Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Category: General/Romance
Archive: FF.net and here. Anywhere else ask first, I might say yes.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Please don't sue me.
Summary: Remember Holly Gribbs? Sara and Grissom do.
Sara sat on the grass with her back resting against the tombstone. She leaned her head on it, closing her eyes in an almost meditative fashion. She could focus here, in these early morning hours
after work. All was quiet and still. Almost half an hour had passed when she heard footsteps in the otherwise silent cemetery. Feet shuffling purposely across perfectly trimmed grass. Someone
visiting another grave, she thought. She could feel that other person's presence, another living person among all the silent souls beneath her. She pondered the inherent connection with the stranger
walking nearby, the primitive connection of life. She could hear the rustling of plastic. Flowers, she thought. Flowers from a florist wrapped in crisp plastic. The presence came closer, and then
closer still. Sara's heart rate increased as she realized the person was standing directly behind her, visiting the grave she was coincidentally hiding behind. She turned around gradually, and her
eyes peered over the tombstone. She was immediately jolted out of her relaxed private moment.
It was Grissom, standing there with a bouquet of wild flowers. A look of utter shock adorned his face as he stared back at her.
"What are you doing here?" he asked immediately. He was curt, almost angry. She did not stand up.
"What are you doing here?" she tossed back, just as confused. They stared at each other a moment as if they were strangers, meeting for the first time in this cemetery. They had never seen each other
like this in a cemetery, among silent gravestones. They dealt with death everyday, but this one-the one that brought them together again, remained a sort of mystery to them. They had never formally
visited the final resting place together. Until now.
Grissom squinted at her, perhaps deliberating whether to answer her, whether to talk to her at all. He tipped the bouquet towards the grave. "I'm bringing her flowers," he explained logically. His
voice quietly trailed off with a hint of sadness.
That was surprising. Sara didn't quite know how to respond. She just couldn't picture Gil Grissom, the esteemed forensic entomologist and renowned criminalist, following a death through to the grave.
He didn't seem like the type of man to grieve for someone, even if Holly was a former employee.
"Really?" she asked, staring at the flowers, deep in thought. It was sweet actually, but of no use. She was dead. I bet she would have liked flowers when she was alive, Sara thought. "Huh," she
added, nodding blankly.
"Are you ok?" he asked, finding her languidness disturbing. It was not like Sara to be so dazed. Before she responded he continued, "What are you doing here?"
"Oh." She turned away from him, resuming her previous position up against the grave. After inhaling deeply, she offered, "I come here sometimes."
He walked around the grave to her side, suddenly interested in this bit of private information she divulged.
"You do?"
She nodded her response. Grissom stood only a few feet away from Sara. He looked up and around the cemetery. They were the only ones there. It was truly a serene morning; he could actually hear birds
over the occasional sounds of distant traffic on the main road. This time of day in Las Vegas was perfect really; the sun brightened the day beautifully without yet overheating it. He looked back at
Sara, sitting there with her knees bent.
He could just put the flowers down and leave. That's what he usually did. But then again, usually there was no reason to stay. He wasn't a big believer in ‘talking to the dead'. He had made his
peace with Holly's death a long time ago. The past few months, it wasn't really Holly that brought him here. Ironically enough, it was Sara. When he would find himself unusually flustered, or when
she would inevitably start to get to him, his thoughts would wander as to why Sara was in his life to begin with. That, in turn, would make him think of Holly, and he would end up here with flowers.
How odd to find Sara sitting here, in the flesh, at the same time. If he was a man inclined to believe in Fate, this would certainly be a whopper of a sign, if he were that kind of a man.
Grissom stepped back over to the front of Holly's grave. He read the etching again, for the hundredth time, and bowed to place the flowers on the ground. Sara didn't move. He wondered why Sara came
here, and why she would come on more than one occasion. Before he could stop them, his thoughts converted to words. "Why do you come here?" he asked casually.
Unsure how to answer him, Sara shrugged evasively. It would be difficult to explain to Grissom that he was often the reason she came here. Lately she found herself evaluating and reevaluating her
personal and professional life, both with regard to Grissom. Turning herself more toward him, she looked at his face, searching for some signal whether to lurch into this matter. She certainly had
his undivided attention. "I don't know," she began, choosing to stare out across the cemetery. "I like it here." Sara turned back to Grissom, who had now moved back over to her side of the tombstone.
He seemed enthralled. "I never knew Holly, yet she indirectly influenced my life so much," Sara explained. Grissom unconsciously nodded, studying the grass that surrounded them. "I come here when I
start to wonder why I'm living here in Vegas, why I'm working here, why I do what I do." Grissom's eyes flew from the grass to Sara's face. Was she thinking of leaving? Was she unhappy here? Was she
unhappy with her job? Sara continued, "It helps me put things in perspective-makes me shut up and just be thankful I'm anywhere doing anything." Grissom considered the pros and cons of delving into
this theme with Sara. Inevitably, they would end up discussing their relationship. He shook his head slightly, realizing he could have just put down the flowers and left her here. He could have just
left. He still could. He looked back at his car, off in the distance, calling to him. It seemed so far away to him now. He hadn't remembered parking that far away.
