Title: Connections
Author: Summer Reign
Rating: T
Disclaimer: CSI belongs to the world! But I still don't get residuals.
Spoilers: Well, everything and then some. Butterflied, Suckers and One to Go—to name a few.
Summary:
"A hidden connection is stronger than an obvious one" Heraclitus of Ephesus (a pompous way of saying I have no idea how to summarize this)
Author's Note: I've been "blocked" for a very long time. And then I got this rather strange idea for a series. I don't want to call it a work in progress because each story will stand on its own. However, I do want to follow a certain structure and theme, so…whatever. I hope you like it.
Connections I: Catherine
January, 2004
He stepped out of the lab and into the bright Vegas morning.
Too bright. Too hot. Too…everything.
He was a creature of the night. He was…a creature. Period.
No. Not a creature. Creatures, after all, were made of flesh and blood. He was more like a machine. A crime investigating machine.
One who couldn't even find enough evidence to put away a man who slashed his lover's throat and cut up a man up, ziplocking his remains in over 20 plastic packages.
There should have been…something.
There wasn't enough.
Grissom raised his hand to his eyes and tried to rub away his mood.
Fifteen minutes and he'd be home. In twenty minutes, he'd step out of the shower and go off to bed.
And he'd sleep, hopefully, for fifteen hours, and wake up feeling like a man again. A dedicated scientist. That's what he was, really. Not a creature. Not a machine.
A scientist.
VERY dedicated.
He moved his hand away from his eyes to his jacket pocket, hoping he remembered his sunglasses.
And that's when he saw her.
She was standing by her car. Leaning against it, actually.
And, as had happened many times before, she instantly turned her face and looked at him.
She didn't register surprise. Her face didn't change expression at all. Much as it hadn't when he searched it three shifts before. Searched it for life, for energy, for everything that woman inside the house would never show signs of again.
But Sara's eyes…this time…they seemed…
Knowing, hurt, resigned.
And he was very, very tired.
And his imagination was running overtime.
She couldn't possibly have a clue of all he had been through in the past two days. All he had felt.
All he knew, all he really knew, was he couldn't look at her right now. Not right now. Not without weeping, or screaming or…losing control in some way that was dark and intense and scarier than anything he could define.
He put his sunglasses on, got into his car and left her without a backward glance.
____________________________________________________________________
Thirty hours later, he was back at the lab.
Back to being a dedicated scientist. A dedicated supervisor.
Missing one of his team. Probably the most important member.
"Catherine, have you seen Sara?" He asked as he entered the breakroom.
"Yes, she's just putting away her things. Just got here a minute ago."
Grissom double-checked his watch. Sara was always early. He frowned.
"Your Timex didn't poop out on you. She got stuck behind a three-car pileup. Besides, she almost pulled a double last night. I caught her midway through her second shift and made sure someone sent her home."
"Yesterday was supposed to be her day off, too," Grissom said.
"Yeah, well. In a way, I can understand it. She was kind of a freaked out over the Debbie Marlin thing."
"She…didn't work much of it beyond the lab." He had made sure of that.
"Well, someone needed to get the woman's toe prints. And, that someone was Sara. She said she didn't notice her but, believe me, she noticed, all right. Must have been freak-ee. Anyway, work is part of who Sara is, so I guess it was good therapy for her to nearly pull a double yesterday. Get that vision out of her head and replace it with other grisly stuff."
Grissom nodded.
In all honesty, he was relieved. Something external caused that look he saw in the parking lot the other day. The fact that that 'something' might very well be traumatic…well, he supposed that made his relief a bit selfish. But, he could take care of that. He needed to take care of that. For her sake…and for his.
Ten minutes later, he was handing out assignments.
"DB in a pool. Sara…you're with me…."
________________________________________________________________________
March, 2009
Catherine Willows walked down the hall of the crime lab, feeling the heat of appreciative male eyes warming her bodacious booty.
Not bad for a woman completing a 10-hour shift.
One more task for the day and she could go home. Home to her complaining mother and whining daughter. Still, they were family and she loved them. Damn it.
With a little wiggle in her walk (a gift to a lurking Bobby Dawson, if truth be told) she entered her office. Not that she'd ever fish off the company pier. Stuff like that just didn't work as she had told…
Oh.
Perhaps that had been a mistake.
Maybe. The jury was still out. For all she knew Grissom and/or Sara could have finished each other off in the mountains of Mongolia or wherever the hell they were now and they'd never be heard from again. Both of them could easily pull off an evidence-free crime and they were smart enough to "lose" themselves afterwards, too.
Maybe that's what they already did. After all, she hadn't heard from either of them….
She clicked on the crime lab's email server.
Brass…ignore. It was probably some dirty joke he forwarded. Ecklie…stupid administrative meeting. Ignore till later tonight. Mandy—animal pictures, for sure….
"Holy crap!" the volume of her own voice nearly knocked her off her chair.
A Yahoo address. 'grissomandgrissom.' Well, gee. What was the point of reading the freaking email? They gave it all away in the address. Of course, maybe it wasn't Sara that was the other Grissom. After all, they hadn't hauled in Lady Heather's black-laced-butt in nearly half a year.
She double-clicked.
"Dear Catherine,
I must apologize for not being in contact with you for these past few months. You were very helpful and supportive of me when I made the decision to leave and I didn't mean to seem ungrateful.
I just haven't quite known where to start. When I left the lab, I wasn't entirely sure what life would hold for me. I did know what I wanted it to hold. Well, I knew whom I wanted to hold. Although, I suppose that's a little too much information, but…if anyone would understand the complicated workings of the human heart, I know it would be you.
Sara and I resumed our relationship the moment we saw each other again. She's a remarkable woman and I am a very grateful man. Not only for her unconditional acceptance, but for agreeing to be my life partner. We married shortly after our reunion. And, yes, we're just getting around to announcing it to the world. Actually, we're not announcing it to the world. We're telling you and hoping you'll spread the word.
It's a bit awkward, socially, to not have a wedding or a reception to share with others. But, this route was explored and rejected. It's just not "us."
Please tell everyone at the lab that might be interested and let them know we are healthy and happy. And we hope everyone is well. Someday, we will come to visit. For now, we are making arrangements to move to California. There is some research being done on sea life in the Pacific that fascinates us both. And we feel we can make a significant contribution. They aren't bugs, but…they are still interesting.
I won't ask how you are doing at this time (although I'd welcome hearing about it). I have every confidence you are doing a wonderful job.
Take care of yourself, Catherine.
Best Regards,
Grissom…and…Grissom
Shit.
She hit reply.
To: GrissomandGrissom
From: CWillowsLVCL
"Best regards," my ass! You dog! I mean, shit.
OK. I'm not making sense. First of all, congratulations. Second, WTF, Gil? (ask Sara what that means if you're not up to speed on internet lingo). We're family! And you tell me you got hitched months ago. I'm so angry with you, I could spit.
OK-now that I wrote that sentence, I feel instantly better.
You're a jerk, but you can't help yourself.
You better thank your lucky stars that you got someone as lovestruck as Ms. (excuse me, MRS) Sara. Any other woman would have kicked you to the curb years ago.
I'll tell everyone. Not the first time I did your dirty work for you.
And, you know, if you two decide to have kids, please try to tell us before we're invited to their college graduations, 'k?
I wish you both happiness.
And I love you both, even though I hate you at the moment. (That goes for Sara, too. She doesn't know how to email?)
Don't get bitten by any rabid mosquitoes out there. And hurry back home so I can kick you both in the behind myself. Right before smooshing the hell out you.
Love,
~Cath
P.S. You bet your ass I'm doing a bang-up job as supervisor. I thought you'd never leave…
She hit send.
Well, okay.
Married.
Didn't get sick of each other after all. And they had even known each other before she hit Vegas, too. Although, God forbid Gil would ever spill details about how long.
She should ask Lindsay if Sara had a twitter or facebook account. Maybe she'd get some dirt from her.
Oh, who was she kidding? They were hardly BFFs.
Fishing off the company pier…
She walked out of the room. Maybe, just maybe, she'd ask if Bobby Dawson wanted to join her for a beer after work.
….
Nah.
_________________________________________________________________
He was still chuckling over Catherine's response, when Sara walked into the hotel's business center.
"Catherine?" she asked.
"Yes. She writes the way she speaks."
"Uh, oh."
"Her response was a mixture of censure and sentimentality. Quite touching, actually."
"I'm sure," Sara said.
He looked up at her. Her eyes were anything but sure. He knew she didn't always get along with the hotheaded blond but he thought they were friendly enough.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It's just—well, she's more your friend than mine. And I'm sure my leaving the way I did didn't win any brownie points with her. Plus, 'taking' you away from the lab…"
"She's not a woman's woman. She never has been and never will be. She's far too competitive for that. But, she liked you. And she liked us. The idea of us. She was…on our side a very long time ago."
Now the look he received was downright skeptical.
"I'm not kidding. I remember a time when I was … resigned to letting you go. And she told me to get my head out of my microscope and…I did. For a little while, anyway." He smiled softly, picturing the moment in his mind. "She also told me you were a survivor at a time I really needed to remember that. And she told me to go after you, long before I felt the time was right. She was…probably right about that. No, she was definitely right about that."
Sara quietly nodded and they shared a look over the computer monitor.
One last Catherine moment came to mind. One he appreciated, perhaps, more than any other.
A wink. And a smile.
Her version of a blessing.
