Chapter Nine: There, There

Grissom's eyes darted open when he realized he had fallen asleep. They immediately found Sara's reclined body on the hospital bed a few feet from him. His reading glasses were slipping from his nose, a crossword puzzle book was slipping from his hands and he was slipping from the chair. He took his glasses off and set them and the book on the table beside him. Quietly, he situated himself in the chair more comfortably, never taking his eyes from Sara.

Her chest was rising and falling in the same steady rhythm that had hypnotized him into sleep and her eyes were still closed. She looked fragile and worn, but still beautiful. He stood up and walked to her bedside to gaze at her features closely. There was a clean, strangely shaped cut just above her right eyebrow and her lips were curled upward in a hardly noticeable smile. Her face looked tense as if she was using the muscles. She didn't look like she was in the midst of slumber. Not at all.

Her eyes opened quickly and Grissom gasped in sheer surprise as his face fell. She hadn't been sleeping at all. He felt his eyes widen and chastised himself for gaping at her when he should have been smiling kindly and lovingly. That had been what he wanted to do, but now he just felt dumb and rigid.

She was staring at him, her features soft and lovely. The smile that had barely been fixed on her face had grown slightly and her eyes were alert. She cleared her throat and licked her dry lips. "Hey there," she said to him, relief evident in her tone.

Grissom just looked at her, vaguely aware that he should say something. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words followed. Instead he sighed and shook his head from side to side without really knowing why. He was disbelieving of something and she saw it. Her smile widened and she nodded back at him.

"You found me," she said quietly, suddenly looking very serious.

He looked down at her right hand that rested on the bed. It looked smaller and pale against the dark tan blanket. He lifted his own hand and dropped it onto the blanket beside hers. He hadn't touched her very much even since being alone with her. For a reason he was ashamed of, he couldn't seem to touch or even look at her much. He was afraid he would break down and he was rather sorry that he would feel so ashamed to show his emotions. After all, didn't Sara deserve it? They had found her alive and she was going to be okay and Sara deserved to see just how grateful he was. But he just couldn't and he was ashamed of that.

But his need to touch her now, to feel the tangible evidence that she was alive and warm, became overwhelming. He covered her hand with his in a quick and desperate motion, causing her to start. To his dismay, her hand was cold and dry, but he gripped it tighter and slid his fingers down to find the pulse underneath her wrist. Feeling the faint, steady beat against his skin, something softened inside of him. He looked back up at her and brought her hand up to his lips, laying a tender kiss on the top of her hand.

"Your hand is cold," he said shakily. A sad smile crossed his face.

"At least it isn't broken," she replied with alarming flippancy, holding up her left hand to reveal her cast. She let it fall to the bed and her smile was replaced by a wince.

"Careful," he said seriously and she placed the smile back on her face. It seemed real, but he was sure that its origin was sadness and uncertainty. Grissom pressed his lips together, unsure of how to accept her cavalier demeanor.

They stared at each other and with each passing second, Sara's face fell into a cheerless expression. A sizeable lump formed in Grissom's throat that he tried to force down, but the longer his gaze held hers, the more it grew. The moment her lip quivered, his heart shattered into a million pieces, spreading sharp pangs of raw emotion throughout his entire body and he could no longer contain himself. His movements were slow and heavy as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into an intense embrace, whispering, "So much, I love you so much."

He wasn't very aware of himself, his words or his actions, just that he was pressed against her and she felt warm and alive. He pulled her tighter to him and he felt her breath hitch, but he couldn't let go. Her right hand came up to move smoothly and soothingly through his hair. His forehead was fixed to the crook of her neck and although there were no tears to speak of, he was crying on the inside and saying a prayer of thanks to whomever was listening. She was whispering into his ear, "I'm fine, we're fine," over and over again but he couldn't let go.

The moment he had connected to her, he had felt whole again. As if she had literally taken possession of his heart, or something essential that existed inside of him, and it had been with her the entire time she was struggling underneath that car in the middle of the desert. He could feel it sinking back into him and completing him again. Him, just as he was, before the idea of living life without her, utterly and absolutely without her, had streamed through his veins like an infection and crippled him in any way imaginable.

It was scary how intense his love for her seemed to pulse through him in that moment. He never imagined feeling this way about anyone.

As her hand glided over his back, he loosened his grip slightly. He felt her swallow and he almost extracted himself, but his body wouldn't move. She didn't seem to mind and she wasn't crying and he needed this.

Sara had said to him, some time ago, that they weren't "there" yet.

And maybe they hadn't been.

But he was certainly there now and, hopefully, she was right there with him.

