A/N Thank you for your continued support! A few people mentioned in their reviews of the last chapter that they loved the silent communication - the winks and half smiles and hidden flirtation - and that means so much to me. Truly one of the greatest gifts William Peterson and Jorja Fox gave us in these characters was their unparalleled ability to say so much without saying a word. They are masters of their craft, and I'll forever be awed by the way they managed to give us so much with just a look or a smile or a tiny touch. When I write these characters, I see the actors in my mind, and that silent communication and connection a huge part of how I envision them. I'm so thrilled that it's coming across in my story and that so many of you are feeling that connection.
I finished writing the last three chapters this weekend and they are with my beta readers. All I have left to write is the epilogue. So I'm going to try to post a little faster, maybe three times a week instead of twice, while I finish editing and writing the epilogue. The drama is ratcheting up here (poor, sweet Sara, this chapter makes me ache for her) so check back soon for new updates (or sign up for an alert!). Thanks again for coming on this ride with me. I'm so glad to have you along.
Sara fled Grissom's office with no clear destination in mind. She just knew she needed to put some space between them.
Within seconds, she was ducking into the women's restroom across the hall, offering up a silent thanks to the universe that it was empty and heading straight for the nearest toilet, certain she was about to empty the contents of her stomach.
In the stall, she bent at the waist, arms curled around herself protectively, and took a few shaky breaths, battling back from the edge of her nausea. Once she was certain she wasn't going to throw up, she pressed her fingertips to her eyes, trying to hold back the tears burning under her eyelids. A lump had formed in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.
She could not believe she had been this stupid. She was never going to learn. How many times was she going to read more into a relationship than was actually there? Why was she incapable of learning from past mistakes?
When Grissom had asked her how she responded to George Wong's dinner invitation, she had hesitated to answer, sure that she was mishearing him.
He had to know that she would never accept that invitation. Even if it hadn't been a conflict of interest…she was in love with him. She was head over heels, completely besotted. There was no room in her heart or her life for anyone else.
She had thought they had an understanding. She had thought that even if they had never said the words, never promised to be true and faithful, that it was only because the words didn't need to be spoken.
Two days ago, he had told her that he loved her. And she had heard in that declaration promises of everything she wanted to hear: that he only wanted to be with her, that he didn't want to be with anyone else. She had allowed herself to believe that it meant what was happening between them was important, significant….permanent.
But the truth was, he hadn't said any of those things. What he had promised her was that he wouldn't say anything he didn't mean – that he wouldn't say things just because he thought he was supposed to or thought she wanted to hear them. And he had kept that promise. He hadn't said a word about exclusivity or commitments. But she had heard it anyway. That had been a fabrication of her own mind. Wishful thinking.
She knew that telling her he loved her was not a thing he said lightly. She knew it meant he cared for her deeply. It had meant so much to her to hear him say the words than he had been showing her for months.
But instead of just being grateful for that, she had read into it a message that wasn't there. She had made assumptions about what that love meant based on what it meant to her…and what she wanted it to mean for him.
His placid, casual reassurance just now that whatever answer she had given George was fine, his gentle insistence that he just wanted them to be on the same page, confirmed her sinking suspicion that in his eyes, their relationship was still open.
Never, in all the time that they had been together – or in any of the years that she had known him before they started dating – had he ever talked about wanting a monogamous relationship. In fact, barely a year ago they had worked that case with the wife-swapping neighbors, and although she had told him then that she had a problem with their lifestyle, he had merely shrugged and said they were consenting adults who seemed happy.
Happy. Was that what he needed to be happy? His freedom?
If she had really listened to him, would she have heard what he was trying to tell her all along: that no matter how much he cared about her or wanted to be with her, he didn't want to be tied down to her?
The ironic thing was that she had intuited this all along. This was exactly what she had been worrying about – even before Sofia had reappeared in their lives. Sara had been confident that she had his affection, his attention, for now. She just didn't think she was enough to hold onto it long term. She had worried that he would tire of her eventually and toss her aside.
That fear, that she wasn't enough for him, had plagued her since the beginning of their relationship, intensifying in recent weeks as lab gossip about him and Sofia swirled in her ears.
But then he told her he loved her. And she had let herself dream — even though he never promised her that she was the only one he wanted. Even though he had not asked her to be faithful to him, she had assumed that was what it meant to be in love. She had assumed she knew what he was thinking but wasn't saying. In her hubris, she had believed that she knew him well enough to read the subtext of his words, to puzzle out his unspoken promises.