"I am a part of all that I have met," Grissom said and looked up at his beloved…wife.
Wife. A word so new, yet so…right.
His beloved Sara…the warmth of her brown eyes, the softness of her hands as he took both in his own, before slipping his grandmother's wedding band on the third finger of her left hand…
The touch of her lips as they sealed their promise in a small Costa Rican church, with a nun and a gardener as witnesses…
"Tennyson?" she asked, snapping him out of his reverie.
He nodded. She was getting incredibly good at identifying his quotations. No matter how obscure.
He had an effect on her. Just as she had on him. Just as Catherine had had, and Jim and Nick and …
Grissom was glad they knew.
Because they were all connected. And all had an effect on him. On them.
And for that, he was grateful.
It's what turned the creature—the crime-investigating machine…
Back into a man.
The End.
Connections 2: Nick
May, 2005
He was pretending to still be asleep.
She could have been insulted, but she just thought it was funny. Although common sense told her that showing any outward signs of amusement would be a bad move, since laughing at a man during their first time in bed together could easily be misunderstood.
Still, he was being…cute.
Who knew Gil Grissom could do cute?
She leaned up on one elbow and looked at his face. At the eyelids that were not relaxed. At the very even-- too even--rise and fall of his chest.
She moved her hand to his face and ran the tips of her fingers across his left cheekbone.
Sara always loved his cheekbones. She had no idea why. She loved them when he was clean-shaven, and now, it was this smooth expanse of skin that contrasted nicely with the roughness of his beard.
It gave her a small thrill to have first-hand knowledge of the textures of his face.
He opened his eyes.
"You woke me," he said, in a completely emotionless voice.
"You've been awake for at least five minutes," she replied.
"What gives you that idea?"
"I followed the evidence. One—you stopped snoring. You're a light snorer, in case you weren't aware of that fact. Two—you kind of tensed up. The assumption I made is that you suddenly remembered where you were and what happened, although I'll admit, that's all conjecture on my part and Three—well, the fake measured breathing wasn't very convincing."
"And, yet, you let me go on for five minutes…"
"I'm not going anywhere," she said, knowing his reply would be quite different.
He looked at her for a moment and she saw the panic he was trying to tamp down.
"I've…gotta go. I need to change before work and…well, maybe I'll drop by and see Nick at the hospital."
"I should do that, too."
There was a sudden "NO!!!" in his eyes and she stifled a smile.
Then, she sighed softly. No one ever said this would be easy. No one ever said this would 'be.' And, from the looks of things, 'no one' could very well be right.
"I won't," she said quietly. "I'll see him after shift tomorrow."
Grissom nodded. "I have to go."
"You said that already," Sara ran her hand down the side of his face. His beautiful face. If she never had this particular view of it again, in this lifetime, she had this moment.
"You know," she said softly, "I will always be glad you came to me."
She leaned forward, gently positioned her mouth over his and kissed him. When she opened her eyes again, she found him staring at her.
Funny, she half-expected to be better able to read him…now. That wasn't the case at all.
As she was about to sit up and move away, he caught her wrist.
"Why?" he asked.
She smiled again. He still didn't get it. Well, she had nothing to lose. Even if he was viewing this all as a colossal mistake, she could always console herself with the fact that she made the effort.
She slid her wrist out of his loose grip. "Because, I've always wanted to know what your eyes look like—this close—when they are dark and stormy," she said, and then gently ran her hand through his hair. "I wanted to know what your hair feels like. Soft. Much softer than I thought…" she mused. What did she tell someone like Grissom?
She gripped his shoulder lightly, "I wanted to know how YOU feel. And, I wanted you to know…how I feel."
His eyes never left hers the whole time. That was progress. And he picked up on her dual-meaning immediately.
"You know, that's scientifically impossible. Truly knowing what another person is feeling…" A tiny smirk was forming at the corner of his mouth.
She rolled her eyes. "Well, sometimes science doesn't enter into the equation."
There, now she committed blasphemy in his eyes. That ought to kill things for good.
"What about chemistry?" he asked, and she smiled in response.
"Okay. Maybe chemistry has a small part in it. But, the rest…"
The rest…well, the fact that he needed to explain it all told her a lot. And what it told her was not exactly positive. By the beginning of shift tonight, he'd have it all neatly categorized and put away in the file cabinet of his mind. Two people: highly overworked, emotional (for them), working to save the life of a friend under extreme circumstances. A certain chemistry existing between the two of them…and…boom. One night of passion, never to be repeated.
But, that's not the way she'd look at it. Ever.
She leaned back down and gave him another, perhaps last, kiss. She wanted to memorize the feel of his lips against hers, the smell of a warm, sleepy Grissom when he first laid eyes on a new day, the absolute silence in the room, broken only by the sounds of their breathing.
Sweet, sweet Gil Grissom. She loved him and still didn't know exactly why. But it was big and grand and made her heart ache half the time. And always would. She broke the kiss.
He was gripping her wrist again. It was his turn to sigh.
"Stop kissing me goodbye, Sara. Let me kiss you good morning. I know I'm not good at expressing myself around you, but…I never would have come here last night if I wasn't sure. At the same time, I didn't pack a bag and…well, how about you pack yours and meet me at my place after shift tonight? If you're comfortable with that?"
A bag? Kissing good morning?
"Okay," she said, with probably no more emotion than he expressed when he woke up.
"Good. Are you more in tune with how I feel now?" he asked with a smile finally reaching his eyes.
She decided to lighten the mood a bit and moved her leg to slide against his thigh.
"Well, it's kind of easy now. You're feeling…frisky."
That got a genuine laugh.
He reached out and curled his hand around the back of her neck and drew her face down to his. "How could I say goodbye to someone who thinks "frisky' and "Gil Grissom' go together?" he said, before giving her a kiss that was neither gentle, nor indecisive. It was nice to see him, to feel him, in take-charge mode. It was even nicer to know this was, truly, a beginning, no matter how awkward some of it felt.
There was a soft, totally satisfying sound as their two pairs of lips disengaged.
"See you later," he said, and he was up and out of the bed, affording her one last glimpse at a nicely rounded behind before he ducked into her bathroom.
____________________________________________
Present Time
Sara went into the business center of the hotel.
One more week and they'd be back on the road. Headed back to the United States. A seven and a half hour flight is all that stood between them and "home."
They had both checked their email on a regular basis since Grissom sent out his little announcement. A lot of lab personnel sent them well-wishes. Short, but sweet. Still, some of those that they both had considered friends had not. But, it had only been a couple of days. And, she knew all too well that the personal always took a back seat to work.
She clicked on the silly, yet kind of adorable, GrissomandGrissom address Gil had set up.
There were four messages: one from Wendy, one from Mandy and one from Nick.
Two cheerful subject lines with a line of exclamation points following the word, "congrats" greeted her from the ladies, while one from NickStokesLVPD had "For Mrs. Grissom" in the subject line. And, the more recent one had a "please ignore the first email" message.
She clicked on the one she wasn't supposed to read first.
"Sara,
I hope you're reading this by yourself. Although, really, I guess it doesn't matter. You probably tell him everything anyway. Which, I guess, is the way these things go.
Catherine told us about your recent wedding. Well, not so recent, really. Funny, she never even mentioned that he had gone off to see you. I guess most people assumed that he did. I didn't, though. I mean, you know me. I don't use my imagination when it comes to the lives of other folks. I prefer to take them at their word. And, you know, he didn't say anything and you were just…gone. And I know that life handed you some pretty big lemons but I really thought we were all family. And families support each other. No matter what.
Anyway, this is probably not coming out the way I want it to. I just wish you would have considered me enough of a friend to turn to me for help when you felt you needed it. Especially since we both suffered on account of our job. And I also wish you had let me know about you and Gris. Years ago, really. But, especially now.
Still, I'm happy for you. Just—don't let him change you that much, okay? Because, you were a pretty cool Sara Sidle, you know.
Love, Nick."
She clicked on the more recent one.
"Dear Sara,
You read it, didn't you?
I'm…sorry. I was sorry the second I hit the button.
You know you're like a sister to me. I was just hurt. No excuse other than that.
Congratulations, Sara. Grissom is a great guy and very, very lucky to have found you.
I really do wish you joy and love.
~Nick"
Well, that served her right.
And hit her in the head with a 2 by 4.
And … hurt like hell.
She hit reply.
Then changed her mind.
She needed to think.
And needed to see Gil. Just see him. Not tell him any of this. No—he just—wouldn't get it.
Or maybe he'd get it all too well. And she couldn't bear to see that.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For a few hours, she forgot about the email.
A few things replaced the words. The sight of Grissom, on all fours, cleaning up after Hank's latest "accident' in their hotel room, for one.
"I don't know why I'm bothering," he said, as he scrubbed at the stain. "I have a feeling we're going to own this carpet by the time we leave here."
She stooped to give Hank a big kiss on the forehead, then dropped to all fours herself, and helped him clean.
Later, as she watched him really sleep, eyelids relaxed and snoring happily, she touched his bearded face, as she once had, years before.
"I will always be glad you came to me," she whispered. "Always."
And then got up, got dressed, and left the room.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: NickStokesLVPD
From: Ssidle
Re: Your email
Dear Nick,
I actually ducked out of our hotel room to call you. But, I know you're at work right now and—well, there are advantages to doing this by mail. I can't see you anyway, so there is no advantage of a face-to-face discussion and people get sidetracked during phone conversations.
