Twist of Fate
Summary: For most people, the threads of life form an unchanging tapestry, with the past setting the pattern for the future. Can Grissom overcome his own doubts when given the chance to weave a new life? GSR, A/U
A/N: This is a sequel to "If the Fates Allow", and I strongly suggest reading that story first to understand what's going on. Thanks to Gibby for agreeing to beta this mess, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed. It's greatly appreciated and makes the writing worthwhile.
Rating: What's wrong with PG? Why do people always want smut? I don't do good smut. Let's call this a strong PG-13.
Disclaimer: Do you really think anyone would trust me with these characters given what I put them through? I only play with them when the mood strikes.
Chapter 4
About a year after getting together, they both made plans to attend a conference in New Hampshire. His thrill at seeing her was tempered by the knowledge that something had to change. What they had wasn't enough for him, and the solution was going to be difficult.
He spotted her at the hotel, the chattering young man following her around causing him to raise a questioning eyebrow as he walked toward her.
"Hey, Gil," she said, giving him an eye roll when her attendant spun around quickly, almost sending the plate of food flying in all directions.
"Dr. Grissom! Oh, I've heard so much about you. You're…"
"If you don't mind, I need to talk to Sara for a moment," Grissom interrupted. "In private."
"Oh, sure, uh, yeah, okay."
"Who is that?" he asked as they walked toward a table holding an assortment of cold drinks.
"Randy. Jose's grandson," she said in explanation. "I think I'm supposed to be mentoring him."
Grissom frowned as he watched the younger man clumsily cross the room, nearly colliding with several attendees. "Do they actually trust him with chemicals?"
"Randy's okay. He's just a little overenthusiastic. And a little on the nervous side. I think he's going to end up in the lab. He's not good with dead bodies," she added, picking up a glass of juice.
"I'm in room four-two-one," he whispered. "Think you can shake your escort after dinner?"
"What's wrong with before dinner?" she joked.
"You're the one who said he isn't that bad."
"Then you keep him," she muttered under breath as he bore down on them, offering Sara a plate of appetizers. She grabbed it from his hands before he sent it flying.
They ended up sitting at adjacent tables, and Grissom watched her from the corner of his eyes during the welcoming speeches. As soon as they were over, he greeted a few colleagues, inconspicuously keeping contact with Sara. Making his way toward the exit, he caught her eye and gave his head a slight nod.
He had the covers pulled down and was in his pajamas when she made it to his room. Taking her hand, he led her into the room and slowly kissed her. They had spent the rare times together to good use, having learned what each other liked. Grissom drew on all that knowledge and his self-control to pleasure her.
As they lay cocooned under the comforter, he stroked her face with his fingers, but she sensed something was bothering him.
"Gil?"
"This is too hard," he said slowly, rolling over on his back and resting his forearms over his head. He'd been hesitant to bring the subject up, but they had to deal with it. "It's not working out the way I thought it would."
"I see."
Grissom looked up in surprise when she climbed out of bed, grabbing the robe from the foot of the bed.
"Sara?" She ignored him, and his heart jumped up when her hand reached up to wipe her eyes. "Sara!"
She stopped by the door to the bathroom, but she refused to face him. "Look, if you want to call it off, I understand. I just don't want to talk about it, okay."
"What?" He clambered out of bed, grabbing her elbow before she could close the bathroom door. There was no mistaking the ache and betrayal in her voice, and the unexpected response made him nervous. "Who said anything about ending it?"
"You sure as hell sound like you do."
Her reaction almost made him angry. It wasn't just her tone, but the realization that he had phrased his comment stupidly. "Do you really think that I'd bring you up here for a last roll in the hay if I was going to end this? Do you think that poorly of me?"
He gently forced her around, resting his hands on her shoulders. She eventually shrugged, keeping her eyes focused on the wall behind him until he whispered her name. "It fits my past history with guys."
The pain came through despite her attempts to sound self-deprecating, and that caused him to let out a sad sigh, pulling her into his arms. He didn't need the prodding of some ghost vision to recognize that she'd been hurt too many times in the past. She'd never given a hint of it; did she find it too painful to face or too trivial to mention? He wanted to believe the latter, all the while knowing it was wishful thinking.