Sara suddenly continued, "Sometimes I want to... I don't know... connect with her, somehow. I know that's stupid." She rolled her eyes. "I didn't know her." Her voice softened a bit, illustrating her
frustration.
Grissom decided against making a quick getaway to his car. Instead, he replied, "I didn't know her that well either." He moved another step closer to Sara, almost unconsciously. What was he doing?
This would only end badly. What happened to the ‘avoid Sara at all costs' theory? Where was his plan for absolutely no emotional exchanges? He convinced himself this was safe; they were just
talking about Holly. "She was only twenty-six," he added somberly, knowing he was in for a long and emotionally draining conversation with Sara.
Sara muttered, "hmmm," before glancing up at him again.
Grissom continued thoughtfully, "I've wasted a lot of time wondering why I'm still here and she's the one that's gone."
Sara began to see Grissom in a new light. He did actually grieve for people. He did have the capacity to suffer human emotions. Sara had always suspected as much, but it was nice to have her
suspicions confirmed. She tried to imagine him mourning Holly, how upset he must have been by her untimely death. She actually felt sorry for him for a moment.
"I don't know, Grissom. I'm a big believer in the idea that when we leave, we're done, you know?" Grissom seemed puzzled, so she explained further. "Whatever it was Holly was supposed to accomplish,
she accomplished. Maybe she didn't even know it. We're still here because... we're just not done yet." Sara stared at the grave across the way. Shrugging slightly she added, "There's something more
for us to." She stopped, realizing what he may infer from her words. She didn't mean to insinuate about their relationship, it just came out like that.
The birds sang out, noisily adding to the awkward silence. Even the far-away traffic seemed to dissipate for the grand, uncomfortable moment. Sara leaned her head back and closed her eyes,
unintentionally sighing in frustration. Maybe if she wished hard enough he would just disappear. Maybe this whole thing would just disappear. Then, he said it. His voice was almost a whisper.
"I know."
The two words seemed to drip with meaning, such a small yet daring concession. On the outside it may have been a hushed, ‘I know," but on the inside it was, ‘I KNOW, SARA. I AM AWARE OF
US. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH IT, BUT YES, I KNOW!'
Sara was quiet for a long time. She felt stuck, similar to how you feel when you're locked into the amusement park ride just before it takes off. She was belted in to that ride, and it was about to
move.
"Do you want to be alone?" he asked timidly, no doubt hoping for an out. She laughed internally at the thought. Alone. Very funny Grissom.
"Not really."
Taking a bold step, Grissom sunk down to the ground beside Sara, sitting closer than necessary, but not quite touching her. He seemed to replicate her exact position against the grave. "What else is
on your mind?" he asked pointedly. His words seemed to unlock the forbidden topic of conversation. He was allowing her to proceed-to delve into the emotional mess that was between them.
It was at that moment that Sara realized they weren't just having a conversation. They were about to have THE conversation. She quietly proceeded to memorize the moment. Grissom was wearing his thin
black jacket, a grey checked polo shirt, black pants, and no glasses. She had on a tan button down top, her least comfortable pair of jeans, brown ankle boots, and the only pair of earrings she
owned. It was a Tuesday morning. The sun was shining; she estimated the temperature at sixty-six degrees. Sara could sense the moment's impending significance.
"Well," she breathed out, not quite certain whether to proceed. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," she said, her conviction strengthening. "And I can't seem to come up with a reason in the world
why we shouldn't be sleeping together."
Grissom tried to hide his shock by maintaining a vacant expression, but his brooding silence gave him away. Nobody could stun him like Sara. She was relentless, and it suddenly became clear to him
that she was never going to let this go. He just wanted to drop flowers on a grave. Why in the world was she here? Why couldn't he make this go away? Some miniscule part of him knew she deserved
answers. Even if they weren't the ones she wanted to hear. But then, where were his answers? What about what he wanted? Did it matter what he wanted?
Grissom's thoughts stopped abruptly when Sara turned and looked at him, expecting a response.
"You're going to make me have this conversation, aren't you?" he muttered through a sigh.
"I think it's obvious that I can't make you do anything," she replied, much less snidely than she could have.
Grissom studiously avoided her eyes, staring out in front of them at nothing in particular. "What do you need to know from me, Sara? Do you need to hear that I'm interested?" Thoroughly stunned by
his honesty, Sara hadn't seen it coming. She felt oddly unprepared for this discussion, even after her significant confession. Grissom continued his gentle rambling. "How could I not be? You're
beautiful. You're intelligent. You're... all that and... " he calmed himself down for a moment. As an apparent aside he asked her, "How does that saying go?"
After thinking a moment, Sara replied doubtfully, "All that and a bag of chips?"
"Yes," he nodded. "There's some slang I'll never understand. I mean, that just sounds ridiculous." Sara just wrinkled her face at him. What the hell was he talking about?
Grissom shrugged. "You're a serious bag of chips," he added, expressionless.
Nothing in the world could stop her from laughing at that moment. "What are you talking about?"
