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.

White
August – "Far out at sea,--the sun was high, While veer'd the wind and flapped the sail,

We saw a snow-white butterfly / Dancing before the fitful gale, Far out at sea."

-Richard Hengist Horne

She was caught in a storm, drifting away with the current that was their 'unrelationship'.

Drifting from what had been a familiar plight for some time now.

Grissom.

The wave she was riding was one of attraction and excitement, yet also dangerously transverse from built up confusion.

Only this time it was her turmoil adding to the wave-forming gusts, not his.

Her.

It felt new.

It felt different.

It felt oddly terrifying.

It felt surprisingly familiar.

It felt like he must have felt all along...

'Never swim against the current. Swim parallel to the beach until free of the current, then head for the shore.'

Las Vegas – anno 2005

The bright piercing sunrays of the early morn caressed the slick stone tabletop before pointing its long fingers toward the ceiling above. Like a nervous lover's touch the fingers danced lightly across the flat painted surface, leaving no visible traces -- only slight warmth. Slowly tapping into her conscience the movement was bringing her back from the dark recollections of the previous night.

Night and day, black and white.

She briefly wondered where she was, not used to waking with the rising sun.

There were no messages on her machine; yet she thought she could hear Grissom's voice pent up within the last few feet of the unplugged phone cord.

Her mind was playing tricks on her again

If only her dreams were a figment of her imagination as well.

The white cable hung bowed over in defeat; nearly touching the black and white canvas from its vantage point atop her desk's shelving unit – just out of reach should she hold out her hand.

They were disconnected and this time she felt not angry, but scared.

Bridging the gap, his voice came through the air anyway. She sat up too fast, feeling her head screaming at the movement, and gazed intently at her answering machine.

"Sara…"

His voice was there again, but behind her; behind the front door.

A muffled, but sincere voice -- conveying nothing but concern.

"Sara, please, I have been trying to call you. Talk to me."

She was panicking. She couldn't see him now, not yet.

What would she say?

What would he say?

Was she ready for what he might need to say?

And why was he there and why wasn't he angry with her?

And why…?

Just why … what was going on with her?

He had finally started opening up to her, and himself, and now she was shutting him out?

Was it too late, was that why

It never could be too late for them, could it?

She curled her legs up to her chest and hugged them so tightly that breathing became difficult. Then she stared, stared in earnest; chin on her knees she stared intently at the door, willing it to open by itself.

She was trembling.

"I know you are hurting, and confused. Scared."

He sounded sad.

She thought she could picture his forehead against the door the way his voice sounded against the wooden barrier, as if he were part of it.

"This is my doing, may be my undoing even, and I know that and I also know that I cannot fix all the wrongs that I have done or…"

"—I love you…"

The door felt cool against her pounding forehead. And just like that her own voice settled her insecurities -- she still loved him.

I really do…

She had quivered a bit as the unexpected wave had washed over her, leaving three little words in its wake.

Would she drown now?

Her voice felt like it could have carried all the way to the shore.

Maybe if she swam just a little bit farther she would be safe?

Her head was resting against the door, feeling him -- without facing him.

Without touching him.

An inch and a half of inanimate safety was keeping them apart.

Long fingers slid along the smooth surface, estimating his outline, caressing his face and stopping at the source of his voice.

"…always."

She was still breathing, still alive.

"Can I come in…please?"

His voice was calm.

"No"

"Please Sara, I…"

"No." Her voice sounded regretful and heavy.

"You will get hurt again, I'm…good at that."

She had hurt him, had she thought him immune?

"We're booth good at that Sara."

That was true.

"Yeah."

He felt her slip away, based on the slight give of the door. Sinking down in front of it he was taken aback when sensing something against his left buttock. Quickly turning he noticed the movement from under the door. He took hold of the paper emerging from Sara's side and held on to the edge as it moved toward him, knowing she was holding the other end.

"This is me," she said through the door with a slight chuckle that withered prematurely.

He looked at the mostly black surface of the canvas paper, noting the slight presence of underlying colors within the swirls.

She was reaching out to him.

"I like the swirl patterns and the opacity," he said, standing again and looking right at the door.

"They look unique and passionate and strong. Did you do this?"

"My dark personality," she stated, making fun of nothing in particular – herself maybe.

"I didn't know you paint."

"I don't, isn't that obvious?"

