A Thin Line
rated: T for now.
Disclaimer: I keep them in my cupboard.
A/N: Thanks to the reveiwers in the last chapter. They were very, very appreciated : D.
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It was amusing how ironic life could be. Sara was never one to distinguish herself to any particular faith, but a part of her was sure some higher power was taking delight in screwing with her life.
While her personal life was at an all time new low, Sara's work life couldn't have been better (excluding the strained interactions with Grissom, of course). Her cases were solved at alarming speeds. After three weeks of phenomenal case work, Ecklie pulled her into his office for an obligatory, and a somewhat grudging, 'atta girl!'
She couldn't have been more miserable.
Sara desperately wanted a case she could dive into, and forget, even for a little while how low and depressed she had become. And also to forget Red. Her glossy lips and expensive shoes were on her mind constantly. Red had morphed into an alpha female: the woman every heterosexual man would desire. When Sara woke from a dream of d-cupped, long legged, perfectly toned Red with Grissom drooling at her heels, she stuffed her head into her pillow and screamed.
She had never felt so pathetic. In her life she had overcome so many obstacles, and yet somehow getting over Gil Grissom was proving the most difficult one yet.
Sara had defeated every barrier that had stood in her way. No one and nothing held her down. Not her abusive father who repeatedly told her she would amount to nothing. Not her mother, who turned to drinking until the fateful morning she killed her husband. Not the foster homes, where parents and siblings names changed monthly.
She graduated high school early at the top of her class and was given early acceptance to a dozen universities. She worked two jobs and still came out in the top five percent.
She was a fighter, she endured and survived. She worked harder when they said 'no'. A burning desire to prove them wrong was her fuel, her essence, her mantra.
Sara had wondered, briefly, if perhaps it was Grissom's repeated refusals that drove her to quietly pursue him for so many years; that maybe she just really liked chasing the elusive entomologist. But that idea was soon proven false the morning she woke in his arms, and had let herself believe he wouldn't leave her. She had never felt more satisfied and fulfilled as in that one delusional moment.
He had left her that morning, however. He crept out while she pretended to sleep. Pausing on the threshold of her bedroom she could feel his eyes burning into her. It seemed hours before he finally left.
Not long after the night she slept with Grissom, and after she had drunk every drop of liquor in her apartment, she knew she needed a diversion. She got a cat. She named it Asha, which meant 'hope' in Sanskrit Indian. Asha was small, thin and matted when Sara first saw her at the animal shelter. Asha looked unloved and pitiful. Staring up at Sara, her eyes were so sad and forlorn that Sara felt an immediate connection to the small creature. A couple of weeks after taking her home, Asha was reasonably plumper, and her fur was shiny and unmatted. She had taken a liking to cuddling with Sara on her bed, and waking her up in the middle of her sleep. Sara didn't mind, having a little Asha in her life was nice.
Asha, although a dutiful companion that always listened to Sara's rantings when arriving home from work every morning, didn't cure the wound in her heart that was Gil Grissom. Sara was determined to get over him. She was in love with him but she was sure she could fall out of love with him.
At home, alone when she felt her most vulnerable even with Asha curled at her side, Sara fought with herself, trying to think of all the ways she disliked Grissom. These musings often carried over into work. She would continually chant Grissom's faults. Especially when she felt her heart start to beat faster when he stood too close, or when he looked at her softly. Not that she allowed moments like that to happen often anymore.
Since the night they had slept together Sara made huge efforts to avoid Grissom. She only willingly approached him if she had to receive or consult about a case. Even at those sparse meetings she made sure they were never alone.
After the night at the restaurant, Sara doubled her efforts.
In the weeks that followed, Sara and Grissom never spoke of the night at the restaurant to each other directly. The only time they had mentioned it in each others presence was a few days after the fact.
Sara was in the break room reading a forensic journal and drinking coffee when Nick strode in. He sat across from her, opening a bag of food he had brought. Chewing on a sandwich he looked at her thoughtfully.
"So, I was talking to Josh yesterday…"
As Nick spoke, Grissom entered the break room. He nodded to his two CSI's and headed directly for the coffee pot.
Sara had been wondering when Nick would bring it up. Sipping her coffee she avoided his eyes.
"Really?"
"Uh-huh." Nick drawled.
She cleared her throat. "How is he?"
"Sara…he told me you cut out of the date early. What happened?"
Sara glanced past Nick to Grissom. It was taking him a long time to pour a cup of coffee.
She sighed, "I really wasn't feeling well, Nick."
"Yeah, that's what he said." His voice softened, "Look, I'm sorry if I forced you into the date. But I was—I am worried about you." He paused looking a bit unsure, as though trying to decide whether or not to say something. "Do you…have any hobbies? Outside of work I mean."
Sara narrowed her eyes slightly, fighting to keep annoyance out of her voice. "Nick, while I appreciate your concern, please don't. My life may be work orientated but it's not my entire life. Josh is a nice guy, but not for me, okay? And I was feeling sick. It wasn't an excuse to get out of the date early. You know I wouldn't do that." It wasn't a lie, Sara had been feeling ill. The sight of Grissom and Red had made her physically and mentally nauseous.
She momentarily considered telling Nick about Asha, but decided against it. It somehow felt like she would be trying to make excuses for herself, and how she decided to live her life. She didn't want to do that, especially when Grissom was not so subtly eavesdropping.
