A.N. Okay, here we go again. G/S
Spoilers: TAIE and back by the looks of it.
Disclaimer: CBS still owns CSI, though with the amount of time I've been spending at sinceimetyou.com I'm beginning to think CBS people are losing their grip on some of the characters.
* * * * * * *
End of shift. He hated that. Whether or not the case had been solved was immaterial. Work was over. All that was left for him today was to go home. Alone. Where the television and stereo blared and he could hardly hear them.
Here there was always something for him to listen to. Greg's music from the lab, Warrick and Nick's banter, Catherine's stories, Sara.
He could read their lips much better now, because of the courses he was taking, but in order to read lips, there have to be lips around to read. At home, there was no one but him.
Silence had always been special for him. Something he shared with his mother. The way Catherine shared things with her daughter. But now he was beginning to fear the silence. There were so many things he wanted to hear, and he didn't know how much time he would have left.
He left the locker room, saying good bye to his team. He was so proud of them. He wondered if he would hear himself tell them that when he left for good. He had once told Warrick there wouldn't be cake in the break room when he left; he'd always hated hoopla. But he realized he owed them that now.
He owed it to her. He couldn't just leave her with no explanation. But he wasn't leaving until they kicked him out the front door. He loved this place too much. He loved what was in it.
Who was he kidding. He loved who was in it. All of them. Even Ecklie. Especially Sara. Especially Sara.
He opened the door of his Tahoe, and was about to get in when he faintly heard a shout behind him. He turned and saw her walk across the parking lot. He hadn't said good bye to her, she'd been in the lab when he left. He waited for her to cross the parking lot, waited until she was close enough for him to read her lips.
Reading Sara's lips was always distracting. It distressed him that the one way he had of communicating with her always made his heart race, and his mind lose track of the subject at hand. She was asking him if he wanted to go for breakfast, or dinner, or whatever the meal was called. She was tired, and she wasn't enunciating properly, but he could understand the gist of what she was asking him.
He felt his own lips move as he volunteered to drive to the coffee shop. He knew what his own voice sounded like, and he knew she heard him. She smiled, and walked around to the passenger side.
Coffee was truly a gift to the nightshift worker. He wondered how he had ever survived without it. Sara was talking to him, and he tried to pay attention to her, but her mouth was so beautiful, that he couldn't concentrate.
He was so lost in her face that he didn't see her hands at first. Then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he looked down as her elegant fingers wove through the air in front of her.
"I know about your hearing." It was amazing how beautiful the worst things looked in sign language. "I just wanted you to know that I'll stand by you whatever happens."
"I know" he spoke aloud.
Her fingers continued their dance, " How long have you known you have.." She paused and then laughed, drawing his attention back to her mouth. She spoke out loud "Gris, I can't spell otosclerosis."
They laughed together, it's amazing how the trivial things suddenly become so important, especially when they were funny.
Sara took a sip of her coffee, and then began again. He discovered he was having as much trouble focusing on her hands as he did on her lips. What was it about this woman?
"When are you planning to tell the others."
"Tomorrow" again, he spoke out loud even with his mouth full. He knew that she could see in his eyes that it was a snap decision. She smiled at him, and he spoke again, "Do you want to come over and.. Play monopoly" what was he thinking?
But that smile came back, broader ever. "Sure" her fingers told him. "I'd love to."
Hours later, when Sara owned everything from New York to Broadway and he was starting to become seriously poor, he asked a question that had been floating around in his head since much earlier that evening.
"How did you learn sign language?"
"I noticed that you were having hearing trouble." She spoke out loud, and he was grateful; he loved that voice. "then, after that whole mess with that idiot movie star, Gerard told me to learn ASL. He was gloating when he told me, but I already knew. A few nights of my patented Sidle insomnia, and here I am."
"I think I forfeit." He said looking down at his pitiful accumulation of money. Sara smiled like a child who has been given a new toy and he raised his eyebrow at her.
"Well, it isn't everyday someone beats Gil Grissom." Her fingers explained.
"Sara stop showing off and talk to me. You'll have plenty of time to sign after." he couldn't continue.
Her face immediately softened. God, but she was so beautiful.
"What do you want me to say?" She asked, voice as soft as her face.
"Nothing." He looked at her, and smiled.
* * * * * * *
A.N. This has been on the back burner for weeks now, so I thought I'd finish it. R&R please.
