Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: I'll just say sorry in advance, for this one. :) Please review anyway, even if you hate me now. Hehe.
Chapter 18: Admission
I gnawed on my bottom lip all through the drive to the airport—I had intended, when we had this discussion… when I came clean with everything… to tell him about Greg. To explain that it had been a crazy reaction to my even crazier hang ups, and that I had regretted it from the moment I realized that I'd been wrong about why I ran. I had just wanted so badly to let myself be with him… spend the holidays together… hope for a future, but I was afraid of the secrets… afraid of playing the fool… afraid of being my mother. I probably wouldn't have told him the last part though…
When I had believed I had something to fear from him—when I hadn't yet seen the love in his eyes and taken an insurmountable leap of faith—I was scared of how much I wanted to be with him, despite how much I did fear him… what he could do to me. Sleeping with Greg was an act of rebellion against a heart that loved too deeply for its own good…
But in doing so, I had realized how inescapable my feelings for him were… I had agreed to one of the holidays… Maybe there was a silver lining… it wasn't as though I'd cheated on him…
I cringe. Tyler hadn't cheated on me either. It had been enough for me to leave him…
And I truly had meant to tell Gil—I just… hadn't expected his response to my lack of trust would be so strong. How—after clearly being hurt so badly and trying so hard to forgive me—could I expect him to take on another weight? Another indiscretion from the woman he loved so deeply, though God knows why he did…
Had he done this to me—mistrusted me, snooped, made assumptions, left without explanation after demanding all my secrets be laid out on the table, at his command… and then, if by some miracle, I could fathom forgiving that… trusting again… and he told me he'd slept with someone else while we were apart… that, in fact, he had slept with someone else because I had offered the opportunity for a second chance…
I knew, without question, that I would never forgive him. I would walk away and never, ever look back… no matter how much it hurt me.
So how could I expect him to take on another burden… when he was still trying to forgive me for the first one I had thrown over his shoulders?
…It was so much easier just to say nothing… to be grateful that he loved me enough to try to forgive… to insist on taking a lightening quick shower, and on eating only cereal—though I seriously could have gone for some of his banana pancakes—so that we could make love one more time before he left. It was easier to smile, and kiss him, and avert my eyes when he stared too deeply… to help him load his luggage, to drive with false concentration, and to talk only of missing him… while we waited.
But each minute closer to his departure time brought with it an added weight. He was leaving me… and what were my chances of convincing him to forgive me when he was miles away… surrounded by Vegas showgirls, this Catherine I had heard so damn much about, and pictures of Laura…? And if I didn't tell him now… if I waited months, a year even…? He would then need to forgive me for not telling him for so long, wouldn't he?
It certainly didn't make sense to add to my list of wrongdoings…
I jump when he stands up, and he chuckles at my reaction—my look of surprise. "They just called my rows, honey… Haven't you been listening?" At my obviously blank stare, he chuckles again. "Where were you?"
I shake my head. "No where… just..." I blush, "Just thinking about you… and Vegas. …You really think they'd hire me? I don't even have a full year's experience…"
Ah, my old tactics again—don't lie, but certainly don't tell the truth. The difference was, I felt guilty doing that with Gil.
"I'm certain they will." He kisses me. "I'm sorry honey, I really do have to go… but, you're coming to Vegas over Valentine's, right?"
I nod, with tears in my eyes, and kiss him fiercely—just in case it's the last time I ever get to. He kisses me back with barely restrained passion, and there's a gleam in his eye when he pulls away. I grin.
"Sara…" he warns, and I giggle, which softens his expression—he catches my chin and gives me another kiss—this one a more gentle peck. "I love you, sweet."
The tears threaten to spill over, but I contain them. "I love you too, Gil."
"I'll call you when I land, okay?"
I nod. "Okay… I'll… I'll miss you!"
He smiles sweetly. "I'll miss you too… and we'll be seeing each other soon—it's only a month and a half now, less, really… okay?" He plants a kiss on my nose, and my lips once more, for good measure.
I nod, trying to put on a brave face. "…Okay."
He hugs me tightly. "Bye Sara."
"Bye…"
He smiles, squeezes my shoulders, and turns to board his airplane. I slump into the chair I'd previously been sitting in, cursing my cowardly nature and letting the tears finally fall. …How could he ever forgive me?