"Yeah, I know you wouldn't," Nick sat back. "Sorry for prying. But you know me, sometimes I can't help it. I sometimes forget you're not one of my sisters."
"The feeling is mutual, bro." Sara smiled, leaned across the table and swatted Nick's arm lightly. Nick rubbed it as though she had punched him.
She was very aware when Grissom slipped out of the room; his coffee mug sitting on the counter.
That had been a couple weeks ago.
It was a month and a half since she slept with Grissom. It was odd when she thought about it. Sometimes it felt like it had never happened. However, when she came into work and felt the tension and strain it became painfully obvious that it had.
Sara sometimes wondered how much more she could take. If there would ever be an enough for her. And if there was, would she be willing to do something about it?
Could she continue to live her life viewing her desires…desire someone else? Could she watch him fall in love with someone who wasn't her?
She shied away from these thoughts, preferring to distract herself in her work. But work had proved to fail in that, much to her dismay. So she turned to cold cases, which succeeded in keeping her mind occupied for countless hours.
"Sara."
She looked up, surprised as she hadn't heard the door open. Sara was reading through a cold case in the break room. Lying across the couch she crunched on an apple while flipping pages.
"Yeah?"
Greg's voice faded out as she stared at him curiously. Looking at his hair, it wasn't easy to tell if it was supposed to look that way or not, she mused.
"Sara…Are you listening to me?" Greg asked with exasperation.
Sara refocused her eyes. She really needed more sleep if she was contemplating Greg's hair.
"Yeah, yeah of course."
Greg eyed her, looking decidedly unconvinced. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
Sara cocked an eyebrow, "Everywhere?"
"Yeah, you know. The hallway, parking lot…um, by the vending machines. Anyway! That's not the point. Brass tried to page you…but your pager must be off or something 'cause he paged me to find you. Athena Greenman is in interrogation room three."
Looking down at her pager, Sara frowned. A blinking light told her 'Low Battery' in bold letters. Fantastic.
Sighing, she sat up closing the file. Throwing the apple core in the garbage she stood.
Greg turned to leave, but turned back suddenly. "Oh yeah. And I guess Grissom was trying to page you too. He wants you in his office ASAP."
Fricking Fabulous.
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Grissom's office door was slightly ajar. Sara stood in front of it, seriously debating leaving. Her fight or flight reflex was pointing more to flight the longer she stood there.
Breathing in deeply she knocked on the door lightly.
"Grissom?"
She pushed open the door silently, revealing Grissom. He was standing with her back to her. He was digging through one of his many over stuffed shelves.
Sara found herself mesmerized by his movements. He was fully unaware of her presence, and she basked in his ignorance. Her eyes examined him. His arms flexed as he reached into the back of the shelf. Sara felt her cheeks flush slightly, ashamed for this inadvertent peep show, but she was unable to look away. She hadn't looked at him, really looked at him, in so long. He was water to her extreme thirst.
She jumped suddenly when he turned. He looked genuinely surprised to see her. Sara made herself move, trying to make it seem she had just opened the door.
"Hi." His voice held a twinge of something she couldn't identify.
"Hey." Sara said softly.
He moved to his desk. "Do you need something?"
Sara stared at him, "Um…no. Greg said you wanted to see me."
"Um...yeah. That's right." He said distractedly, flipping through mounds of files on his desk.
"So?"
Grissom looked at her slightly confused for a moment. "Right. I wanted to ask you about the Greenman case."
Sara cocked her head, perplexed. Surely Grissom had heard about Athena Greenman.
"Well, we have Athena Greenman in custody. After I leave here, I'm headed to see her."
"Hm. Good." Leaving his files, he turned giving Sara his full attention which she found a bit unnerving.
"Is that it?"
He looked at her behind his glasses, his expression unreadable.
"Yes."
"Okay." She turned to leave.
"Sara."
She stopped mid step. Looking back, she was startled to see how unsure he looked.
"Yes?"
He stepped closer to her.
Inside, her stomach jumped. In her head she began to chant: Stubborn, emotionally unavailable, unbelievably frustrating, doesn't love you…
"We haven't talked about it…but I…" He chewed his lower lip.
Sara was fascinated, not only by his teeth working his bottom lip, but also by how flustered he was.
He sighed, "I've wanted to explain…I want to explain… about that night…at the restaurant…shit..."
Sara was stunned. She had not expected that. She held up a hand, stopping him. "Gris. Please don't."
"But…I really think…"
"Don't. I really do not want to hear about you and other women. Thanks."
He mumbled something, likely her name. His hand lifted, and touched her cheek. Involuntarily she moved her head into the caress. Unwelcome memories tumbled across her mind.
His eyes held something she'd never seen. If this had been another time she could actually have been frightened. But she wasn't, she grinned at what she saw, knowing he must see something akin in her own. She caught his lips in a kiss, her tongue invading his mouth. She felt slightly barbaric. Leaving his mouth Sara bit down hard on the place where his neck met his shoulder.
She backed up hastily. Looking up at his eyes she saw she wasn't the only one with memories.
She walked backwards quickly. His eyes burned into hers. Breathing heavily, she reached for the door handle. She swung it open, and left.
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subliminal messege you want to reveiw!..cough...err..
I hope this chapter wasn't too choppy. I tried to make it smooth...but I suppose a writer is their own worst critic. Unless it was crap. Then not.