Spoilers: TAIE and back by the looks of it.
Disclaimer: CBS still owns CSI, though with the amount of time I've been spending at sinceimetyou.com I'm beginning to think CBS people are losing their grip on some of the characters.
* * * * * * *
End of shift. He hated that. Whether or not the case had been solved was immaterial. Work was over. All that was left for him today was to go home. Alone. Where the television and stereo blared and he could hardly hear them.
Here there was always something for him to listen to. Greg's music from the lab, Warrick and Nick's banter, Catherine's stories, Sara.
He could read their lips much better now, because of the courses he was taking, but in order to read lips, there have to be lips around to read. At home, there was no one but him.
Silence had always been special for him. Something he shared with his mother. The way Catherine shared things with her daughter. But now he was beginning to fear the silence. There were so many things he wanted to hear, and he didn't know how much time he would have left.
He left the locker room, saying good bye to his team. He was so proud of them. He wondered if he would hear himself tell them that when he left for good. He had once told Warrick there wouldn't be cake in the break room when he left; he'd always hated hoopla. But he realized he owed them that now.
He owed it to her. He couldn't just leave her with no explanation. But he wasn't leaving until they kicked him out the front door. He loved this place too much. He loved what was in it.
Who was he kidding. He loved who was in it. All of them. Even Ecklie. Especially Sara. Especially Sara.
He opened the door of his Tahoe, and was about to get in when he faintly heard a shout behind him. He turned and saw her walk across the parking lot. He hadn't said good bye to her, she'd been in the lab when he left. He waited for her to cross the parking lot, waited until she was close enough for him to read her lips.
Reading Sara's lips was always distracting. It distressed him that the one way he had of communicating with her always made his heart race, and his mind lose track of the subject at hand. She was asking him if he wanted to go for breakfast, or dinner, or whatever the meal was called. She was tired, and she wasn't enunciating properly, but he could understand the gist of what she was asking him.
He felt his own lips move as he volunteered to drive to the coffee shop. He knew what his own voice sounded like, and he knew she heard him. She smiled, and walked around to the passenger side.
Coffee was truly a gift to the nightshift worker. He wondered how he had ever survived without it. Sara was talking to him, and he tried to pay attention to her, but her mouth was so beautiful, that he couldn't concentrate.
He was so lost in her face that he didn't see her hands at first. Then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he looked down as her elegant fingers wove through the air in front of her.
"I know about your hearing." It was amazing how beautiful the worst things looked in sign language. "I just wanted you to know that I'll stand by you whatever happens."
"I know" he spoke aloud.
Her fingers continued their dance, " How long have you known you have.." She paused and then laughed, drawing his attention back to her mouth. She spoke out loud "Gris, I can't spell otosclerosis."
They laughed together, it's amazing how the trivial things suddenly become so important, especially when they were funny.
Sara took a sip of her coffee, and then began again. He discovered he was having as much trouble focusing on her hands as he did on her lips. What was it about this woman?
"When are you planning to tell the others."
"Tomorrow" again, he spoke out loud even with his mouth full. He knew that she could see in his eyes that it was a snap decision. She smiled at him, and he spoke again, "Do you want to come over and.. Play monopoly" what was he thinking?
But that smile came back, broader ever. "Sure" her fingers told him. "I'd love to."
Hours later, when Sara owned everything from New York to Broadway and he was starting to become seriously poor, he asked a question that had been floating around in his head since much earlier that evening.
"How did you learn sign language?"
"I noticed that you were having hearing trouble." She spoke out loud, and he was grateful; he loved that voice. "then, after that whole mess with that idiot movie star, Gerard told me to learn ASL. He was gloating when he told me, but I already knew. A few nights of my patented Sidle insomnia, and here I am."
"I think I forfeit." He said looking down at his pitiful accumulation of money. Sara smiled like a child who has been given a new toy and he raised his eyebrow at her.
"Well, it isn't everyday someone beats Gil Grissom." Her fingers explained.
"Sara stop showing off and talk to me. You'll have plenty of time to sign after." he couldn't continue.
Her face immediately softened. God, but she was so beautiful.
"What do you want me to say?" She asked, voice as soft as her face.
"Nothing." He looked at her, and smiled.
* * * * * * *
A.N. This has been on the back burner for weeks now, so I thought I'd finish it. R&R please.