I think I've been expecting an email like yours for about a year now. We never did pull many punches around each other, did we? We never had to.
I don't regret not telling anyone about my relationship with Grissom. It was very new and very tenuous. I know what I felt. I've known what I've felt about him for over a decade. I have no idea why. It was just one of those things you see in movies sometimes and feel can't possibly exist in real life. I remember, after seeing him speak for an hour (with half the class kind of falling asleep), I was mesmerized. And I just knew. I knew it was him. The Him. The him for me. Maybe not at that moment in time, but—someday. I guess I thought someday had begun when he invited me to work in the lab.
But, that didn't happen. Not for a very long time. He's a tough guy to read, sometimes. I'm sure that's not a shock to you. And, stubborn, too. And very, very set in his ways. So, when we got together, I didn't want anything—or anyone—messing it up. Not with a smirk, or a smile, or a misguided joke. It was that important to me. It IS that important to me.
What I do regret is leaving. And, yet, I probably would do the same thing all over again. That's not much of an apology, is it?
It's funny. I think you had expectations of me turning to you because of what you suffered from our job. I thought about it a lot. Not in a talk to Nick, he'll understand kind of way. But in a look at what Nick went through. You don't see him falling apart like that. That's the way I was looking at you.
I was falling short. Way short. Of my own expectations, of Grissom's.
And, you know, he was so happy that I was alive. And so was I. He proposed to me at that time. I bet you didn't know THAT. And I said yes.
And then I'd go off to work and feel more and more like I couldn't breathe.
And less and less like myself.
And I had to save myself and leave. Even if I had to give up absolutely everyone and everything I ever loved to do that.
Things…got better. But not to the point where I could go back to my old life again. I thought that Gil just wasn't going to join me in the new one. But, I was wrong. Very happily wrong. And this is another screw-up. One I've been aware of. I know—and he knows—we should have contacted all of you before. He kept in touch with Catherine just long enough to get some things out of our condo and have our dog sent to us (FYI—we have a dog. Probably something else you didn't know and I'm sorry for that, too). And then, I think we just thought of our happiest time. When we first got together and how everything in the non-work world just revolved around us. Just our tiny "family." And how very much we missed it. And how we would do anything, sacrifice anything, to keep that recaptured feeling safe.
We still would. But, I think some of that fear is being replaced by confidence in our relationship and true confidence in each other.
So, we're letting the world back in. We never meant to hurt you by shutting you all out. Never. But we did, and I'm very sorry for that.
You saved my life, Nick. Quite literally. And, you were my friend.
I hope that hasn't changed.
We'll see each other again…soon.
~Sara
She slowly pushed the send button and sat back and sighed.
Nick…if it weren't for Nick getting kidnapped and buried alive, Gil might never have come to her. No, that probably wasn't true. He probably would have…in another decade or so. She shook her head and sighed again.
Nick's ordeal brought people together. Hers tore them apart. It was a guilt she'd have to live with. And, in the end, perhaps everything had worked out as it should have. She knew she was happier now than she had ever been, and so was Gil. And the rest of them, well—she didn't know. Maybe they weren't too happy in their relationships with 'the Grissoms' but, in the end, she had to accept the fact that she just couldn't please everyone.
She felt better. Whether Nick would accept it or not—truly accept it—was up to him. It was out of her hands now.
Sara got up and went upstairs. She wanted nothing more from this night than to snuggle her face against her husband's shoulder and feel the weight of her dog's head on her feet.
_________________________________________
Greg Sanders walked into the break room, watching Nick as he read something on his phone. He was smiling.
"What's got you so happy?" Greg asked.
"Sara. She emailed me."
"Yeah? That's great. How is she doing?"
"Good, good. Well, I guess she's good. I kind of…gave her a hard time in an email I sent. But, she's not mad."
"You gave her a hard time? Why?"
"I don't know. I…found out about her and Gris and…I just freaked out. About her leaving and stuff."
"That's kind of old news, Nick."
"I know that. But, it's not like I could tell her how I felt at the time. And, I guess I needed to get it out of my system now. Anyway, she explained that…well, she just wasn't as strong as me, when it came to the dealing with the trauma thing. Who knew, right? I mean, Sara seems like a tough chick, but …"
"She's still a chick, right?" Greg looked at him with his eyes slightly narrowed.
"That's not what I mean. I meant, she's just a lot softer than I thought she was."
Greg went over to the coffee pot and made a larger production out of preparing himself a cup than he needed to.
It kept him from talking.
Kept him from telling Nick that he once had a massive crush on Sara. And, as with most of the women he had massive crushes on, he did some investigating. Just to make sure the Sanders gene pool wouldn't be compromised, of course.
A scientific approach to love was a sensible approach to love.
So, he gathered a little DNA from her coffee mug. Ran her name through a few databases. The usual…
It didn't take much investigation before he found out…things…that proved just how tough Sara Sidle had been. And just how devastating that night in the desert must have been.
And just how worthy of love and admiration she was. As if it was even possible for her to be worthier than he initially thought.
Let Nick think what he wanted. He knew the truth.
And so did Grissom.
End of Chapter 2.
A/N:
Some people told me they missed my ramblings. Wheee!
Anyway, this was interesting to write. I always had a general plan for this chapter but I've written Nick as a very gentlemanly "friend under any circumstances" type of guy in the one or two scenes I've given him along the way. And, in this one, he's expressing some real concerns. But, I view him as a meat and potatoes kind of guy. And I also think that, given the relationship with Sara, he wouldn't pull any punches, even if it hurts.
But, anyway, I kind of liked it. I was going to chicken out and make the ending just a bit more hearts and flowers with a more true understanding on Nick's part, but…nah.
Over and out. I don't actually know who will be my next victim in this series! Or what role they will play. Ah, the possibilities!
Connections 3: Greg
February, 2005
Gil Grissom had always found Greg Sanders rather annoying.
Not in the usual way most people found Greg Sanders annoying. Those "quirks," like lab dancing to blaring, bad music and revealing his discoveries by forcing people to guess the meaning behind his riddles, Gil could deal with.
What he couldn't deal with was the jealousy he felt toward the young man.
And it wasn't normal jealousy, either.
He didn't envy Greg for being younger, or more attractive or even being much of a threat in the love department.
He was a huge threat, however, in the friendship department.
He was Sara's friend. As unlikely as it seemed, they were getting closer and closer as time went on.
While he, himself, didn't know how to reverse the odd direction his own relationship with Sara had taken.
Greg had always flirted with her—openly.
She had always slapped him down—figuratively, of course—openly.
But, now, he found himself a witness to moments that were not necessarily meant for public consumption.
He heard them laughing. He saw them passing by his office, talking, relaxed and…dare he even think it…happy? Of course, their playing field had leveled lately. Or, maybe it hadn't. Sara was the mentor this time. With her own adoring student.
But, she seemed to appreciate the opportunity.
While Grissom, himself, just fucked it up.
That was the only way to think of it, really. He realized that for the first time when he was driving her home from the police station, after nearly losing her to a DUI "incident.' And he would have lost her. Either through automatic dismissal, if she had been charged, or—God forbid, if…well, she was driving under the influence. But, he couldn't bring himself to complete the thought.
He couldn't lose her. Ever.
And, yet, he still couldn't move in what anyone would call giant steps. Toddlers were speeding past him.
Until…he almost lost her again--this time, through her somewhat hair-trigger temper emerging at the wrong moment.
And the sudden delicacy of others who never practiced much restraint themselves.
"It means something to me," he said to her. Only to get her to talk. Which she did.
He played dirty. Greg, perhaps, wouldn't. But, perhaps, Greg already knew all of Sara's secrets.
While he, himself, suddenly wished he didn't know.
He reached out and grabbed her hand as she started crying. The hand he wasn't holding was being used to partially cover her face. She seemed ashamed of her tears.
Lord, he was bad at this type of thing, but he held on. That had to be the right thing to do. So, he did it.
She sobbed as quietly as possible and he tried, as hard as possible, not to think of being a young child and witnessing your father's death at the hands of your mother. His own father was just…dead. And it had been scary enough. Traumatic enough. But, Sara's situation…
He heard her sniff and she looked at him quickly and then looked away, "Bet you're glad you asked, huh?"
"I am."
"Why?"
"Because…I'm your friend. Or I want to be."
"You think I tell my friends everything?
"I assume…"
"No one knows about this. Not one person in my adult life knows about this. Except you. And, well, you wouldn't know about it either except…I think I really wanted you to. But, I didn't mean to get this emotional about it."
"Why wouldn't you? It was a horrible thing to happen, Sara. The worst."
"But it's long past. I am glad you know, though. Maybe…well, maybe you'll understand a few things about me and remember me without thinking that I was completely unreasonable in my reactions to everything."
"Remember you?"
"I'm fired, as I recall."
"No. I said Ecklie wanted me to fire you. I didn't say I would do it."
She frowned. "I don't want you to not to do your job because you pity me."
"I don't pity you. I am horrified by what you went through. I have nothing but admiration for how you handled it. But it has nothing to do with the decision I made the minute "Conrad" opened his mouth. That's business. You are too good to let go because of the bruised egos of people on power trips."
She narrowed her eyes and looked straight at him. He could tell the exact moment when she believed him.
"I don't want you to jeopardize your job."
"I won't," he said and looked at her again. His pretty Sara. His pretty, complex, more complex-than-he-ever-imagined, Sara.
Here lies madness, he thought. Not in her. In him. In his reaction to this woman.
