"Hey Gil, where've you been? Sara's been looking for you. I think she just found something," Catherine said hurriedly, trying very hard not to stare openly at the glittering gray eyes uncovered by glasses.
"Thank you, Catherine. And if you're quite done with my eyes may I take them with me to go find her?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
The blond blushed for no reason she could think of and got on with her own running around. Grissom's lips twisted into a characteristic half-smile before smoothing back out again. His cuts were still sore but the power! Dear god, the power! It was still pounding through him from last night!
"Grissom," Sara called, "You finally showed up! And why the hell did you leave me with those blood splatters all by myself on top of everything else I was handling? God, I could kill you for that."
Grissom smiled as if condescendingly amused at the thought.
Sara started back. "Oh-kay! Um, I found something. And for some reason I can't remember what it was." Those gray eyes were beginning to glitter, to fluctuate between gray and silver and were they really dancing in all those swirling mists?
"Sara?" Grissom asked, knowing exactly what it was but looking concerned and irritated, just like he would have last week before all this happened to remind him.
She snapped out of it and shook her dark head in a daze. "Huh? Oh, yeah! We found the tape from the security camera. We got the guy!"
"Well, let me have a look at it," Grissom said briskly, "We have an ID yet?"
"George Frowlan," Sara informed him, "He's had a few petty charges. But he was charged with assault with a firearm a couple of years ago. Only thing was they couldn't prove it so he walked. But we got him on tape this time."
Grissom and Sara watched the tape being replayed and Grissom's lips twitched again as he saw Giles got off the ground and ticked the guy off. He still looked like he was in a lot of pain though.
"Grissom? You listening to me?" Sara asked, sharing a look with Nick as they tried to plan out their strategy.
"Yes. Sounds fine; I'll call Brass and tell him to get us the warrant," Grissom agreed, walking off again with his eyes fixed on the ground under his feet. If he concentrated hard enough, it was almost like he was staying in the same place and the ground was moving. He ended up bumping into some poor lab tech carrying too many files.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized, "Here! Let me help you. I'm sorry; I didn't see you. Are you okay?" The frazzled woman shot him a quick smile and took off again. He shook his head after her and went off to get his job done.
That night, he lay in the motel bed while Giles played gently with his body. He felt a fingertip tickle over a soft spot no one else, except perhaps Ethan, had ever found and he chuckled. "Was it always this way?" he murmured.
"No," Giles sighed, warm breath washing over Grissom's skin, "We were never this still. At least, I don't think we were. But I could be prejudiced."
"You know, I'm getting that you don't really like to think about the old days," Grissom questioned, head pillowed on the arm behind his head, "Why is that?"
Giles stopped, looking at his hands on Grissom's hips. Fragile bones really, he could break them with those hands. He pulled himself up and planted one last lingering kiss on the man's lips before settling down to talk. "You're right. I don't like remembering those days. There are two stages of my life- Ripper and Rupert Giles. You saw Ripper, the punk, the rebel. You never saw Rupert Giles stammer, or polish his glasses furiously, or wear tweed. I am both now. I still polish my glasses when I'm at a loss for words, and I still don't know how to respond to a respectable woman flirting with me. Yet I've killed and known bloody-mindedness and I still lash out at people who push me around." He stopped.
"That doesn't answer my question," Grissom said gently.
"It's a part of it. What you saw was the Ripper stage. I was free, white and twenty-one- or rather eighteen. I was eighteen when I ran away, nineteen when I met Ethan and twenty when you saw the group at the peak of its powers. Two years later Randall was dead and I knew it was my fault. The death affected Ethan too. He became obsessive, hard. The rest scattered, scared out of their wits."
"So you went back to the Council?" Grissom frowned. "I thought you said they were pricks who hid behind their desks and depended on young girls to fight their battles."
"They were. But they were familiar," Giles sighed. He looked down expressively, "They were safe, Gil, as opposed to what I saw myself becoming. I needed to feel I could control the violence, the rage. And I think I matured a lot in the Council. At all events, it took me to Buffy when her first Watcher died."
"I'm sorry." Grissom didn't raise his voice more than a murmur, hands tracing gentle sigils in the air over Giles body.
The Englishman laughed. "I'm not! Merrick was an American Watcher, a legend in his own right. But he was old; the Council should never have sent him out. He died saving Buffy's life. If anything, I salute him for showing her what true dedication was. When I think of the life that child has led! And now she's a very confused and very independent woman who doesn't need me in her life."
Grissom didn't ask any more questions. He heard the raw, aching pain that lay buried under the soft words. When had life become so painfully old? Everything went in circles now; everything was connected to everything else. And all of it hurt.
But not this. He bent over, head bowing over Giles' body, worshipping and soothing with lips and tongue. The Watcher leaned back with a sigh and let his barriers down. Grissom began to use a few tricks that he hadn't thought he'd ever use again.
He leaned over and whispered something in Giles' ear, an enchantment for visions. But a moment after Giles' eyes widened in sheer dread, Grissom knew he had probably gotten rusty on his pronunciation- Giles turned green and glared at him.
Grissom couldn't help it. He collapsed and burst out laughing, tears streaming down his face and his sides in stitches because Giles looked so funny. Giles himself couldn't help grinning ruefully. As he looked at Grissom, a laugh bubbled somewhere in his throat and he let out a giggle. The giggle turned to a chuckle and then he was laughing out loud as well. They held each other until the humor subsided and only the occasional giggle came unbidden.
"Thank you, Gil," Giles said ironically, "I've always thought green was my color."
Grissom chuckled again, "Well, it does bring out your eyes, Ripper."
Giles whacked him gently on the head and reversed the spell, wrapping Grissom in his arms and firmly ordering him to go to sleep before either of them turned into something else. Grissom obeyed amiably, snuggling down with his back barely touching Giles' chest but close enough to feel his presence wash over him.
The night seemed a particularly restful one that time.