A/N: Thanks so much to Mingsmommy and LosingnTrnslatn for all their hard work.
January 1, 2008
Pacing. My shoes slapping out a rhythm that plays like a score beneath my chaotic thoughts. Walking and turning and walking. I cannot sit still. I have been careless and I can feel everything falling apart around me.
Elizabeth with Gil Grissom. How could I let that happen? I know they were discussing me. What else could those two have been doing together? It is not as though the infamous Dr. Grissom, or any man for that matter, could ever be romantically interested in the likes of her.
I want to find her, to learn what she knows, what she has told him. But I mustn't. No, I cannot do that. It would only make things worse. Besides, I have made no mistakes. Have I?
Suddenly, my legs grow weak and I cannot continue to stand. Stumbling over to the sofa, I sit down quickly. The air rushes from my lungs and they freeze. I cannot breathe. I feel the panic set in. It is a tingle along the nerves in my arms and legs. It is a numbness around my mouth. It is a heat in my stomach that flows upward until it rests in my chest like an enormous and immoveable rock. Sweat trickles along my temples and over my cheeks.
I call out for Renee, but then I remember she is not there. I need my medication. Pushing to my feet, I am forced to hold onto the arm of the sofa as the dizziness overtakes me. Remaining there, I wait on my head to clear before taking a step. With the dizziness comes the nausea and I swallow desperately against the desire to empty my stomach onto the living room floor. Moving forward, I manage somehow to shuffle into the kitchen and fumble through the cabinet until I find the right bottle. Shaking out one pill, I put it in my mouth and swallow it dry.
Air. Air is what I need right now. Cool air blowing on me so that I may breathe. There is a ceiling fan in the bedroom and with a clumsy determination, I make my way there. Stripping off all my clothes, I turn the fan on high and lay with my head directly beneath it. The blanket is pulled over my body, and I close my eyes and concentrate on drawing the air into my lungs. I can feel the sweat beginning to dry on my skin. Slowly, I feel the drug taking effect. My heart rate slows. My breathing eases and I begin to drift.
I am somewhere between asleep and awake. It is in this state of drifting between the realms that I am blessed, when God delivers to me the answer I have sought. With His plan playing out in my mind, I allow myself to rest.
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Sara was surprised when she didn't see Grissom's car in the lot at the entrance to the park. Then she saw the opening in the fence and caught a glimpse of a dust cloud just beyond it. Quickly, she crossed the gravel area and nosed her car down the narrow track leading out into the desert. Sticking to the well worn path, she headed into the canyon, the butterflies in her stomach growing larger by the moment.
The mountains loomed in the distance and Sara's eyes kept drifting toward them. The sandstone peaks were the deep brown of the surrounding landscape, except for a swath of deep red running through them; that rust color giving the canyon its name.
Dragging her eyes back from the view, Sara picked her way over the rough ground. The car crested a small rise and she saw Grissom's car parked beside a gully. He was sitting on a shelf of rock above the indention, his back to her. She pulled up behind him and cut the engine before grabbing their jackets and stepping out into the cool, clear air of the morning. Taking a deep breath, she relished the cold bite of the air as it filled her nostrils and expanded her lungs.
Sara hadn't been back to Red Rock Canyon since she was airlifted out. There was no reason to return. The things she experienced in that place changed her in ways she couldn't explain. And returning to the scene of the crime wouldn't turn back the clock, wouldn't make her the Sara from before. However, Grissom seemed to think of it as some kind of shrine. She knew he came out here, even before she left for San Francisco. They never talked about it. But then, they never talked about a lot of things.
Standing there, her eyes scanning the mountains and the miles of scrub and sand, she noticed the quiet immediately. Complete and total silence. So very different from the cacophony of the city. Different even from the cottage. The peace she found there was centered on the sound of the waves on the shore, the call of the birds, the whisper of the wind through the pines. That was a peace that lulled. This was a peace that screamed.
Sliding her arms into her jacket, she zipped it up against the chill. Her footsteps were loud in the stillness, crunching over loose rocks and packed dirt. She watched Grissom's back. He made no move to acknowledge her presence and for a split second she was afraid she'd made a mistake by following him. But she wasn't one to run from a challenge, so she kept going, climbing up to sit beside him, close but not touching.
Silently she passed him his jacket and, without a word, he slipped it on. Behind the mountains, the sun rose; fingers of light creeping across the canyon floor, chasing back the shadows. Off in the distance, a hawk soared lazily across the cloudless sky, riding a draft of warm air. Sara watched the display with a sense of awe. She had forgotten the power of the sunrise, having become consumed by the soft beauty of the sunsets over the Pacific.
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Grissom kept his eyes forward, studiously ignoring the woman sitting next to him. He couldn't remember ever telling her about his trips out here, but it didn't surprise him that she knew. He couldn't remember a time when Sara didn't know him better than he knew himself. Even now, after everything they had been through, his propensity to doubt her ability in that arena was somewhat shocking.
Riding out here, Grissom had finally admitted to himself that he was running from her. But he hadn't been able to force himself to turn around. No matter how much he missed her, he wasn't ready for her. He wasn't ready to talk to her about his suspension. He wasn't ready to explain how her leaving had changed him; not to anyone, and especially not to her. He wasn't ready to let go of his own pain.
Surreptitiously, he let his eyes drift to her profile. She was so beautiful. He loved her, more than he had ever hoped to love another person. His feelings for her were all consuming. They filled him until he was sure he couldn't contain anything else. Then he would discover another secret, another facet, and he could feel his heart expand just a little more.