"I don't want to end this." His hands rubbed her back soothingly, eventually coaxing her to relax against him. "I thought you knew that. I would have said it differently if I had known," he paused, unsure of what he now knew. Moving his head, he kissed her cheek lovingly.
"What do you want then?" she asked cautiously, her fingers splayed over his chest.
"For us to spend more time together. I … we need to be in the same city."
After watching him for a moment, she led them back to the bed, and they leaned on each other. "Are you asking me to transfer to Las Vegas?"
"No," he said, taking the time to carefully compose his thoughts so as not to cause another misunderstanding. "I'm the night shift supervisor. If you came to work for me, people would assume you were sleeping your way into the job. There'd always be questions about your qualifications and motivations."
"Do you really think I give a damn what people think?"
"I do," he said meaningfully.
"About me or about you?" she asked, firmly but without anger. "If people think I'm sleeping my way into a job, they're going to think you were in on it or were too dumb to notice."
"It affects both of us," he allowed.
Sara let out a long breath as she dropped her head onto the pillow. After a few moments, she asked, "Does the Nevada State Police have a forensics lab in the area?"
"No."
"What other labs are there in Las Vegas?"
"There aren't a lot. I was thinking of going to San Francisco."
Her eyes opened in surprise. "To do what?"
"Work at the crime lab," Grissom said, wondering why she was shaking her head. "I wouldn't be your supervisor, so there'd be no conflict. No one would question the appropriateness of it since neither of us would be in a position of authority over the other."
"Gil, there'd be plenty of conflict. Look, you are a good criminalist. Damn good, and you know it. Do you really think people are going to go to the supervisor with a question when you're there?" Sara asked earnestly. "Do you think you're going to be happy when you disagree with a supervisor and have to follow his direction? People are going to naturally look to you. It's asking for hard feelings."
"It could work," he said, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.
"No. You'd have to give up your position. You've worked so hard to become supervisor. I don't want you to give that up."
"Do you want to keep this up?" he asked hotly, upset with the situation not her. "Just seeing each other for a day or two a month. If we're lucky."
"No, but I don't want you do anything rash, either," she said gently. "Hell, I'd love to see you every day. I'm happy with you. Don't you understand that?"
"You make me happy," Grissom sighed. "It's the distance that doesn't. I want us to have a future together."
That seemed to stun her for a minute. "I, uh, I can always look for another job in the Vegas area."
The hesitation in her voice was clear, and he rolled over to pull her closer. "And I don't want you to give up your career."
"Let's think about this," she urged. "We don't have to make any decisions this trip. There has to be a way we can get this to work. We're both scientists; we'll figure it out."
He gave a reluctant nod, not explaining the hours he'd already spent trying resolve the situation. She was open to the idea of them being together permanently, and – for right now – that was all that mattered.
They spent as much time together as possible during the conference, sharing meals and sitting near one another during the lectures. In the evenings, they talked briefly about various ways to try to solve their dilemma before drifting off to sleep, but they made little headway.
On the last morning of the conference, he muttered as she insisted he get out of bed.
"Let's stay here," he said suggestively. "Half the people skip out of the last day. No one's going to miss us."
"Gil, you're part of the first panel discussion this morning. I think people are going to notice if you're not there."
"Spoilsport."
"Realist," she said, holding out a hand as she nodded in the direction of the shower. "Besides, you don't want someone coming looking for you."
"I'm not embarrassed to be with you," he said, letting her pull him toward the stall. "It's, I, uh…"
"You like to keep your private life private," she said, giving him a gentle smile. "I understand, and I can live with it."
For a moment, the way she phrased her response made him wonder if she was happy with their arrangement, but those thoughts faded as her robe dropped to the floor. Stepping into the shower with her, Grissom lost himself in her ministrations.
Once back in Las Vegas, he tried to remain optimistic, but no fresh ideas on how to solve their situation came to mind. A new lab tech tried flirting with him, but he ignored Charlotte's overtures as politely as he could. When she suddenly stopped, he wondered if Catherine had had a word with her, unsure of how far she'd go with her incursions into his private life.
If anyone else had intruded into his life like that, he'd have been furious, but Catherine always had the ability to get past his defenses. Probably because she totally ignored them, he decided. But she was a friend, and, more importantly, she understood personal matters and office politics better than he did. Logically, she was the best person he knew to ask for advice, but he kept putting it off.
