CSI REDUX
Title: CSI Redux
Chapter: Concern
Rating: Teen
Pairing: The only one worth mentioning- GSR!
Spoilers: Butterflied thru Down the Drain
Disclaimer: The usual. CSI is not mine.
Author’s Notes:
Summary: A secret past for Grissom and Sara and how that might have altered some of my favorite episodes.
October 1999
The sounds of hurried movement was slowly chipping away of the euphoria of a perfect sleep. The smell of her, of them lingered on the bed sheets, lulling him back even as the muted noise tugged at his consciousness. A frown creased his sleeping brow before he rubbed his face into his pillow, surrendering the idea of sleep with a gravelly moan.
The room fell silent momentarily and Grissom almost sighed, reveling in the thought of sleeping just a few more minutes.
“Hey.”
The soft whisper was accompanied by the familiar warmth that bloomed in his chest. He could try and deny it and readily did but there was something about a gentle whisper from Sara that could chase away the coldest melancholy. He had loved lying in bed with her, just listening as she spoke in hushed and sleepy tones.
But that had been another lifetime.
Realization slowly dawned on Grissom as he felt the mattress move. The night rushed back in erotic detail, his minding skipping along like a scratched record. He had come to Sara’s rescue, at least that was what he had tried to tell himself. The reality was, the moment he stepped off the elevator and saw Sara standing in the hallway in little more than her bed clothes, talking to another man…well, it took every ounce of his resolve not to go caveman on the situation. As it was, he had still staked his claim to Sara in no uncertain terms in front of the very disappointed Justin Parek.
Taking a deep breath, Grissom flipped over and scooted himself up into a sitting position against the padded headboard. “Hey,” he answered back, running his left hand through his hair while he pulled one knee up.
No point in displaying the morning wood. Grissom thought as he willed the blush that had begun at his neck to cease.
Sara’s smile grew just a little. As awkward as the morning after was, she couldn’t regret it. First, because she wasn’t a good enough liar to deny the fact that she had wanted to sleep with Grissom and secondly, because he was still adorable when he first woke up. Even with a twelve o’clock shadow and gray sprinkled into his messy hair, Grissom still resembled a small boy slowly waking to the world.
“I, umm, I have to go,” Sara explained. “Check in for my flight is in forty minutes and, well,” Sara stood up quickly. “You were right. The convention was great.”
Grissom nodded, pulling the sheet more fully to his waist. “Yeah, this one is generally a sure thing.”
Grissom’s blue eyes widened abruptly at his own words. “I mean, not that you, I mean last night,” Grissom stammered, horrified at the possibility Sara might think he had planned their little tryst. “The science, the science is always-“
“I get it,” Sara chuckled, not taking offense and unable to make him suffer his verbal faux pas any longer. “Look, last night, well, we are two adults and let’s just say we are entitled to some fun now and then, okay?”
Grissom was mildly stunned, his lower jaw dropping as if to say something. Instead all he did was nod and make a barely articulate noise that Sara construed as an agreement.
“Good,” she said slipping her purse strap over her shoulder. “No weirdness between us, okay?”
“Okay,” Grissom answered with a crooked smile, his confidence gaining as he realized Sara wasn’t going to let the previous night’s indiscretions wreck the friendship that they had rebuilt.
“I’d see you to the door but…” Grissom gestured to the sheet covering his lower half.
Sara’s brows rose, almost in challenge, before she smiled broadly. “Hmm, too bad,” she teased as she leaned down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you in a few days.”
Grissom, again nodded, relieved that Sara had placed the ball in her side of the court. She probably knows it’s better there then with me, Grissom thought, knowing his propensity to over think things and by way of totally screwing them up.
“Good,” he added, watching Sara pick up her dark blue, soft-sided suitcase.
There was a moment’s pause in Sara’s quickening movements, the hint of reluctance before she threw out a goodbye and headed for the hotel room door. Her exit was hidden from his view on the bed but Grissom could hear the door open and close and it was then that he felt the cool emptiness return to his chest once more. With a heavy sigh, Grissom tossed his legs over the side of the rumpled bed, no longer worried about the sheet as it slipped from his waist. Rubbing his bare chest with his hand, Grissom tried to find his mental center as he trudged to the bathroom and a cold shower.
October 2004
The Debbie Marlin case had pushed Grissom from his comfort zone far more than the threat of losing his hearing and possibly his career. The death of Sara’s doppelganger had pushed him to a dark place that had both frightened and intrigued him. That Vincent Lurie had been guilty of the young nurse’s murder, Grissom had no doubt but the similarities between Lurie and himself had been startling. It went beyond the older man with younger woman scenario, there were the strong emotions.