- - -

Come on, in spite of this we're doing just fine
Even diamonds start as coal
Give us time to shine
Even diamonds start as coal

"Diamonds and Coal" (Incubus)

- - -

Grissom reached his hand out along the sheet and it hit a cold pillow on Sara's side of the bed. He opened his eyes and pulled the pillow to him, rolling over onto his back. He heard the faint sound of the constant thump and hum of the clothes dryer and the smell of a baking cake invaded his nostrils. It was all very pleasingly domestic and more than made up for waking up alone.

It was good, so good, to be home.

With a smile on his face, he extracted himself from the bed and walked the short distance to the bathroom attached to Sara's bedroom. The sight of his dark red toothbrush beside her lavender one caused his smile to grow. When he finished his bathroom rituals, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt then opened the door to the living area to find Sara.

Sara was nowhere in sight, but the cake smell was thick in the air. He walked into the kitchen and peered into the oven at the cake. It was rising quite nicely and he realized that he had never seen Sara bake a cake before, but she always surprised him. She was actually a very good cook.

He heard the doorknob turn and Sara walked into the apartment, flipping through a handful of mail and muttering to herself over the "junk" in her mailbox. Her head lifted and she smiled at him warmly. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty," she teased, throwing the mail on the counter unceremoniously.

He grinned and closed the distance between them, placing a small kiss on her lips. "Hello."

"Did you sleep well?"

"I did."

Grissom leaned back down and began placing short, sweet kisses on her lips as his hands came up to hold her head in place. She laughed against his lips and he silenced her with a long, passionate kiss. She returned the kiss with just as much vigor and the moment she placed her hands on his back, he pushed her against the counter with careful force. She laughed happily into his mouth and his lips began a provoking path down her neck. He could feel his arousal growing and so did she because she gave a short chuckle and pushed him back, glancing down between them. She looked back into his eyes and pursed her lips.

"There will be none of that," she said good-naturedly. "You don't want my cake to cave in do you?"

Grissom gave a wry grin then his face turned mockingly serious. "It will still taste splendid, I'm sure."

Sara rolled her eyes and smiled. "Actually, I think it's done." She brushed past him, planting the slightest of kisses on his lips, and opened the oven. She pulled the cake out and set it on top of the stove. After testing it with a toothpick, she turned to him and said brightly, "Done!"

He chuckled, "What's the occasion?"

She shrugged and walked into the small laundry room. Grissom remained in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter, pulling at his rather scruffy beard. After a moment, she came out of the laundry room with a basket of clothing.

"No occasion?" he questioned again, truly curious why she would be baking a cake.

"Nope. Just bored."

"Bored?"

"Couldn't sleep." She walked past him and into her bedroom. He followed.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked, knowing full-well that she would never have woken him up simply because she was bored and he wouldn't have done it to her either.

Sara dumped the clothes onto the unmade bed. She looked up at him with a puckish grin and reached a hand out to stroke his beard. "You looked so sweet and peaceful. I just couldn't," she said teasingly and pulled gently at the short hairs on his chin. Her brow wrinkled and she cocked her head to the side. "God, your beard is getting long. Keep it going and you can moonlight as a mall Santa this Christmas."

Grissom playfully batted her hand down and she chuckled back.

"Help me fold these, would ya?" she said, picking up a crisp, white t-shirt with an Olympic Paint logo on the sleeve.

He picked up a shirt as well and fixed her with a curious gaze, wondering about her strangely playful mood and also about his t-shirt that she had washed even though he hadn't worn it in over a month. She must have worn my shirt while I was at Williams, he thought to himself, and it brought a smile to his face to think of her wanting to be close to him.

But he wondered why, then, wouldn't she have just stayed at his house… if that were true. Maybe she just liked the shirt.

He folded the shirt in his hand and set it down. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching her fold on the other side of the bed. She looked up at him, her face serious, and raised her eyebrows in question.

"What?" she said and let out a short laugh. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Did you really move all of your things from my place when I left?" he asked, "Or were you just saying that last night because you didn't want to come home with me?"

Her body straightened and she looked awkward all of a sudden. Her eyes averted from his and she picked up a pair of socks. "No, I really did, actually."

It felt as though all of the cheery, weightless air had been sucked from the room and replaced with dead, grey space. Grissom chastised himself for initializing such a serious and abrupt change in mood.

"Oh," he replied, his tone casual in effort to push the awkwardness from the room. "Well, that's okay. I was just curious."

"I didn't want to be there without you there. That's kind of the whole reason I'm ever there anyway. You. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like your place. Better than my place, actually. It's a lot roomier and… closer to work…" she was looking down at the clothes she was folding, rambling on nervously.

Grissom couldn't help but chuckle. It's all he could do when she rambled on like this. It was frustrating sometimes, but mostly adorable. He rounded the bed and stood behind her, massaging her shoulders tenderly and smiling to himself as her tension melted under his fingertips. His hands slipped around her waist and he rested his chin on her shoulder, hugging her against him, breathing in the scent of her hair.

