AN: Sorry for the delay on this one, I was going to post on Friday, as usual, but I simply didn't have time… hope it was worth the wait! Thanks to everyone who took the time to read the last installment, and especially to those of you who reviewed – every single review make my day
As always, thanks to AM0616/unc-annie for the beta help!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to CSI
The Good, the Bad and the Dominatrix
The house is empty when Sara gets home, which isn't a surprise but still makes a lump form in her throat. Grissom left the lab over an hour before she did, which she only knows because she saw him hurry past the layout room where she was reviewing evidence for an open case. Part of her had hoped he wanted to get home before her, maybe have breakfast ready when she got there, make up for yesterday.
Her fault for hoping, she supposes.
She glances at her phone – no missed calls, no messages. She could call him, but she knows her mind will just come up with more scenarios if he doesn't pick up, and she doesn't need that right now. Instead, she plugs the device in to charge and leaves it on the kitchen counter.
Hank is alternating between dancing around her and dashing to his food bowl, and she has to smile at his excitement. Trust animals to make you feel better. She grabs the bowl and fills it with his breakfast – and a little extra, just because – before going into the bedroom to change.
The bed is still unmade, which tells her Grissom hasn't been home since she left – he always insists on making it with the bedspread while she usually just straightens the comforters a little – and it's not like she thought he had, but it's still another flash of… she doesn't want to examine the feeling too closely. She resolutely looks away from the bed and finds some running clothes. She needs to let out some pent-up emotions and frustrations, even though it's already too hot outside, or she's never going to be able to sleep.
Hank has finished his kibble by the time she returns to the kitchen, and when she grabs the hands-free leash she uses on her runs, he lets out an excited bark – he loves going running with her. She fills her water bottle and then they're out the door again.
She focuses on the actual physical experiences as she moves – the feeling when her feet hit the pavement, each inhalation and exhalation, her heart pounding in her ears, muscles straining, sweat trickling down her face. Of course, the mind is a complex thing, so it doesn't actually stop it from wandering, but she refuses to linger on any of the flashes it provides, just lets them wash over her.
She doesn't turn back until Hank's pants remind her that while the boxer might be able to handle the heat better than her, he's still not unaffected. When they get home, the dog laps up most of the water in his bowl and then collapses in the bed by the couch, and Sara refills his water and rewards him with a treat before leaving him to get some rest.
She glances briefly at the fridge as she passes the kitchen, but even though she knows she should eat, the thought makes her stomach turn.
She takes a quick shower, dries her hair, and finally crawls into bed. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table – a few minutes after eleven – she wonders if he'll come home at all today or if she won't see him until shift tonight. Again.
The physical exhaustion from her run doesn't help much, and she tosses and turns in bed, dozing for a few minutes only to jerk awake again. After an hour and a half, she's considering getting up and maybe reading for a while, knowing it's pointless to just stay in bed, when she hears the front door open and close, and then Grissom's soft voice as he tries to get Hank to keep calm to not wake her.
She almost laughs at the idea that he thinks she's asleep, and for a moment, she considers faking it. But there's no point in postponing whatever conversation they need to have.
A minute later, the bedroom door opens slowly, and she reaches out to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. "I'm awake, you don't need to sneak around."
He freezes in the doorway for a moment. "Sorry, I was trying not to wake you."
"You didn't."
His eyes narrow a little as he scrutinizes her, and she rolls over to get away from his intense gaze. She hears him sigh and then the door to the bathroom opens.
She follows his movements based on the sounds – water running in the sink as he brushes his teeth, silence for a moment, then the toilet flushing and some more water running before the door opens again.
He hesitates, and for a moment, she thinks he's going to offer to sleep in the guest room, but then he crosses the room and slides into bed.
He stays on his side, though, doesn't move into the middle or reach for her. Part of her is relieved, but a bigger part is anything but.
"I'm sorry," he says after a moment.
"For what?" she retorts, not even trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. "You can't just offer some… blanket apology and expect it to fix everything."