Love, maybe, jealousy, definitely, Grissom grudgingly related to but it was more than that. There was also the ever constant self-doubt and fear that if he did let Sara back in to his life, she would only realize that he was no longer the man she had married ten years ago. He had changed and Grissom was introspective enough to know it had not been for the better. He had erected so many walls and barriers, that even as he tried to slowly dismantle them, he still sometimes ran back to their cold comfort when things became to confusing for him.
Hiding behind walls had nearly cost him Sara, as a friend and colleague. Completely blinded, selfishly protected from the emotions he chose to hide from, Grissom had been completely unaware of Sara and her troubles. Only when he had received a call from a local patrolman had Grissom been knocked from his emotionless, cold tower. The first question issuing from his suddenly dry mouth was, “Is she alright?”
Grissom had driven Sara home from the police station that night. The drive had been silent but not completely uncomfortable. He had needed to think, to find a point in which to start but his mind seemed a giant jumble of doubts and concerns. So, for the first time in along time, Grissom had let instinct take over.
Taking her apartment key from her hand, Grissom had led a very silent Sara into her tiny apartment, ushering her with a single hand at her back to the small couch lining one wall. Sara lay down, watching as Grissom had found her tea stash before returning to the livingroom. Placing a hot mug on the coffee table in front of the couch, Grissom had sat on the edge of the couch; his elbows on his knees, his normally strong shoulders slumped.
“Sorry,” Sara had whispered, unshed tears making her voice hoarse.
“Me too,” Grissom had revealed with a wan smile.
He had failed her once again.
“Get some sleep,” he told her, his voice firmer, his smile less melancholy as he smoothed her hair from her face. “It’s all taken care of.”
With that he had left her, vowing to be more vigilant. The next night he had paired Sara with himself on a school burglary case that had been relatively easy. They didn’t speak of the night before but they worked well together, like they always did.
Now as he watched her processing the door from the Durbin residence, Grissom reminded himself that life wasn’t always about being safe but keeping those you care about safe.
Sara sensed him nearby, a tiny smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. She knew she had been ratted out. Probably, Jim, Sara surmised. The police captain had taken on the roll of silent protector, often filling Grissom in on Sara’s less safety conscious actions.
“So what were you trying to prove with this door?” Grissom asked, entering the room and giving the portal in question a dirty look.
“I was just collecting evidence.” Sara picked up a new swab and continued to process the door.
Grissom put his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, fisting them in an attempt to control his building irritation. He didn’t like it when any of his people were placed in danger, especially at their own hand.
“Well, Greg couldn’t pull DNA from the bones, so there is nothing to connect the victim to this anyway,” Grissom explained, indicating the door with his right elbow.
“Not yet,” Sara said optimistically, taking the next swab and gathering a small blood sample. He was worried about her, Sara could tell and for some reason it pleased her even if it was unwarranted in her mind. “I don’t have a death wish and I’m not a drunk. In case you were worried.”
Grissom didn’t catch the little smirk that dance at her lips.
“I’m not worried,” he said, unwilling to concede everything. “I’m concerned.”
Sara’s smirk grew into a smile, her eyes still focused on the door as Grissom returned to his nasty looking experiment. “Isn’t that kind of the same thing?”
Probably, Grissom thought petulantly, thinking much as a ten year old boy would.
Deciding to ignore the question, Grissom, pulled the white plastic lid from his experiment, the hot stink quickly permeating the room.
“Oh.” Sara flinched but did not flee.
Grissom turned to look at her a devilish gleam in his eyes as he removed the fetal pig from it’s pseudo-sewer condition. Yes, you can always count on smelly emissions and bodily fluids to bring a conversation to a close, Grissom thought gleefully, having begun to fear Sara’s doggedness would lead to him revealing far more than he was prepared to do.
It had been easier to build his emotional fortress than to dismantle it. Although, he was willing to do it, Grissom realized it would take longer than he had hoped. Much like the fluidity involved in a battle, there was the occasional retreat that accompanied a charge. This was a retreat.
But at least it is only a half measure, Grissom thought, not really patting himself on the back but not prepared to skewer himself either.
Standing from her stool, Sara collected her evidence and labeled it.
“Well as much as I like a good science experiment,” Sara began as she walked past the severely decomposed pig. “I need to catalog this evidence and have Greg put it in CODIS.”
Grissom tried to hide the grin easy on to his face. “Fleeing, Miss Sidle?”
Sara halted at the door, almost taking the bait. “No, Dr. Grissom,” she answered, a playful grin barely hidden on her face. “A tactical retreat for the moment.”
And with that Sara left the malodorous lab. Grissom allowed the grin on his face to grow, only causing Greg Sanders to shake his head in confusion when he passed by the lab and caught a whiff of Grissom’s experiment.
“Man, that guy loves his work,” Greg muttered with a shake of his head, deciding to get as far away from the experiment as possible.
