Dislclaimer: They're not mine, although I'd love them to be. I own nothing but these words.
Small Swords Chapter Four
Grissom sat down at the table in the break room, joining his already assembled team. They were mid-way through a discussion on a case, and he listened as they reasoned and rationalised the possible theories. He enjoyed the way they related to one another, the balance they struck between dismissing and challenging one another's ideas. He admired them for always having ideas – the hardest part of their job was having a better imagination than even the most ingenious murderer.
Sara was on form, proffering again and again insightful and interesting ideas. She had a thick file in front of her on the desk, what they had gathered so far, and she frequently opened and thumbed through it, looking for the missing links, the evidence they may have already unknowingly connected that would close the gap. Her eyes were bright and Grissom tried not to wonder why.
Grissom watched her fingers slide lightly around the coffee cup in front of her. Each one flexed and contracted slowly as she allowed them relief from the heat emanating from the mug. He thought how achingly perfect she was. How her fingers were so slender, so useful, so adept, and so unassuming as they gratefully cradled the coffee. He let his eyes wander briefly up to her face, seeing the colour begin to return as she sipped, in need of the caffeine. She caught his eye, and smiled, her beautiful, close-lipped smile, lasting just one second longer than he could bear. Oh God, he thought. You have me.
Sara moved her fingers slowly, deliberately, trying to give off an air of control when inside pieces were crashing down in spectacular fashion. He was looking at her, so unfettered, so raw, and she was afraid that the rest of the team sitting at the table would surely see. I am in so much trouble, she thought. Sleeping with one man, in love with another. Shit. Sleeping wasn't an accurate description, really, when it had so far been a one off. Since that hot morning, when she had showered and stepped back into the same clothes, when she had told herself that she wouldn't do that again unless it felt right. What she really meant by that was if it felt better, because as much as she wanted to, she couldn't kid herself that it had felt completely right the first time. In love wasn't an accurate description either, she told herself. She saw it as more like clawing her way out of love, coming out the other side, slowly, aching all the while. She had only seen Drew once since, in a two hour oasis between the end of her shift and the beginning of his, and he had been too much of a gentleman to suggest going back to his place.
She was seeing him tonight, though. Her night off. His, too, as luck would have it. She wondered if the moment would arise. There would be dinner, and probably wine. She wondered what she would do, in the heat of the moment. She had surprised herself on so many counts already, she couldn't be sure that she wouldn't again. She reasoned that she should probably address the issue, at least talk to Grissom before tonight. No doubt he would say something conflicting and unhelpful that would remind her of all the reasons why he remained something she had never got near.
She sighed, lacing her fingers together around the mug, feeling the much-needed caffeine reach her vital organs and start things moving again, and thanked something like a God that there was work, loyal, reliable work, as a shield from all of her thoughts and feelings. As if there was any question as to why she had chosen such a consuming career.
After the long meeting had dispersed, several new ideas being eagerly followed up by members of the team, Grissom retired to his office to turn his attention to the large caseload on his desk. The 'pending' pile was always his least favourite, producing cases that were either deemed unsolvable, or where some delay or other had moved them to the back of the pile, or where there was simply no more evidence to be processed. Now and again he took this pile to pieces, read and re-read them all, painstakingly re-assessing every aspect, hoping to have missed something that might shed new light on one of them. Usually he kept one or two out and did some more work on them. Today, he found nothing. Not a thing jumped out at him as he tried to concentrate on the minutiae.
When Sara knocked, he was glad of the distraction and snapped his gaze up to find her standing quietly in the doorway. Their eyes met and there was a moment of agreement between them, that all was not well. That something needed to be said. That the unspoken mountain between them that had stood silent and solid for so many years that they had so recently conquered was beginning to move.
"Hi," she said, with a small smile.
"Hi Sara." She looked at her hands. The hands that had felt new and different skin and hair. Grissom waited as she formed the words in her mouth.
"Would it ever have happened between us?"
He slid his glasses down his nose and off, wanting to remove all barriers between them that he might look at her fully and assess just how much courage that had taken. She went on as he watched her.
" I know this isn't what you want to hear, and I don't mean to make things awkward, or drag it all up, I just .. I just need a yes or no."
Grissom sighed, a long exhalation of air that seemed not to end but to slow into his shallow breathing as he considered this, and wondered how he could answer, when all that they had ever been was both yes and no. The sum of them was that he had never been able to successfully put paid to his doubts and she had never been able to successfully accept defeat. He loved her for it, sometimes, when he was thankful that there was someone who would fight for him, and then he cursed her for it, too, when he just wished that whatever this was would die, and stop chastising him as he longed to creep back into his protective shell.
Grissom sensed that this was coming from the Sara covering new ground with someone than the Sara who had waited in darkness for him her whole life. He sensed that she needed release, to put things aside before proceeding in whatever it was that she was now sharing with a man who was not him. Grissom knew he had no-one to thank or blame for that but himself. This conversation was for her happiness, not his, he thought, and he answered accordingly.
"No. I don't think it ever could have."
There was a long pause in which their eyes held on desperately to the moment, clinging to the last vestiges of hope before Sara wrenched hers away, nodding quietly.
"Thank you."
That night, she didn't need wine. She had cried, briefly, alone as she got ready for her evening. It had been both a relief and a shock to hear what she had always assumed was true. It would never have happened. The finality of it was liberating, if devastating.
