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Fanfic: CSI - What She Knew

Title: What She Knew
Author: vegawriters
Pairing: Sara/Grissom with mentions of Lady Heather/Grissom
Rating: Teen – older teen.
Prompt: Drunken Ramblings; A Beach. (These will show up in later stories too)
Spoilers: Up through Pirates of the Third Reich
Disclaimer: The CSI’s mentioned herein do not belong to me and I make no money from them. Lady Heather and Zoë Kessler also do not belong to me and again I make no money. No copyright infringement is intended. Desrea Grissom, however, is a character that I created and she does belong to me, even if I make no money off of her.
A/N: 1) Part of the Sleeps with Butterflies universe 2) Initially posted to my geocities site. Original (1) For aussirayne who requested: 1. handcuffs, blue lace thong; 2. a beach, windchimes; 3. a pink ducky vibrator; 4. bath/shower; 5. drunken ramblings and long island iced teas; 6. a pregnancy test. I wasn’t able to use all of them, but these prompts did inspire a couple of storylines that will use the prompts I don’t use here. Thanks a lot. ;-) Ray, you’re another one of these friends who has come along just at the right time. Thank you for everything, luv. Happy Holidays! (even if it’s late)

Summary:Part of him felt slightly liberated to know that he was, in fact, just as much of an asshole as other men.</b>



There’s a devil in my head
An angel in my bed that’s getting colder
~Royal Bliss, Devils and Angels (After the Chaos II)


He paused outside the apartment door, knowing that despite the late hour (even after all these years it was still strange to think of noon as late) she wouldn’t be asleep and knowing that she had every right to be angry with him. If she refused to answer or even to let him in, he’d understand. After all, Grissom had never told Sara about Heather but he knew that she knew that their relationship had been more than professional.

He pressed his hand against her door, wondering if she knew he was out here. Would she understand he’d been comforting a friend last night or would she close the door in his face before he could explain that all he’d done was hold Heather while she cried. He’d held her and created a cocoon of safety and intimacy, but he hadn’t touched her as he once had.

He’d lost that right some time ago.

His fist curled into a ball to knock, even though the key to Sara’s place was there in his pocket. Before he could use it, he knew that he needed to reclaim the trust of coming as he willed through her door. He knew her insecurities and he’d ignored them – as he had all too often since the day they met. He’d come so far in his own fear, had found ways to open up, but this was a transgression in trust that he didn’t know if she would forgive.

He shook his head and readied his fist to knock again. He was being over dramatic. He and Sara had come through worse than this.

The door opened in front of him before his knuckles could ever connect to the wood.

“Gil, if you’re going to come in, do it. I don’t want the neighbors thinking you’re lurking.” She turned away from the door, giving him the option to step through or not.

The invitation was a cold one. She was angry. She was also drunk.

He stopped himself from asking what she’d had to drink, or how much. It was sure to touch off the fight neither of them wanted and that he was too tired to have. Sara was a big girl; she could do what she wanted in her off time.

Slowly he stepped across the threshold and shut the door behind him. The room was dim, the blackout curtains had been drawn against the noon sun, and some CD that he didn’t recognize was playing softly. The low volume struck him as odd given the angry music that came from the speakers. It was music that was meant to be loud, something to show off each and every ear-splitting guitar riff or the perfect rhythm of the bass. Yet, with the music low, other tones emerged and he could hear soft harmonies and a soothing melody. Any average listener would miss the complexities. At any other time he’d have taken Sara into his arms and laughed about the comparison he was suddenly making between heavy metal music and their relationship; how just the casual observer wouldn’t understand what they had together but if they stopped to pay attention, they would realize just how beautifully orchestrated they were. Today, though, Sara had already turned away from him, out of reach.

“How did you know I was out there?”

“I just did. It’s the same reason you don’t have to turn around.”

