A/N: I'm exceptionally sad to have to give you this news, but, as a teacher, my summer is drawing to a close. Tomorrow I'm back to work, which means that my updates will definitely not be as quick as they have been. I'm going to promise an update every weekend, but that's probably the best that I can do.
To everyone else who is tearfully bidding summer good bye, I feel your pain. Students, do your best and be good to your teachers. Teachers, good luck.
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are taken from episode 322, "Play with Fire."
Facing Reality
In the end, none of the men on Sara's team did anything to hurt Hank. They settled for being overtly rude to him, barely speaking to him, shooting him dark and dangerous looks, and making sure that Sara never arrived at a scene alone if the paramedics were still there. They did not want Sara to ever be alone with him again.
Sara knew what they were doing, of course, and she was extremely grateful. It wasn't that she needed their protection; she knew that she could handle herself around Hank. She was grateful for the friendship at the root of their actions. She knew that she would never have made it through this without her friends and her work.
Work again became her refuge, the thing she used to bury all the feelings of hurt and betrayal. Even though Catherine had told her that it wasn't her fault, that there was no way she could have known that Hank had another girlfriend, deep in her heart, Sara could not get past the idea that an investigator should have known. She should have known! And so, she threw herself into her work, thinking that if she could just make herself a better CSI, this would never happen to her again.
And so, she worked. The job brought her back into the lab every day full of determination, but the people brought her back full of excitement. She couldn't wait to joke with Warrick, to tease Nick, to laugh with Greg, to chat with Catherine and to talk to Grissom. She couldn't wait to see her friends.
The more time she spent with them, the more she loved them. She loved Warrick's sense of humor, Nick's completely platonic flirtations, Greg's free-spirited style, Catherine's advice and Grissom's … She loved most things about Grissom.
It was as if she had traveled back in time. She felt like the same Master's candidate who had butterflies in her stomach every time she went to one of his classes. She was attracted to him. She always had been, and she always would be. She just hoped that she could hide it well enough that no one else would ever know.
Sara stumbled into her apartment in complete exhaustion. She had worked a double, and wanted nothing more than to fall into her bed and sleep until her next shift. Apparently, someone else had other plans for her; her cell phone began to ring as soon as she put it down. Groaning, she reached for it.
"Grissom, I really cannot work another minute," she mumbled as she picked up the phone. She flipped it open without even looking at the caller ID. "Sidle."
"Hey, sweetheart."
Sara's heart lifted at the sound of her friend's voice. "Mary!"
Mary giggled. "Who were you expecting?"
"Grissom, if you must know," she said. "I was afraid he'd make me go back into work. I just got home after sixteen hours."
"Oh, Sara. Do you want to sleep? We can talk later."
"No, I'd rather talk to you," Sara said, curling up on the couch. "How are you?"
"Fine," Mary said. "How are you, sweetie?"
Sara sighed. "Getting better, I guess."
"You don't sound very sure."
"I'm … well … I'm confused."
"Confused?"
"Yeah. I mean, I'm getting over the whole thing with Hank. I just … I was an idiot, and I'm not used to feeling like that."
"Sara, you couldn't have known."
"That's what Catherine said, too. She said that she didn't know when her husband was cheating on her. So, I guess … maybe she's right."
"Of course she is."
"It's just hard for me to accept, you know?" Sara said. "I don't like the idea that someone could fool me like that."
"We all have our moments," Mary said. "But, you said it's getting easier?"
"Yeah. I guess the way I look at it, if Catherine can be fooled, anyone can be." Sara hesitated, not sure if she wanted to continue.
"Sara, you're stalling," Mary said. "You're babbling about this because there's something that you desperately want to tell me, but at the same time are afraid to admit, probably to yourself. So, let's just get it over with. What is going on in your head?"
"It's more what's going on in my heart," Sara sighed.
"Always with the set up," Mary giggled. "Spit it out, girl."
"I think I'm falling for Grissom."
Mary exhaled. "And this is news?"
"Be nice," Sara said. "Don't make me hang up on you."
"You won't," Mary said. "I'm the one who knows all your secrets. If you don't tell me, you won't tell anyone … and you obviously want to talk. So, talk."
"It's … it's like I'm back at school. You know how I was then."
"Right," Mary said. "He's intelligent, he's older, he's a mentor, he's a teacher, he's handsome, he's amazing … I remember."
