Chapter 6

Chain Reactions

Two Weeks Earlier: The Night After...

Was that her fourth or her fifth?...She didn't know. She didn't care. It joined however many there now were coursing through her veins without much more thought.

She knew she was being stupid. Knew that she was being reckless. Knew that slipping back into her old ways was not the best way to deal with this, that she should talk to someone, to anyone, Russell had been more than willing but she had done what she had done before, turned him down in favour of the equally sympathetic drink and wordless bartender, allowing herself to drown herself in whatever needed drowning in without wanting to conduct a psychological evaluation of her first. Although at the rate she was knocking them back he was beginning to consider it.

"Taken?" a smooth voice interrupted her. Its owner was tall with black hair and intense blue eyes, one hand wrapped around a drink the other resting on the chair beside her.

"Not unless you can see someone sitting there that I can't." She replied, dully, thinking bitterly of her ever-absent husband.

"Well I know that. What makes you think I was asking about the chair? Personally, I was more interested in the woman..." he replied comfortably.

"Well...Depending on what drink you buy me will determine how I answer that..."She replied with a flirtatious wink.

He smiled and moved away to the bar. You are married...Yeah? Tell that to your husband...

He returned a few minutes later, carrying drinks, "Cocktail, 'Sex on a Beach', do I win?" he asked with a daring grin, sliding it across the table to her.

"It's got alcohol in it...You couldn't lose." She replied, taking a sip and he sank, easily into the chair beside her.

"So, my question, taken or not?" he asked, sipping at his own drink, a frozen margarita.

"Not tonight..." she replied, quietly, without thinking.

"Not tonight...So..." he paused and his eye caught and lingered on her wedding ring, "Married?" he murmured, uncomfortably.

"Not happily, and not according to my husband..." she breathed, pointedly sliding the ring from her finger and slipping it into her pocket, "What about you? Taken?" she asked, not much caring. She was drunk, she was lonely, and if he wanted to join her in that vein he was more than welcome.

"Very...With you." He replied, silkily

She smiled, "Well that's very forward, I don't even know you..."

"And I don't know you...But I still offered you Sex on a Beach...Funny old world isn't it...Since you ask, I'm Taylor."

"Sara." She replied, raising the offered Sex on a Beach in toast, "Continuing on this 'getting to know you' path; what do you do to make a living in this 'funny old world'?"

"Well what do you think I do?" he replied flirtatiously,

She considered him for a moment before saying, "Something in an office..." she began, cautiously, emboldened as his eyes flashed she continued, "I'd guess accountant?"

"Very good detective." He purred throatily as she concealed a smirk at the irony of this behind her cocktail, "Yes, I was in banking, I did the taxes of a large firm in Sacramento."

"Was? Aren't you now?"

"Well now I'm in a bar in Las Vegas with a beautiful woman." He answered smoothly,

"You just don't let up do you?" she said, shaking her head with an incredulous grin.

"Do you want me to?" he enquired, staring intently at her with his large, blue eyes.

"No..." she replied flashing him a quick, playful smile.

"So tell me, what does said beautiful woman do in the real world?"

"What do you think she does?" she teased,

"Stripper?" he smirked, daringly, taking a sip of his drink

"Excuse me?" she choked.

"Well you've got the looks for it." He replied easily,

She smiled slightly and found herself flushing, "Ah, no, not a stripper..."

"Shame...Could you be persuaded?"

It had been so long since someone had made her feel this way about herself and she was quietly loving it. What was the harm in having a little fun? It probably wouldn't go anywhere and even if it did, she was 'separated' now.

"Perhaps..."

"In the meantime, getting back to this, I'd say doctor?"

"Really? Why?" she said, surprised by this, particularly considering what she actually did.

"Well incredibly smart woman, incredibly sexy woman, maybe I'm just praying you're good at mouth-to-mouth depending on where this goes."

"Well this is going cold." She said, calling him out, "Wrong and cheesy." She teased.

"Really? Well do tell then, how do you make your living?"

"Law enforcement, forensics." She replied, smirking at the surprise on his face.

"A very good detective indeed." He murmured, also picking up on the irony of his earlier comment, "Sexy investigator, I can run with that..."

"I'll bet you-" she began but a dull buzz from her phone interrupted her,

Six new messages: Gil Grissom.

She tried not to feel anything as she made her apologies and began to listen to her voicemail, catching herself as she realised what she was doing and how sickened she now felt by it.

"I should go..." she murmured. However she found herself rapidly changing her mind as she listened to the voicemail, angrily hanging up as he stammered, "...your best interests in mind..."

He did not have the right to make her feel guilty anymore, he gave that up a long time ago...

"I'll walk you to your car." Taylor offered, also standing and handing her her coat and bringing her back to reality.

"I don't have a car..." she murmured, not sure why she was telling him this.

"Well then let me walk you to mine..."

Why the Hell not? "Sure..."

...

Grissom sighed as he stared into the dregs of his latest cup of 'coffee' that hadn't really been coffee at all. He had been increasingly making his it 'Irish' all night until there was not much coffee left. ..

Usually he was not much of a drinker but he had decided that tonight was not a night for denial and self-preservation.

He did not think he had ever felt so much pain, so much self-hate and self-pity in his life, had not thought it was possible to hurt the person he loved so much and then feel so damned guilty about it, all for doing the right thing...

He now came to the conclusion that this was not the 'right thing'. It was the best thing. The lesser of two evils is still evil...

He sighed, staring into the black dregs of liquid in the cup in his hand. Swirling them slowly and staring into the depths of the dark, consuming whirlpool it created.