"Well, I should get back to the lab. Now, in regards to this afternoon…" he got up and made his way to the door, with Sara following close behind. He turned to her. "Your temper? Don't lose it again. That's my official reprimand."
She smiled weakly and then turned her face away from him slightly. There was that telltale sheen in her eyes.
Friend. Be a friend. Not a boss. Not anything else. A friend.
He reached out and pulled her in his arms. He could feel the stiffness in her body. ''It's okay. It's okay," he muttered, one arm around her waist, holding her close, the other shifting to the back of her head, automatically stroking her hair.
It's okay. It's all okay. He knew now. And she knew he knew. And they'd be okay.
They'd be okay.
Their embrace lasted only a few moments but the warmth continued. And the jealousy ended.
He found himself looking forward to seeing her with Greg. There was a certain beauty in seeing her as a teacher, as a mentor. And besides, Greg didn't really know the Sara he knew. He didn't know just how strong and wonderful she was—outside of the lab. And he couldn't possibly feel the warmth that Grissom felt when he watched her smile—that full smile that seemed to be more and more genuine as time went on, and they resumed the friendship they had tentatively started all those years ago.
Yeah, Greg was no threat in any department.
He was just fine in Grissom's book.
XXXXX
Present Time
To: Gil Grissom
From: GSandersLVPD
Re: Your Nuptials
So, geez, Gris. I knew you were off to get The Girl, but you had to trek all the way to Central America? And then you couldn't take her back so I could cry at your wedding? Or be your flower boy?
Some friend you are.
I guess you're wondering why I'm addressing this to you and not the Mrs.
Well, I will write one to her, too. It might get sappy, though. Or not. I guess I haven't decided how truthful I want to be. Not yet, anyway.
But, well, I wanted to talk to you about some stuff I never would have the … uh, courage, to tell you in person.
I've always admired you as a boss. You know that, right? And there's your compliment.
But, I've really been angry with you over the past few years. On and off. I knew about you and Sara probably before you even did. Well, I knew how she felt. And I kind of knew how you felt. But, things were not always on course. And then, she left and…man, I was SO angry with you. I could have kicked you in the butt every time you walked down the hall. I just couldn't figure out how such a genius could be so clueless. Why you didn't go after her. I still don't know, exactly. But, hey, timing is important. And you can't rush true understanding—and I guess you finally came to the conclusion you were supposed to come to—in your own time. And since Sara said "I do," too, you probably succeeded.
Just…please don't do that again. She's a great girl and she deserves happiness.
And, on a personal level, I've become more impatient with age and don't know if I could restrain myself from that butt-kicking impulse any longer.
I miss you guys. It's not the same around here. Not at all. It's very hard to be a family and then—not.
I miss Sara's laughter, and your bad puns, and Warrick being all cool all over the place. And I miss the sense of belonging. Ray is a nice guy. He really is. But he's no Grissom. And Riley is no Sara and….well, you get the picture.
Anyway, I'm starting to veer off into another direction and get maudlin.
I wish you guys all the happiness in the world. I'll dedicate my book, if it ever gets published (and things aren't looking good at the moment—some folks think Vegas history is not relevant), to you both. To you for teaching me bizarre facts—which have made me a master Trivial Pursuit and Jeopardy player, and for showing me what NOT to do in a relationship, which I fully intend to use if I ever stop pulling doubles and meet a girl who is half the woman Sara is… And, speaking of Sara, I'd dedicate it to her…just for being herself. Which is a pretty darned nifty thing to be.
On second thought, (Third? Fourth?) I lost count. You can show her parts of this, if you want, or just send her my congratulations. She doesn't need some soupy love letter from an ardent fan and admirer. That's your job now!
Take care of yourselves.
Best regards (and, yes, love to you both),
Greggo
XXXXX
First, Greg's email made him smile.
Then it made him think.
He couldn't get the image of Greg's badly battered face out of his mind. Somehow, he wished Greg would "retire," too. Or go back to being a lab rat. He was a damned good lab rat. And he had more fun in his life.
Greg was a lot more like Grissom than either of them initially thought, even if Grissom had never worn a Carmen Miranda-worthy headdress and danced around the lab.
The young man had been so stoic, and so broken.
Grissom huffed out a laugh.
He was a lot like Sara, too. Both wanting to hold back their emotions to be more like Grissom; to earn his respect. Both seemingly unaware that they had earned that respect years before.
A vision of Sara came to him, too. One that came to him often. One that he always tried to "change." Her lying on her side, sun-burnt, bruised, cut, battered. Half-dead. He shuddered at the thought.
He had one more week. One more week to do what he should have done almost two years ago, now.
"Sara? Let's take a walk…"
XXXX
X
They left Hank in the hotel room. They would probably find a gift from him upon their return. The dog loved taking walks in this little slice of paradise, and didn't appreciate being left in the room, alone. Besides, if truth be told, he probably still had some separation anxiety issues every time he couldn't see Sara.
Grissom could definitely sympathize with him there.
No one was at the pool area. Funny, having a pool there when you could walk over to numerous waterfalls and natural sources of water. Still, this pool was well lit at night and lovely, if in a more artificial way.
They sat and dangled their feet in the water.
"Gil? This isn't exactly a mega-walk, you know," Sara said, with great amusement.
"I know. I wanted to talk…"
"Uh, oh," she said, and smiled slightly. "You aren't going to ask me for a divorce, are you?"
"No," he said, decisively. Then he stopped. How to broach the subject? "Uh…'to have a friend, you need to be a friend.'"
"Oh…kay. That doesn't sound the least bit like Shakespeare."
"It's not. I read it on a fortune cookie once."
"Ah. And the significance?"
"Greg wrote us a congratulatory email."
"Ah. It's about time. You noticed how these things are kind of coming in in dribs and drabs? I expected an influx, and then nothing. I guess we really threw them for a loop, huh?"
"I guess so. Or, maybe I wasn't a very good friend to any of them."
"How could you say that? You've been there for all of us, when we needed you."
"No, I haven't, Sara. I have been closed off and uncommunicative. I haven't shared my life and haven't always shared theirs. But I do appreciate your total faith in me."
She rolled her eyes and put her head on his shoulder for a moment. He put his arm around her shoulders in return and held her to him, briefly.
"Greg's email was … touching. I don't know that he meant it to be, but it was. And it brought to mind a time when I could have been a better friend to him than I was. And it reminded me of how similar he is, in some ways, to you. And to me."
"You're losing me, Gil."
"I should have asked him more about his experience with the Demetrius James case. I know I helped him in some ways, but he should have been able to speak to me about anything he was feeling. And I know he was holding a lot back. Just as I know, even now—you're holding back a lot about what happened to you in the desert."
She sighed loudly.
"It was a long time ago, now. All over," Sara said, and he could feel a certain stiffness in her body.
"Time doesn't matter. Our experiences stay with us—forever, sometimes. And, well, we're going home. It's been easy to put everything aside here. But it might not always be easy at home. For example, I—for one—would like to someday see everyone from the lab again. I won't, if it makes you uncomfortable. But I'd like for it to not make you uncomfortable. And, for that to happen, I think we need to air out a few things. And I thought this was as good a place as any to do that. Better than most, actually. It's so far away from the reality we've known."
Sara made some sort of negative sound. He wasn't sure how to categorize it, exactly.
To have a friend, you have to be a friend…
And you have to share.
"Let me go first. I think, maybe, you need to know what it was like for us, as well. For me, rather. And, if you want, you can tell me whatever you want to tell me. Or, you can say nothing," Grissom took a deep breath and remembered that horrible, horrible night. "I walked into my office and found the miniature. It was right there. And…I knew something was very different about this one. I remember my heart … you were under that car…"
Hank had to wait a long time before seeing Grissom and Sara again that evening.
And they didn't wait to be billed before paying for the rug in their room.
XXXXX
To: GSandersLVPD
From: GGrissom
Thank you, Greg. For your congratulatory email. For your good wishes. And, mostly, for being the kind of friend who, even when he's wanted to kick my behind, refrained from doing so—and from sending a love letter to my wife.
I appreciate your friendship, more than you know.
There will never be a "family' quite like ours.
~Gil
XXXXX
Greg signed off the computer with a smile. He looked around. Riley was arguing with Hodges, rather loudly. Langston was walking around with that kit on wheels. Brass was still around to snark. Nick was earning brownie points and Catherine—well, she was just doing her job.
Maybe they were all just doing their jobs, now.
He picked up the phone and heard a familiar voice.
"Hey, Lily. Want to go out for dinner tonight? I need to get a few more stories for my book. Yeah, well, it may be on the back burner now, but I figured if I took the stories I initially rejected for the book—the jucier ones—we may be in business again. Hey, great! Anywhere you want to go. I'll pick you up at 6. Thanks, doll."
He smirked. Catherine's mom loved those old-time endearments. And he loved her like a friend of an older co-worker. Nah, he really did love her. She told a mean story and was funny to boot.
Now, she was family. Still.
Maybe not the one he wanted but…
Things changed. And he'd have to soon, too.
He wanted that book published. He wanted to start over again, before it was too late.
Besides, he had a really kick-ass dedication to write.
The end of part 3
A/N: For some odd reason, even though I love Greg, this one was harder than the others.
Ah, well. Sorry it's taken so long. I've been working on transferring my own website and realized I never posted half my stories (or created art work for any of them). Took me awhile, but it should be ready in another day or so.
