Author's Notes: Thank you so much, everyone. I assume that if you're still here at Chapter 26, you must find something enjoyable about this story. Because if you're not enjoying it, why would you still be reading it? Much appreciation to my beta, PhDelicious, and my friends who keep me hanging on when I'm down to my last thread of sanity.
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The Last Embrace
by Kristen Elizabeth
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December 2006
"What is it?"
Sara turned the box around in her hands, examining it from all sides with great suspicion. The longer she took, the heavier Grissom's heart became.
"It's just a little something." He paused. "I wanted you to have it. Tomorrow's Christmas."
"I know what tomorrow is."
The chill in her tone still shocked him, even after two months. He wondered if he'd ever get used to it. Would a time ever come when the fact that Sara was no longer a part of his life outside of work would no longer hurt?
But deep down, he knew the answer already. No. It wouldn't. The only way for him to be anything close to complete again would be to have her back. Not just in his bed, although he ached for her every night. He wanted her soy milk in his fridge. He wanted her myriad of lotions littering his bathroom counter. He wanted to set two places for breakfast. He wanted tampons and curling irons and feminist literature and sandals next to his loafers.
All of the things he'd taken for granted.
"Open it," he asked her softly. "Please."
With obvious reluctance, Sara yanked at the velvet ribbon, unraveling the bow it had taken him twenty minutes to tie. She lifted the lid and stared into the box.
When she finally looked up at him, her eyes burned. She lifted the single key and held it out to him. "I gave it back to you for a reason."
Suddenly, he felt like a rock was sitting at the base of his throat. "It's yours, Sara. I had it made for you."
"I don't want it anymore."
Grissom didn't ask why. He already knew. He'd asked the question before, the day he arrived back from his final trip to New Orleans. It had taken thirty straight minutes of continuous dialing before she'd finally answered her cell. The sum of their conversation had been simple.
They were over. And when pressed, the only reason she'd given him was equally straightforward.
I slept with Nick while you were gone.
Sara reached out and took his hand. He looked down just in time to see her place the key on his palm and close up his fingers around it.
"Whatever we had…" she began, looking straight at him. "…is gone now."
"I don't accept that," he said hoarsely.
Sara shook her head and backed up a step. "It's not up to you. It is what it is."
Grissom couldn't keep his hand from shooting out and grasping her wrist. The key clattered on the floor. "Sara…" He swallowed the words that were on the tip of his tongue before they could get out.
How could he tell her that he couldn't hold what had happened with Nick against her, because he hadn't exactly been faithful himself? And how could he tell her that they could fix things when he wasn't even sure what was broken or how it had gotten that way?
But he had to try. He had to say something before she walked away again. He couldn't let another two months go by before he got to touch her again.
"Tell me what to do, honey," he whispered.
"There isn't anything…" She stopped. "I can't do this…not now." Sara's eyes pleaded with him. "Leave me alone, Grissom."
Another moment passed before he relaxed his grip and she pulled away. Her eyes shone with a film of tears. With one hand on her stomach and the other covering her mouth, she bolted out of his office.
After retrieving the key, Grissom reverently placed it in his desk drawer with his mother's rosary.
He spent the next hour working before finally deciding to call it a night. It was almost Christmas, and as far as he knew, now that Sara was gone, the lab was all but deserted. There was a team on call, but the various techs were off until noon the next day.
It was a cold night; he could see his breath as he walked across the parking lot to his car. When he found the right key on his set, Grissom glanced up and caught sight of two figures a few dozen yards away.
There was enough illumination from the moon and a parking lot floodlight for him to instantly identify them as Nick and Sara, but not enough for him to read their lips. Sara was visibly upset, shaking her head. Grissom watched as Nick cupped her face between his hands, leaned in and gave her a light kiss.
Burning heat spread throughout his body. His blood boiled, red-hot and acidic. He was assaulted with jealousy, pain, and the crazy desire to punch a man he'd never so much as wished a mosquito bite upon before.
Grissom wanted to look away when Nick embraced the woman he loved, but he was paralyzed by the scene in front of him. She let him fold his arms around her. She even put her cheek on his shoulder. Her eyes closed, and for a few seconds, she looked calm. Peaceful.
It was a look he hadn't seen on her face in a very long time. Much longer than he cared to admit.
Halfway home, Grissom had to pull over. The angry fire in his chest had died out; in its place, cold misery poured over his heart. He put the car in park and forced himself to breathe in and out. But each lungful of air was accompanied by a ragged sob.
Hunched over the steering wheel, he mourned for what he now knew he'd lost forever.
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Completely against his will, Catherine threw Grissom a birthday/belated homecoming party. She invited all of his friends…and then padded the meager guest list with her own. Laura figured that was how she'd ended up with an invitation to the soiree. Although she wouldn't have minded staying home with Cassie, it was nice to get dressed up and go out, even if the party was just at Catherine's house.
Sara spent three days trying to come up with excuses to get out of going. But when Laura shot down each one with great accuracy and precision, she finally caved and started looking for an outfit that would minimize her stomach as much as possible. It proved to be too great a task; she ended up in a black wrap-around dress that tastefully displayed her rounding belly.
