TITLE: A Break in the Weather

AUTHOR: coolbyrne

CLASSIFICATION: GSR

RATING: PG

SPOILERS: None

DISCLAIMER: What I wouldn't do if I were given free reign with these characters and actors for one episode. Sigh. Alas, I have no such reign, free or otherwise.

DISTRIBUTION: If you like it, by all means.

FEEDBACK: Compliments and/or constructive criticism greatly appreciated. Flames will be mocked in other forums. Send any combination of the above to: [email protected].

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have written six GSR fics in less than two months. That is just unfathomable to me. "Inspirational" is such a cheesy word, but whatever it is you two are, WP and JF, thanks. As always, a big "couldn't have done it without you" also goes to my beta reader, the ever-patient papiliondae.

SUMMARY: One rainstorm leads to the recollection of another for Grissom and Sara.

*

The rain wasn't coming down in sheets, it was coming down in blankets. Water pelted the truck, flooded the windshield, and after only a minute of hesitant driving Grissom decided to pull over and wait it out.

Flipping his cell phone open, he speed-dialed Catherine at the lab.

"It's Grissom," he said after her greeting on the other end. "Yeah, we got caught in it. No, we're in the truck, but we're not going anywhere until it lets up. Okay. I'll see you later."

Clicking the phone shut, he put it back in his pocket and turned his attention towards his passenger.

"I told Catherine what was going on," he told her.

"Yeah, I caught that." Sara bent her head and tried to look skyward through the windshield. "How long do you think this is going to last?"

"I don't know." He mirrored her motion. "Could be two minutes. Could be two hours."

Resting her elbow against the window ledge, she propped her chin on her thumb. The corner of her mouth twitched, ever so slightly, and she stifled a laugh. Grissom had taken this quiet moment to simply sit back and look at her, but seeing this, had to ask, "What's so funny?"

She shifted her position and turned to face him, tucking her left leg under her right before she replied, "I was just thinking." Another twitch of the mouth. "Do you remember the last time the two of us got stuck together in a downpour?"

"San Francisco, September 2nd, 1995."

Her eyes widened. "You do remember."

"Of course I do," he said softly. "I was staying at The Clift. We were working on the case. You went to the bathroom and I decided to go out on the balcony."

"When I came out, I saw the glass door open. The breeze coming through the living room was so warm. Then I saw you out there, so I grabbed the two wine glasses and joined you."

"Closing the self-locking sliding door behind you."

She fought to hold in the smile, but failed. Holding her hands up in mock surrender, she said, "Hey, I didn't know it was going to lock behind me."

He let her off the hook with a smile of his own. "Neither of us did until it started raining."

"If you could even call it raining. It was torrential… more like a monsoon," she laughed.

Now it was his turn to shift in his seat, and draping his arm along the back of his seat, he smirked, "I wish we had a picture of the look on our faces when we couldn't get back inside."

With a broad grin, she offered one better. "I wish we had a picture of the two of us, huddled around the door, trying to pick the lock with a bobby pin from my hair." He laughed at the memory. "There we were, two science geeks, trying to pick a lock."

"It looks so much easier in the movies. Besides, I don't think the fact that we were giggling like two school kids was helping us at all."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't think I ever laughed as much as I did that night."

"I don't think I've laughed as much since," he answered truthfully.

For a while, the only sound in the vehicle was the air blowing through the vents, keeping the windows from fogging. Sara finally broke the silence.

"It was raining so hard, that there was no wine left in the glasses. They were full of rain."

"You made fun of my hair," he said.

Her mouth dropped open. "I did not!" When his eyebrow raised in playful disbelief, she amended, "I wasn't making fun. I merely noted how curly it got when it was wet."

"Wet? I was soaked."

She tried to nudge his nearby knee with her own. "You tried to shield me from the rain. It was no use, though; I was just as soaked as you."

"Which only got us laughing more."

She looked out the window. "Yeah," she whispered.

The fell quiet again, each of them reliving the moment in their minds. Sara was startled out of her reverie when she felt Grissom reach over, catching a strand of her hair between his fingertips.

"And then I kissed you."