He smiled himself, replying honestly, "I have no idea." The goofy grin fell from his face, leaving a somber expression in its wake. "Sara, my point is it doesn't matter. It doesn't make any
difference what I think, or what I want. Nothing can happen between us. I know that, and you know that."
God, somehow he made her feel good about herself while enraging her at the same time. Sara pondered briefly how he managed to do that. Before she drew any conclusions, Grissom was talking again.
"Supervisors face immediate termination for fraternizing with subordinates. The handbook isn't as clear about the consequences for the employee, but it's likely as severe." He all of a sudden sounded
quite hopeless. They sat a while in silence, both of their minds in overdrive. Sara had read the appropriate section of the handbook dozens of times. There was one line that frequently stuck out in
her mind.
"Have you ever actually read the handbook?" she asked.
"Of course I have."
"So you know it says during work. What do you make of that?"
"What?" Grissom asked, visibly confused.
"It says management is prohibited from fraternizing with subordinate staff during working hours," she quoted. She rolled her head against the grave, and continued lazily, "Blah blah blah,
termination will ensue. Why do you think they would say that-during working hours?"
No way. There was no way that he missed that. She had to be wrong about that. Then again, it had been several months since he last looked at the offending line.
"Does it really?" Grissom asked pensively.
"Uh huh," Sara confirmed.
Grissom appeared deep in thought. "Obviously they mean outside of work as well. I mean," he paused, thinking it through carefully. "It makes no sense. You don't fraternize with anybody during
working hours, so why would it say that?"
"I'm just telling you what it says. Trust me, I've read it enough times," she admitted quietly. "Not that it would ever come to it, but legally, I don't see how they have a leg to stand on, unless of
course you decided one day to throw me down in the middle of the lab."
Grissom ignored her comment and thought seriously for a moment about the words ‘during work'. The flawed language might save them from losing their jobs, but it wasn't just an issue of them
being fired. There was the whole working environment to take into account. There were other employees to consider. Although, Grissom reasoned, a complicated work environment was a lot different than
being fired. A complicated work environment could be handled, managed, and even manipulated. It would take some effort, but it was possible to make sure the others' feelings were respected. Grissom
believed both he and Sara were close enough with the other staff that they could make it clear that any relationship on their part would not lead to any special treatment. As poor as they both were
at people skills, maybe it would be worth it to try.
"There's a lot of politics involved in our profession," Grissom began, still mentally mapping out the details of the situation. He stopped talking, but Sara could tell he wasn't finished. Eventually
he muttered, "Even if we couldn't be fired, it would still be very difficult, Sara. Is this really something you want to undertake?" Only the slightest hint of excitement could be heard in his
voice.
"Have you ever been in a relationship that was easy?" Sara asked. She paused briefly, acknowledging Grissom's silence. "Me neither."
Both Grissom and Sara turned to watch a car meander slowly down the narrow cemetery road. Sara tensed at the thought of strangers interrupting this historic moment between them. Fortunately, the car
continued on to the other side of the cemetery. When it was out of sight, Sara breathed an audible sigh of relief.
"So," she uttered awkwardly.
"Hmm."
"What do we do now?" Sara asked, suddenly unsure of what had been decided.
"I liked your idea," Grissom responded with unexpected joviality.
"What was my idea?" Sara asked, not certain to what he was referring.
"Oh, I don't know. You mentioned something about us sleeping together," he replied casually, shrugging a shoulder slightly.
Unable to hide her embarrassment, Sara's face reddened instantly. "I didn't mean we should start out sleeping together!" Grissom smirked at her, appearing oddly relaxed. "Maybe we could work
our way there. I think I mentioned dinner once, too," she answered coolly.
Grissom mocked her dramatically, "Oh sure, Sidle. You're a big talker when you're safe behind a fraternization policy, but when."
Before he could finish, Sara lunged at him, planting her lips squarely on his and effectively silencing him. Sara was surprised how enthusiastically Grissom returned her kiss, and they easily plunged
in to the motions accustomed by lovers. After several minutes, they parted slowly, trying to read the other's reaction. Bothered by the silence, Sara blurted, "What?"
Grissom turned his face from her, looking around them. "You just kissed me in the middle of a cemetery."
Sara nodded, unable to conceal her elation. Grissom leaned his head back against the grave, wrinkled his brow and stared at the sky. "I'm trying to decide if that's repugnant or eerily
appropriate."
Sara raised her eyebrows, questioning the appropriateness of the move herself. She stood up quickly, exhaling as she did. She reached out a hand to him. He gripped it, pulled himself up, and stood
facing her. Sara leaned over the grave, glancing at the flowers he had placed there. "Maybe Holly just got around to accomplishing what she was supposed to accomplish."
Grissom rolled his eyes at her, and began walking away slowly. He shook his head and mumbled something under his breath that Sara couldn't hear. She practically skipped to catch up to him, touching
his arm lightly. "What did you say?" she asked, a huge smile beaming from her face.
Still walking toward his car, Grissom smiled at her and muttered, "I said maybe." He put his hand on the back of Sara's neck, guiding her closer to him as they walked leisurely away from the
grave.
- The End -