Along with her expanding waistline, Sara's spirits seemed to lift as her pregnancy progressed. But Laura suspected that her improved state of mind had more to do with the fact that a certain older man was now an almost daily fixture at the house.
The night of his party, Grissom arrived to pick them up just as Sara was finishing her list of instructions to Cassie's babysitter, Caitlin, the teenaged daughter of a family who lived down the street. As soon as Cassie spotted Grissom, she held out her arms to him.
Grissom took her, kissed both of her cheeks, and after putting her down so she could scamper off to play, gave Sara a pleading look.
"No," she said, fastening an earring. "You can't stay here instead of going to the party."
"But…" he began.
"No," Sara repeated. "Catherine put a lot of time and energy into this thing, and she did it all for you."
His face pulled into something akin to a grumpy pout. "I didn't ask her to."
"That's what friends are for."
"To throw parties that we didn't ask for and don't want?"
Sara reached for her handbag. "You'll feel differently once we're there."
"I doubt it."
Caitlin looked at Laura. "My mom and dad fight just like them."
Laura would have smiled if the whole conversation between her daughter and Gil hadn't been laced with something heavier than simple banter. There was something simmering between them. And she couldn't help it. Her mother's instincts were concerned.
The drive to Catherine's was quiet. The party, however, was anything but. Laura wasn't sure she'd had as many friends in her entire life as the number of Catherine's who had shown up to celebrate the birth of a man most of them had never met.
Armed with a martini, although she didn't really like them, Laura searched the crowd for a familiar face. She found Greg Sanders.
"Mrs. Sidle," he greeted her with a slightly loopy grin. "Haven't seen you around the lab lately."
"I like to pretend that my daughter works with bunnies all day," she said. Searching for a conversation starter, she looked around the living room. "It's a nice place. I didn't realize the crime lab paid so well."
"Catherine's, shall we say, independently wealthy by fluke of birth." Greg raised his beer. "Three cheers for inheritances."
Laura nodded. "Yeah." A few moments passed. "Greg, can I ask you something?"
"Anything you want."
She took her time, phrasing the question just right. "Has Gil always been in love with my daughter?"
After a second staring blankly at her, Greg took a sip of his beer. "For a long time…I thought he didn't even really like her."
Her skin prickled. "Why?"
"When Sara first got here, everyone pretty much assumed she and Grissom were doing it," Greg eventually replied. "There were, like, hundreds of applications he could have picked from…but instead he calls up a 'friend' and gives her a plumb job just like that?" He shrugged. "'Course, Sara proved herself worthy of the job by about week two."
"That's my Sara," she whispered. "So, I don't get it. Why would you think he didn't care for her after all of that?"
"It's hard to explain. Grissom's got this way of making you feel…small. And I'm not even sure he realizes he does it. But he can be pretty mean sometimes. If he's not just ignoring you altogether."
"He did that to Sara?"
Greg nodded. "On and off for a few years. I almost asked her out back then. But I'm kinda glad I didn't. Grissom loved her…Nick loved her. No room for Greg."
"Then how do you know?" Laura clarified, "That Gil loved her?"
"We've all kinda had to learn how to speak Grissomese. Once you do, it's not hard to translate that him ignoring something means he can't deal with it which means he can't stop thinking about it. Besides...why wouldn't he? She's…" He swallowed. "She's one in a million."
"I'm sorry," she offered.
Greg smiled as widely as possible. "It's cool. Probably wouldn't have worked even if those two weren't in the picture. She might be too much woman for me." He looked at his bottle. "This is really good beer."
Laura gave him a soft pat on the cheek. "I realize that we barely know each other, but you're a good man, Greg Sanders. Your mother must be very proud of you."
His smile faltered. "Yeah. Sure."
She looked down at her glass. "I really don't like gin." Looking back up, Laura asked, "Can I get you another?"
Greg shook his head. "Better not. I've already told you that I had the hots for your daughter. Might be quittin' time for me."
Laura headed off, shaking her head in amusement. But as she recalled the information he'd just shared, the nagging voice of concern in the back of her mind started up again. Gil Grissom was slowly making himself a central part of both her daughter and her granddaughter's lives. He was going after his second chance. But was he deserving of it in the first place?
He had hurt Sara once. Ignored her, then broken her heart. Was history doomed to repeat itself?
She'd stood by in Sara's youth, powerless to stop her own abuse, much less the emotional toll her daughter had paid by having to watch it. If she could do something to keep Sara from getting hurt again, she would.
She left her martini at the makeshift bar, but didn't order a new drink. Instead, she went off in search of Sara. With a little help from the party's hostess who pointed her towards the stairs, she found her. Sara, Catherine told her, had been feeling a little overwhelmed in the crowd and had gone upstairs for a breather.
The master bedroom door was ajar; she peeked inside, careful to be as quiet as possible in case Sara had fallen asleep. She did that a lot lately.
The last thing she expected to see was Sara and Gil kissing like the world might end if they stopped. As much as she wanted to barge in and stop it, she just couldn't. Because after months of merely walking through her life, her daughter was alive again.
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To Be Continued