Sara sighed. "Honest, Mary, every time he looks at me, my stomach flips."
"Quite the crush," Mary smiled.
"Quite inappropriate at work."
"Look, I think you should just get this show on the road," Mary said. "Ask him out."
"What?" Sara squeaked.
"Do it," Mary encouraged. "You like him, he likes you –"
"We don't know that for sure," Sara said, cutting her off.
"Okay, yes, we do," Mary said. "He took you out for coffee way back in the day, he let you take him out for dinner in San Francisco, he requested you specifically to investigate his protégé, he asked you to move to Las Vegas to work in his lab permanently, he goes the extra mile to prove your theories, he sent you flowers, he told you that you're beautiful, he treats you like his wife when you two fight over the radio, he practically flipped out when you started dating Hank, he's part of the 'We Hate Hank' club … Sara, he's totally into you."
"You really think so?" It sounded lame, even to her own ears.
"I'm rolling my eyes right now, just so you know," Mary said.
Sara laughed. "Okay, point made."
"So, ask him out. What's the worst that could happen?"
"I could be fired for sexually harassing my supervisor."
"I'm pretty sure they'd give you some sort of sexual harassment seminar before they'd jump right into firing you," Mary said tolerantly. "Seriously, Sara, at least think about it."
"Okay," Sara promised, "I'll think about it."
And she did. She thought of nothing else for the next week. Every time she saw him – which turned out to be quite often, as they worked several cases together – it was all she could think about. It became almost dangerous. She would look at his hands and imagine what it would feel like to lace her fingers through his. She would look at his cheek and remember how it felt under her hand. She would look at his hair and want to touch it. She would look at his lips and wonder what it would be like to kiss them.
In short, she turned herself into a hormonal teenager. She hated that feeling.
There was only one thing to do. Mary was right. She needed to talk to him about this.
She needed to ask him out on a date.
Grissom sat at his desk, looking at photos from his latest crime scene without really seeing them. All he could think about was the fact that his ears were once again refusing to work.
He could see people walking past his office, and he knew that they were talking, but he couldn't hear them. He couldn't hear the usual sounds of the machines in the lab, or the hum of the computer on his desk. He blinked, wildly thinking that it would help to bring back his hearing.
"Grissom?"
Breathing a sigh of thanks, he looked up. Catherine was once again standing directly in front of his desk. He had once again failed to hear her enter the room.
Damn it.
"Hi, Catherine."
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Fine," he said. "Sit down. We need to talk."
"About what?" she asked, taking a seat across from him.
"Greg."
"What about him?"
Grissom took of his glasses, setting them down on his desk. "He tells me that he'd like to work in the field."
"He wants to become a CSI?" Catherine asked in surprise.
"So he says."
"He does realize …?"
"He realizes a lot," Grissom said. "I didn't give him a definitive answer. I wanted to talk to you first."
Catherine smiled slightly, and Grissom knew that he had made the right choice to include her in this decision.
"Do you think he can do it?" she asked.
"I think that he's very driven," Grissom said. "I think he has the right mind-set to do it. I think that he will fit in very well with the rest of the team."
"I can feel a 'but' in there," Catherine said.
Grissom sighed. "He's not as serious about his work as I'd like a CSI to be."
"I think he's very serious about his work," Catherine said. "I know that he's more … fun-loving … than the rest of the team, but I don't think that means that he takes it less seriously than the rest of us."
Catherine kept talking, but Grissom lost part of what she was saying. His ears again wouldn't cooperate. He concentrated on her lips, trying to keep up with her speech.
"... I think it's worth giving him a chance."
Grissom sighed with relief as his hearing returned. "Okay," he said. "We'll let him have a shot at it. If he can't cut it in the field, he's back into the lab. Nothing lost, nothing gained."
Catherine nodded. "Who's going to train him?"
Grissom smiled. He could almost see the "Not me!" in Catherine's eyes. "I think we'll make it a group effort."
"A group effort?" she repeated in surprise.
"Yeah. Brass always made you and me train the new hires, and it always worked out, but … I don't know. I don't want to make any one person feel like he or she is responsible for everything with Greg. He already has a lot of knowledge; we just need to work on helping him attain new skills. I think we can all work together on that, don't you?"
"Of course," Catherine said, clearly relieved that training Greg would not be her responsibility. "When are you going to let him start?"