Chapter: Concern
Rating: Teen
Pairing: The only one worth mentioning- GSR!
Spoilers: Butterflied thru Down the Drain
Disclaimer: The usual. CSI is not mine.
Author’s Notes:
Summary: A secret past for Grissom and Sara and how that might have altered some of my favorite episodes.
October 1999
The sounds of hurried movement was slowly chipping away of the euphoria of a perfect sleep. The smell of her, of them lingered on the bed sheets, lulling him back even as the muted noise tugged at his consciousness. A frown creased his sleeping brow before he rubbed his face into his pillow, surrendering the idea of sleep with a gravelly moan.
The room fell silent momentarily and Grissom almost sighed, reveling in the thought of sleeping just a few more minutes.
“Hey.”
The soft whisper was accompanied by the familiar warmth that bloomed in his chest. He could try and deny it and readily did but there was something about a gentle whisper from Sara that could chase away the coldest melancholy. He had loved lying in bed with her, just listening as she spoke in hushed and sleepy tones.
But that had been another lifetime.
Realization slowly dawned on Grissom as he felt the mattress move. The night rushed back in erotic detail, his minding skipping along like a scratched record. He had come to Sara’s rescue, at least that was what he had tried to tell himself. The reality was, the moment he stepped off the elevator and saw Sara standing in the hallway in little more than her bed clothes, talking to another man…well, it took every ounce of his resolve not to go caveman on the situation. As it was, he had still staked his claim to Sara in no uncertain terms in front of the very disappointed Justin Parek.
Taking a deep breath, Grissom flipped over and scooted himself up into a sitting position against the padded headboard. “Hey,” he answered back, running his left hand through his hair while he pulled one knee up.
No point in displaying the morning wood. Grissom thought as he willed the blush that had begun at his neck to cease.
Sara’s smile grew just a little. As awkward as the morning after was, she couldn’t regret it. First, because she wasn’t a good enough liar to deny the fact that she had wanted to sleep with Grissom and secondly, because he was still adorable when he first woke up. Even with a twelve o’clock shadow and gray sprinkled into his messy hair, Grissom still resembled a small boy slowly waking to the world.
“I, umm, I have to go,” Sara explained. “Check in for my flight is in forty minutes and, well,” Sara stood up quickly. “You were right. The convention was great.”
Grissom nodded, pulling the sheet more fully to his waist. “Yeah, this one is generally a sure thing.”
Grissom’s blue eyes widened abruptly at his own words. “I mean, not that you, I mean last night,” Grissom stammered, horrified at the possibility Sara might think he had planned their little tryst. “The science, the science is always-“
“I get it,” Sara chuckled, not taking offense and unable to make him suffer his verbal faux pas any longer. “Look, last night, well, we are two adults and let’s just say we are entitled to some fun now and then, okay?”
Grissom was mildly stunned, his lower jaw dropping as if to say something. Instead all he did was nod and make a barely articulate noise that Sara construed as an agreement.
“Good,” she said slipping her purse strap over her shoulder. “No weirdness between us, okay?”
“Okay,” Grissom answered with a crooked smile, his confidence gaining as he realized Sara wasn’t going to let the previous night’s indiscretions wreck the friendship that they had rebuilt.
“I’d see you to the door but…” Grissom gestured to the sheet covering his lower half.
Sara’s brows rose, almost in challenge, before she smiled broadly. “Hmm, too bad,” she teased as she leaned down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you in a few days.”
Grissom, again nodded, relieved that Sara had placed the ball in her side of the court. She probably knows it’s better there then with me, Grissom thought, knowing his propensity to over think things and by way of totally screwing them up.
“Good,” he added, watching Sara pick up her dark blue, soft-sided suitcase.
There was a moment’s pause in Sara’s quickening movements, the hint of reluctance before she threw out a goodbye and headed for the hotel room door. Her exit was hidden from his view on the bed but Grissom could hear the door open and close and it was then that he felt the cool emptiness return to his chest once more. With a heavy sigh, Grissom tossed his legs over the side of the rumpled bed, no longer worried about the sheet as it slipped from his waist. Rubbing his bare chest with his hand, Grissom tried to find his mental center as he trudged to the bathroom and a cold shower.
October 2004
The Debbie Marlin case had pushed Grissom from his comfort zone far more than the threat of losing his hearing and possibly his career. The death of Sara’s doppelganger had pushed him to a dark place that had both frightened and intrigued him. That Vincent Lurie had been guilty of the young nurse’s murder, Grissom had no doubt but the similarities between Lurie and himself had been startling. It went beyond the older man with younger woman scenario, there were the strong emotions.
