See Chapter One for notes and disclaimers. Reviews appreciated.
Chapter Two: Cool Change A
Grissom carried Sara's bags up to the front door of his townhouse. She had only packed one suitcase and had taken just a small carry on bag in addition to her field kit, but still he had insisted on carrying her belongings. Grissom fumbled around his pocket for his keys, "Gris, I can take those," Sara said from her position behind him.
"No, I've got it," he said as he slipped they key in the lock and opened the door. "Well, here it is," he announced.
Sara walked into Grissom's home. It looked to be more of a house than a home. The walls were sterile looking, a white with hints of blue as an undertone. They were decorated though, with colorful and unique butterflies in an assortment of display cases. Grissom's couch look to be the least comfortable piece of furniture in the known world, the rack would likely offer more comfort. She let a small laugh escape her lips at the thought.
"What?" Grissom asked at the sound.
"This place looks like your office back in Berkley," Sara smiled.
"Those were the days, huh?" he sighed. "Your room is this way."
Sara followed Grissom down the hallway to the guest room he used as more of a storage locker than a guest room. "I'll move these boxes out and get you some fresh sheets," he told her setting her bags on the floor.
"You don't need to go through all of that," Sara told him. "I can stay at a hotel."
"You're going to stay with me," he insisted. "You are doing me a favor." He ran a hand down his face, "God, I cannot believe…"
"Gris, uh," let's leave this and go to the kitchen for a talk, okay?" Sara suggested.
Grissom normally was not one for conversation but whenever he had the chance he enjoyed talk to Sara. She was feisty and passionate, but at the same time very understanding and kind. "It's been a long day for you. You must want to rest."
"I'm fine," she assured. "Come on, let's just relax for a while."
He gave in and they both took seats next to his kitchen island. "My initial inquiry," she began. "Does not look very good for Warrick Brown. Several witnesses stated he was placing NFL bets…"
Grissom cut her off, "I already know that. I know he made a huge mistake, but he is a damned good CSI, Sara."
"I won't deny that," she answered. "I still need to interview a few people, especially Captain Brass and Warrick Brown. They are the keys to this thing."
"I know you'll give me your best," he said squeezing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. After a moment's pause, "I'm not sure I can do this," he confessed.
"Do what?" she inquired. "If you're not comfortable with me sta…"
"No," he quickly assured her. "I'm not sure I can be the…boss, I guess. I'm not the type."
Sara nodded listening intently. "Grissom, you care about your colleagues. You always try to guide them and help them even if it takes you out of your way. You have so much knowledge, a little bit about everything and anything. Not to mention I have it on exceptionally good authority you are an excellent teacher. You already are a supervisor, Gil."
"Thank you for that," he smiled. "Stil, I want to be in the field with my people, with the evidence, not shut up in my office writing evaluations and applying for grants."
"So do that," she told him. "You are the boss now. You set the tone for how things are going to run in your unit. If you want to lead by example, do it. If you want to be a sideliner, do that. You set the pace."
Sara smiled at him and reached across the space between them to capture his hand. Grissom could see in her eyes how much she believed in him. He only wished he could believe in himself that way.
As they sat together, her two hands tightly enveloping one of his, Grissom's cell phone rang. He did not want to break the fragile connection between himself and another human being. He craved that so much in his life, especially now, stressed as he was so he was careful not to disturb it when he reached down to remove his phone from its pouch on his belt. "Grissom."
Sara studied Grissom's face as he listened to the caller. His face grew heavy and his blues eyes lost their sparkle as the call went on, and he made only short monosyllabic responses. The hand she cradled in her own began to reflexively tighten to a near painful grip, still she did not retract it for she knew what he was hearing from the person on the other end of the phone. Finally, he exhaled a long breath and murmured a flat, "Thanks," before ending the call.
Grissom stared at their clasped hands, his mind running in circles, reeling from the information he had just received. He took a deep breath and raised his head to meet Sara's eyes. They were filled with understanding, still he had to give voice to the words that were echoing in his head, even though not were necessary.
"That was on of the uniforms we had out a Desert Palm Hospital," he told her keeping his voice flat and emotionless. "Holly Gribbs dies on the table."
Sara studied Grissom's face. It betrayed no emotion, only control, so very different from the man she knew and formed a bond with years ago in California. That did not stop her from slipping off her stool, letting go of Grissom's hand, and closing the gap between their bodies so she could wrap her arms around his chest. He froze a moment at the sudden change in contact, then lifted his arms to return the gesture, softly pressing Sara's body next to his own.
"It'll be all right," she whispered. "It will."
She felt him nod his reply and squeeze her gently before letting her go, "I'm going to have to…" he began.
"Yeah," said Sara knowing what he was going to say before he said it. "I have to go locate Warrick Brown. I promise I'll be fair."
"I know you will be," he said gently. "That is why I asked for you. I know…I know I can trust you to do this right." He stepped back from her and reached for his keys on the hook. "I'll see you tonight."
Sara slowly nodded, "I'll be here," she confirmed adding under her breath after he was gone, "I always will be."