"No."

His direct answer surprised her.


She realized she had somehow stopped shaking.

Carefully she undid the safety chain, then the lock itself.

She slid down against her bathroom wall behind the door, chin resting on knees once again.

He turned the knob while pushing on the door gently, expecting to see her curled up in her sofa chair like some sort of déjà vu.


She was not there.

He took a few hesitant steps, before turning to close her door, painting in one hand.

He saw her then.

He didn't think she could look any slighter.

"I feel better now that I see you."

And he did.

At that she looked up, as if the unexpected words had brought her out of her trance temporarily.

He sat down, leaning against the inside of the door, not really wanting to bombard her with questions.

Just sitting there next to her would suffice at this point.

He let his left hand rest briefly on her forearm giving her a confirmatory squeeze, but otherwise joined her to become lost in thought.

"Sorry…"

"Yeah, me too…"

He wasn't sure how long they had been sitting like that, but he had started getting a bit entranced himself from watching the sunlight bouncing around in the ceiling, when she loosened the grip on her knees and finally decided to break the silence.

"You know - it's very important in life to know when to shut up. You should not be afraid of silence."

He looked at her with a mixture of surprise and worry.

"Oh, not you. I mean -- have you ever watched 'Jeopardy'?"

Grissom's brows lifted as he turned to look at her, puzzled.

"Well, yes -- occasionally."

"Occasionally, really?" For some reason that made her feel enthusiastically giddy.

She pictured him going for the bottom answer and up, the confident and sensible approach to maximizing your earnings.

"Well, Alex Trebek - you know; the host, used to always say that it was important to know when to shut up.

She contemplated how to go on from there.

"So… I guess, you know, thanks… for listening to my silence. And for returning it and, um I… it's just that I am lost; I don't know what's happening with me right now – where I stand."

She almost wanted to admit to a sense of embarrassment for the way she had gone off on him earlier, but decided not to humiliate herself any further.

"Well," he said, while gazing philosophically into the shallow depth that was her apartment.

"I am really comfortable with silence, it's ingrained in me. Actually, I am really at a loss without the promise and knowledge that silence exists around me."

Sara's eyes reflected her admiration for his honesty – he rarely shared much of himself voluntarily, if ever.

"My mom is deaf."

A small part of him still felt uneasy sharing that fact, which he knew was unfair both in regards to his mother and Sara. It also made him think of all of herself that Sara had shared with him.

Warm brown eyes were tender, yet devoid of pity, as she looked to him connecting on a level they had not accepted in a very long time.

"…but nobody hears you more clearly than she does, right?"

That was Sara. Honest, kind, understanding – beauty complete.

He smiled at her then and she returned the favor.

No, it wasn't a favor – it was a gift she was giving him, every time she smiles.

There was a sense of renewal and relief, they both felt it.

He mockingly turned his back to her, if only for a second, and then whirled around to meet her eyes.

"Sara Sidle!"

His eager tone was one she recognized instantly, if only because she had replayed the day she came to Vegas in her mind a million times. An even wider smile took hold then.

"That's me!"

She looked down, eyes landing on Grissom's feet – his legs where crossed and stretched out on the floor in front of him. Then she stole his line, using the same introspective voice as he had done back then.

"God Grissom, I have so many unanswered whys…"

She looked into his blue eyes, feeling almost … shy.

Was it because of the question itself or was it because she had turned it around on him?

Las Vegas - anno 2000

­­

"God Sara, I have so many unanswered whys…"

She admitted to herself that she did too; her heart told her that much and her smile, as well as the one he had presented, hadn't really hidden it she suspected. But the case had to take priority right now, there would always be 'later'.

Normally his team worked the graveyard shift, which is what she had been advised when he had called her to make arrangements for her 'visit'. She was convinced that Bob; as busy as the San Francisco low-life had been lately, was sending her to Las Vegas for a couple of weeks because he owed Grissom. That and; she had already worked with the man after all.

Their 'incident', however innocent, in her apartment that one time a few years back, had been largely unresolved.

Not that there really was anything to resolve, but the three of them had not spent any time together, in the same room, since that day. Her past had resurfaced and turned her world upside-down with that ride downtown, and Grissom had unknowingly returned to Las Vegas as scheduled the next day. She had never told him any of the more intimate details, and the case had only been briefly discussed when wrapping up their T. Cesni case via conference call a couple of days later.