He winced as she threw his own words back at him. If they were supposed to know each other so well, why hadn’t he at least called her? Nothing had happened, but he’d felt the need to hide. “Sara—“

“No.” Her resigned tone didn’t let him continue. “I don’t want to know. God, I just can’t. Not right now. Maybe, someday, when I feel like fighting about it, we’ll fight about it, but right now I don’t want to hear anything that did or didn’t happen between the two of you.”

It was true. She could read him well enough to know where he’d been without him saying a word and he also could tell there was more at work than her being angry about his absence. “Sara?” He tried again, still not having moved from the foyer. “Honey, what is it?”

“If you really have to ask, then maybe you should go home and I’ll see you at work later.”

“Sara, we –“

She looked at him and he stopped, recognizing the expression. It was the one Heather had given him three years ago, the one Terri had graced him with when he’d answered that page at dinner, and the one Sofia had thrown at him when he’d kissed her.

“I told you that I didn’t want to talk about her or you or what you did or didn’t do.”

Grissom shuddered at the anger in her voice. It was anger laden with the memories of not just Heather Kessler, but also Sofia Curtis and Terri Miller. He’d held Sara to such a high standard, pushed her away when she’d ever dared to look at another man, but he’d been there, with those other, beautiful women, and she’d had to swallow her pride.

Part of him felt slightly liberated to know that he was, in fact, just as much of an asshole as other men.

“Sara …” He tried again, still not moving, still at a loss of how to say anything other than her name. He watched her walk to the couch, sit down, and tuck her knees up, looking far more scared than he’d ever seen her. In that moment, he realized that she thought it was over, that he was going to leave her for Heather.

Ten years ago, she’d looked just as scared and vulnerable, thinking that he would leave her because of the abuse heaped on her by another man. It had been a morning of laughter as they fed each other waffles but he’d known she was hiding something. Later, back in bed, when she’d allowed him to see the bruises, bruises given to her by another man, bruises given to her not out of an exploration of love and sexuality but out of control and anger, the fear in her eyes asked if she was still worthy – or if Dan was right and she was merely damaged goods. Grissom had raged inwardly while promising aloud to never hurt her.

But, he’d broken that promise more than once. Never once had his hand risen to her in anger, but he’d done far more damage than any physically abusive boyfriend ever had. He’d left her hanging on his choices, had taken any true control she had out of their relationship.

He’d taken her power from her.

The realization made him physically ill.

“For a man of such feeling, Gil, you sure know how to hurt the feelings of others.” Desrea’s words flashed before his eyes – words she’d signed at him on more than one occasion.

Slowly, he crossed the living room to sit opposite Sara. She pulled away when he reached for her, but he reached again, encircling her fine-boned wrist easily, and the struggle she put up was merely for show. “Sara.” He started again, not knowing what he was going to say, but needing to say something. Their lives together hinged on the next thirty-seconds and what they said to each other. “We didn’t –“

“No!” She looked at him and he saw the tears pooling in her eyes. “You don’t get that I don’t care! I know where you were and that’s fine.” She jerked her arm back and he let go before he hurt her unintentionally. “I don’t want to know if you did or didn’t do anything with her.”

“I should have told you a long time ago.”

“Told me what exactly? That you took one look at Lady Heather and fell in love? You don’t think I noticed when our relationship really began to change?” She reached for her drink but he stole it away. “Gil –“

“You’ve had enough, Sara.”

She glared at him but just put her arms on her knees. The wall was breaking down, but he wasn’t sure where to go – if she wanted that apology he’d planned while sitting downstairs in his car or if they needed to just move on. “I came home today, hoping you were here.” Her voice was soft. “I thought that after shift you had just come back and collapsed since my place is closer to work than yours. I got here and you weren’t here and I panicked. I had all these visions of something going wrong at the crime scene and I’m not your emergency contact yet so I’d have to find out from Brass or Catherine and so I cleaned. I scrubbed the bathroom and got the wax off the tub. I cleaned the toys. I changed my sheets – twice – because I decided I didn’t like the first set. I rubbed ointment onto the marks on my stomach from the other night, I changed my body jewelry, and I even spent time looking for a decent rate on that vacation to the beach we keep saying we’re going to take but we don’t because we’re both workaholics and if we took a vacation together the entire world would know our little secret. The fourth time I called your cell phone, I realized where you had to be. So, I just looked at vacation destinations and dreamed about going to Rome again, only this time with you. And then I started to clean my kitchen because the more I thought about going somewhere with you the more it hurt because I knew you weren’t asleep in the other room.”