Earlier in the week, he'd sent an inquiry to a friend about a teaching position. It was in commutable distance from San Francisco, allowed him to be with Sara, and avoided the other problems. If it didn't pan out, or if Sara objected to his leaving forensics, then he'd ask Catherine for advice.
He was still waiting for a response from his friend when Brass left a message for him to come to a meeting, and the vague wording piqued his curiosity.
Brass had been a good cop before being promoted to head up the lab. Unfortunately, he was one of those people who didn't handle ambition well. He now had thoughts of running for political office, the allure of the financial benefits from those contacts too tempting to resist. It turned him from a decent man to a bit of a megalomaniac, and Grissom never knew what to expect from their meetings.
"What's this I hear about you wanting to leave the lab?" Brass demanded without preamble.
"I don't know how you heard anything on the subject," he began evasively, silently cursing blondes with no understanding of privacy. She'd been asking him a lot of questions lately, leaving him to believe that she suspected his plans.
"Yeah, like leaving a copy of your resume on the printer while you bolted out for a case wasn't a clue."
"It wasn't," Grissom said, mentally berating himself for leaving a printout behind. He'd been in a hurry and hadn't counted all the copies, but that mistake was stupid. "There's nothing unusual about keeping a CV up-to-date."
Brass shrugged and smiled; there was nothing humorous about it. "Yeah, you academic types always keep all your articles and stuff updated. Except you haven't written anything in ages."
"I've put it off for too long. It needed doing."
"Right, like I'm supposed to fall for that. Do you really think I'm dumb, Gil?"
"Honestly?"
"Let's cut the bullshit. Are you looking for more money? Some fancy title?"
"If you have to ask that, you really don't know me," Grissom said calmly.
"Then what's the game? Is this about that piece you're doing in San Francisco?" Sensing he'd gone too far, Brass waved off the start of his protest. "Is it this Sidle chick?"
"What business is it of yours?"
"Because Jose Hegira says she's damned good. That she rarely takes off. I didn't ask, but I bet those days match up with the days you disappear."
"And if they do?" he said with a deadly calm.
"Then you're a stupid ass!" he exclaimed, sighing when Grissom frowned. "We had an opening here. I just hired a kid from the academy. If you two wanted to be together, I'd have hired her to keep you here."
Grissom tilted his head in bafflement. The conversation wasn't going as he always feared it would. "But I'm night shift supervisor."
"So? Do you think you're the first person in the lab's history who got interested in a co-worker? We'd have gotten Catherine or Conrad to do her evaluations. We could have worked something out."
Grissom rubbed his chin wearily; he had really wanted to keep his relationship private, but that seemed a lost cause. People might talk if Sara came to the lab, but they were going to do that anyway now. This was probably the best solution they were going to find – if it wasn't too late.
"Could have?" he asked guardedly.
"I already filled the position. Look, do you think she's interested in coming to work here or not?"
"Yes."
"Then tell her to send in a resume. I don't know when there'll be another vacancy, but let's get her lined up for it. I can't guarantee that it'll be on the same shift, but maybe she can trade with someone later," Brass said, regarding him carefully for a minute. "Is she really as good as Hegira said she is?"
"Yes."
"I bet."
Scowling, Grissom stared at him levelly. "She graduated with honors from Harvard and Berkeley with degrees in physics. She's one of the smartest people I know and a natural at forensics."
"All right, all right. I shoulda known you'd go for another egghead."
He left the office with mixed emotions, but he was eager to contact Sara. If he was right, this was the solution she'd wanted all along. There was going to be comments if she came, but he knew she was an excellent criminalist. It wouldn't take long for others to recognize her talents.
And, if they didn't, he and Sara could always go to another lab together.
"Gil!"
Catherine approached him apologetically, pulling him into an empty office quickly. "I didn't go to Brass. He came to me. He was furious, thinking you were going to pull a ghost and vanish from the lab. I hinted you were seeing someone, and if you were leaving, that was why. He wanted to know why she didn't come here, and I didn't have anything to tell him. He dug up the rest of the information himself."
He regarded her for a moment, part of his mind amazed at how she said it all in one breath. She seemed genuinely contrite, and he shrugged in response.