Author: Summer Reign
Rating: T
Disclaimer: CSI belongs to the world! But I still don't get residuals.
Spoilers: Well, everything and then some. Butterflied, Suckers and One to Go—to name a few.
Summary:
"A hidden connection is stronger than an obvious one" Heraclitus of Ephesus (a pompous way of saying I have no idea how to summarize this)
Author's Note: I've been "blocked" for a very long time. And then I got this rather strange idea for a series. I don't want to call it a work in progress because each story will stand on its own. However, I do want to follow a certain structure and theme, so…whatever. I hope you like it.
Connections I: Catherine
January, 2004
He stepped out of the lab and into the bright Vegas morning.
Too bright. Too hot. Too…everything.
He was a creature of the night. He was…a creature. Period.
No. Not a creature. Creatures, after all, were made of flesh and blood. He was more like a machine. A crime investigating machine.
One who couldn't even find enough evidence to put away a man who slashed his lover's throat and cut up a man up, ziplocking his remains in over 20 plastic packages.
There should have been…something.
There wasn't enough.
Grissom raised his hand to his eyes and tried to rub away his mood.
Fifteen minutes and he'd be home. In twenty minutes, he'd step out of the shower and go off to bed.
And he'd sleep, hopefully, for fifteen hours, and wake up feeling like a man again. A dedicated scientist. That's what he was, really. Not a creature. Not a machine.
A scientist.
VERY dedicated.
He moved his hand away from his eyes to his jacket pocket, hoping he remembered his sunglasses.
And that's when he saw her.
She was standing by her car. Leaning against it, actually.
And, as had happened many times before, she instantly turned her face and looked at him.
She didn't register surprise. Her face didn't change expression at all. Much as it hadn't when he searched it three shifts before. Searched it for life, for energy, for everything that woman inside the house would never show signs of again.
But Sara's eyes…this time…they seemed…
Knowing, hurt, resigned.
And he was very, very tired.
And his imagination was running overtime.
She couldn't possibly have a clue of all he had been through in the past two days. All he had felt.
All he knew, all he really knew, was he couldn't look at her right now. Not right now. Not without weeping, or screaming or…losing control in some way that was dark and intense and scarier than anything he could define.
He put his sunglasses on, got into his car and left her without a backward glance.
____________________________________________________________________
Thirty hours later, he was back at the lab.
Back to being a dedicated scientist. A dedicated supervisor.
Missing one of his team. Probably the most important member.
"Catherine, have you seen Sara?" He asked as he entered the breakroom.
"Yes, she's just putting away her things. Just got here a minute ago."
Grissom double-checked his watch. Sara was always early. He frowned.
"Your Timex didn't poop out on you. She got stuck behind a three-car pileup. Besides, she almost pulled a double last night. I caught her midway through her second shift and made sure someone sent her home."
"Yesterday was supposed to be her day off, too," Grissom said.
"Yeah, well. In a way, I can understand it. She was kind of a freaked out over the Debbie Marlin thing."
"She…didn't work much of it beyond the lab." He had made sure of that.
"Well, someone needed to get the woman's toe prints. And, that someone was Sara. She said she didn't notice her but, believe me, she noticed, all right. Must have been freak-ee. Anyway, work is part of who Sara is, so I guess it was good therapy for her to nearly pull a double yesterday. Get that vision out of her head and replace it with other grisly stuff."
Grissom nodded.
In all honesty, he was relieved. Something external caused that look he saw in the parking lot the other day. The fact that that 'something' might very well be traumatic…well, he supposed that made his relief a bit selfish. But, he could take care of that. He needed to take care of that. For her sake…and for his.
Ten minutes later, he was handing out assignments.
"DB in a pool. Sara…you're with me…."
________________________________________________________________________
March, 2009
Catherine Willows walked down the hall of the crime lab, feeling the heat of appreciative male eyes warming her bodacious booty.
Not bad for a woman completing a 10-hour shift.
One more task for the day and she could go home. Home to her complaining mother and whining daughter. Still, they were family and she loved them. Damn it.
With a little wiggle in her walk (a gift to a lurking Bobby Dawson, if truth be told) she entered her office. Not that she'd ever fish off the company pier. Stuff like that just didn't work as she had told…
Oh.
Perhaps that had been a mistake.
Maybe. The jury was still out. For all she knew Grissom and/or Sara could have finished each other off in the mountains of Mongolia or wherever the hell they were now and they'd never be heard from again. Both of them could easily pull off an evidence-free crime and they were smart enough to "lose" themselves afterwards, too.
Maybe that's what they already did. After all, she hadn't heard from either of them….
She clicked on the crime lab's email server.
Brass…ignore. It was probably some dirty joke he forwarded. Ecklie…stupid administrative meeting. Ignore till later tonight. Mandy—animal pictures, for sure….
"Holy crap!" the volume of her own voice nearly knocked her off her chair.
A Yahoo address. 'grissomandgrissom.' Well, gee. What was the point of reading the freaking email? They gave it all away in the address. Of course, maybe it wasn't Sara that was the other Grissom. After all, they hadn't hauled in Lady Heather's black-laced-butt in nearly half a year.
She double-clicked.
"Dear Catherine,
I must apologize for not being in contact with you for these past few months. You were very helpful and supportive of me when I made the decision to leave and I didn't mean to seem ungrateful.
I just haven't quite known where to start. When I left the lab, I wasn't entirely sure what life would hold for me. I did know what I wanted it to hold. Well, I knew whom I wanted to hold. Although, I suppose that's a little too much information, but…if anyone would understand the complicated workings of the human heart, I know it would be you.
Sara and I resumed our relationship the moment we saw each other again. She's a remarkable woman and I am a very grateful man. Not only for her unconditional acceptance, but for agreeing to be my life partner. We married shortly after our reunion. And, yes, we're just getting around to announcing it to the world. Actually, we're not announcing it to the world. We're telling you and hoping you'll spread the word.
It's a bit awkward, socially, to not have a wedding or a reception to share with others. But, this route was explored and rejected. It's just not "us."
Please tell everyone at the lab that might be interested and let them know we are healthy and happy. And we hope everyone is well. Someday, we will come to visit. For now, we are making arrangements to move to California. There is some research being done on sea life in the Pacific that fascinates us both. And we feel we can make a significant contribution. They aren't bugs, but…they are still interesting.
I won't ask how you are doing at this time (although I'd welcome hearing about it). I have every confidence you are doing a wonderful job.
Take care of yourself, Catherine.
Best Regards,
Grissom…and…Grissom
Shit.
She hit reply.
To: GrissomandGrissom
From: CWillowsLVCL
"Best regards," my ass! You dog! I mean, shit.
OK. I'm not making sense. First of all, congratulations. Second, WTF, Gil? (ask Sara what that means if you're not up to speed on internet lingo). We're family! And you tell me you got hitched months ago. I'm so angry with you, I could spit.
OK-now that I wrote that sentence, I feel instantly better.
You're a jerk, but you can't help yourself.
You better thank your lucky stars that you got someone as lovestruck as Ms. (excuse me, MRS) Sara. Any other woman would have kicked you to the curb years ago.
I'll tell everyone. Not the first time I did your dirty work for you.
And, you know, if you two decide to have kids, please try to tell us before we're invited to their college graduations, 'k?
I wish you both happiness.
And I love you both, even though I hate you at the moment. (That goes for Sara, too. She doesn't know how to email?)
Don't get bitten by any rabid mosquitoes out there. And hurry back home so I can kick you both in the behind myself. Right before smooshing the hell out you.
Love,
~Cath
P.S. You bet your ass I'm doing a bang-up job as supervisor. I thought you'd never leave…
She hit send.
Well, okay.
Married.
Didn't get sick of each other after all. And they had even known each other before she hit Vegas, too. Although, God forbid Gil would ever spill details about how long.
She should ask Lindsay if Sara had a twitter or facebook account. Maybe she'd get some dirt from her.
Oh, who was she kidding? They were hardly BFFs.
Fishing off the company pier…
She walked out of the room. Maybe, just maybe, she'd ask if Bobby Dawson wanted to join her for a beer after work.
….
Nah.
_________________________________________________________________
He was still chuckling over Catherine's response, when Sara walked into the hotel's business center.
"Catherine?" she asked.
"Yes. She writes the way she speaks."
"Uh, oh."
"Her response was a mixture of censure and sentimentality. Quite touching, actually."
"I'm sure," Sara said.
He looked up at her. Her eyes were anything but sure. He knew she didn't always get along with the hotheaded blond but he thought they were friendly enough.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It's just—well, she's more your friend than mine. And I'm sure my leaving the way I did didn't win any brownie points with her. Plus, 'taking' you away from the lab…"
"She's not a woman's woman. She never has been and never will be. She's far too competitive for that. But, she liked you. And she liked us. The idea of us. She was…on our side a very long time ago."
Now the look he received was downright skeptical.
"I'm not kidding. I remember a time when I was … resigned to letting you go. And she told me to get my head out of my microscope and…I did. For a little while, anyway." He smiled softly, picturing the moment in his mind. "She also told me you were a survivor at a time I really needed to remember that. And she told me to go after you, long before I felt the time was right. She was…probably right about that. No, she was definitely right about that."
Sara quietly nodded and they shared a look over the computer monitor.
One last Catherine moment came to mind. One he appreciated, perhaps, more than any other.
A wink. And a smile.
Her version of a blessing.
