Friday, September 17, 2004

Sara removed her sunglasses, affording her a more direct view of the circular array of carefully placed stones. Grissom squinted as he looked from the guidebook to the mysterious monument, and then back to the guidebook.

"Weren't the Druids credited with building Stonehenge?" Sara pondered.

"They were by some, until scientists dated the site as having been constructed more than a thousand years before the Druids came to power."

"How old is it?"

Grissom found the appropriate passage in his book. "The placement of the actual stones began around 2100 BC, but there's been activity at the site for as long as 11,000 years."

"Wow. If I remember correctly, during equinoxes and solstices the sunrise is perfectly placed between certain stones."

"It's not precisely aligned, but they were able to predict eclipses."

"They must have had a pretty amazing knowledge of physics and astronomy."

"One historian in the twelfth century wrote that giants carried the stones from Africa to build a monument in Ireland," Grissom paraphrased. "And then King Arthur ordered Merlin to bring them here. Of course, again, scientific evidence rules out that theory."

As they continued to walk around the fenced perimeter. Sara found herself frequently sneaking peripheral peeks at her companion. With each passing hour since stepping onto the airplane in Phoenix, she became increasingly curious about his intentions. He had been friendly, attentive, playful and downright delightful; what did it mean? His notice of her birthday and personal gift had floored her. And now here they were, touring the English countryside as if they were…well, a couple. She shook her head, trying to clear the confusion brought on by such a thought. Another surreptitious glance—damn, he's handsome. And the way he unconsciously sticks his tongue out just a little when he's concentrating…I'll give him something to concentrate on.

"Sara?" Grissom tried a second time to get her attention. His first had gone unnoticed, unable to break through her reverie.

She turned to him, her face slightly reddened at being caught daydreaming. "Sorry, I was in my own little world."

"Tell me you weren't thinking about work."

She struggled to hide her embarrassed grin but failed. "I can honestly say I was not thinking about work."

"Good." Though he had a strong urge to press her for details, he suspected it might be wiser to let her keep her secret. It obviously was a source of discomfiture for her. He found her reaction amusing. "I'd like to have lunch before we get back on the bus."

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Side by side, Sara and Gil walked along the riverfront. They needed to unwind after their evening at the Globe Theater, and walking seemed like a good way to do it.

"Grissom…thanks for the play. It was incredible."

"You're welcome."

"Really, I had a great time. I never imagined I'd get to do anything like that." She felt relaxed and comfortable in his company. It was a good feeling after being emotionally estranged from him for so long. She didn't sense that in a few moments all of the familiar tension would rear its ugly head.

"Neither did I." Grissom gripped her elbow as they stepped around a tourist stopped for a picture. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Othello is one of my favorites. He was the ultimate tragic figure."

"No," she shook her head, "Othello was a murderer. Desdemona was a tragic figure. Her only sin was falling in love with the wrong man."

Grissom gave her a pointed look. "He loved her. He thought he had evidence that she betrayed him, and he reacted emotionally rather than rationally. It's human nature."

"Circumstantial evidence. She told him that she didn't, and he should have believed her. She never gave him a reason to doubt her." Sara's voice cracked, her emotion beginning to show. "He was so quick to think the worst about someone he supposedly loved."

Grissom felt increasingly uneasy. We're not talking about Othello here, are we? "And he recognized the gravity of his mistake. He was overcome with guilt and regret."

"He should have believed in her."

"It wasn't doubting her that led to his downfall, it was self-doubt. Perhaps in the darkness of his soul, he didn't believe he was worthy of her. He didn't think someone like him could ever really make such an amazing woman happy." He wished he could see into her eyes, but she kept walking. "His readiness to believe that she would need to look for happiness elsewhere, then, was a reflection of his own insecurity."

"But she was happy. An obstacle, be it race, religion, social status or even an age difference, doesn't necessarily doom a relationship to failure."

"Othello was betrayed," he said softly, finding yet another parallel. "Not by Desdemona, but by someone else he trusted. He followed the evidence."

"Sometimes it's not about the evidence. Sometimes it's about trusting someone who'd give you her heart and soul. I know to you that's blasphemy, but I believe it." It crossed her mind that she might be pushing him too hard. He seemed to have made progress and be making genuine overtures to her these past days, and she'd be foolish to scare him off now. But it felt appropriate to speak her mind here and now. "I've made mistakes, too. I know that. But at least I was willing to try. Sometimes you have to trust in things that you can't see and touch—take a leap of faith."

"A leap of faith….would be very difficult for me."

Sara exhaled slowly. "I never betrayed you," she revealed quietly. "I know you think I did, but I didn't. And I wouldn't." She sat down on a bench next to a book stall, her elbows on her knees and her face cradled in the palms of her hands.

Gil stood and watched her for a moment, trying to decide whether to continue the conversation. Yes, he decided, as difficult as it was for him, they needed to get all of this out into the open. He sat next to her on the bench. "I never said that you betrayed me."

"Not in so many words, no." She stared straight ahead. "You said I showed you a better life, but then I took it away and gave it to someone else."