"Did he offer her a job?" she asked. "You had to know the lab would do just about anything to keep you here."
"There's nothing available. He's already filled the position that was open."
"What about the next one?"
"I'll see if she's interested," he answered noncommittally.
"What? Oh, I get it," she said, giving him a patronizing smile. "It's because you're the supervisor. Oh, don't give me that look. I know you."
"Maybe not as well as you think."
"You're a total geek, but you have a long streak of gentleman running though you," she said, ignoring him. "You don't want people getting the wrong idea about her."
He gave his head a brief nod, knowing she wasn't going to let him go without some sort of admission.
"And you don't want people thinking that you …" she said, smiling again at his warning glare. "People are going to be happy, Gil. You've been alone too long. People like Ecklie would just find something else to rag you about. Don't let them get in the way of being happy."
Grissom gave her a parting stare, but he had to concede her point. In his experience, people who were going to gossip maliciously always found something to talk about, often resorting to making things up. Still, he saw no reason to give them extra ammunition.
He called Sara the next afternoon, calmly explaining everything. He worried that she'd be upset that his hesitance had cost her the opening, but her response was unexpected.
"Are you okay with this, babe? I know you didn't want people to know about us," she asked softly.
Sinking into his couch, he let out a sigh. Sara was kind and accommodating, but when she put it that way, he felt like a coward. Although he hadn't bragged about his prior dates, he never kept them a secret from the lab. The difference was those were just dates. He'd been unhappy when those prior attempts at relationships failed, but nothing that threatened the walls he'd built around him.
Sara was special. Losing her would rip him apart, leaving his soul in tatters. But he knew something had to be done to make sure they stayed together.
Was he really afraid that people would think a ladder-climbing opportunist had used him? Was he willing to risk their future over it? He knew the truth, and anyone who refused to acknowledge it was a fool.
She was the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. A day here and a weekend there wasn't enough. If there was no way to do it in complete privacy, then he wanted to do it the best way possible. His friends would accept her, and the inevitable teasing would be good-natured.
"I'm fine with it," Grissom asserted truthfully. To assuage any lingering doubts she had, he picked up his calendar. "I'm pretty busy the next couple of weeks, but why don't you come for another visit? You can visit the lab and see if it's somewhere you'd like to work."
"Are you serious?"
"Very."
They made plans for her to come out the next week, and Grissom swallowed nervously once he was off the phone. He'd committed to the course of action, but the openness went against his grain. Not wanting Sara to get the wrong idea, he went ahead and told Catherine and Brass that she was coming for a visit. The whispering murmurs when he passed labs irritated him, but he didn't want her to walk into the lab and find no one knew anything about her.
His caseload was heavy the week of her visit, with a series of corporate break-ins where the perpetrator left behind pieces of pages torn out from books. Grissom didn't recognize any of it, and finally he had to call the university library for assistance in identifying the texts.
He'd sent Sara a key to his townhouse, telling her that he'd be unable to meet her at the airport. She was going to meet him later, but he did a double-take when he spied her through the glass walls of the lab, heading down the hallway toward Catherine and Nick. Grissom started moving to intercept her.
"I don't know, Cath," he heard Nick say. "Do you really think this guy had Einstein's Noble Prize for his theory of relativity?"
"It's a fake," Sara said, smiling as she approached them, an expandable folder under her arm. "Can you tell me where Dr. Grissom's office is?"
"Why do you think it's a fake?" Nick asked with a charming smile, and Catherine repeated his question in a more direct manner.
"Well, first off, Einstein didn't have a theory of relativity. He developed the theories of general relativity and special relativity. And he didn't win the Nobel Prize for either. He won it for his work on the photoelectric effect."
"You're sure about that?" Nick asked.
"Check out the awards for nineteen-twenty-one."
"I told you this guy was yanking our chain. I'll go tell O'Reilly," Nick said after punching the air.
"I guess you're the researcher from the university." Catherine said. "Grissom's busy. I'll take those notes for you."
"Uh, no, I'm not," she said, suddenly smiling as Grissom rounded the corner. "Hi."
"Hey, Sara."