"We'll let him start with some small, in-house tasks," Grissom said. "Let's wait until we can find a new DNA tech to get him out in the field."
"Right," Catherine agreed. She jumped a bit in her seat and grabbed her vibrating pager. "Well, speak of the devil. Looks like Mr. Sanders needs me in DNA."
"Have fun," Grissom smiled.
Catherine smiled back and made her way out of his office.
When she was gone, Grissom leaned back in his chair. It was time to really start thinking about that surgery. Things were not getting better on their own.
He needed to call his doctor and schedule an appointment. Soon.
Sara spent several days in a state of mental turmoil after making her big decision. She knew she wanted to ask Grissom out, but the potential repercussions of being his employee weighed on her – not to mention the fear of being rejected.
Finally, she knew that she just had to do it. Quickly – like ripping off a band aid, she told herself. She would just wait for the next opportunity.
The next opportunity found her a bit sooner than she would have liked; she was sitting in the break room, about to eat her peanut butter sandwich, when he walked out into the hall. She watched as he spoke to a lab tech, then got up from her seat. Feeling almost spy-like, she followed him down the hall, hanging back to watch as he spoke first to Greg, then to Nick and Archie. He took his messages from a receptionist and walked into his office. Thinking that this was her big chance, Sara swallowed and mentally prepared herself for what she was about to do.
Another tech walked into his office, asking to talk to him. Sara sighed, knowing that the moment was lost. Who knew how long they'd talk? Thinking that she'd wait for the next chance, she looped back around to the break room.
She passed the lab, watching as Greg turned with a frown on his face. She considered going in to say hello when the ground shook beneath her and fire erupted from her right, knocking her off her feet. The DNA lab was exploding.
Sara barely registered what had happened as she lay face down in the middle of the hallway. She lifted her head out of the glass, chemicals and other debris that now littered the floor. She could see Greg lying face down several yards away from her. Fear filled her as she watched him struggle to move. She tried unsuccessfully to get up.
All around her, people were screaming, running, trying to put out the fire. Grissom barreled down the hall, stopping short at the sight of Greg lying nearly unconscious on the floor. He knelt down next to him.
"Are you all right?" he asked, being careful not to touch him. "Greg, can you hear me?"
Greg mumbled something incoherent.
"We need the paramedics!" Grissom yelled, trying to stay calm.
"The paramedics," Sara mumbled. "No."
She would not let Hank see her like this. She would not let him touch her, even if it was to put her on a stretcher. That thought alone propelled her to her feet.
She never really knew how she made it outside. She sort of followed all those around her as if in a daze. By the time she reached the parking lot, it, too was a chaotic mess of people. All those working in the lab had been joined by the paramedics, firefighters and other emergency personnel. Wanting to stay out of their way, Sara moved off to the side.
Her head spun for a moment, and she looked down. The sidewalk was so close, and so inviting. She sat down, staring blankly ahead of her. Her hand hurt, but not enough to bother her. She cradled it in her lap without really thinking about it. She was fine, but Greg … where was Greg?
A stretcher came out of the building, surrounded by several paramedics and Grissom. Sara couldn't see who was on it, but she was sure that it must be Greg. She saw them put him into an ambulance; she took this as a good sign. It wasn't the coroner's van.
She looked back at the pavement ahead of her. A million thoughts and not a single thought seemed to go through her head all at the same time. After a moment, she realized that she had no idea where she was at all.
Grissom appeared in front of her, looking at her with concern. Grissom. If Grissom was kneeling in front of her, that meant that she was at the lab.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," she said, nodding slightly. In a flash, it all came back to her. The lab had exploded. Debris had flown everywhere. She had been thrown across the hall, landing face down in a pile of glass.
Grissom looked at her, his eyes going over her body, focusing on the hand that was cradled in her lap. He picked it up, looking at the gash in the side of her palm. "Honey, this doesn't look good."
"It's fine," Sara said. She looked past him for a moment, then back at him. "Clean up's gonna be something. We should get started."
"You need to get stitches," Grissom said gently.
Sara shook her head, looking at him in confusion. "I'm okay," she insisted.
"Could you take care of her hand, please?" Grissom asked the nearest paramedic.
"Sure," the unknown man replied.
Grissom grabbed both of Sara's hands to help her to her feet. She was still shaking her head as the paramedic led her away from him. Grissom held her hand as long as possible, both of them still reaching out to one another for a second as the paramedic took Sara to stitch up her hand.