Unbidden, her father's voice echoed in her mind, his words slurred by alcohol, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think you're so goddamned smart."
And then she did vomit. It took her by surprise, and left her coughing and retching, the tears she had been holding back streaking down her cheeks. She wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, taking a shaky breath.
She had made a fool of herself in his office. For months she had tried to hide her desperate love for him, had tried to be fun and flirty and sweet with him without being clingy and needy and pathetic. And she had undone all of that in a span of two minutes.
She had been blindsided, unable to recover in time to guide the conversation. Instead, she had stumbled around, muttering under her breath about what an idiot she was, fumbling for an explanation.
This was exactly what she had meant when she told him that she wasn't his type. He wanted to be with someone calm and cool, progressive enough to be unfazed by open relationships, self-assured enough to be unruffled if caught off guard.
He was probably horrified, both by the obvious fact that she had been making assumptions about their relationship and their future together that he had never consented to, and even worse that she had melted down about it at work.
The fact that he had even brought this up at work just proved that he considered this a non-issue – something they could discuss quickly and quietly. If he'd had any idea that they weren't on the same page about the open nature of their relationship, he would never have brought it up in the middle of the lab. Further evidence that she had wildly misread things between them.
Her phone buzzed, and she cringed, hoping it wasn't him.
She flipped it open and saw Sofia's name on her screen along with a brief message. "Ready? Meet in the parking lot in five?"
Sofia wasn't the last person she wanted to see right now – that honor went to Grissom – but she was a close second. Sara thought again of the rumors, less sure now that they were completely baseless, and her stomach roiled again.
She took a slow breath and typed back, "See you in five." Then she exited the stall and washed her hands, dried her tears, and swished some water in her mouth. She avoided looking at her own eyes in the mirror, not wanting to see the panic she knew she would see lurking there.
To her horror, when she opened the restroom door and stepped out of her solitary retreat, Grissom was lingering in the hallway, obviously waiting for her.
"Are you okay?" he said softly, taking her elbow.
"I'm fine," she said automatically, shrugging off his touch and straightening her spine. "I'm on my way to meet with Sofia. She's waiting for me."
"Sara," he said, his voice strained. "We need to talk."
She shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes, and began walking in the direction of the employee parking lot. "It's fine," she said, voice hushed. "We're at work. We'll talk later."
He shadowed her, refusing to let her walk away. "Sara, I didn't mean-"
"We're at work, Grissom," she said firmly, stopping and forcing herself to meet his gaze. She could not do this right now. There was absolutely no way she could stand there and listen to him tell her that he didn't mean to hurt her – that he loved her but wanted to be free to date other women, love other women – without losing her tenuous hold on her emotions.
She didn't know yet what this meant – whether he just wasn't ready to commit or was telling her he never would be; whether she was willing to share him; whether she was strong enough to leave if she wasn't.
But she knew she absolutely could not have that conversation with him at work.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"I'll call you later," she said. "I'll let you know what happens with my witness."
He stopped, raising his hands palm to the air in confused surrender. "Sara?"
"I'll call you," she said again, putting some distance between them, increasing her speed as the door to the parking lot came into view.
Sofia was already leaning casually against the trunk of a black sedan when Sara burst through the door into the bright morning sunshine. Sara could feel the detective's eyes on her as she approached.
"You okay?" Sofia asked. "You look terrible. You're not sick are you?"
"I'm fine," Sara said, reaching for the passenger door handle. "Just tired."
"You want to stop for coffee on the way?" Sofia asked amicably as she slid into her seat and stuck the keys in the ignition.
Sara's stomach turned at the thought of consuming anything right now. "No," she said. "I'm good. Let's just get to the school."
Sofia nodded and put the car in drive.
The ride across town to the school was interminable. Morning traffic was already thickening, clogging the main thoroughfares. Sofia was in a chatty mood, talking about the condo she had just closed on and the housewarming party she planned to host once she was all moved in. Sara tried to focus on what she was saying, expressing interest at all the right parts, but it was nearly impossible.
Instead, her mind replayed the conversation in Grissom's office over and over, torturing her. She felt bad for the way she had left things with him. He had obviously been trying to smooth things over. He had been concerned about her, that much was clear. But she just couldn't talk to him yet. She needed a chance to wrap her mind around what had happened, to recalibrate her expectations.