His response had been soft, but the silence seemed to spread out in widening circles. Nick spun around on his heels, staring at Sara with his mouth agape, and Catherine was nearly sputtering. Techs began to stick their heads out of their labs to stare.
"Let's go to my office," he said, feeling the heat climb up his cheeks.
"What, exactly, did you tell people about me?" she asked in amusement once in the relative privacy of his office.
"That you were coming for a visit. That you were a CSI from San Francisco."
Apparently, no one in the lab thought he'd be dating someone so much younger, and it didn't help his nerves any. She smirked softly, but she didn't tease him about the age differences. It had been a minor source of concern for him, and her gentle reassurances always left him grateful.
"Oh, this is for you," she said, passing over the folder.
"What is it?" he asked curiously.
"You wanted my comments on that paper you wrote about our bug case from San Francisco. I got the photos you wanted, too."
"Already? Don't you ever sleep?"
"When you're around," she said salaciously.
He peered over the top of his glasses, but he didn't smile.
"It's nothing for you to worry about," she said.
"I'm concerned," he said, dropping his head to scan her notes. He didn't want to make an issue of it, but he'd always been bothered by the fact she never mentioned her past. The occasional nightmares and constant insomnia added to his growing fears. Seeing her look, he shrugged. "You're early."
"I was able to catch an earlier flight, figured there'd be less traffic this early in the morning. So, who's this university researcher you're seeing?"
The attempt to change the topic wasn't smooth, but he didn't resist. Settling back in his chair, they talked about the case until Catherine walked in with another folder.
"The library sent this over. They've identified about a third of them so far," she said, pausing to look Sara over.
"Catherine Willows, this is Sara Sidle. She's visiting me from San Francisco. I think you already snooped out some information about that."
"Not all of it apparently," she said, offering her hand for a handshake. "Nick and I are on our way to deal with Mr. False Police Report, and I'm heading home afterwards unless you need me for anything around here."
"Go ahead, Catherine."
"Nice to meet you," Sara called out. She turned back to Grissom with a grin. "I don't think I'm what she expected."
"I don't know why. I'm surprised she didn't have your birth certificate and family history," he joked, but stopping when he saw a flicker of apprehension in her eyes. "Do you want to see part of the lab before breakfast?"
"Sure!"
He escorted her down the hallway, ignoring the stares from the braver lab techs and showing her the latest in forensic equipment. They were outside the DNA lab when his pager sounded, and she waved him off. "I won't break anything."
"That's Greg Sanders. I don't think he bites," he said as he pulled out his cell phone.
"You are not Sara Sidle," he said, holding out his hand.
"I'm not? I think she's going to be really pissed that I've been wearing her underwear all these years."
"Get out of here!"
Smiling, she shrugged and made a move to head toward the door. "If you insist."
"No! Come back here. Tell me everything," he said, ducking his head at Grissom's scowl.
"Everything? Wow, that's going to take some time," she said slowly, indulging his encouraging nods. "Let's see. 'In the beginning, there was darkness and void.'"
"You can fast forward it a bit."
"Okay. And then I met you."
"Not that far!" he half-whined, winking at her when Grissom came back into the room. "Like, how did you two meet?"
"It was at a conference, Greg," he answered impatiently. "Do you have any evidence to work on, or is your position redundant? The sheriff is always looking for ways to cut the lab budget."
"Just being friendly," he said, leaning forward to whisper to Sara. "Everyone thought you'd be a total geek. We weren't expecting Grissom would get lucky enough to bag someone so hot."
"I am a geek," she said with an amused smirk. "And I always considered myself the lucky one."
After finishing the tour and grabbing some breakfast, they retired to his townhouse and bed. She returned with him to the lab that night, and he stoically sat through the gentle teasing from Warrick and Nick during the group breakfast the next morning. Sara left to be grilled by Brass and Mobley, and Grissom stayed behind to work with the new girl, Holly Gribbs.
She was a novice, and the autopsy bothered her, but he had high hopes for her. There had been a moment of foreboding, but he sent her to a simple crime scene with Warrick, confident that everything would be fine.
He was deadly wrong.
Holly's shooting and subsequent death shocked the entire team. Brass was demoted, and Grissom needed someone to handle the investigation, and he didn't hesitate to ask Sara to handle it. They talked briefly about conflict of interest, but he assured her that he trusted her to tell him the truth, no matter how painful it might be.