"Grissom… please…"

He waited, watching her carefully to see if she was really going to object. He wasn't even sure he didn't want her to object. But he'd made a secret pact with himself: if she would let him, he would give voice to the feelings he'd had in that moment so long ago. Why now after all those years? He couldn't explain, he just knew he should. He wanted to. Maybe it was the security of the rain, cutting them off from the outside world in this small circle of intimacy. Maybe it was the woman whose hair he now had twirled around his finger. Maybe it was just about damn time.

With no further protest forthcoming, he picked up his trail. Looking at the dark band of hair around his finger, he went on, "I remember my skin starting to chill from the rain. But your lips were so warm." Her intake of breath was an audible one. "And then I felt like I was at the prom again, with the prettiest girl in school, dancing to 'Stairway to Heaven'." She laughed at this. "You know, that song's an eight-minute exercise in teenage awkwardness."

"Did you dance to that at your prom?"

"No," he answered, "I didn't dance at my prom. I observed. I didn't have the nerve to approach a girl, let alone the prettiest one."

"She should have approached you."

He smiled. "Thank you." Almost mouthing the words, he continued, "I just want you to know that I… I wasn't standing there with you, like an idiot, because I didn't know where to put my hands. I just wanted to put them everywhere."

Her smile melted away. Biting her bottom lip, she bowed her head and whispered, "Griss."

"When you took my hands in yours and put them around your waist… it was like you handed me the manual on how to kiss a girl. An epiphany of sorts."

Sara turned back towards him and shook her head with a smile. "You did it better than text book, believe me." She took his embarrassed laugh as a chance to change the mood. "It's a good thing you had your cell phone in your pocket. I don't know what we would have done. Without it… getting back in, I mean."

"Good thing I didn't put the chain on the door, or it could have been worse. Try explaining that to the hotel manager. Locked on the patio, locked in the room."

"I'm sure we were the talk of the hotel for weeks as it was."

He looked out the window for a moment and chewed the inside of his bottom lip thoughtfully. As if coming to a decision, he looked at her and began, "I want to tell you something. About what happened later."

She shook her head and loosened her hair from his fingers. "I don't think I want to hear this, Grissom."

"I don't think I want to tell you," he admitted, "but it's been eight years, Sara. It's been long enough. Besides, I have to make space for all the other unsaid things." He smiled at his own joke and she couldn't help but follow suit. Encouraged by her smile, he continued. "The reason I didn't… I didn't…"

"Didn't make a move on me."

"Thank you," he said wryly. "The reason I didn't… make a move on you is because… at that moment, I experienced something that confused the scientist in me." He faltered, struggling to translate feelings into words. "I experienced purity in a way I'd never known. Without data, without empirical evidence, without precedence, it was just what it was. Pure, for no other reason than that… for no reason at all. And at that moment, I couldn't have imagined asking for anything more."

Her voice was little more than a whisper. "And what about this moment?"

She had barely finished her question before his lips were on hers. Soft, hesitant, unsure. Just like the first time. Weaving her fingers through his hair, she drew him closer, increasing the depth of the kiss. What started as a gentle, tentative union of lips and mouths and tongues quickly escalated into a frenetic tangle of need and unspoken emotions. Parched and starved, they found nourishment in each other.

When they finally broke apart, Sara couldn't disguise the tears in her eyes.

"Your eyes were just like that the last time I kissed you; these dark glittering jewels. Except then it was the rain in your eyes."

She shook her head. "It wasn't the rain." Pressing her forehead against his, she said, "I can't wait another eight years, Grissom. I just can't…"

He stroked her jaw line with the back of his hand and confessed, "Hell, I don't think I can wait for another downpour." With that admission, he kissed her again.

And just like that, the rain stopped and the sun broke through.

They both turned and looked out of the window, fingers entangled through hair, cheeks pressed together. The sun illuminated the world, but also exposed a whole new vista of uncertainties. As Grissom pulled away, suddenly revealed in the brilliance, Sara decided to block his return to the shadows.

"You know, if you come over after work, I'm sure I have a garden hose somewhere I can hang off the roof."

-end.