She needed to know if he wasn't ready to make a commitment to her yet, or if he would never be willing to make that commitment. And once she knew what he wanted, she needed to figure out what that meant for their future. Assuming they still had a future after the way she acted in his office.
Her first instinct was that she couldn't share him. The thought of him touching another woman the way he touched her made her want to curl up and die. The thought of him calling some other woman darling while giving her that private smile that she had thought was only for her made her stomach churn.
But she knew how it felt to pine for him. It had nearly broken her last year, and that was before she knew what it felt like to be loved by him. She couldn't go back to being his coworker. She couldn't sleep alone in her apartment every day watching the clock until it was close enough to the start of shift that she could go in, hoping to be partnered with him on a case. Not after spending six months sleeping beside him, making love to him, building a life with him.
No, there was no going back. If this didn't work out, she was going to have to leave. She couldn't stay here where she would have to see him every day. She'd have to start over somewhere. Leave her job and her friends and her apartment and her life and just pick up and start over.
But Sara Sidle was not a quitter. She didn't run. For years he had pushed her away, and she never left. She wasn't about to leave now.
She was absolutely dreading the discussion they were going to have to have about this. But she wasn't going to give up without a fight. She would just have to convince him that she had been caught off guard by the discussion at work, and that she was perfectly capable of behaving like a grown up when it came to talking about their relationship. If he wasn't ready to commit to her or if he wasn't interested in monogamy, they would figure that out. They would, as he put it, get on the same page about that.
"Are you okay?" Sofia asked loudly, breaking through her haze. Sara turned her eyes to Sofia, but didn't speak. Sofia looked at her worriedly, then turned her gaze back to the road and continued in a more normal tone. "I asked you three times about the tox report. Are you sure you aren't sick? Do you want me to drop you off at home and do this myself?"
Sofia seemed genuinely concerned about her, and Sara willed the tears welling up in her eyes not to fall.
"Sorry," she said. "I'm fine. The report is completely clean except the oxy. I had them re-run the samples again specifically for caffeine, and that was clear too."
Sofia nodded slowly. "You really think she took oxy thinking it was caffeine?"
Sara shrugged. "It's just a theory. I know it's a stretch, but…."
"But it sucks to tell these parents that we're closing the case, and they are just going to have to live with the fact that their perfect angel was secretly popping pills, without at least following this theory?"
Sara huffed out her agreement. She knew it was a long shot, but something about this overdose didn't feel right, and she wasn't ready to give up just yet.
"You met with Jennie the other day, right?" Sara asked, trying to force her attention back to the case. "What was she like?"
Sofia tilted her head back and forth as she considered the question. "High achiever," she said finally. "You know the type. Top of the class. President of all the clubs. Star of the varsity soccer team."
Sara nodded. "Sounds like she and Amanda had a lot in common. They were close?"
"They'd been friends since kindergarten," Sofia said. "She cried through the whole interview. Sounds like they had a friendly rivalry. Always pushing each other to score higher, achieve more. She said they were applying to all the same colleges."
"Her name is all over the notebooks," Sara said. "Study session with Jennie. Get notes from Jennie. Coffee with Jennie."
Sofia's phone buzzed, and she lifted it and smiled at the message before replacing it on her hip. Sara's stomach plummeted imagining the message was from Grissom.
He wouldn't do that, she realized immediately. It was unfair of her even to imagine that. He knew she was with Sofia. He was nothing if not discreet. If he was with another woman, he wouldn't flaunt it in front of her. That went against everything she knew about him. Not just how private he was, but the way he treated her. He loved her. He was so sweet to her. He wasn't trying to hurt her. It wasn't his fault she wanted more than he was able or or willing to give her. It wasn't his fault she had made assumptions, or that she panicked when those assumptions proved to be false.
Finally they reached the school and made their way to the front office, where an efficient-looking woman in her fifties greeted them.
Sofia flashed her badge and asked to speak to Jennie Jenkins. The receptionist tapped at her computer for a minute, then shook her head.
"She's not in today."
"Out sick?" Sofia asked.
"I'm afraid I can't give you that information," the woman said primly. "Not without a warrant."
Sofia rolled her eyes at Sara, and Sara found herself stifling an unexpected smile.
"That poor girl," the woman waiting in line behind them clucked. Sara turned to face a well-dressed woman with expensively dyed hair and impeccable makeup. She leaned past them and handed a math book to the receptionist. "Patrick forgot his book. His assignment for third period is in there. Would you mind…?"