The investigation stalled her blooming friendships among the team, especially with Catherine who took the entire thing as a personal affront. To his relief, Sara easily cut through the emotional baggage and office politics to conclude her investigation.
Trouble didn't arrive until the aftermath.
"You didn't fire Warrick." It wasn't a statement, and he knew she was angry as soon as he put his briefcase down. She was pacing his living room, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
"I didn't see the point," he began, but she spun on him quickly.
"He left a rookie at a crime scene so he could place a bet, and she died. What other point is there?"
"Sara," he said, carefully picking his words to avoid an argument. "I know him better than you do. He made a mistake, and he's already paying for it."
"Tell that to Holly Gribb's parents. I don't think they'd agree with you. I sure as hell don't."
"I know. It's complicated."
"You know, people always say that when they don't want to face the truth," she said angrily. "I didn't expect that bullshit from you."
"It's not bullshit," he said calmly. "Gambling is an addiction."
"Spare me the platitudes. You want to talk about addiction? Let's talk about smoking. It's supposed to be pretty damn addictive, but I quit as soon as I realized it bothered you."
"You had the willpower to do it, and I'm glad you did."
"Willpower? You make it sound like some sort of magical gift. It's not, Gil. I made up my mind that keeping you happy was more important than smoking. That's it. Warrick thinks gambling is more important than following protocol, and he got Holly killed."
Sinking into a chair, he let out a long huff of air. He'd expected her to take the news badly, but this was worse than he imagined. Watching her continue to pace, his face contorted as the hidden fears and clues starting coalescing in his mind.
When she turned to face him, the hurt in her eyes engraved into his soul. "I thought you trusted me."
"I do."
She began pacing the room again. "But not enough to listen to what I had to say."
"I listened, Sara. I didn't agree." Grissom got up and moved to stand in her path, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. "I knew you'd tell me the truth, and you did. It wasn't pleasant to hear, and I don't think it was easy for you to tell me. But you did, and I appreciate it."
She glared at him for a moment before dropping her head in a disgusted shake. "He's an addict, Gil. That's not going to go away because you want it to. This isn't a disease like a cold; it's a flaw. What is his next mistake going to be?"
"We all make mistakes."
"Really? I don't remember getting someone killed before. Have you?"
He pursed his lips, wanting to defuse the situation. She was upset, and he didn't blame her, but he didn't want this to escalate into something they'd both regret.
"If you want to be technical about it, yes, I have," he said, waiting until she turned to him apprehensively. "I was the one who decided Warrick would be a good person to monitor Holly's progress. That was a mistake I made."
"Don't," she warned, pulling away to stalk into the kitchen. "That was his responsibility, his mistake. How can you not understand this?"
"Honey," he started, but she didn't appear to hear him, her words continuing harsh and fast.
"How many times on the job have you seen the damage caused by someone just like him? Kids who get abused because their parents can't control themselves. Husbands who beat the shit out of their wives, and wives who let it happen because they won't take control of their on life."
"My God, Sara," he whispered. She'd given no indication that she was speaking from personal experience, but he knew it, as surely as he knew they'd eventually get together. All the clues he suspected over the years came together, and he hated himself for not putting it together earlier.
Years of experience gave him the ability to imagine what her life must have been like, and it sickened him. How young was she when she had to take control of her life just to survive? And she'd done more than survive; she'd made something of her life, and he knew the statistics on how many abused children overcame their background. It spoke of her ability and fortitude, the strength to make difficult decisions. No wonder this bothered her so much.
He tried to broach the subject, but she stepped out of his embrace when she saw the compassion in his eyes. Following her across the room, he kept a respectable distance, but he saw her struggling to rein in her temper.
"Sara, I do agree with you," he said, trying another tactic. "Did you know Warrick offered to quit after I told him his job was safe? Do you want to know why? Because he was afraid it would cause trouble between you and me, and he didn't want to be the source of it. He's a good man. This was a big mistake, he knows it, and he's going to live with this for the rest of his life."
"At least he has a life to feel it in," she said with a long sigh. "She was too young, Gil, and there was no excuse for what happened to her."