Being that he had already been out on a case when she had arrived from McCarran this afternoon, she had decided to head on out and see if she could assist him in any way.

She also wanted desperately to see him of course.

So, this was the first time they had seen each other since that unusual day two years back.

The two weeks had been a rollercoaster ride of emotions, at least in regards to her time spent with LVPD, Graveyard.

Then again she had never expected an internal investigation to be a walk in the park.

Her time spent with Grissom, however, had actually included a walk in a park and a rollercoaster ride.

The fact that the man seemed obsessed with rollercoasters and that their walk was actually in that amusement park, only made him that much more adorable to her. He had said he was just showing her the highlights of the city now that she would be working there. She thought that through more than once before her curiosity got the better of her.

"Well, I'm not planning on getting lost during any of my remaining three days here thank you -- you guys have been excellent chaperones despite probably wanting me to get lost half the time!"

She covered a nervous chuckle pretty convincingly.

I
n stark contrast Grissom looked at her like she was speaking in foreign tongue. And she was, in his mind anyway.

He hadn't even asked her to stay on yet, but somehow his mind was already taking pleasure in knowing she would be there.

"Right."

Brilliant Gil, you always know exactly what to say…

"Well, actually, how would you feel about staying?"

She wasn't quite as successful in hiding her wide-eyed look of surprise this time.

"Staying on the job as a part of my team, we…are short one person."

That was not how his mind had proposed the plea.

"Uh, I…I think Bob would make your team short one supervisor."

Stay calm Sidle, think on your feet -- light, think light thoughts.

He seemed relieved at her light answer.

"Moby owes me, besides; it would give him a great excuse to come to Vegas – he always tells me I've got the better deal."

Her face took on an amused expression.

"So what makes you think giving me up will make him think you have less of a good deal?"

"Mmmm…"

"What was that?"

I
f that wasn't the silliest smirk she had sent. She was flirting openly now, but just couldn't help it.

"I never said I would get less of a good deal and… do I have to have a reason?"

His right eyebrow settled high on his forehead lifting the corner of his mouth with it.

"No, but you do have one, don't you?"

It was a rhetorical question really, but oh how much fun!

"I have more than one."

Las Vegas - anno 2005


The sunlight in Sara's apartment had diffused into a broad source of light, illuminating the whole area and highlighting the pink of her lips. He loved her lips, especially when they were turned upward exposing a dimple or two, like had been the case for a good deal of the time they had been sitting there talking about days passed.

They had come to some sort of silent agreement that looking back at the good times, and the bad, would be a necessary step to… move into the future.

After she had explained how her PEAP counselor had suggested she express herself through a self-portrait of symbolic colors, he had returned her black and white painting to her.

"You know, black and white are not considered colors, so you really would not be cheating… and giving it to me now really suggests you have given up on your heart…and… I refuse to accept that."

"How do I start over without losing who I am, who I used to be…? I, um – don't know what to do to get there, you know?"

What if I lose pieces of me I can't afford not to keep?

"I'd like to be there – to help you, to share…with you. If you will let me."

He gazed at her with what could only be recognized as love, before inhaling to prepare to speak.

"The snow goose need not bathe to make itself white.

Neither need you do anything but be yourself."

Right then, quoting ancient wisdom, he knew he would have taken back all the hurt that he had caused her if he thought he could.

And then he would obliterate the rest of her pain, even if he couldn't…

"—Lao Tse"

A sad smile quivered on his lips.

S
he made a move to turn herself around slightly to face him.

"—Ouch! I can hardly move…?"

At that she felt more disappointment than pain.

"…how long have we been sitting here like this?"

Sara seemed to have come to the sudden realization that they were seated on her floor against the wall sharing moments they had once lived, and some they hadn't.

But they were sharing.

"Well, my butt's numb – so the bottom line suggests…."

"—Grissom!"

Her eyes widened in disbelief, as the corners of her mouth followed.

She rolled her eyes before slowly standing up, then offered her hand to pull him to his feet.

Observing him through narrow deviant eyes, she contemplated slapping his butt to see if it actually was as numb as he claimed, but she instead made a beeline for the kitchen.

"Coffee?

"Coffee sounds good."

He looked to her and realized those had been their exact words when they had met over ten years ago.

And now they had met all over again.