Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.
Notes: Thank you for the reviews! Please keep them coming! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It is written from Sara's perspective.
As Sara listened to Grissom confess his feelings for her and his reasons for not pursuing a relationship with her, she felt torn- torn between vaulting herself off her chair and into his arms and slapping him across the face for giving good reasons for his behavior toward her. She didn't want it to be logical. For one time in her life, she wanted passion, not logic, to dictate her behavior, and Grissom's for that matter. Damn it! Just take a deep breath, Sidle. Stay calm.
Sara fidgeted in her seat as Grissom stared at the floor, looking rather helpless and endearing. She was alternately glancing up at the ceiling and down at the floor as though hoping to find inspiration from either, and snuck a peak or two at Grissom's bowed head. Unfortunately, neither helped calm her mind or her heart as she struggled to find words to match Grissom's in intensity and meaning and that would trump his reasoning.
After clenching and unclenching her fists, Sara began in what she hoped was a calm, steady voice, "Grissom, first of all, thank you for opening up to me. I could tell it was hard for you. It's hard for me, too- opening up to other people, that is."
"Sara, you don't need to thank me."
"Griss, I let you talk without interruption. In the car, you asked me to talk. I'm trying now. Let me." Sara stared steadily into his eyes as she spoke, and Grissom silently acknowledged her request. It was his turn to hold out his hand, and Sara took it, gently squeezing it and moving herself onto the couch next to the man she loved, but not near enough to be touching any part of him, with the exception of the warm hand currently enveloping hers. As Sara moved to the couch, she watched Grissom carefully for his reaction; he didn't flinch, he simply tuned to face her, and Sara was grateful.
She continued, "My past, Griss, well, let's just say my past was rough. The thing is, though, my present is rough, too, but for very different reasons. In my past, I was abused by others." Here Grissom was clearly itching to interrupt, but Sara held him at bay with, "NO, Grissom, I don't need your sympathy right now. Right now, I'm trying to tell you my story. Just listen." Grissom relaxed back into the cushions and silently focused on Sara's eyes, those eyes with the impossibly long lashes he so adored.
"Like I said, in my past, I was abused by others. But for the past 3.5 years, I've been abused by myself. Not physically, of course. I'm not into self-mutilation; I see enough blood at work. I've become trapped by my feelings."
"Grissom, you've got to know I didn't up and leave my life in San Francisco just for kicks. When I got that call from you almost 4 years ago asking if I remembered you- for Heaven's sake, Grissom, how could I not have remembered you- and if I would be willing to fly to Vegas to help investigate Warrick, I practically ran out of my lab, almost forgetting to ask permission from my supervisor to take leave, effective right that very second. He seemed to know I was leaving whether he gave me permission or not, and I guess he was cool with that, because he gave me a week and said, 'While you're there, win me a million, will ya?'" Sara gave a small smirk at the recollection.
"I got to Vegas, found you at your crime scene, and as I walked up behind you, I lamented the fact that my hair had to be disheveled from the flight, and as I ran my fingers through my hair, I had that same intense feeling in my gut that I had 9 years ago when you walked into that lecture hall at Berkley. I realized that my feelings for you hadn't changed in all that time. I found myself grinning like an idiot at your backside, thrilled at the prospect of seeing your face in a moment. When you asked me to stay on at the lab, Grissom, I let my heart answer for me. I didn't give a second thought to leaving the life I knew- in San Francisco I had a good job, a good team, an apartment- and yet, at that moment, I couldn't have cared less. In the godforsaken desert terrain of Nevada, I had you. Or so I thought," Sara quietly added as she lowered her gaze to the floor. She abruptly pulled her hand out of Grissom's and glared back up at him continuing her monologue with, "So I stayed, and for a while, I was happy."
"I was happy to watch you interact with your team. I learned quickly how much Catherine and the guys respect you and value you as a boss, and that made me proud, as if you were mine. I was happy to egg Nick on when he'd make comments about me being 'the boss man's new favorite,' as I assumed he was right. I held my head high when confronted with anger from Warrick or Catherine because I told myself that they were just jealous of the chemistry between you and me. I was happy with the easy flirting between us. I was happy every time you chose me to work a case with you. I was smug because you never chose me for trash runs- I was certain that was because of your affection for me."
Sara's body was visibly tensing as she spoke, admitting her naivety to Grissom, admitting her pathetic assumptions. Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she continued, her voice rising in pitch and becoming somewhat hysterical. "Grissom, don't you see what I did to myself? I am a SCIENTIST for God's sake, and instead of following the evidence, which would have clearly told me I was deluded, I allowed myself to think you loved me! I uprooted my life for you, and for what? In the end, Griss, all I've gotten from the move is a slightly more prestigious job and a tendency to experience nausea around raw meat. All I wanted was you."
"Now that I've realized that you'll never love me, I'm a tortured woman. I can't leave. How humiliating would it be to stroll back to the lab in Frisco and beg for my old job back after so quickly abandoning it? What would it say about my character? Besides, Nick, Greg, and even Catherine and Warrick are my friends now. I walked out on all my friends at the lab in San Francisco and I can't do that again. I WON'T do that again, not now."
"I put on a great show at work, Grissom. Greg can see through my act, but he's good enough not to make me talk, but everyone else, even you, Griss, is clueless. I try to be friends with you, knowing I'll never be more, but the only pal you have is Catherine. Every morning when it's time to go home, I have a damn war inside my head, debating whether or not to stop at your office door to say goodbye or to hold my head high and walk right past you. How PATHETIC is that? It's even more pathetic when you consider that saying goodbye to you usually wins, when, if I was a stronger, I'd walk right past without even a glance in your direction."
"Like you, I go home to no one. Nothingness. Sometimes, I drink. It numbs the pain of the torture I put myself through on a daily basis. Tonight, I drank because you didn't choose me. Again. You chose Nick for the promotion. Not me. You forgot about me AGAIN. Even in a professional capacity, I mean nothing to you. I had let myself believe you'd pick me because you cared for me. I was stupid enough to fool myself again. I can't let you go, Grissom, and it's torture."
Sara's face was contorted with pain and humiliation, and seeing Grissom staring at her, wide-eyed with shock, she wanted to hide her pain yet again. Turning to pain into anger, Sara said in a disturbingly calm, cruel voice, "And now, Grissom, now you come here and tell me, in not so many words, that you love me. You have the God-damned NERVE to tell me you love me, love me enough to crave my touch and to stare at me, but not enough, never enough to act on it." Sara completely lost her composure and, jumping up from the couch, hair flying around her face, she started shouting, "YOU ARE MESSING WITH MY MIND, GRISSOM, AND I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! YOU CAN'T TELL ME YOU LOVE ME. IT WAS HARD ENOUGH KNOWING MY LOVE WAS UNREQUITED, BUT NOW, NOW IT'S A HUNDRED TIMES WORSE!"
Sara collapsed back into the armchair she had recently vacated, covering her face with her hands to hide the tears that had finally leaked out and feeling utterly defeated. Drawing her knees up to her chest and curling herself up into a ball, she whispered through her fingers, "Just go, Grissom. Just go."