"I am a part of all that I have met," Grissom said and looked up at his beloved…wife.
Wife. A word so new, yet so…right.
His beloved Sara…the warmth of her brown eyes, the softness of her hands as he took both in his own, before slipping his grandmother's wedding band on the third finger of her left hand…
The touch of her lips as they sealed their promise in a small Costa Rican church, with a nun and a gardener as witnesses…
"Tennyson?" she asked, snapping him out of his reverie.
He nodded. She was getting incredibly good at identifying his quotations. No matter how obscure.
He had an effect on her. Just as she had on him. Just as Catherine had had, and Jim and Nick and …
Grissom was glad they knew.
Because they were all connected. And all had an effect on him. On them.
And for that, he was grateful.
It's what turned the creature—the crime-investigating machine…
Back into a man.
The End.
Connections 2: Nick
May, 2005
He was pretending to still be asleep.
She could have been insulted, but she just thought it was funny. Although common sense told her that showing any outward signs of amusement would be a bad move, since laughing at a man during their first time in bed together could easily be misunderstood.
Still, he was being…cute.
Who knew Gil Grissom could do cute?
She leaned up on one elbow and looked at his face. At the eyelids that were not relaxed. At the very even-- too even--rise and fall of his chest.
She moved her hand to his face and ran the tips of her fingers across his left cheekbone.
Sara always loved his cheekbones. She had no idea why. She loved them when he was clean-shaven, and now, it was this smooth expanse of skin that contrasted nicely with the roughness of his beard.
It gave her a small thrill to have first-hand knowledge of the textures of his face.
He opened his eyes.
"You woke me," he said, in a completely emotionless voice.
"You've been awake for at least five minutes," she replied.
"What gives you that idea?"
"I followed the evidence. One—you stopped snoring. You're a light snorer, in case you weren't aware of that fact. Two—you kind of tensed up. The assumption I made is that you suddenly remembered where you were and what happened, although I'll admit, that's all conjecture on my part and Three—well, the fake measured breathing wasn't very convincing."
"And, yet, you let me go on for five minutes…"
"I'm not going anywhere," she said, knowing his reply would be quite different.
He looked at her for a moment and she saw the panic he was trying to tamp down.
"I've…gotta go. I need to change before work and…well, maybe I'll drop by and see Nick at the hospital."
"I should do that, too."
There was a sudden "NO!!!" in his eyes and she stifled a smile.
Then, she sighed softly. No one ever said this would be easy. No one ever said this would 'be.' And, from the looks of things, 'no one' could very well be right.
"I won't," she said quietly. "I'll see him after shift tomorrow."
Grissom nodded. "I have to go."
"You said that already," Sara ran her hand down the side of his face. His beautiful face. If she never had this particular view of it again, in this lifetime, she had this moment.
"You know," she said softly, "I will always be glad you came to me."
She leaned forward, gently positioned her mouth over his and kissed him. When she opened her eyes again, she found him staring at her.
Funny, she half-expected to be better able to read him…now. That wasn't the case at all.
As she was about to sit up and move away, he caught her wrist.
"Why?" he asked.
She smiled again. He still didn't get it. Well, she had nothing to lose. Even if he was viewing this all as a colossal mistake, she could always console herself with the fact that she made the effort.
She slid her wrist out of his loose grip. "Because, I've always wanted to know what your eyes look like—this close—when they are dark and stormy," she said, and then gently ran her hand through his hair. "I wanted to know what your hair feels like. Soft. Much softer than I thought…" she mused. What did she tell someone like Grissom?
She gripped his shoulder lightly, "I wanted to know how YOU feel. And, I wanted you to know…how I feel."
His eyes never left hers the whole time. That was progress. And he picked up on her dual-meaning immediately.
"You know, that's scientifically impossible. Truly knowing what another person is feeling…" A tiny smirk was forming at the corner of his mouth.
She rolled her eyes. "Well, sometimes science doesn't enter into the equation."
There, now she committed blasphemy in his eyes. That ought to kill things for good.
"What about chemistry?" he asked, and she smiled in response.
"Okay. Maybe chemistry has a small part in it. But, the rest…"
The rest…well, the fact that he needed to explain it all told her a lot. And what it told her was not exactly positive. By the beginning of shift tonight, he'd have it all neatly categorized and put away in the file cabinet of his mind. Two people: highly overworked, emotional (for them), working to save the life of a friend under extreme circumstances. A certain chemistry existing between the two of them…and…boom. One night of passion, never to be repeated.
But, that's not the way she'd look at it. Ever.
She leaned back down and gave him another, perhaps last, kiss. She wanted to memorize the feel of his lips against hers, the smell of a warm, sleepy Grissom when he first laid eyes on a new day, the absolute silence in the room, broken only by the sounds of their breathing.
Sweet, sweet Gil Grissom. She loved him and still didn't know exactly why. But it was big and grand and made her heart ache half the time. And always would. She broke the kiss.
He was gripping her wrist again. It was his turn to sigh.
"Stop kissing me goodbye, Sara. Let me kiss you good morning. I know I'm not good at expressing myself around you, but…I never would have come here last night if I wasn't sure. At the same time, I didn't pack a bag and…well, how about you pack yours and meet me at my place after shift tonight? If you're comfortable with that?"
A bag? Kissing good morning?
"Okay," she said, with probably no more emotion than he expressed when he woke up.
"Good. Are you more in tune with how I feel now?" he asked with a smile finally reaching his eyes.
She decided to lighten the mood a bit and moved her leg to slide against his thigh.
"Well, it's kind of easy now. You're feeling…frisky."
That got a genuine laugh.
He reached out and curled his hand around the back of her neck and drew her face down to his. "How could I say goodbye to someone who thinks "frisky' and "Gil Grissom' go together?" he said, before giving her a kiss that was neither gentle, nor indecisive. It was nice to see him, to feel him, in take-charge mode. It was even nicer to know this was, truly, a beginning, no matter how awkward some of it felt.
There was a soft, totally satisfying sound as their two pairs of lips disengaged.
"See you later," he said, and he was up and out of the bed, affording her one last glimpse at a nicely rounded behind before he ducked into her bathroom.
____________________________________________
Present Time
Sara went into the business center of the hotel.
One more week and they'd be back on the road. Headed back to the United States. A seven and a half hour flight is all that stood between them and "home."
They had both checked their email on a regular basis since Grissom sent out his little announcement. A lot of lab personnel sent them well-wishes. Short, but sweet. Still, some of those that they both had considered friends had not. But, it had only been a couple of days. And, she knew all too well that the personal always took a back seat to work.
She clicked on the silly, yet kind of adorable, GrissomandGrissom address Gil had set up.
There were four messages: one from Wendy, one from Mandy and one from Nick.
Two cheerful subject lines with a line of exclamation points following the word, "congrats" greeted her from the ladies, while one from NickStokesLVPD had "For Mrs. Grissom" in the subject line. And, the more recent one had a "please ignore the first email" message.
She clicked on the one she wasn't supposed to read first.
"Sara,
I hope you're reading this by yourself. Although, really, I guess it doesn't matter. You probably tell him everything anyway. Which, I guess, is the way these things go.
Catherine told us about your recent wedding. Well, not so recent, really. Funny, she never even mentioned that he had gone off to see you. I guess most people assumed that he did. I didn't, though. I mean, you know me. I don't use my imagination when it comes to the lives of other folks. I prefer to take them at their word. And, you know, he didn't say anything and you were just…gone. And I know that life handed you some pretty big lemons but I really thought we were all family. And families support each other. No matter what.
Anyway, this is probably not coming out the way I want it to. I just wish you would have considered me enough of a friend to turn to me for help when you felt you needed it. Especially since we both suffered on account of our job. And I also wish you had let me know about you and Gris. Years ago, really. But, especially now.
Still, I'm happy for you. Just—don't let him change you that much, okay? Because, you were a pretty cool Sara Sidle, you know.
Love, Nick."
She clicked on the more recent one.
"Dear Sara,
You read it, didn't you?
I'm…sorry. I was sorry the second I hit the button.
You know you're like a sister to me. I was just hurt. No excuse other than that.
Congratulations, Sara. Grissom is a great guy and very, very lucky to have found you.
I really do wish you joy and love.
~Nick"
Well, that served her right.
And hit her in the head with a 2 by 4.
And … hurt like hell.
She hit reply.
Then changed her mind.
She needed to think.
And needed to see Gil. Just see him. Not tell him any of this. No—he just—wouldn't get it.
Or maybe he'd get it all too well. And she couldn't bear to see that.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For a few hours, she forgot about the email.
A few things replaced the words. The sight of Grissom, on all fours, cleaning up after Hank's latest "accident' in their hotel room, for one.
"I don't know why I'm bothering," he said, as he scrubbed at the stain. "I have a feeling we're going to own this carpet by the time we leave here."
She stooped to give Hank a big kiss on the forehead, then dropped to all fours herself, and helped him clean.
Later, as she watched him really sleep, eyelids relaxed and snoring happily, she touched his bearded face, as she once had, years before.
"I will always be glad you came to me," she whispered. "Always."
And then got up, got dressed, and left the room.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: NickStokesLVPD
From: Ssidle
Re: Your email
Dear Nick,
I actually ducked out of our hotel room to call you. But, I know you're at work right now and—well, there are advantages to doing this by mail. I can't see you anyway, so there is no advantage of a face-to-face discussion and people get sidetracked during phone conversations.