"I know," he said, inching forward to pull her into an embrace. She allowed it, but her posture was stiff. "I put you in a bad spot, and I'm sorry for that. Your investigation was excellent, and I do appreciate it. But I can't agree with your recommendation. I lost one good CSI already. I can't toss another one out the door."
"Even if he is to blame?"
"Yes," he said softly, not breaking eye contact when she turned to him. "I'll be keeping a closer watch on Warrick after this. I promise you that. I'm going to make sure he does something about his gambling problem. The lab has counselors for that type of thing. I'll give him another chance, but I'm not forgetting what he did."
"It's your decision," she finally said, and he felt her trying to relax. Her efforts weren't too successful. "I'm not the one that has to live with it."
He nodded sagely as she went to make coffee. Quietly, he started dinner, drawing some hope when she set a mug by his side and helped him. They didn't talk, and he let her work out the issue internally.
After dinner, he led her to the sofa, gently pulling her into his embrace. "I'm sorry I asked you do to this. I didn't consider the consequences. It wasn't fair to put you in a position where you'd be left questioning my decisions."
"Are you saying that you'd have fired Warrick if someone else recommend it?"
"Of course not."
"Then it doesn't matter if I'm the one who gave it or not. I'd still disagree with you about your decision," she said, but there was more sadness than anger in her tone. "It's something we're never going to see eye-to-eye on. Let's just drop it."
"I'm not sure that's the best idea," he said. "I don't want this to be a problem between us."
"It's not," she said, giving him a shrug when he looked at her questioningly. "Not in the long term, anyway. Right now, I'm a bit pissed, but you know I have a temper. And it hasn't scared you away yet."
She was still upset, and he knew she'd want more time to deal with this, but he was too concerned to ignore her background any longer. He took a deep breath, reaching out to hold her hand firmly. "A lot of things seem to make you angry, Sara. Why?"
"Gil, don't go there."
"No," he insisted, slowly pulling back to stroke her face. "You never talk about it. That makes me think it's something that we shouldn't ignore."
"Not tonight. Please, just let it go."
The pleading in her tone cut into him, and he shifted his position to draw her into his lap. Rolling her eyes, she let him direct her head against his neck, eventually starting to relax in his embrace. They stayed huddled together for a long time, drawing comfort from one another and slowly the tension from the past days' events and their argument started draining away.
Grissom was the first to break the silence, speaking as he rubbed her back gently. "I don't know if this is a good time to mention it, but there's an opening at the lab again. Mobley wants you to know the job is yours."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I didn't know if you were still interested," he said, wrapping a protective arm around her. "I had a hunch you weren't going to be happy when I let Warrick keep his job."
"Not enough to throw this away," she said, shifting so she could watch his eyes. "What about you? You've taken over the job from Brass. You're in a position to lose even more now."
"I'd like for us to work together. Catherine can write your reviews," he said, pausing as an unsettling thought came over him. She'd been especially upset with Sara's investigation, and he wasn't sure she'd be able to be impartial. "Or Ecklie. I'm thinking about you, though."
"What about me?"
He paused, unsure of what he felt. The threads of distant memories tugged at his mind. "You had to investigate one of the team. You're involved with the supervisor. It might not be easy for people to accept you for who you are."
"I told you before that I don't care what people think about me," she said, snuggling against him. "If you want me here, I'll send my notice to San Francisco and start looking for an apartment."
"Why?"
"Because it's a little too far to commute," she said, giving him a puzzled look.
"You don't need a place of your own. You can move in with me."
Sara's jaw dropped, and she gave her head a shake. "I don't think that's a good idea, Gil. We've only seen each other in short spurts. You might not want to live with me once you deal with my temper on a regular basis."
"Sara, your temper doesn't bother me. I want us to get married," he said, stopping when he realized what he'd confessed. It was true, something he had secretly dreamed about, but it wasn't something he meant to so casually toss out. Suddenly he felt exposed and waited for the rejection.
"Oh. I, uhm. Well. I think, uh. Wow. I think we shouldn't rush into things," she finally managed, but she pulled back when he tensed. "I'm not saying no, Gil. I'm just not ready yet to say yes. Is that okay?"
"It's more than okay." A slow smile formed as he drew her back against his chest. If she needed more time, he'd wait. They had all the time in the world. "We're going to make this work. I know it."
Finis