by her heart. It was one of the things he loved about her.

There was always a different viewpoint to consider. "The man who approached you in the grocery store was a thief. If you stayed, the next man could have been someone innocently hitting on you. The next—"

"A lost tourist?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. The point is, we have no reason to believe our killer would be there. We have no evidence to suggest that store is where he chooses his victims. To act before you have all the evidence is both wasting time and effort that could have been utilized elsewhere. It could also cause unnecessary risk and death if not properly planned due to insufficient understanding of our killer's methodology. You were putting the cart before the horse."

She actually smirked before saying, "The cart before the horse? That's your best allegory?"

"I'm tired," he said as he picked up his chopsticks and stared down at his food. "And hungry."

"What makes you think I'm hungry?"

"You were there for over three hours and have a reputation for not eating. Unlike our understanding of the killer, my understanding of you isn't lacking."

Whatever she was about to say she pushed it down as she shook her head. Grabbing the chopsticks, she started to dig in.

"You didn't have to grab me."

He gave a nod. "You're right, I didn't."

Sara wasn't irrational and stupid. He was. He'd been so stupid that it nearly got him killed. He took a step backwards, stumbled, hitting his legs against the side of the tub. His head and back hit the wall as he ripped the shower curtain down as he fell backwards.

As the warm water poured down on top of him, Sara ran into the bathroom. "Are you okay?" When he only gave a nod, she said, "You've been drinking too much, Gil. You need to slow down." He nearly laughed. Of course he was drinking too much, he was miserable. On the plus side, he was also going deaf. She knelt down in front of the tub to look at him. There were tears in her eyes and real concern. "Gil, can you even hear me?" There was the fear in Sara's voice. It cracked a few times. "Will you please just tell me what's going on? You're scaring me."

He told her not to be afraid of him. She had no reason to be afraid of him.

"I want to know why you're calling me up drunk off your ass." When all he did was stare at her as his mind started to drift back as his hearing faded in and out, she yelled at him, "Are you even listening to me? Gilbert?!"

Snapping his head up, he saw the determination in Sara's eyes. He knew he had no other choice. He gave a nod as he leaned his head back against the wall. "I hear you," he slurred as he closed his eyes as he felt the warm water spraying down over him.

Sara reached over and turned off the water, saying, "I know you're wrecked with guilt about something. I want to know why. Please, baby, let me help you."

If Sara could say what she needed to say despite her fear, then so could he. So, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and told her the truth. "I'm going to let you down. I don't—You don't—All I know is that with you, I won't be able to stop myself if you don't make me stop. It's not fair to you."

"Stop what? And I can barely understand you, you're slurring your words—"

"Stop loving you," he said as his foggy drunken brain remembered how scared he was when he heard that Catherine agreed for her to be bait for a serial killer. "I can't—" He rubbed at the throbbing in his head before he continued, "I can't see myself clearly at times, Sara." He opened his eyes to look at her. She was so beautiful. "There are times when I don't even know who I am. I get uncomfortable and unsteady on the inside and it takes over and I—...I don't know why I do the things I do. But I know that there is a part of me that wants...Sara, it's me...I need the rules. It's why I need you to say stop. I'm the one that needs to be restrained. Don't you understand? The rules aren't for you. They're for me. I need them. Or I will go too far. I don't want to hurt you, but I will...I know it. I will…I'm pathetic. I'm a failure. Everyone hates me, I hate me…Why—I don't know why—" Was he crying?

She climbed into the tub next to him. Grabbing him around his neck, she pulled him into a hug. "It's okay. I got you."

"I've been feeling out of control lately."

"I know, baby, I know," she said as she kept hugging him. "Maybe that's because you can't see yourself clearly, like you said. I think you also can't see how strong you are. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

He wanted to believe her. At the moment, he didn't feel strong. He felt weak. Vulnerable and pathetic. He was pathetic for talking to her, but he had to do it. Communication, trust, and respect. That was what they needed in order to do this or else it would fall apart.

He felt her hand on his chest, then his face, as she told him, "You can't call me when you're drunk anymore, okay? You have to be sober."

He started to shake. He didn't know if it was from the water on his skin and the air in the bathroom or from this conversation. Or the fact that Sara was still there. She hadn't run away from him yet. Opening his eyes, he saw her beautiful brown eyes watching him.