Yes it was, it was evil and he despised himself for it, but in the long run, this would help her. Would stop her hurting. In the long run, she would be able to forget about him, to move on with her life. To find someone who deserved her. Who would put her above his work. Who would love her as he had loved her but this time, would be able to show her...

Bullshit.

He found the coffee mug flying from his hand and impacting the wall opposite, smashing and sending the murky liquid inside across the walls and the shards of china scattering from the scene. He slumped forwards in his chair, hand running over his face. Hank had sat up, alarmed by the cup's sudden, suicidal flight over his head, and now stared at Grissom, concern reflected in his large brown eyes.

"Come here boy..." he muttered softly, weakly holding out a hand.

The dog obeyed at once, padding from his bed to his master's side, nuzzling his hand affectionately and allowing the broken man to lean against him as he slid onto the floor, burying his head in the dog's warm side as he whispered,

"What have I done?"

...

Two Weeks Earlier: The Morning After...

Sara grimaced as she was hit by reality and discovered that it was not at all pleasant this morning. Her head thumped, her tongue felt thick and fuzzy though nowhere near as bad as her clouded thoughts.

However another sensation began to break through, overcoming the anaesthetic qualities of the drink. Panic. It flared in her chest as she realised that the hard mattress and scratchy sheets that she was entombed in were not her own.

Forcing her eyes open she pushed herself into a sitting position, breathing as though she had been awakened from a nightmare, only to discover that she was in one. She was clearly in one of The Strip's most charming motels but the question was. Was she alone?

She had to be. She was certainly in the bed alone, no change there then. She pulled herself up and out of the bed, legs shaking as she staggered around the room, checking for signs of other life forms in it and was, for once, to find a cockroach scuttling along in the floor in the bathroom as it was the only creature occupying the room.

Relief crashing over her she collapsed back onto the bed, jumping as something crunched beneath her.

Standing, she found a short note written on a cheery hand that had presumably been on the neighbouring pillow and had been dislodged when she had jumped to her feet.

Sorry nothing happened last night, next time, that's a promise! T.

Nothing happened...Of course nothing happened. You love your husband. But he doesn't love you, he wants a separation...That doesn't change how I feel about him, last night was wrong...

She could remember his lips on hers. The cold, hard metal of the car pressed against her back. She could remember his fingers running through her hair. She could remember his intense, blue eyes, staring into hers as they broke apart and he sent shivers up her spine as he told her how beautiful she looked. She felt his lips on hers again; the taste of frozen margaritas and something citrus lingered on her tongue.

She choked and found herself splayed across the bathroom floor, retching and convulsing as the sensations overwhelmed her. She was pathetic. He hadn't even left her for ten minutes and she had attempted to jump in to bed with a stranger...But he hadn't he left her a long time before that...

She shivered and curled up on the cheap, cold tiles, the frozen stone draining her feverish skin of its warmth as she began to shake and sob, shocked and horrified by what she had almost done...

She found that the fingers she had curled around one another as she lay in a trembling ball on the floor did not feel right. Looking at them through her streaming eyes, she felt her stomach fall to the chip floor beneath her.

My ring. Where is my ring?

Panic engulfed her as she hunted around the room, desperately trying to remember what she had done with it. Finally remembering that she had defiantly stuffed it into her pocket when she had been at the bar the night before with Taylor. Digging frantically in her pockets she found it and collapsed back to the floor, relief flooding her as she held the thin band of gold in her hands as strongly as she held on to life itself, curling it between her fingers and holding it close to her chest.

Her delicate, searching fingertips found the words engraved on the inside, that he had picked out, and knew them without having to read them,

'To be wise and love, Exceeds man's might.'

Fittingly a quote from Shakespeare's 'The Tempest', but even more so, what it meant specifically to them. He had chosen her. He had chosen love over wisdom…He had chosen it, she had no idea what he would choose now…

She found herself crying again, her throat red-raw, every tear tearing at it and causing it to burn as though she was taking shots. She curled into a fetal position once again, arms wrapped around her head, ring back where it belonged as she was forced to hold herself once again as she cried herself into silence.

With difficulty, she picked herself up from the icy floor and began to pack up her belongings before hastily going downstairs and checking out, desperate to get home. She called a taxi from the reception and once she was safely ensconced in it and on her way home, pulled out her phone.

She guiltily discovered that she had almost thirty messages. Most were from Grissom, either voicemail or text but she could not bring herself to acknowledge them, yet, she could not delete them either. Between five and ten were from various members of the lab and were for pleas of back-up, night-off or not, the last one was from Russell and came in less than an hour before she had left the motel.

Hey sleeping beauty, up and at 'em. You must be well-rested enough by now! Give us a call and we'll decide where we go from there, been a funny shift. Rx.

She hastily flicked through her contacts and called Russell,

"Hey." She croaked, throatily, hating herself for how husky her voice sounded,

"Hey, Sara, good to hear from you."

"You need me today?" she asked, not sure what she wanted the answer to be.

"No, no I think we might be alright, we got a dead up-and-coming tennis star but I think we can cope, congratulations, your day off is yours to do with what you want."

"OK, thanks, I'll see you Monday."

"Yeah, see you Monday...hey Sara." He called out, catching her as she was about to hang up,

"Yeah?"

"Forgive me for asking but, are you OK?"

"I'm fine." She sighed, only now realising how bloody stubborn the man was... "And Russell?"

"Yes?"

"I only plan on saying that once a day."

He laughed at this, "Alright, I get the point, I'm going overboard, humour me, I care."

"I know you do..." she said, quietly,

"Well I'll let you go and enjoy your day off in peace."

"Thanks..." she murmured, wishing that for once in her life she had been able to tell him the truth because at the minute she was many things but 'fine' sure as Hell wasn't one of them...

.