"I know that. I'm sorry I…" He sighs. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I was doing, where I was going. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you, I just… you know I develop tunnel vision when I'm too focused on a problem."
"I do," she says tiredly. "Is that all the explanation I'm going to get?"
"No." He pauses. "I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw Heather at the hospital. And when you said there were three separate strangulation attempts… I was worried she'd do something stupid, reach out to her would-be killer again or even finish it herself. I just… I needed to figure out what was going on with her so I could help her."
It makes sense, of course. She knows he would do anything to help a friend.
"I suppose you heard about the deal she made with Oakley?" he continues when she says nothing, and she nods. "And you remember the case with her daughter last year, I told you she asked if Zoe'd had a child?"
It seems like a strange turn in the conversation, but she assumes he's going somewhere. "Yeah."
"I don't know the specifics, but somehow, the girl ended up with Heather's ex-husband, Zoe's father, after her death. Heather tracked them down, tried to get custody, even closed down her old business to appear a better fit, but the court still gave him full custody, even denying her visitation rights."
Some of the pieces are starting to fall into place. "So she sold the rights to kill her to… what, exactly?"
"She wouldn't talk about it much, but I think losing any chance to get to know Alison, her last tie to Zoe, must have… broken her in some way," he says, brows furrowed. "Even more so than Zoe's death. She said… I don't remember exactly, but basically that she couldn't love Alison, but she could let her be whatever she wanted. I guess the money was meant for that."
She considers that for a moment. "That's… sad," she finally says, because it's the only thing that comes to mind.
"It is. I looked up Heather's ex-husband, went to see him – that's what I was doing today, I got the custody file and talked to him. Managed to convince him to give her a chance to get to know her granddaughter. I left all of them at her place."
He goes quiet, watching her intently. Waiting for her to process and say something, she supposes.
She understands, she really does. He was looking out for a friend he was worried about.
If he'd just called her, or said something before leaving the lab, she wouldn't even be mad. But he didn't.
"I get that you did what you needed to do," she starts after a long moment, her words reminiscent of the ones she spoke to him yesterday. "And I'm glad you were able to help her, I am. But you should have said something." He opens his mouth, but she holds up her hand. "I shouldn't have to sit around and wait for you, wondering if something's happened because you don't answer your phone. I shouldn't have to find out you spent the night with another woman from Catherine in the middle of the lab. How long does it take to make a phone call? Send a text? I don't think that's too much to ask."
Tears rise in her eyes as she speaks, and she wipes at them angrily. The pained look on his face is almost enough to make her reach out, but not quite.
"It's not too much to ask," he agrees. "I should have called, I just… I got caught up in all of it. And apparently, I forgot to charge my phone, which I didn't realize until I got to the lab last night. I know it's not an excuse…"
It's not. But it does make her feel a little bit better, knowing he at least wasn't purposely ignoring her calls.
"You can't do that again," she tells him eventually. "Not ever."
He shakes his head immediately. "I won't, I promise. It'll never happen again. Please, I…"
"OK."
He doesn't move as she gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom. She splashes some water on her face, looks at herself in the mirror for a long time.
She knew before he even apologized that she'd forgive him. Knows she would forgive him so much more, as long as he stays. Maybe that makes her weak, but she knows he would do the same. They've waited too long, gone through too much, to give up on each other.
That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
With a sigh, she leaves the bathroom and returns to bed. Grissom hasn't moved further towards the middle, but he has rolled onto his back, and after a moment of hesitation, she slides over to be able to rest her head on his shoulder.
He's still for a moment, and then she feels his whole body relaxing, as if he's been on edge this whole time. Maybe he has.
His arms go around her, just a bit too tight, but she doesn't complain. A moment later, she feels his lips brush against the top of her head. "I love you."
She knows he wants the reassurance of her saying the words back, but she just can't. Not right now.
Silence stretches between them for a long moment. "Can you forgive me?" he then asks, voice barely a whisper.
She closes her eyes, lets out a long breath. "Of course."