The fog in his head lifted slightly and he realized that he told her that he loved her. This was serious. Had been serious for a long time. He didn't want her to leave. He realized that if he was serious about keeping Sara with him, about taking this further, then she had to know who he was. Who he truly was. It was the only right thing to do.

She really did care about him. He knew she loved him already. He had told her not to trust that feeling. That love wasn't real. He was a damn liar.

He was also an addict.

"Sara…I, uh…I have a problem. Uh, there's this book called—"

"If you're planning on telling me that you have a drinking problem, I already know." Then, she kissed him.

That woke him up. It also centered him; grounded him in something that he knew was real and honest. He needed that. Once Sara relinquished his mouth, he smiled slightly, painfully, as he said, "It's not just alcohol. I get addicted to anything that stimulates me, including sex."

She let out a breath and gave a nod. "It's how you take the pain away. But you do know that it only makes everything worse? I mean, if you're just burying it and not dealing…What?"

He couldn't stop smiling if he tried. "You really do care about me, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

He knew it, but to hear it was something else entirely. "Did I just tell you that I loved you?"

Smiling, she told him, "You did, but I already knew you did."

"Smart girl," he mumbled as he closed his eyes.

"Oh, no you don't. You're not falling asleep in my bathtub. C'mon, out."

Sara helped him out of the tub, and he grabbed a towel to dry off the water. As he dried off, she was watching him. He wondered what she was doing when she grabbed the back of his neck first and then pulled him into a hug.

He wrapped her up in his arms, hugging her back, when she said, "I'm glad you told me. It's okay to let someone in, okay, especially if you love them. And when you get uncomfortable, or start to feel unsteady...I got you, just like you got me. I want you to promise me that you'll stop trying to push me away by keeping secrets. You can tell me anything. I'm not going anywhere."

He wanted to keep that promise. He really did. He loved her. But there were some things that he just didn't know how to tell her. Not yet anyway. One day he would. If he ever found the right words.

He stripped his wet clothes off and left them in her bathroom as he climbed into her warm and comfortable bed and laid down on his stomach as she straddled his hips and started massaging his back.

A meow startled him and then he felt a cat's tongue lick his arm as he moaned, saying, "Norma Jean, stop," as Sara just laughed. Hearing her laughter and feeling her hands on his back, he could get used to this. He was exhausted and was finally feeling better now as Sara placed a kiss on his neck.

"You said that you get addicted to things that stimulate you. Have you done drugs?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head and stared over his shoulder at her. Her eyes were on his back as she blushed a little. She'd gone quiet but her hands kept massaging his back and shoulders. He rested back on the pillow and closed his eyes. As he felt Sara's hands massaging over his tense muscles, he thought of his life over the years. The things he had done in the past.

Deciding to answer, he told her, "I've experimented, Sara."

"Are you…Gil, I wouldn't think that you're doing drugs now since you're working in law enforcement, but I'm curious because sometimes it's like you're—"

Rolling over into his back, he grabbed Sara's wrists and pulled her down as he kissed her if only to stop her from talking so much. As he ended the kiss, he saw eagerness in his lover's eyes and felt himself reaching out to touch her face. He thought for the second time that day that he loved her. Sara turned her head and kissed his palm. She then placed a kiss on his chest.

He couldn't speak. He knew the fear and uncertainty that held him mute. He hadn't felt that since he was so much younger. Sara's age. Not since he found his confidence and his strength to fight back. That first act of asserting his authority had been his breakthrough. He hadn't looked back since. He hadn't needed to.

Something shook him up on the inside as Sara continued to kiss his chest again. He'd told Sara that love was a lie, and yet he was considering taking this relationship further. He couldn't do that. This wasn't forever. This was now, in the moment, until it ended. If Sara didn't say stop, one day he would have to.

"...are a thing so I hope you're using protection. Are you even listening to me? Gil?!"

He had no idea what she'd just said. It wasn't just his hearing but his mind. He'd drifted away inside it again. "Yeah," he said because he didn't know what else to say. She smiled slightly as she leaned down and kissed him. What had he agreed to?

Once she broke the kiss, he rolled back over onto his stomach and closed his eyes as Sara went back to massaging his back, shoulders, and neck. "So, who was it?"

He hummed out as he asked, "Who was what?"