I think I've been expecting an email like yours for about a year now. We never did pull many punches around each other, did we? We never had to.
I don't regret not telling anyone about my relationship with Grissom. It was very new and very tenuous. I know what I felt. I've known what I've felt about him for over a decade. I have no idea why. It was just one of those things you see in movies sometimes and feel can't possibly exist in real life. I remember, after seeing him speak for an hour (with half the class kind of falling asleep), I was mesmerized. And I just knew. I knew it was him. The Him. The him for me. Maybe not at that moment in time, but—someday. I guess I thought someday had begun when he invited me to work in the lab.
But, that didn't happen. Not for a very long time. He's a tough guy to read, sometimes. I'm sure that's not a shock to you. And, stubborn, too. And very, very set in his ways. So, when we got together, I didn't want anything—or anyone—messing it up. Not with a smirk, or a smile, or a misguided joke. It was that important to me. It IS that important to me.
What I do regret is leaving. And, yet, I probably would do the same thing all over again. That's not much of an apology, is it?
It's funny. I think you had expectations of me turning to you because of what you suffered from our job. I thought about it a lot. Not in a talk to Nick, he'll understand kind of way. But in a look at what Nick went through. You don't see him falling apart like that. That's the way I was looking at you.
I was falling short. Way short. Of my own expectations, of Grissom's.
And, you know, he was so happy that I was alive. And so was I. He proposed to me at that time. I bet you didn't know THAT. And I said yes.
And then I'd go off to work and feel more and more like I couldn't breathe.
And less and less like myself.
And I had to save myself and leave. Even if I had to give up absolutely everyone and everything I ever loved to do that.
Things…got better. But not to the point where I could go back to my old life again. I thought that Gil just wasn't going to join me in the new one. But, I was wrong. Very happily wrong. And this is another screw-up. One I've been aware of. I know—and he knows—we should have contacted all of you before. He kept in touch with Catherine just long enough to get some things out of our condo and have our dog sent to us (FYI—we have a dog. Probably something else you didn't know and I'm sorry for that, too). And then, I think we just thought of our happiest time. When we first got together and how everything in the non-work world just revolved around us. Just our tiny "family." And how very much we missed it. And how we would do anything, sacrifice anything, to keep that recaptured feeling safe.
We still would. But, I think some of that fear is being replaced by confidence in our relationship and true confidence in each other.
So, we're letting the world back in. We never meant to hurt you by shutting you all out. Never. But we did, and I'm very sorry for that.
You saved my life, Nick. Quite literally. And, you were my friend.
I hope that hasn't changed.
We'll see each other again…soon.
~Sara
She slowly pushed the send button and sat back and sighed.
Nick…if it weren't for Nick getting kidnapped and buried alive, Gil might never have come to her. No, that probably wasn't true. He probably would have…in another decade or so. She shook her head and sighed again.
Nick's ordeal brought people together. Hers tore them apart. It was a guilt she'd have to live with. And, in the end, perhaps everything had worked out as it should have. She knew she was happier now than she had ever been, and so was Gil. And the rest of them, well—she didn't know. Maybe they weren't too happy in their relationships with 'the Grissoms' but, in the end, she had to accept the fact that she just couldn't please everyone.
She felt better. Whether Nick would accept it or not—truly accept it—was up to him. It was out of her hands now.
Sara got up and went upstairs. She wanted nothing more from this night than to snuggle her face against her husband's shoulder and feel the weight of her dog's head on her feet.
_________________________________________
Greg Sanders walked into the break room, watching Nick as he read something on his phone. He was smiling.
"What's got you so happy?" Greg asked.
"Sara. She emailed me."
"Yeah? That's great. How is she doing?"
"Good, good. Well, I guess she's good. I kind of…gave her a hard time in an email I sent. But, she's not mad."
"You gave her a hard time? Why?"
"I don't know. I…found out about her and Gris and…I just freaked out. About her leaving and stuff."
"That's kind of old news, Nick."
"I know that. But, it's not like I could tell her how I felt at the time. And, I guess I needed to get it out of my system now. Anyway, she explained that…well, she just wasn't as strong as me, when it came to the dealing with the trauma thing. Who knew, right? I mean, Sara seems like a tough chick, but …"
"She's still a chick, right?" Greg looked at him with his eyes slightly narrowed.
"That's not what I mean. I meant, she's just a lot softer than I thought she was."
Greg went over to the coffee pot and made a larger production out of preparing himself a cup than he needed to.
It kept him from talking.
Kept him from telling Nick that he once had a massive crush on Sara. And, as with most of the women he had massive crushes on, he did some investigating. Just to make sure the Sanders gene pool wouldn't be compromised, of course.
A scientific approach to love was a sensible approach to love.
So, he gathered a little DNA from her coffee mug. Ran her name through a few databases. The usual…
It didn't take much investigation before he found out…things…that proved just how tough Sara Sidle had been. And just how devastating that night in the desert must have been.
And just how worthy of love and admiration she was. As if it was even possible for her to be worthier than he initially thought.
Let Nick think what he wanted. He knew the truth.
And so did Grissom.
End of Chapter 2.
A/N:
Some people told me they missed my ramblings. Wheee!
Anyway, this was interesting to write. I always had a general plan for this chapter but I've written Nick as a very gentlemanly "friend under any circumstances" type of guy in the one or two scenes I've given him along the way. And, in this one, he's expressing some real concerns. But, I view him as a meat and potatoes kind of guy. And I also think that, given the relationship with Sara, he wouldn't pull any punches, even if it hurts.
But, anyway, I kind of liked it. I was going to chicken out and make the ending just a bit more hearts and flowers with a more true understanding on Nick's part, but…nah.
Over and out. I don't actually know who will be my next victim in this series! Or what role they will play. Ah, the possibilities!
Connections 3: Greg
February, 2005
Gil Grissom had always found Greg Sanders rather annoying.
Not in the usual way most people found Greg Sanders annoying. Those "quirks," like lab dancing to blaring, bad music and revealing his discoveries by forcing people to guess the meaning behind his riddles, Gil could deal with.
What he couldn't deal with was the jealousy he felt toward the young man.
And it wasn't normal jealousy, either.
He didn't envy Greg for being younger, or more attractive or even being much of a threat in the love department.
He was a huge threat, however, in the friendship department.
He was Sara's friend. As unlikely as it seemed, they were getting closer and closer as time went on.
While he, himself, didn't know how to reverse the odd direction his own relationship with Sara had taken.
Greg had always flirted with her—openly.
She had always slapped him down—figuratively, of course—openly.
But, now, he found himself a witness to moments that were not necessarily meant for public consumption.
He heard them laughing. He saw them passing by his office, talking, relaxed and…dare he even think it…happy? Of course, their playing field had leveled lately. Or, maybe it hadn't. Sara was the mentor this time. With her own adoring student.
But, she seemed to appreciate the opportunity.
While Grissom, himself, just fucked it up.
That was the only way to think of it, really. He realized that for the first time when he was driving her home from the police station, after nearly losing her to a DUI "incident.' And he would have lost her. Either through automatic dismissal, if she had been charged, or—God forbid, if…well, she was driving under the influence. But, he couldn't bring himself to complete the thought.
He couldn't lose her. Ever.
And, yet, he still couldn't move in what anyone would call giant steps. Toddlers were speeding past him.
Until…he almost lost her again--this time, through her somewhat hair-trigger temper emerging at the wrong moment.
And the sudden delicacy of others who never practiced much restraint themselves.
"It means something to me," he said to her. Only to get her to talk. Which she did.
He played dirty. Greg, perhaps, wouldn't. But, perhaps, Greg already knew all of Sara's secrets.
While he, himself, suddenly wished he didn't know.
He reached out and grabbed her hand as she started crying. The hand he wasn't holding was being used to partially cover her face. She seemed ashamed of her tears.
Lord, he was bad at this type of thing, but he held on. That had to be the right thing to do. So, he did it.
She sobbed as quietly as possible and he tried, as hard as possible, not to think of being a young child and witnessing your father's death at the hands of your mother. His own father was just…dead. And it had been scary enough. Traumatic enough. But, Sara's situation…
He heard her sniff and she looked at him quickly and then looked away, "Bet you're glad you asked, huh?"
"I am."
"Why?"
"Because…I'm your friend. Or I want to be."
"You think I tell my friends everything?
"I assume…"
"No one knows about this. Not one person in my adult life knows about this. Except you. And, well, you wouldn't know about it either except…I think I really wanted you to. But, I didn't mean to get this emotional about it."
"Why wouldn't you? It was a horrible thing to happen, Sara. The worst."
"But it's long past. I am glad you know, though. Maybe…well, maybe you'll understand a few things about me and remember me without thinking that I was completely unreasonable in my reactions to everything."
"Remember you?"
"I'm fired, as I recall."
"No. I said Ecklie wanted me to fire you. I didn't say I would do it."
She frowned. "I don't want you to not to do your job because you pity me."
"I don't pity you. I am horrified by what you went through. I have nothing but admiration for how you handled it. But it has nothing to do with the decision I made the minute "Conrad" opened his mouth. That's business. You are too good to let go because of the bruised egos of people on power trips."
She narrowed her eyes and looked straight at him. He could tell the exact moment when she believed him.
"I don't want you to jeopardize your job."
"I won't," he said and looked at her again. His pretty Sara. His pretty, complex, more complex-than-he-ever-imagined, Sara.
Here lies madness, he thought. Not in her. In him. In his reaction to this woman.