"Are you all right, miss?" he asked her.
"Really, I'm fine," she said.
The man looked at her sympathetically as he stitched her hand. "Is there someone who can drive you home?"
"My shift isn't over," she said.
"Oh, believe me," he smiled, "it's over."
"I'll take her home."
Sara's eyes fell on the tall man next to her. "Nick," she said.
He smiled. "Hey, darlin'. What did you do to yourself?"
"Grissom said I needed stitches."
"Well, it looks like Grissom was right about that. You let this man stitch you up, and I'll take you home."
"I want to help clean up."
Nick smiled. "Don't you worry about that. The lab will be fine. We need you to rest up so you can finish our case. Grissom and I can't do it without you."
Sara nodded numbly. "Okay. I'll go home."
"Good," Nick said, watching as Sara's hand was bandaged. "I'll take good care of you."
Nick did take good care of Sara. He drove her home and helped her into her apartment. While she went into her bedroom to change into her pajamas, he went through her cupboards and found Advil. Once she emerged from the bedroom, he gave her two pills and a glass of water.
"You need to rest," he said.
Sara swallowed her pills and drained the glass of water. "I'm tired, Nicky."
"Okay, sweetheart, let's get you into bed," he said. He took her uninjured hand and led her to her bedroom. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"
"Tired," she said again, climbing into bed.
"You know where you are? You're not dizzy or disoriented?"
Sara rolled her eyes. "I'm much better now," she said. "How's Greg?"
"They said he's burned pretty badly, but he should be fine," Nick said, tucking the covers around her. He felt relieved; if she was asking about Greg, she was certainly fine. "We'll be able to visit him soon."
"He's going to be in the hospital for awhile?"
"It looks like," Nick said. He looked around her room for a moment, and located her cell phone. He picked it up and put it on her nightstand. "Listen, Sara, I've got to get back to work, but if you need anything – anything at all – just call me. I'll have my cell on all night."
Sara nodded and snuggled under the covers. "Thank you, Nicky." In the back of her mind, she remembered saying something very similar to Hank after he had broken his wrist. "I'll be fine."
Nick smiled and brushed her hair back from her face. "I know you will. You're strong."
She squeezed his hand, smiling up at him. "I think this makes us best friends."
"What does?"
"Well, now you've seen me at my worst."
Nick grinned. "Okay, then, we're best friends."
"Good," Sara said, yawning. "You're a great best friend, Nicky."
"So are you, Sara."
Sara awoke much later to the ringing of her phone. She fumbled for it, groggily flipping it open.
"Hello?"
"Sara? Are you all right?"
Sara blinked. "Grissom?"
"Yes," he said. "How are you?"
"I'm … okay, I guess."
"How's your hand?"
"It's fine." Truthfully, it was throbbing painfully. The Advil had clearly worn off. She'd have to get more as soon as she hung up the phone.
"Are you sure?"
Sara smiled. It was as if he knew what was going on in her head. "It hurts a bit," she admitted. "But, I'm sure it's going to be fine."
"Listen, Sara, I don't want you coming in to work for a week. We'll put you on paid medical leave."
"Grissom, don't be like that. I'm fine! Once I've had some time to sleep, I'll be completely back to normal. I can come in tomorrow."
"No, Sara, I want you to stay home and rest," Grissom said firmly.
"Not for a whole week," Sara begged. She didn't think she could make it an entire week without working, without seeing her friends … without seeing him … She felt tears pressing against the back of her eyes.
Grissom sighed. "How long can I convince you to stay away?"
"I don't want to stay away at all."
"You need some time off," he said. "I don't want you to hurt yourself more."
"Look, I'll take a day," she said. "I'll spend all of tomorrow resting, and then I'll be back at work the next day."
"That is not good enough," Grissom argued. "I don't want you to play with your health like this, Sara!"
"I'm not playing with my health," she argued.
"Sara, you are too important to lose," he said.
"Grissom –"
Sara obviously kept talking, but Grissom couldn't hear a word of it. Panic seized him. He had never lost hearing while talking on the phone before. When he finally could hear her again, she was repeating his name, obviously concerned that he had hung up on her.
"I'm here," he said.
"Did you hear me? It's either one day or nothing."