"So you like my place better?" he asked, his tone light, and he kissed her cheek.

She leaned into him and covered his hands with hers. "It's roomier and—"

"Closer to work," he said, finishing her sentence with a chuckle.

She, in turn, laughed and nodded. "Yes. And closer to work."

He smiled and turned the palm of his hand up to lace their fingers together. They stood there for a moment in silence and Grissom kissed her cheek again, suddenly overcome with giddiness.

"So," he said as a preamble, but nothing followed. His heart sped up and he wondered why he didn't feel the need to think his question over.

"So," she mimicked.

"So… why don't you move in with me?" he asked and immediately felt her tense in his embrace. Silence, an unnerving and telling silence, followed his question, and his heart began to thump wildly in his chest. "Sara?"

She turned around in his arms, biting the side of her bottom lip, a painful look on her face. She place both of her hands on his chest and her grimace melted away into an apologetic expression. "Grissom…" she started and glanced away for a moment then back at him. Slowly, her words found their way past her lips, "That's… that's probably not a good idea."

"Why?"

He tried not to sound too upset, but he wasn't sure how well he succeeded when her face took on an even more regretful look.

It was funny how many times the mood had changed from cheery to dismal in only a few short minutes and Grissom hoped it wasn't a sign of her holding her anger in. They had talked about his sabbatical only six or so hours before and she seemed fine. But then again, he rarely knew what was really going on in her head.

"I just, um," she paused and slumped down on the bed in front of him. "Moving in is a big deal to me. Like a really big deal."

He let out a sigh and sat beside her, placing his hand over hers, stilling them as they rubbed together nervously. "I know. It is a big deal."

"I think it's a bigger step than marriage," she said, turning to look at him. Her eyebrows were furrowed together in sincerity and she licked her lips, continuing, "Marriage is more like a symbol, but think about it… moving in with someone is the actual act of merging your lives together." She gave an uneasy laugh and looked down at their conjoined hands.

"Sara," he sighed and tried desperately to fight off the wave of doubt that had overcome him. He didn't actually have any words and if he was honest, he regretted even asking her at all. He hadn't thought of it much, it was one of those rare things he had done on a whim.

And this is why I'm not spontaneous, he reminded himself.

Her head lifted with a new expression. A crooked, slight, smile was on her face and her eyes looked suddenly clear and bright. She nudged him with her knee and leaned on his shoulder. "Despite everything," she finally said, "we are great together… I think."

Grissom smiled, turning his face into her hair. "I think so." He kissed her hair and she lifted her head to look at him. He searched her eyes. They were narrow and she looked hesitant, as if she couldn't find the right way to put her words. "But…" he said to spur her on, and lifted his eyebrows curiously.

"But… but we just… aren't," she took an even longer pause, looked away, then back at him ruefully "… there… yet."

Her words dropped like small, heavy stones. He felt rejected, but he felt even more confused.

"There? Where is there?"

She cocked her head to the side, as if perfectly willing to think up a long, philosophical response. "I guess… we'll know when we get there," she said with frustrating lightness.

Involuntarily, his lips curled into a tiny smile. "Well, that's vague," he huffed, the irony of the situation not entirely lost on him.

"You've rubbed off on me," she responded, patting his knee.

He could feel the cheer rushing back into the room, brushing past his face and spreading a genuine smile there.

"Now, if you would like to join me I have a cake to ice. And if you make the bed, I might let you lick the spatula." Sara stood up and pulled on his hand to tug him upward.

"Yes, dear," he said as he leaned down to place a short kiss on her lips.

She smirked and walked to the doorway, pausing with her hand on the frame and looking back at him earnestly. "And we will, Grissom."

"Will, what?"

"Get there."

They stood still for a moment as understanding sunk in and she walked out of the door, leaving him still very confused but oddly content.

There? He thought, over an over as he smoothed the wrinkles out of the white fitted sheet.

- - -

Grissom finally released his grip on her and pulled back. Worry and sympathy were etched into her features and he wondered about how he must look to her in this moment because he felt like a wet rag, filled with desperation and sorrow that had been rung out. Now he felt rather limp and flimsy. Happy, even.

His hands held her arms and he leaned back in to place a tender kiss on her lips. The sound of her whimpering caused him to deepen the kiss as his hand came up to the side of her face, his thumb affectionately stroking her ear and her cheek. He felt completely melted into her, completely merged.

He pulled back and smiled with a compelling flicker of love and affection in his eyes. "Move in with me," he said, more of a statement than a question.

Though she didn't answer right away, her face didn't change, as if she expected him to say this all along. He grazed the cut above her eye with his thumb, awaiting her answer, and looked at it curiously. His eyes found their way back to hers.

She was smiling, this time a real smile, and she nodded. "Okay."

To Be Continued…