"The other woman."

"What?" he asked, completely confused.

"I was asking you about your addiction to sex. Did you not hear a word I said? You said you're addicted to sex. I asked if you've been with other women…You said yes."

That wasn't what he meant by his "yeah". He sighed and closed his eyes as he ached for a drink, or sleep, whichever he could get first because he did not want to have this conversation.

"Have you been with a hooker? At least let me know—"

"I've never been with a hooker."

"Thank God," she said, and it nearly made him laugh.

As he laid there and felt her messaging his back, he felt the guilt grip his chest again because he had been with another woman. Anyone would use the excuse that they didn't mean it. It just happened. He knew what he was doing. It didn't just happen.

He could barely keep his eyes open as he took another drink. Sara had to work that evening so he was having a drink, alone, and in his body an ache that he thought he could cure with alcohol. He'd been wrong. He tried to relax and let the alcohol ease the tension away, but it wasn't helping. Nothing was helping him.

The view of the city out the hotel window was bright, and very gold. He felt someone sit down across from him at the table. Tilting his head, he peered over at the woman who'd sat down. She was tall, blond, and a forensic anthropologist. "I thought you had a plane to catch?"

Teri Miller smiled as she told him, "I did. I had to reschedule. Why did you call me?"

"Depends. Are you staying in Las Vegas for another night?"

"What does that have to do with why you called me?"

"Because then I'll know if we're going to have dinner, or breakfast."

He wasn't about to talk to Teri about his day, or his week, or month, or year. He didn't want a relationship. He didn't date. He couldn't. Sara understood and he would have called her, he wanted to call her, but she was at work.

And Teri Miller was taking him by the hand and pulling him to his feet as they headed through the hotel restaurant. As soon as they were through the door, he grabbed her and pushed her against the door and kissed her hard.

He kissed over her neck and felt the body against his start to tremble. Her hands were on him in an instant. They were in his hair, on his face, his chest and back as he kept kissing her everywhere his lips could reach. This wasn't about love. It wasn't about connection. He only wanted those things from Sara. This was about lust. Completely unadulterated sex.

Teri had him on the bed and completely undressed in a matter of minutes. Her lips felt so good on his body as her fingers worked over the muscles of his chest. It took everything he had to stay focused and to not give into the urge to come as quickly as possible so he could pass out. He almost started to beg for it as he saw her grab a condom out of his pants after she'd asked if he had one.

She was moving on top of him. He leaned up and kissed her as he hooked his leg around hers and pulled her closer. Everything else in the world went away except for how good it felt. Focusing on the pleasure and shutting everything else out, he urged her on. "God, yes, more. Don't stop. Don't...I want—"

She did as she was told, making him choke on his sobs of how damn good it felt until she cried out. He grabbed her, flipped her over, and drove into her until he felt his body shutter as he came soon after. His head spinning from both the alcohol and the orgasm that rocked his body.

It was hard to breathe as he felt her hands on his body, soothing him back down and kissing over his chest and face. Her lips were on his.

Lying down next to her in bed, he closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought was how much he hated himself. It was wrong. He never should have done it, but he needed an excuse to hate himself. He needed to give Sara a reason to leave him. He wasn't worth her love or patience.

There was absolutely nothing he could offer her but sex. Everything else simply wouldn't be good enough.

Feeling Sara's hands on his body, coaxing him to sleep, he wanted to apologize to her but didn't know how. This was what he was. And he'd been like this for a very long time.

Long before they ever met.

2003

"Look at this guy," he heard Warrick's voice as he walked into his office. "You know what Brass told me?" Nick was coming in right behind him. And both sets of eyes were on him. "He arrives at a crime scene, dressed all fly, leather jacket…" he continued saying as he gave him the side-eye, glancing at him while a smirk played on his face. He knew where this was going as he put the coffee cup down on his desk. "...he says, "I was on a date"."

Nick, smiling wide, leaned against the desk, hovering over him, as he said, "Grissom, you were on a date?"

He pulled his glasses off as he leaned back in the chair, ready to deflect the sudden interest in his personal life, when the office door swung open and he heard Sara's voice, "Who was on a date?"

"Grissom," both Warrick and Nick said in unison.

He was going to murder Jim Brass, he thought before telling everyone, "Stop gossiping. You know what they say when you assume, right? You make an "ass" out of "u" and "me"."