Despite his love for her, or perhaps because of it, his emotions about her departure were mixed. He had been hurt and more than a little angry. His worst fear, the thing that kept them apart for all those years, had come to pass. Sara had held his entire life in her hands and she simply walked away. The depth of that betrayal ran deep. But even if he didn't like it, he understood why she left. He had watched her for slowly unraveling for months. He knew she was in trouble, knew she was unhappy. And above all else, he wished for her happiness. The desire to see her happy was what kept him from falling apart.
"It's beautiful here." Sara's words came out on a rush of air.
"It's hell." Grissom countered in a voice hoarse with emotion.
Grissom could feel Sara's eyes on him, but he kept his gaze trained on the bottom of the gully. The feelings rolling through him caused his heart to pound. He could feel the flutter of the pulse in his throat. Leaning forward he rested his elbows on his knees, letting his hands trail over the ground in front of him.
"Why do you come here if you hate it so much?"
He was silent for a long time, the muscles in his jaw working and his breathing becoming more ragged. Finally, he turned haunted eyes to her. "It's the last place I felt close to you."
Sara drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "How can you say that?"
Grissom turned away from her, his eyes going back to the place where Natalie had left her to die. He struggled to find the right words. His hand trembled as he raked it through his hair. He could feel Sara's eyes on him and he fought the urge to stand up and walk away. They had to talk about this. They had to talk about a lot of things. With a sigh, he opened his mouth only to snap it closed again.
With one last shuddering breath, he began, "When Nick and I got here, the car was here," he gestured at the dip in the ground. "I was terrified. I took one look and knew you couldn't possibly have survived. Then we didn't find you."
His eyes slid closed and the images from that day played out in his mind. He could feel the scorching heat. He could taste the dust, feel the grit under his nails and see the sunlight glinting off the undercarriage of the Mustang. He had to swallow against the lump in his throat when he remembered dropping to his knees and digging through the rough sand that was mounded around the car, believing in his heart that Sara was dead.
Turning to face her for the first time, he offered her what he hoped was a smile. "I was so relieved. I knew then, despite all the odds, I knew you'd make it."
As quickly as it came, the smile faded. Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose, his forehead furrowing as if he were fighting off a headache. "But you weren't the same, Sara. I lost you here and I didn't even know it. I lost you and I lost myself."
She had been so withdrawn. She still made love to him and teased him and filled his life with her presence. But he would catch her sometimes staring into space, miles away from him and their life, and he would know that things weren't what they should be.
Once again he turned to face her. "You weren't the Sara I knew. You weren't my Sara. You were quieter, more withdrawn. And I didn't know what to do so," he shrugged helplessly, "I did nothing."
"Gil," Sara reached out and placed a hand on his arm, "there was nothing you could do."
"We'll never know, will we?" He captured her hand, squeezing her fingers, silently apologizing for letting her down once again.
"You may not know, but I do." It was Sara's turn to stare into the gully. She pulled her hand away from his and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the cold wind.
"There are some experiences that change you. Not physically but mentally, emotionally." Turning she faced him, a sad smile tipping the corners of her mouth. "And this…this was huge, bigger than I could have imagined."
"Don't make light of it, Sara." Grissom's voice was hard, anger rolling through in him long waves.
"I would never make light of it, Gil." Sara snapped. She clambered to her feet and walked to the very edge of the overhang. Kicking at a loose rock, she watched as it bounced down the steep incline and rolled to a stop under a bush. "I lost me, too," she whispered, her voice blowing past him with the wind.
He stood and moved to stand behind her. Raising his hands, he let them hover over her shoulders before settling them gently at her waist. The breeze plucked at her hair and it brushed against his face. Tugging, he pulled her back against his chest. At the feel of her against his chest, his anger began to dissolve. He knew then he would do whatever was necessary to keep her in his life. He would move heaven and hell to be with this woman, because without her he was incomplete.
"So, what do we do now?" Grissom wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed against her. "If we're both lost, how do we get back?"
"We don't. We just keep moving forward." Settling her arms over his, Sara leaned back against his chest. "That's all we can do."
"So you think Churchill was right?" Grissom's lips brushed along her ear. "If you're going through hell, keep going?"
"Yeah," Sara nodded. "Our only other choice is to give up."
"That would never be my choice, Sara." Grissom tightened his arms around her. "I love you and I will never give up."
Turning her head, she looked up at him before brushing a kiss along his jaw. "Good," she whispered and turned her eyes back to the mountains.
He had missed this, the feeling of simply holding her. And from the sound of her sigh, she had missed it too. They stood like that for a long while, each of them caught up in their own thoughts; the unyielding rock beneath them, the unending sky above them, the early morning sun bathing them in light and warmth.
"I'm sorry I stormed out." He pressed a soft kiss to her temple.
Sara turned, wrapping her arms around his neck. "And I'm sorry I left the way I did." Her words were murmured against his jaw, her lips and breath tickling him.
Grissom's arms tightened around her and Sara leaned into his warmth. He breathed in the scent of Sara. There were days he would gladly have given every dime he had, every physical possession just to be with her like this, to smell her, feel her, see her and know she was real and not some figment of his imagination. Now she was here and he didn't intend to waste another moment of their time together. Easing back, he searched her eyes. He saw it then, her love for him shining in the rich brown depths. Bending his head, he gave in to the need to taste her.
Their lips met, tentatively at first, finding their fit again. Slowly, the passion built until Grissom slipped his tongue along her lips and she opened her mouth to him. With a groan, he slid his hands down and cupped her buttocks, tugging her closer against the ridge of his arousal. Sara's fingers were threaded through his hair and she whimpered low in her throat as Grissom's tongue slipped into her mouth
Tearing her mouth from his, Sara fought to catch her breath. Grinning up at him, she asked, "Can we go home now?"