My head snaps up. It isn't over yet. …I'm not going to lose him because I waited too long—because I was afraid. He may not be able to forgive me, but… the only way he will is if I'm upfront and honest… right away. I drag my cell phone out of my pocket and dial the number I had memorized by heart, though I have rarely had occasion to use it.
As it rings, I move myself into a secluded corner—this isn't a conversation that I need anyone else overhearing. My stomach is tying itself in knots, and the tears fall freely, but I don't hang up—I could lose too much, if I gave into my fear now. And then he answers.
"Hello?"
"Gil?"
"Hi, honey, what's up? …I don't know how long I can stay on…" Of course… the flight attendants will be telling people to get off their phones… I'll have to make it quick then.
"No, I know but… I needed to tell you something."
"…Okay?" He sounds worried, and I cringe, but press on—needing him to understand why this is happening right this minute.
"I, uh… I wanted to tell you this morning, I swear I did… I meant to, but…" I hesitate.
"But what, honey?" I tense… and I know my silence only worries him more. Somehow, though, I can't find the words. "You can tell me anything, Sara… what is it?"
I try again… "It's just that… that you looked so hurt and… and upset and… and betrayed and… and I think this is probably worse than all of that…"
"Sara…"
"…Promise you won't hate me, Gil? You can be mad at me… and yell at me… but promise that… no matter what I tell you… you won't hate me?" I beg, with a desperate need—I could not stand that… it would be worse than his anger, or his sadness, or his disappointment… it would be worse than losing him altogether.
His voice comes softly—hesitant and almost frightened. "I could never hate you, honey… not for anything. I promise."
I sniffle."I… Gil, I… we weren't together anymore… it was this past fall… It… it was when you asked to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas together…and I said I'd think about it…"
He draws in a steadying breath. "…Okay?"
"I… well, you scared me, Gil… because I loved you but I was so afraid that I would let that… convince me to be with you… when I didn't think I could trust you…"
Great, good job, Sidle. Remind him of the other reasons he's mad at you. I cringe, but forge on, because he hasn't said anything…
"I… I went out drinking with… a friend, and… Gil, I… I slept with him."
At first there's dead silence on the other end, but sooner than I expect, he clears his throat. "You… you had sex… with him… after I asked about Christmas…?"
I draw in a shuddering breath. "…I'm so sorry, Gil. I… I was just… feeling so vulnerable and…" The tears come in a fresh rush, and yet his voice is still soft and quiet… hardly his at all.
"Who was it?"
My eyes grow wide. "…W-what?"
Greggo had just applied for the DNA position at Gil's lab… Before Jim and Marlene died, I had actually been meaning to mention him to Gil, to tell him how good he was… I swallow hard, uncertain.
"Who was the… friend?"
"Oh, just… uh… someone I work with."
"The creepy DNA guy?"
My heart hammers in my chest. I never lie to Gil. I hate even half-lying to Gil.
"No. …Someone else, a… another CSI."
I listen to him breathing in and out slowly, and I wonder at his calm… maybe he isn't as mad as I expected. I chew on my bottom lip.
"Gil…?"
His response is a grunt, but it sounds off… it quavers on its way out.
"I… I'm sorry. I… Gil, I… I love you."
"I'm sorry sir, you're gonna to need to turn off your cell phone…"
He clears his throat again. "Sara, I… I have to go. The… the flight—"
"I heard her…" I blink my tears back furiously, and try again. "I love you, Gil."
His voice comes blank and empty. "I love you too, Sara."
"…Will… will you call me, when you get home?"
"… Yeah. …I gotta go, Sara." He repeats, and the line disconnects.
I take a taxi home, half an hour later, when I've finally gotten control of myself enough to think of leaving the airport. I'm in no state to drive.
And when I get home, I wait between both my home and cell phones, the entire night… But he doesn't call me.
In truth, there's a part of me that isn't surprised, but… there's no part of me that doesn't hurt.
I managed to call in sick—I had just had a week off, but by telling my boss it had been my parents (previously I had only informed him of a 'death in the family'), I was able to get another day or so… and then I let myself fall to pieces.