Nick was practically amused as he said, "We are working. I'm waiting on blood results from Greg from the kid stabbing. Thought I'd pick up the autopsy report from Doc Robbins on that Jane Doe from last week. He told me that you already got it. So, I came in here to grab it, only to catch you slacking off, daydreaming about your date."

He looked over at Warrick. "And why are you here?"

Warrick held up his hands, saying, "Prints. I need a card. I'm all out. Got that floater down in the M.E.'s office."

Sara just looked at him before saying, "You all know that Grissom only has dinner with his bugs, right? I'm sure he didn't go on a date with anyone with two legs."

"That's just creepy," Nick said as he pushed off the desk.

Warrick didn't look convinced but said, "That's right. I remember him eating dinner with a beetle once. I just can't remember if it was John or Paul." He then flicked the glass of the terrarium where his tarantula was, saying, "And Spidey, here."

"Yeah. I heard Catherine say once that his soul mate had six legs," Nick quipped before holding out his hand. He was waiting for the file folder. "You do have the autopsy report?"

"Don't flick the glass," he told Warrick as he picked up the autopsy report and handed it to Nick. "It startles him." He saw the way Araña froze up from the sound. "Spidey has a name, you know."

"Which is?"

"Araña"

Warrick wrinkled his head in confusion as Nick laughed, saying, "Isn't that Spanish for spider?"

"Yeah," he said.

Nick flipped open the file as he shook his head. "What am I looking at? I can't read Doc Robbins handwriting, man."

"Cardiac arrest brought on by arsenic poisoning."

"I told you that girl was poison," Warrick said to Nick as he grabbed a fingerprinting card out of his file cabinet drawer, which he could have gotten in the M.E.'s office or the supply closet but had decided that he needed an excuse to come into his office. "You owe me a hundred."

"Yea, yea, you'll get it," Nick said as he read over the report that he really didn't need to read over because they were working the same exact case. Another excuse to come into his office.

"If Catherine catches you two making bets again, you're going to be in trouble," he told both Warrick and Nick.

Nick glanced at him, saying, "She'll only find out if someone tells her. You got our backs, don'tcha?"

"If she asks, I'm throwing you both under the bus. There's a reason they chose her to be night shift supervisor over me. That woman even scares me."

He caught the faint smile on Sara's face as she glanced his way before turning to steer both men out of his office. "C'mon, guys. It's lunchtime. I'm buying."

Smirking slightly, he leaned over his desk, picked up his coffee cup, and went back to reading over the casefile that was open in front of him. Glancing up, he saw the sultry look she threw back at him over her shoulder as she shut his office door.

Hours later, he was at Sara's apartment door. Pulling it open, she smiled and moved aside to let him in.

The moment he was through the door, and she had it shut and locked, he pushed her up against the wall and kissed her hard. She moaned into the kiss, arms wrapped around his neck, as he lifted her leg and pressed himself against her body inciting a deep moan.

She pulled her lips away and as he kissed her neck, she said, "I can't believe you actually told Brass that you were on a date."

He chuckled into her neck, telling her, "I was. From now on, I'm keeping extra clothes in my car. The leather jacket ruined my reputation as being a lonely CSI who only dates his tarantula."

She gasped as he yanked her zipper down and reached into her pants. His need for her grew as she arched into his hand. "You have the rest of the week off?"

"The entire weekend," he told her.

"Wish I was scheduled off for the entire weekend instead of one night."

"Who else does Catherine have to work triples and hold down the fort while I'm gone?" he asked before pulling her with him off the wall and heading for her couch.

"Stay?"

"As long as you want me to," he said as he pulled her down into his lap.

They didn't waste any time removing their clothes as their lips and hands tangled together, her legs anchoring him in place as she rocked into him as their passion built. God, he loved her so much.

Since the day Sara transferred to Vegas, she had become a constant in his life as he was a constant in hers. She never left, never stopped being his friend, and never once did she judge him because he never judged her. He knew exactly why she stayed. Deep down he truly thought that she had told him the truth when she said that she loved him.

He knew it in his soul, in his mind and heart. He thought after their first meeting in San Francisco that he'd met not only his best friend, but his soulmate. He felt as if he'd met his wife.

She couldn't be his wife.

TBC…