"Fine," he said, almost afraid to prolong this conversation any more than necessary. "But, if you come into this lab tomorrow, I will have you bodily removed."
Sara grinned. "I won't. I promise."
"And, Sara, promise me that you'll take it easy," he said in a gentle voice. "I don't want anything to happen to you."
"I promise," she said again.
"Good," Grissom said. "Listen, if you need anything, call me. I'll be by the phone all night. I can be at your place as soon as you need me."
The tenderness in his voice proved to be her undoing. She felt a tear slide down her cheek.
"Thanks, Griss," she said quietly.
"You're welcome," he smiled, still using the same tender voice. "I'll see you in a couple days, then."
"Right." She paused. "Well, bye, then."
"Sara?"
She stopped just before closing her phone. "Yes?"
Grissom hesitated for a moment. I'm glad you're not in the hospital with Greg. I'm glad you're okay. I wish I could be there with you right now. "Take care of yourself."
She smiled. "I will."
"Good night, Sara."
"Good night, Grissom."
Her late-night conversation with Grissom was enough to convince her that Mary was right. Grissom most certainly did care about her as more than a colleague. This only made her more determined to talk to him, to try to start a relationship with him. She knew that they'd be good together. They just needed a chance.
She finally found the chance to talk to him as she got ready to go home for the day; as usual, she was leaving work over sixteen hours after her shift had started. She, Grissom and Nick had just wrapped their case, and a quick glance at the schedule told her that she and Grissom were both off that night. Her heart hammered in her chest as she walked to his office.
He was sitting on his desk, flipping through his rolodex. She leaned up against his doorframe, hoping that it would keep her from shaking so much that her knees knocked together. She had never been so nervous to ask anyone anything in her life.
"You … got a minute?" she asked.
Grissom looked up at her, pulling a number from the rolodex. "I was just leaving."
"Yeah, the schedule says you're off tonight," Sara commented.
"I am," he agreed.
"Me, too," Sara said quietly, almost hoping that he would suggest dinner so she didn't have to.
"You should be on paid leave," Grissom said, still a bit irritated that she had managed to talk him into letting her come back to work so soon.
"I'm fine," Sara said firmly, with a smile.
They spoke about the case for a minute. Grissom put files into his briefcase, clearly eager to leave for the day. He stepped closer to Sara, stopping when he realized that she was blocking the door. She drew a deep breath. It was now or never.
"Would you like to have dinner with me?"
A thousand thoughts and emotions ran through Grissom in the few seconds' pause between her question and his answer. "No," he said as though it shouldn't even be up for discussion.
"Why not?" she asked, still holding on to her smile. "Let's … let's have dinner. Let's see what happens."
"Sara …" he said slowly. He didn't even know what to say to her. Finally, he decided that honesty would work best. "I don't know what to do about this." His fingers ran back and forth between them in the air, as though trying to identify the unnamed "this" of their relationship.
Sara's hopeful expression dropped. "I do," she said. She paused, her expression becoming harder. "You know, by the time you figure it out, it really could be too late."
She disappeared from his doorway, leaving him alone with his confused thoughts.
Sara felt her heart breaking into a million pieces as she walked out of the lab. She made it all the way to her car before the first tears began to fall. How could she possibly go back to work tomorrow? And tomorrow? And tomorrow? How could she ever face him again?
Grissom sighed, watching her walk away. He wanted so much to call her back, to say that he had changed his mind, but he couldn't. There were so many reasons not to go to dinner with her that it was ridiculous. The first, of course, was that he was her supervisor. Office politician he was not, but he knew that dating a member of his team would likely be frowned upon.
He sighed again, knowing that that wasn't the real reason. If he could only be willing, he knew that they could make it work. The real reason was that he was scared.
She was so young, so intelligent, so beautiful, so full of life. She had such passion, such spirit … she knew him, she understood him, and she wanted to be with him. He knew that he could fall in love with her so easily. And he was terrified of the very thought. He was terrified to give up the life that he had created for himself for the life that he could create with her.
He held the other real reason in his hand. He looked down at the paper taken from his rolodex, staring at the number of the surgeon who would try to fix his hearing. He needed to call her today, to schedule his surgery. How could he possibly ask Sara to wait while he dealt with a problem that would haunt him for the rest of his life? How could he ask this young, vibrant, beautiful woman to become the girlfriend of an old man?
He had made the right decision. He was sure of it.