Spoilers: General, if it has aired in the US it may be referenced….Disclaimer: I borrow the CSI's on occasion, but they are not mine… Only their adventures are. Information, when researched, has been found within the public domain unless otherwise stated.
Yellow
She loved yellow like she loved magnolias. The flowers were a light yellow at best, if the large waxy petals could be called anything but creamy white. But they smelled of yellow. Besides, white is not a color.
She had not been privy to the magnificence of the Magnolia grandiflora blossom growing up on the west coast, but during her years on the east coast, and subsequent travels up and down the coastline, their symmetrical beauty and unyielding strength had pulled her toward them. Once within reach of their fragrant bodies she had been unable to detach herself. She had not wanted to break them away from their life-giving tree, but had discovered, through observation, that the blossoms' life spans, even when attached to their source of life, were short. A trade-off for beauty she had decided. She had picked her first flower then and carefully wrapped a wet cloth around the gaping wound, as if to soothe and comfort.
The wonderful and bottomless citrusy scent had become her cue to dream, from thereon and always.
Charleston – some eight years ago…
Grissom. She didn't know. He hadn't mentioned it. But then neither had she.
The warm, yellow South Carolina spring sun seemed different from the one shining on the western part of the country, but then maybe it was; it had a head start after all. Charleston was nothing if not charming and something all-encompassing must have made it so. Why not the sun?
"Did you miss the ocean?" Her voice had been barely audible, but clear as a beacon to him through the mutter of voices.
"Sara?"
She smiled at him and took in his surprised expression. He looked stunned, but not the least bit less stunning than she had remembered him to be two years ago. The undersized courtyard area of the DoubleTree Suites and Conference Center seemed to get smaller by the second, and their boxed lunches less appealing. The International Conference of Forensics in Law Enforcement was halfway through its second day of speakers and poster sessions, and she wondered why they had not run in to each other sooner.
"When did you get here?" She couldn't help herself.
"Late last night."
As her eyebrows arched in a familiar way, he added,
"I'm the keynote speaker for the entomology session this afternoon, you should come."
She hadn't even looked at the program for the speaker series yet; she had been too focused on; or nervous with, her own poster-session on 'Material Analysis and the Contaminated Crime Scene' to think of much else.
"I can't," she said with slight defeat, "I have to present my Poster research this afternoon. You should come." She flashed him her toothy smile and laughed at her own parroting.
He looked down to his feet and pondered the dilemma for a minute.
"Will you tell me about it, over dinner?" he added. "We have two years of catching up to do."
That grin that had made him so irresistible in San Francisco was still there.
"I would be honored," she replied, caught slightly off-guard again by the flutter in her stomach.
"For now, though, we should probably finish our lunches, unless we want our stomachs to speak louder than we do this afternoon."
Want to come with me on a ghost walk?"
The couple of glasses of wine she had consumed with her dinner made her less CSI Sidle and more Sara.
"A ghost walk?" Grissom's face was a mixture of interest and disbelief. She actually believes in that stuff?
"C'mon, I'll be scared if I go by myself," she teased and pulled him along by his elbow, zeroing in on a group consisting of a handful of people huddled by a lamp post at the end of the Market.
"Have you ever been?"
"No," he simply said, truthfully, still puzzled by her fascination.
"I'm Mike and I'll guide you through the narrow alleys and dark footpaths of Charleston's haunted district…"
He wasn't dressed up, but he proudly wore a devotion to his birthplace that bode well for the upcoming hour.
"…and if I sense a presence I will stop and assess it," he said.
As the walk started, Grissom made sure they were in the way back of the group. Not one to play along, he didn't need to be up front making the tour guide uncomfortable. Besides, he secretly revered having Sara to himself he had to admit, without the awkwardness of being alone with her. The cover of dark didn't hurt either. His hand settled on the small of her back, and just like that the ghost that had followed him over the past two years withdrew.
He had to admit the man was a gifted storyteller, and when he had pointed to the stars at the intersection of Broad and King, speaking of the supernatural while referencing the first recorded scientific weather observation in America by Dr. John Lining in 1737, the moment was not lost on him.
This was not about evidence and science and certainty; whether or not ghosts are real, but about people and their curiosity for going above and beyond to discover something is possible when it seems without a rational explanation.
…
Ghosts are what people leave behind unexplored, the wanton dismissals during the pursuit of self.
Sara had been so relaxed and at ease during most of the ghost walk that when it eventually ended he had found himself somewhat annoyed at having to leave his newly discovered alternative universe behind. She had caught him star gazing at the corner of Broad and King, and had given his hand a light squeeze as she had turned around to pick up where his peripheral vision had left off.
"What's your favorite constellation?" he had whispered, not to take away from their tour guide's narrative.
She narrowed her eyes slightly and turned to look at him with a devilish grin.
"Virgo"
As his eyes had widened she had hastily added:
"The only female constellation of the Zodiac!"
"Ahh, of course…" She was such a big flirt.
"Aren't you going to ask me what mine is?"
"Nope!" She had tossed her hair over her shoulder, almost managing to successfully suppress her laughter, and then dutifully followed their group around the corner.
"You coming?"
He hadn't known whether he should or not.
He knew she wasn't going to openly suggest it, but then he also knew it was what she wanted. So did he.