Grissom stared a hole through the side of her head. How on Earth did she know that? Brass? No, Jim wouldn't have told her. She must have been listening. Oh God, what else did I say? You have to pull this one out of the fire, Gil. "Then you also heard me say that I care."

"I heard you say that I wasn't worth the risk."

No! No, that's not what I meant! "Sara, that's not what I said."

"You said that you couldn't do it. You couldn't take the risk."

"I said I couldn't. Past tense. Not that I can't now…or in the future." He reached over and cupped her cheek in his hand, gently coaxing her to look at him. She kept her head forward and eyes fixed on the empty air before her. "Honey, it was about my shortcomings, not yours."

That sat in silence, unmoving, Sara staring ahead and Grissom staring at Sara. At last she turned to him. Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

"I'm not sure what to do with that. The end result is the same."

"No," he soothed, "it isn't." He closed the gap between them and briefly touched his lips to hers. "I'm ready to take the leap of faith."

Sara began to shiver slightly. Grissom couldn't be certain whether it was the cool night breeze or the intense emotion of the moment. "Are you cold?"

Uncertainty clouded her face. "I don't know now if I'm ready. I can't help but think this is some sort of mirage."

Grissom swallowed. "Have you changed your mind?"

"I don't…I don't know what to think. I've been through a lot of ups and downs with you, about you, and I haven't always handled them well." She exhaled deeply, the memory of her lowest moment still too fresh. "I'm not sure I can take much more."

"Then maybe we should take it slow…start over again."

"How?"

"We're here. We're spending time together. Let's just enjoy it."

She offered him a sad but hopeful smile. "I'd like that."

"Stonehenge was my choice. Tomorrow's yours. What do you want to do?"

"Okay…" Sara thought for a moment. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"I promise I'll try not to."

"Madame Tussaud's. There's a picture I have to get."

Saturday, September 18

"Come on. Let's do the stars first and then we can move on to the historical figures." Sara paused while Grissom snapped a photograph of her with a wax likeness of Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones. Several celebrities later, she stood behind the Beatles and threw her arms around John Lennon. Grissom dutifully recorded the moment.

"Why aren't you posing?" she asked. "You haven't let me take any of you."

"This isn't my thing."

"The Beatles aren't your thing? As much as I don't want to remember the night that you drove me home, I do recall seeing Rubber Soul in your car."

"Photographing myself with wax figures isn't my thing," he clarified. "I thought you had someone in mind that you wanted to see here."

Sara's face clouded over. "Are you going to ridicule me?"

Unable to ascertain whether she was genuinely becoming upset or just playing with him, he offered a conciliatory wink. "Not at all. To each his own. Or her own, as the case may be."

"Fine," she exhaled as a grin spread across her features. "He's over there."

Grissom fought to stifle his reaction when she stopped next to the robust figure.

"Good evening," she imitated.

"Alfred Hitchcock?" He hoped he succeeded in keeping his amusement concealed.

"What? Hitchcock made some of the best movies that ever existed. Murder, mystery, psychological intrigue…the man did it all. I always wanted to meet him. This is the next best thing." She was surprised by his thoughtful nod. "Haven't you ever seen Rear Window?"

Grissom shrugged. "I had it solved 37 minutes into it."

"You did not!" Sara elbowed him playfully and was caught off guard when he swept her into his embrace and kissed her cheek. If someone had told her a few days ago that Gil Grissom would initiate a public display of affection, well…it was fortunate that she didn't own a ranch. She leaned into Hitchcock while Gil snapped the picture.

Passing by several more entertainers, Grissom came to a stop in front of the figure of Ludwig von Beethoven. He stared pensively until Sara spoke up. "You want a picture, don't you?"

"Oddly enough, I do." His affect was somber, almost reverent as he stood beside the composer. Sara took the photograph and put the camera away, fascinated by his reaction.

"Your favorite?"

"Hmm…"

"He was deaf, wasn't he?" She recalled matter-of-factly. "And he kept composing even after he lost his hearing."

"Yes." Her innocent question served to remind him of all of the things he'd kept from her; things he knew he should tell her if they we're going to attempt to move forward together. But today was not the time for that conversation. Today he would simply enjoy her company and allow himself to believe, if only for a day, that he could actually succeed in beginning and maintaining relationship with her.

They strolled without flinching past the severed heads and dismembered corpses in the Chamber of Horrors, pausing only briefly at the guillotine before moving on to the next macabre exhibit. The crime scene depiction was eerily realistic.

"Jack the Ripper left a trail of evidence a mile long. We would have had him with in a week," Sara asserted. "It's too bad they didn't have the DNA or fingerprinting technology we have now."

He gauged her reaction carefully. "Even today, there are some that get away from us."

"Don't remind me," she responded glumly. "Oh God, the rack."

Gil followed her line of vision to the recreation of a man stretched out on the medieval torture device.

"You know what bugs me most about this? Not only did someone's twisted mind have to devise this, a living human being had to adjust it at regular intervals to inflict the agony. Can you imagine being pulled apart?" She shook her head sadly. "I guess I should be used to witnessing cruelty by now, but I just can't imagine how anyone could do that to another person."