By the time she arrived at Drew's apartment, she felt free. He cooked her a wonderful dinner, put her completely at ease with his usual easy chatter, and when he kissed her deeply her body surrendered before her mind had chance to think twice. This time as she reached the brink she saw only white heat. When it was over, Drew lay one arm across her waist and stroked the skin over her ribs. Kissing her softly, he smiled.
"I could get used to this," he said, and Sara smiled, marvelling at the lack of inner dialogue she was experiencing.
She was fine until she got into the shower. The pounding of the water, the heat and the solitude of the frosted cubicle conspired to bring her down. Closing her eyes to let the water run down her face, she was struck by an image of Grissom, sitting at his desk as she had left him earlier. She blinked the water away, willing the picture to fade. Leaning back against the tiles she saw him again. She saw him many times, as she had over the years, trying to articulate something to her, something difficult. Those times when she had been sure he had some feelings and had struggled to accept that none were forthcoming. Sara sank down into the shower tray, dismay creeping in, as she thought of all the time she had wasted, in love with Grissom. Years of her life spent waiting, watching, wanting a man who didn't know how to be in love. She wondered if someone had told her back then where she would end up.. but she hadn't had that luxury.
It didn't take too long to dawn on her, and once it had she couldn't shake it. She stayed in the shower until her fingers wrinkled and then towelled off and dressed, not in the robe Drew had given her but in her own clothes. She found him mixing drinks in the kitchen.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," he replied, turning to kiss her with a tumbler of ice in one hand. She froze as his lips touched hers, and he felt it.
"What?"
"I think I should go." He put down the tumbler.
"Why?"
"I'm sorry, but this isn't going to work." He looked at her for a long moment and she knew that he understood. His eyes were clear as he spoke.
"I shouldn't ask why, should I?" She shook her head, and recalled the moment in the coffee shop parking lot when she had wanted so much to make Grissom history. She had failed, and she was leaving Drew more than a little sore.
"I really am sorry."
"Sara, like I said before. Everyone has a past. If it's still got a hold on you, well, I'd rather know now."
"That's what I thought."
"This sucks," she said, meaning it. "You just might be the greatest guy I've ever met." He snorted with laughter.
"Obviously that's not true, is it?"
"Oh, him? No he's an ass. Apparently I'm unable to resist them."
There was a long silence as the reality of what she was doing burned with the embers of the joke they had gallantly tried to make of it. She felt guilty and scared, forcing herself out into the cold again, knowing that this was not a choice between two lovers as much as it was a choice between the substitute and the solitude of what was unrequited.
"Hey," he said, hugging her tightly, "no hard feelings." His voice darkened, and she knew she would leave a mark, however slight, and however well he was taking it. A solitary tear escaped Sara's eye as she pulled away from him.
Half an hour later, Sara was virtually kicking the door down. She was mad, and it didn't even occur to her that he might not be home. After a few loud pounding knocks he pulled the door open, incredulous as to the noise that she had created. Such a small person, such a lot of rage, he reminded himself.
"Sara.?" She pushed past him, not waiting for an invitation.
"You said it never could have happened."
"Come in," he said, closing the door behind her. She ignored his sarcasm. She had never been less in the mood for his bad jokes. 'Soy sorry' would have gone down a treat.
"Why didn't you tell me that a year ago? Or five years ago? Or at any point during these years I have wasted wondering if this is ever going to happen. Do you know I haven't had a proper relationship since I met you? Do you know how long that is?"
Grissom scratched his beard thoughtfully.
"Ah, it's none of my business, but aren't you seeing someone now?" Sara threw her hands into the air, gesticulating wildly. She was wound up, he could see, and he was partly alarmed, partly entranced by it.
"Over before it began, as usual."
"I don't…"
"No-one gets off the starting block, Grissom. Do you know why?"
"Sara.."
Sara paused. Her guns were drawn. What the hell, she thought. If she was going down, she would go down fighting.
"Because of you! Because I am in love with you." She let that hang in the air for a moment before driving it home. " There, that's something I should have said years ago." He was stunned into silence. She seemed suddenly deflated. She paced slowly. He struggled to form a coherent sentence, still reeling from the admission. I mean, sure, he'd imagined, but to think how it would have felt to hear her say that..
"Why didn't you?" She looked at him sharply. " No, you say I should have saved you the trouble but you never told me how you felt."
"Oh my.. Grissom, don't even go there. I have laid myself on the line way too many times. You've had so many chances to tell me to forget it once and for all."
"Right!"
"What do you mean, right?"
"Why do you think I haven't done just that, Sara? Has it ever been that simple?"
"No, it's definitely never been simple. It's simple for me, I know what I want. But you give all these mixed messages, and we get nowhere. And meanwhile there's this amazing man that I really like and who wants to be with me and somehow I can't do it."
"Why not? I thought that's what today was all about." Sara sighed, wondering how much more grief to give him before going home to wallow.
"How could I? I don't want him to waste a year, or two or three years of his life. I know what that's like."
"Do you think this is a waste?"
"If all in all it comes to nothing, then yeah, I do."
His heart sank.
"I'm sorry you feel that way."
Sara began to grow conscious of the way she had barged in on him. Feeling that their conversation wasn't getting anywhere anyway, she turned to leave.
"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I said anything at all. Ever." She saw him wince as those words hit home, but didn't allow herself to feel bad as she left, as quickly as she had arrived. Grissom was left feeling stripped, shocked and wishing she would come back. His home felt suddenly empty without her.