She had caught him off-guard when on their way back from the alluring ghost walk she had all of a sudden come to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk and thanked him for 'keeping her safe' from all the ghosts of the night.
"You…going somewhere?"
He must have looked as confused as he sounded, because her dark eyes truly had compassion in them when she glanced up at him.
"This is my stop," she gestured to the narrow entrance door right off the sidewalk.
"Planters Inn? They put you in Planters Inn?"
His surprised expression quickly morphed into a playful pout.
"Wow! Guess you have Moby wrapped around your finger, huh?"
"Could be," she laughed. "He was determined for me to come here and present, I really wasn't supposed to. And since we missed the deadline all the rooms over there were already booked."
Her eyes hinted down the sidewalk to where his hotel lay straight ahead and almost immediately around the corner.
She took a deep breath, as if to bask in his envy.
"Of course; I'm not complaining – third floor colonial grandeur with a view of the Old Market!"
They stood there for a while in awkward silence, neither one really wanting to be the one to break the spell.
"You know, they even let me pick some magnolias in the garden this morning."
She felt flushed as she looked to her feet for a sense of equilibrium.
"Really?" he cheered affirmatively.
"Well, I had chocolate mints waiting for me on my pillow," he retorted with a smirk, the awkwardness not quite so awkward anymore.
Pillow talk with Sara... He mentally gave himself a pat on the back for that last comeback, pleased with his ability to think on his feet when in reality he felt his aptitude for thinking quickly diminishing.
"Well, I am going to go enjoy the smell of my magnolias then, they only really last a day you know." A shy smile formed on her face.
"It was good to see you again…will you be here for the rest of the conference?"
His expression fell as he sensed her vulnerability.
"I have to leave in the morning, upcoming court case. I've been called to the stand."
"Oh," she said. "Okay."
It was all she could think of saying. He took both her trembling hands and guided her eyes to his own.
"It was good to see you too, Sara. I will miss you."
He gently squeezed her hands before letting go.
"Enjoy your magnolias," he said with a sad smile as he looked at her looking away as his steps echoed off the pavement and into silence.
The peace of her grandeur room was only broken by the slight hum of the white noise machine sitting by the foot of her four-poster bed.
It was disconcerting.
Her body and soul were roused, and despite the gold-leaf wallpaper and antique furnishings, she felt like the room was like any other that she had ever stayed in.
Dreams of what might have been were what had made this room special.
She snuggled up to the resident mascot teddy bear sitting on the trunk. A tear soaked through his plush cheek, then another.
Great, now I'll have to buy the darned thing…
'Room 305, Sara Sidle (balance total billed the SFPD, card on file): Queen double beds - $295/night x 3 nights plus tax - $942.55 ; room service - $0; phone service - $0; 1 light brown teddy bear - priceless.'
Yeah, Bob will have fun with that…
She stripped down, curled up under the covers with teddy and placed the magnolias she had picked that morning on her bedside table, her cue to dream.
Then Sara Sidle cried herself to sleep.
He was half way to his hotel when he felt the presence of a familiar ghost from the past; as if it were back saying "here we are again."
But he has to leave in the morning, it wouldn't be…fair…to her, them, would it?
San Francisco and the state of California is a relatively long way away from Las Vegas and the state of Nevada, as far as relationships go.
And his lifestyle is even farther removed, a sacred place unwilling to reside in a state of commitment.
Why did she have to drive him so crazy?
He hated her for it, in a harmless sort of way, but hated her for the way she made him feel physically and emotionally. He hated her most for the pain she left him with when he walked away.
His hurried steps reverberated against the walls as he turned, backtracking his previous footfalls.
He couldn't leave her…trembling like that, even if tomorrow…
Even if the pain of tomorrow were just hours away.
He quickly made his way through the doors, through the foyer, around the back to the elevator.
The elevator.
At this 'fancy-schmancy' grandeur-containing, Sara-containing hotel one must have a key to ride the elevator.
Akey.
The panic on his face did not go unnoticed by the concierge; whose polite "can I help you" added fuel to an already explosive condition.
"NO," he roared at the source of the gesture, standing there looking at the elevator as if he'd missed the last train home on a stormy night.
"No, thank you. I'm fine. I'm sorry."
With that Grissom retreated, paced back to his hotel, packed his suitcase, got in the shower and went for a walk. He had one last thing to do….
March - 'May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun, and find your shoulder to light on
To bring you luck, happiness and riches today, tomorrow and beyond' – An Irish Blessing
She woke early, sleep never having succeeded in getting a solid grip on her. The sun was peeking through the blinds and the white noise almost drowned out the hustle of the street below. She decided she needed to find a white noise equivalent for drowning out her emotional life of late. Yesterday's magnolias had wilted and turned brown; so much for strength, beauty and dreams, she thought.
She took a long, scorching hot shower; her skin turning pink from the water like the flowers had turned brown from the lack thereof. She dressed, picked up her folders and her purse, put on a brave face and opened the door to the third floor hallway.
She almost fell over them, almost stepped on them. But just almost.
There, in front of her door, were ten beautifully robust, cream-colored magnolias, each one bored into the rotund side of half a yellow apple. The odd display of the yellow apple magnolia forest outside her door made her cry again, but sweet tears this time.
Sweet like yellow apples and magnolia fragrance and sweet dreams.
'An apple a day is for me to say take care my friend until I see you again – Grissom'