"'Man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn.'" He put an arm around her shoulder. "Robert Burns. Come on, let's see the rest of the museum."

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"It's a beautiful afternoon. How about a walk through Hyde Park?" Sara suggested as they reemerged into the daylight. Gil kept his hand resting on the small of her back.

Twenty minutes later they leaned back on the lawn enjoying ice cream cones. A small crowd gathered around a young man shouting and pumping his fist wildly.

"Oh, I know what this is!" Sara realized. "Speaker's Corner! I've read about it. Anyone can take the podium and speak his mind, as long as he doesn't denigrate the Queen." She took a seductively long lick of her ice cream. "How about it? Got anything you'd like to say?"

"I have plenty that I'd like to say," he admitted softly. "But it should be private…I've kept things from you. I thought I was protecting us both, but as it happens, I ended up hurting us both."

"There are things I haven't been totally honest about, either. And you're right—it's private. I want to talk about it, but right now I want to just enjoy this day."

Grissom studied her face as she echoed the same thoughts he'd had just a short time before. "You say that as though it's the last day we'll have."

"It may be," Her flat tone failed to hide the sadness in her eyes, nor did it mask the storm brewing behind them. "Tomorrow we fly home, and all the things that kept us apart will still be there."

"If the last few days have taught me anything, it's that our biggest problem is communication. We've just established a mutual desire to change that." He steadied her shaking hand with his own.

"So when we get home, you won't suddenly remember that I'm your subordinate, and 15 years younger than you are and forget that all of this ever happened?"

His blue eyes locked with her brown ones. "Never." Leaning in, he gently kissed her lips.

She relaxed considerably. "Then let's sit back enjoy the rest of our trip."

Sunday, September 19, 2004

Sara's heart felt heavy as she stood in line to check her bag. Despite his reassurance that their newfound closeness would return to Las Vegas with them, she couldn't shake the fear that Grissom would slam the door shut again. She did her best to push her concerns aside as she turned to him. "I can't believe we're on the same flight again. I wonder if it's too late to arrange to be seated together."

Grissom raised his eyebrow, appearing all at once like the cat that ate the canary. "We'll see."

The CSIs handed their passports and tickets to the ticket agent. "Any chance we can sit together?" Sara queried.

"Your seats are already together, ma'am," the woman informed her. "Someone arranged it yesterday."

Grissom shrugged and winked. "I called and took care of it last night."

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Once again, Gil would have sworn that her grin outshone the sun.

They made their way through security and to their designated gate, each lost in thought. Neither knew exactly what their future as a couple would hold, but each was determined to make it work.

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The little girl spun in circles as she and her mother staked out a spot in the McCarran baggage claim area. She bounded with the endless energy all young children seem to possess, much to the befuddlement of their exhausted parents.

"Lindsey, honey, try to be still," Catherine groaned. "You're making my head spin."

"There's another group!" Lindsey announced. "Maybe he's with them!" She pointed to the stream of people appearing on the escalator.

Sure enough, Grissom soon came into view. The next thing that Catherine noticed was something she didn't expect at all: his hand held that of the brunette woman next to him. Sara! Son of a gun, she blinked to be certain she wasn't imagining it. She was glad to see the social recluses finally get their collective act together, but it was Archie who had chosen June to September 2004 in the Geek Love Pool. Catherine had bet on January to April 2005. She always scoffed at shortsighted bettors like Nick and Greg who had predicted the union would occur in 2002 or 2003; they obviously didn't know Grissom as well as she did. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself…maybe Gil and Sara just happened to bump into each other on the plane. And he was holding her hand because…

"Uncle Gil! Sara!" Lindsey cried gleefully, throwing herself at them.

"Lindsey…hi." Sara greeted the child cautiously.

"Catherine." Grissom directed his attention to the blonde woman. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Catherine smiled broadly. "So I see. We, uh, we just thought you might like a ride home from the airport, maybe some company for dinner. But I see you already have company."

All of Sara's internal alarms sounded. Oh, God. Here it comes. Total denial. She braced herself as best she could for the inevitable.

"Yes, I do," Gil slipped his arm around Sara's waist. "We're going to relax around my house this evening. It's been a long flight."

"No problem," Catherine replied. "And congratulations. What about the ride? Offer's still open."

Sara smiled earnestly, though she still wasn't sure she trusted her colleague's sincerity. "Thanks. But my car's in the lot."

"So you're covered. I guess we'll see you at work tomorrow night."

"Is this going to be a problem for you, Catherine?" Grissom studied her as he would a specimen in a jar.

"Would it matter if it was?"

"No." Grissom shook his head and pulled Sara's bag off the carousel.

"I'm very happy for you both. I'm not sure how it'll go over with the suits, but I'm good with it." Catherine's eyes darted about the cavernous room and settled on their target. "Linds! Over here—now!"

"I'm not concerned about the suits," Grissom stated casually.

"Okay. There's just one thing…"

"What's that?"

"I hate when Archie wins. Couldn't you two have waited just a few more months?"

Sara and Grissom exchanged confused looks.

"Never mind," Catherine said. God, they're so geeky that they're adorable. "Let's get you home."

The End