Love, maybe, jealousy, definitely, Grissom grudgingly related to but it was more than that. There was also the ever constant self-doubt and fear that if he did let Sara back in to his life, she would only realize that he was no longer the man she had married ten years ago. He had changed and Grissom was introspective enough to know it had not been for the better. He had erected so many walls and barriers, that even as he tried to slowly dismantle them, he still sometimes ran back to their cold comfort when things became to confusing for him.
Hiding behind walls had nearly cost him Sara, as a friend and colleague. Completely blinded, selfishly protected from the emotions he chose to hide from, Grissom had been completely unaware of Sara and her troubles. Only when he had received a call from a local patrolman had Grissom been knocked from his emotionless, cold tower. The first question issuing from his suddenly dry mouth was, “Is she alright?”
Grissom had driven Sara home from the police station that night. The drive had been silent but not completely uncomfortable. He had needed to think, to find a point in which to start but his mind seemed a giant jumble of doubts and concerns. So, for the first time in along time, Grissom had let instinct take over.
Taking her apartment key from her hand, Grissom had led a very silent Sara into her tiny apartment, ushering her with a single hand at her back to the small couch lining one wall. Sara lay down, watching as Grissom had found her tea stash before returning to the livingroom. Placing a hot mug on the coffee table in front of the couch, Grissom had sat on the edge of the couch; his elbows on his knees, his normally strong shoulders slumped.
“Sorry,” Sara had whispered, unshed tears making her voice hoarse.
“Me too,” Grissom had revealed with a wan smile.
He had failed her once again.
“Get some sleep,” he told her, his voice firmer, his smile less melancholy as he smoothed her hair from her face. “It’s all taken care of.”
With that he had left her, vowing to be more vigilant. The next night he had paired Sara with himself on a school burglary case that had been relatively easy. They didn’t speak of the night before but they worked well together, like they always did.
Now as he watched her processing the door from the Durbin residence, Grissom reminded himself that life wasn’t always about being safe but keeping those you care about safe.
Sara sensed him nearby, a tiny smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. She knew she had been ratted out. Probably, Jim, Sara surmised. The police captain had taken on the roll of silent protector, often filling Grissom in on Sara’s less safety conscious actions.
“So what were you trying to prove with this door?” Grissom asked, entering the room and giving the portal in question a dirty look.
“I was just collecting evidence.” Sara picked up a new swab and continued to process the door.
Grissom put his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, fisting them in an attempt to control his building irritation. He didn’t like it when any of his people were placed in danger, especially at their own hand.
“Well, Greg couldn’t pull DNA from the bones, so there is nothing to connect the victim to this anyway,” Grissom explained, indicating the door with his right elbow.
“Not yet,” Sara said optimistically, taking the next swab and gathering a small blood sample. He was worried about her, Sara could tell and for some reason it pleased her even if it was unwarranted in her mind. “I don’t have a death wish and I’m not a drunk. In case you were worried.”
Grissom didn’t catch the little smirk that dance at her lips.
“I’m not worried,” he said, unwilling to concede everything. “I’m concerned.”
Sara’s smirk grew into a smile, her eyes still focused on the door as Grissom returned to his nasty looking experiment. “Isn’t that kind of the same thing?”
Probably, Grissom thought petulantly, thinking much as a ten year old boy would.
Deciding to ignore the question, Grissom, pulled the white plastic lid from his experiment, the hot stink quickly permeating the room.
“Oh.” Sara flinched but did not flee.
Grissom turned to look at her a devilish gleam in his eyes as he removed the fetal pig from it’s pseudo-sewer condition. Yes, you can always count on smelly emissions and bodily fluids to bring a conversation to a close, Grissom thought gleefully, having begun to fear Sara’s doggedness would lead to him revealing far more than he was prepared to do.
It had been easier to build his emotional fortress than to dismantle it. Although, he was willing to do it, Grissom realized it would take longer than he had hoped. Much like the fluidity involved in a battle, there was the occasional retreat that accompanied a charge. This was a retreat.
But at least it is only a half measure, Grissom thought, not really patting himself on the back but not prepared to skewer himself either.
Standing from her stool, Sara collected her evidence and labeled it.
“Well as much as I like a good science experiment,” Sara began as she walked past the severely decomposed pig. “I need to catalog this evidence and have Greg put it in CODIS.”
Grissom tried to hide the grin easy on to his face. “Fleeing, Miss Sidle?”
Sara halted at the door, almost taking the bait. “No, Dr. Grissom,” she answered, a playful grin barely hidden on her face. “A tactical retreat for the moment.”
And with that Sara left the malodorous lab. Grissom allowed the grin on his face to grow, only causing Greg Sanders to shake his head in confusion when he passed by the lab and caught a whiff of Grissom’s experiment.
“Man, that guy loves his work,” Greg muttered with a shake of his head, deciding to get as far away from the experiment as possible.