The receptionist nodded, and took the book from her outstretched hand.
Sara kept her gaze on the woman, eyebrows arched inquisitively, hoping she would elaborate.
"Her grandmother's funeral is today," the woman said, dropping her voice unnecessarily, as if she was conferring top secret information. "The public memorial service, I mean. The private ceremony for the family and friends was earlier this week."
"Public memorial service?" Sofia asked, and the woman smiled indulgently, clearly pleased to have their attention.
"Councilwoman Jenkins," the woman clarified. "She's Jennie's grandmother. That poor girl. Losing her grandmother and her best friend in the same week."
Sara nodded, understanding now. Eleanor Jenkins was an institution in Vegas. She had served on the City Council for two decades, alternatively scratching the backs of and going toe to toe with the casino owners.
Two years ago she had announced her intention to run for Mayor in the next election, garnering tons of publicity and quickly amassing a large cadre of wealthy and influential donors. Her election seemed to be a foregone conclusion. Until she withdrew from the race abruptly, citing a serious health concern. It did not take long for the news outlets to ferret out the whole story – Councilwoman Jenkins had been diagnosed with an advanced form of pancreatic cancer.
She had faded from the public eye after that, until last week when news of her death had been the top story on every local morning news show.
Sara knew very little about the memorial service that was planned for this morning, but she had heard references to it around the station and knew the sheriff and undersheriff would be in attendance and that some of the uniformed officers would be working security for the event.
Sara thanked the eager woman for her help, and then turned to Sofia. Sofia said nothing, just shrugged, but Sara knew what she was thinking – obviously, they were not going to get a chance to speak with Jennie anytime today.
"Well, that was a waste of a trip," Sofia said as they walked through the lobby of the school building, and Sara nodded in agreement.
She reached for her phone to send Catherine an update as she settled into the passenger seat, and it buzzed in her hand.
She smiled automatically when she saw Grissom's name, and then the morning's events crashed over her and the smile was wiped away.
"Autopsy pushed to tonight. Heading home," the text read. She hesitated, unsure how to respond to that. Then a second text: "We need to talk. ASAP."
Her stomach dropped. They needed to talk. Nothing good ever came from a discussion that started with those words.
She could only imagine that given time to process how she had behaved in his office – and in the hallway before she left – he must have serious concerns about their relationship. He might even be wondering if this was salvageable.
She wanted to reply. She wanted to call him and beg. Please don't leave me. Please don't stop loving me. But that neediness, that begging, that was exactly the kind of desperation that would spook him. She needed to be calm and cool. She needed to convince him that she was mature enough to handle this.
She could see Sofia darting glances at her out of the corner of her eye, and realized she had been frozen, staring at the phone in her hand, for far longer than seemed necessary. She exited out of Grissom's message and dashed off a quick note to Cath, catching her up on the case, and then put her phone down in her lap.
Sofia remained quiet, and Sara suspected the other woman wanted to ask again if she was okay, but knew it was pointless. Sara leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, hoping Sofia would assume she was sleeping.
Either her sleeping act was convincing, or Sofia saw it for what it was – an attempt to avoid conversation— and granted Sara her wish. Either way, the ride back to the station was silent aside from the low hum of the radio.
At the station, Sofia promised to keep her abreast of any developments in the case, and then they went their separate ways. Sara hit the locker room, where she hung up her vest, clocked out, and then stared at herself in the mirror trying to work up the courage to do what she needed to do.
She finally managed to make it to her car, but couldn't seem to make herself turn it on. She sat for long minutes behind the wheel, tempted to just drive. Drive away and never come back.
The whole way to his townhouse, her brain offered a litany of reasons why this was not the right time for this conversation, why she should turn around and drive to her apartment instead. But during her long ride back to the station from the school, she'd had plenty of time to go over their interactions that morning and realize that the real issue was her emotional reaction.
She could be forgiven for not knowing where they stood in terms of exclusivity. After all, neither of them had ever broached the subject. It was her panic, her refusal to speak to him — hiding in the bathroom and crying at work — that was unacceptable and very likely the thing that was making him question whether he had made a mistake by ever agreeing to date her. She knew this had to be the very sort of scenario he had envisioned when he pushed her away time after time.
She knew that if she wanted to convince him not to break up with her, the last thing she should do was continue to avoid him.
Unlike the endless ride back to the station, she found herself pulling into his parking lot long before she was ready. She took a few deep breaths and climbed out of the car, holding her head high as she walked up the steps.