She took a breath long enough for him to gather his thoughts but not long enough for him to start speaking.

“I was worried about you, Gil.” She glared at him. “And you never picked up the phone to call. Did you really think I’d care that much that you were with her? I trust you with my life and my heart and you don’t think I would have accepted that you felt you needed to be with her?” She paused, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Sara …” He kissed the inside of her wrist; that she didn’t pull away was points in his favor. But he couldn’t go beyond saying her name. If he did, it would start an actual fight because he was suddenly feeling defensive and that was the wrong place to be when she was so vulnerable. Vulnerability brought out the scared and angry Sara who would push away everyone just so she could feel safe.

They had so much in common.



“Come to bed.” Sara pulled away and stood up, wobbling slightly from the alcohol in her system. “Just … come to bed. I don’t want to fight with you and if I say anything else, I’ll only hurt you.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “And don’t sit there with your Catholic guilt thinking that you deserve to be hurt. Just … come to bed.”

He followed, relieved that she hadn’t sent him home. He’d wanted her to undress, he wanted to play with the rings that had been poking through the thin cotton of her camisole, but that was her call tonight and by the time he’d finished his own bedtime preparations, she’d pulled the covers up around her body and her breathing was making the move toward sleep.

Her body molded back against his when he dared to reach out and hold her close – proof that she’d forgiven him. In her state of near-sleep, she snuggled close as his hand slipped up under her top and his fingers brushed against her breasts. He lingered on the artwork he knew existed there, seeing the butterfly with the tattered wings in his mind’s eye. He wondered if she knew how perfectly that image described her. He wanted to roll her over and kiss her softly, and reassure her how much he loved her through his actions as he tugged her shirt from her body and slipped his fingers between her legs.

But she’d fallen asleep in his arms – exhaustion and alcohol taking over her senses – and he laughed softly, wondering if he should have just pushed her up against the wall when he came inside. Gently, he placed a kiss to her temple, moved the pillow so his arm had some support, and fell asleep right along with her.

This, at least, was safe. She wasn’t going anywhere, and he didn’t need to leave.

Continued in Human Gods

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
sandraha
Dec. 31st, 2010 04:46 am (UTC)
Ok, I think I'm reading these in the wrong order....
But still enjoying the hell out of them!

I love how Sara gets him, even drunk. And again, love how you are able to take these folks and give them so much MORE life than we are allowed to see on screen.

Perhaps we can petition the creators to allow you to write a sort of companion novel to go with each episode. Then you could get paid, we would be happy, and all would be right with the world!
vegawriters
Dec. 31st, 2010 04:55 am (UTC)
Re: Ok, I think I'm reading these in the wrong order....
The standalones really don't have an order, but the episodes they are related to are mentioned in the notes.

Perhaps we can petition the creators to allow you to write a sort of companion novel to go with each episode. Then you could get paid, we would be happy, and all would be right with the world!
your words to their ears. :)
moochiecat2009
Mar. 21st, 2011 05:57 pm (UTC)
What She Said...
was a very honest response to a very difficult situation. You had her insecurities and fears down pat. And Grissom's cluelessness was "spot on."
vegawriters
Oct. 30th, 2012 08:30 pm (UTC)
Re: What She Said...
I've been cleaning up old spammy comments and keep running across the comments you made and reading them makes me so happy. Thank you for taking so much time to read and comment. I hope you're still reading.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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