"Well, I should get back to the lab. Now, in regards to this afternoon…" he got up and made his way to the door, with Sara following close behind. He turned to her. "Your temper? Don't lose it again. That's my official reprimand."
She smiled weakly and then turned her face away from him slightly. There was that telltale sheen in her eyes.
Friend. Be a friend. Not a boss. Not anything else. A friend.
He reached out and pulled her in his arms. He could feel the stiffness in her body. ''It's okay. It's okay," he muttered, one arm around her waist, holding her close, the other shifting to the back of her head, automatically stroking her hair.
It's okay. It's all okay. He knew now. And she knew he knew. And they'd be okay.
They'd be okay.
Their embrace lasted only a few moments but the warmth continued. And the jealousy ended.
He found himself looking forward to seeing her with Greg. There was a certain beauty in seeing her as a teacher, as a mentor. And besides, Greg didn't really know the Sara he knew. He didn't know just how strong and wonderful she was—outside of the lab. And he couldn't possibly feel the warmth that Grissom felt when he watched her smile—that full smile that seemed to be more and more genuine as time went on, and they resumed the friendship they had tentatively started all those years ago.
Yeah, Greg was no threat in any department.
He was just fine in Grissom's book.
XXXXX
Present Time
To: Gil Grissom
From: GSandersLVPD
Re: Your Nuptials
So, geez, Gris. I knew you were off to get The Girl, but you had to trek all the way to Central America? And then you couldn't take her back so I could cry at your wedding? Or be your flower boy?
Some friend you are.
I guess you're wondering why I'm addressing this to you and not the Mrs.
Well, I will write one to her, too. It might get sappy, though. Or not. I guess I haven't decided how truthful I want to be. Not yet, anyway.
But, well, I wanted to talk to you about some stuff I never would have the … uh, courage, to tell you in person.
I've always admired you as a boss. You know that, right? And there's your compliment.
But, I've really been angry with you over the past few years. On and off. I knew about you and Sara probably before you even did. Well, I knew how she felt. And I kind of knew how you felt. But, things were not always on course. And then, she left and…man, I was SO angry with you. I could have kicked you in the butt every time you walked down the hall. I just couldn't figure out how such a genius could be so clueless. Why you didn't go after her. I still don't know, exactly. But, hey, timing is important. And you can't rush true understanding—and I guess you finally came to the conclusion you were supposed to come to—in your own time. And since Sara said "I do," too, you probably succeeded.
Just…please don't do that again. She's a great girl and she deserves happiness.
And, on a personal level, I've become more impatient with age and don't know if I could restrain myself from that butt-kicking impulse any longer.
I miss you guys. It's not the same around here. Not at all. It's very hard to be a family and then—not.
I miss Sara's laughter, and your bad puns, and Warrick being all cool all over the place. And I miss the sense of belonging. Ray is a nice guy. He really is. But he's no Grissom. And Riley is no Sara and….well, you get the picture.
Anyway, I'm starting to veer off into another direction and get maudlin.
I wish you guys all the happiness in the world. I'll dedicate my book, if it ever gets published (and things aren't looking good at the moment—some folks think Vegas history is not relevant), to you both. To you for teaching me bizarre facts—which have made me a master Trivial Pursuit and Jeopardy player, and for showing me what NOT to do in a relationship, which I fully intend to use if I ever stop pulling doubles and meet a girl who is half the woman Sara is… And, speaking of Sara, I'd dedicate it to her…just for being herself. Which is a pretty darned nifty thing to be.
On second thought, (Third? Fourth?) I lost count. You can show her parts of this, if you want, or just send her my congratulations. She doesn't need some soupy love letter from an ardent fan and admirer. That's your job now!
Take care of yourselves.
Best regards (and, yes, love to you both),
Greggo
XXXXX
First, Greg's email made him smile.
Then it made him think.
He couldn't get the image of Greg's badly battered face out of his mind. Somehow, he wished Greg would "retire," too. Or go back to being a lab rat. He was a damned good lab rat. And he had more fun in his life.
Greg was a lot more like Grissom than either of them initially thought, even if Grissom had never worn a Carmen Miranda-worthy headdress and danced around the lab.
The young man had been so stoic, and so broken.
Grissom huffed out a laugh.
He was a lot like Sara, too. Both wanting to hold back their emotions to be more like Grissom; to earn his respect. Both seemingly unaware that they had earned that respect years before.
A vision of Sara came to him, too. One that came to him often. One that he always tried to "change." Her lying on her side, sun-burnt, bruised, cut, battered. Half-dead. He shuddered at the thought.
He had one more week. One more week to do what he should have done almost two years ago, now.
"Sara? Let's take a walk…"
XXXX
X
They left Hank in the hotel room. They would probably find a gift from him upon their return. The dog loved taking walks in this little slice of paradise, and didn't appreciate being left in the room, alone. Besides, if truth be told, he probably still had some separation anxiety issues every time he couldn't see Sara.
Grissom could definitely sympathize with him there.
No one was at the pool area. Funny, having a pool there when you could walk over to numerous waterfalls and natural sources of water. Still, this pool was well lit at night and lovely, if in a more artificial way.
They sat and dangled their feet in the water.
"Gil? This isn't exactly a mega-walk, you know," Sara said, with great amusement.
"I know. I wanted to talk…"
"Uh, oh," she said, and smiled slightly. "You aren't going to ask me for a divorce, are you?"
"No," he said, decisively. Then he stopped. How to broach the subject? "Uh…'to have a friend, you need to be a friend.'"
"Oh…kay. That doesn't sound the least bit like Shakespeare."
"It's not. I read it on a fortune cookie once."
"Ah. And the significance?"
"Greg wrote us a congratulatory email."
"Ah. It's about time. You noticed how these things are kind of coming in in dribs and drabs? I expected an influx, and then nothing. I guess we really threw them for a loop, huh?"
"I guess so. Or, maybe I wasn't a very good friend to any of them."
"How could you say that? You've been there for all of us, when we needed you."
"No, I haven't, Sara. I have been closed off and uncommunicative. I haven't shared my life and haven't always shared theirs. But I do appreciate your total faith in me."
She rolled her eyes and put her head on his shoulder for a moment. He put his arm around her shoulders in return and held her to him, briefly.
"Greg's email was … touching. I don't know that he meant it to be, but it was. And it brought to mind a time when I could have been a better friend to him than I was. And it reminded me of how similar he is, in some ways, to you. And to me."
"You're losing me, Gil."
"I should have asked him more about his experience with the Demetrius James case. I know I helped him in some ways, but he should have been able to speak to me about anything he was feeling. And I know he was holding a lot back. Just as I know, even now—you're holding back a lot about what happened to you in the desert."
She sighed loudly.
"It was a long time ago, now. All over," Sara said, and he could feel a certain stiffness in her body.
"Time doesn't matter. Our experiences stay with us—forever, sometimes. And, well, we're going home. It's been easy to put everything aside here. But it might not always be easy at home. For example, I—for one—would like to someday see everyone from the lab again. I won't, if it makes you uncomfortable. But I'd like for it to not make you uncomfortable. And, for that to happen, I think we need to air out a few things. And I thought this was as good a place as any to do that. Better than most, actually. It's so far away from the reality we've known."
Sara made some sort of negative sound. He wasn't sure how to categorize it, exactly.
To have a friend, you have to be a friend…
And you have to share.
"Let me go first. I think, maybe, you need to know what it was like for us, as well. For me, rather. And, if you want, you can tell me whatever you want to tell me. Or, you can say nothing," Grissom took a deep breath and remembered that horrible, horrible night. "I walked into my office and found the miniature. It was right there. And…I knew something was very different about this one. I remember my heart … you were under that car…"
Hank had to wait a long time before seeing Grissom and Sara again that evening.
And they didn't wait to be billed before paying for the rug in their room.
XXXXX
To: GSandersLVPD
From: GGrissom
Thank you, Greg. For your congratulatory email. For your good wishes. And, mostly, for being the kind of friend who, even when he's wanted to kick my behind, refrained from doing so—and from sending a love letter to my wife.
I appreciate your friendship, more than you know.
There will never be a "family' quite like ours.
~Gil
XXXXX
Greg signed off the computer with a smile. He looked around. Riley was arguing with Hodges, rather loudly. Langston was walking around with that kit on wheels. Brass was still around to snark. Nick was earning brownie points and Catherine—well, she was just doing her job.
Maybe they were all just doing their jobs, now.
He picked up the phone and heard a familiar voice.
"Hey, Lily. Want to go out for dinner tonight? I need to get a few more stories for my book. Yeah, well, it may be on the back burner now, but I figured if I took the stories I initially rejected for the book—the jucier ones—we may be in business again. Hey, great! Anywhere you want to go. I'll pick you up at 6. Thanks, doll."
He smirked. Catherine's mom loved those old-time endearments. And he loved her like a friend of an older co-worker. Nah, he really did love her. She told a mean story and was funny to boot.
Now, she was family. Still.
Maybe not the one he wanted but…
Things changed. And he'd have to soon, too.
He wanted that book published. He wanted to start over again, before it was too late.
Besides, he had a really kick-ass dedication to write.
The end of part 3
A/N: For some odd reason, even though I love Greg, this one was harder than the others.
Ah, well. Sorry it's taken so long. I've been working on transferring my own website and realized I never posted half my stories (or created art work for any of them). Took me awhile, but it should be ready in another day or so.
