Title: Breaking Point
Author: WashDCChick
Rating: PG-13 for implied unseemliness
Disclaimer: What gave you the impression I thought I owned these characters? Blame me for the story. Blame CBS, Anthony Zuiker, et al. for anything else related to CSI:.
Summary: When a piece of Grissom's past is revealed, some members of the team are forced to re-evaluate their feelings. GSR
A/N: Believe it or not, I started this story way back in September. I've tried to use it to explore not just the GSR, but to explore things I never saw in certain other pairings' fics. Hopefully it's worth the wait. If not, I blame it on the tentacles.
Thanks: To K, Stepf and Meg: the best friends and betas ever.
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Catherine's screwdriver was threatening to spill from her glass. She continued gesturing wildly, and Grissom tried to remember why he had agreed to host the dinner party in the first place.
"So I said to him, I said, 'just try not to think of them as tentacles,'" Catherine said pointedly. Clearly she thought she had made a grand joke and waited for the expected laughter from the others. "Cause it was squid. We were eating squid."
Grissom just looked at her. Sara seemed a bit worried.
Warrick lay a steadying hand on Catherine's arm, which held the glass. "Easy there, killer. Gris, you want to pass the OJ? I think I'll just adjust the juice to vodka ratio here."
Grissom was infinitely grateful for Warrick's presence at that moment. Catherine pouted, but seemed appeased when Warrick slid his arm behind her on the couch.
The gathering had been Catherine's idea in the first place. Grissom's intentional privacy about his and Sara's first date had backfired; Catherine had kept playing matchmaker and said if he didn't ask Sara out, she would.
"Look, War and I will even come over. It'll be a party."
"I don't have parties," he had said.
"Fine, it's not a party. It's just – dinner – with friends."
Which brought them to that afternoon. Sara looked radiant. They had been inching ever closer, Grissom taking every opportunity to pass this or that. He reveled in the pure pleasure of feeling her fingers touching his, in seeing her smile and telling himself that her smiles were meant just for him, that he really had finally gotten it right with her between the plant and the hockey rink and everything else. Maybe after Catherine and Warrick left they could even…
Grissom was snapped out of his thoughts by the conversation trickling into his subconscious. Catherine was leaning over the coffee table, talking in what she seemed to think was a conspiratorial tone to Sara, except that everyone in the room could hear her.
"I always knew you two were perfect for each other," Catherine was saying loudly to Sara. "I told him 'Gil,' I told him, 'You've got to lift your head out of that microscope.'"
Sara was sitting there like a deer trapped in headlights; there was simply nothing she could do to escape the situation, no matter how much she wanted to. Grissom sat motionless himself, wondering why Warrick wasn't doing anything, why he wasn't doing anything, but then it all happened so fast there wasn't anything anyone could have done to stop Catherine from saying it.
"He's certainly not for me. I mean, been there done that, you know?"
Catherine's face instantly showed that she knew she had clearly gone too far this time. Even Warrick looked taken aback.
"What I mean is that I've known Grissom for so long," she sputtered hastily.
Standing up suddenly, Warrick pulled Catherine to her feet by the elbow. "Man, would you look at the time? Gris, thanks for dinner, really. I gotta get Catherine home before curfew."
That made twice that evening that Grissom was indebted to Warrick. Standing up alongside Sara, he shook the taller man's outstretched hand and looked him in the eye, silently thanking him for at least trying to salvage the event.
When they had all said their goodbyes, Grissom gratefully closed the door on Catherine, Warrick, and hopefully the nightmare of the past afternoon. For the first time in what felt like hours Sara spoke up, but it was hardly what Grissom wanted to hear from her.
"Wow, it is late. I should really go, Gris. I should get some sleep before work." Sara stood stiffly, her posture was not welcoming and her smile was decidedly forced.
Grissom searched for what to say, looking desperately for the words that would make it better.
"Sara, I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen. Catherine –"
"No, it's okay, really. You don't owe me an apology. So Catherine had a little too much to drink? No big deal."
Grissom's heart broke a little. He could see Sara's hurt, but he couldn't do anything about it. He opened the door for her and guided her with a gentle hand on her back. Normally even this little touch would fill him with more joy than he thought was possible. Now he could only look to Sara for reassurance that all was not lost.
Sara stood looking at Grissom, telling herself what Catherine had said didn't mean anything. She thought maybe if she told herself that enough times she would believe it.
"I'll see you later, Gris. Thanks for dinner." Grissom placed his hand on her back and she softened slightly. Sara turned and gave Grissom a small peck on the cheek before fleeing for her car. Driving home, Sara's mind kept returning to the memory of what had happened, and she turned the music up loudly, trying to drive out the unwelcome thoughts.
Catherine hadn't actually said she'd slept with Grissom. And what if she had? That was all in the past now, wasn't it? The two of them were just good friends; she should just forget the whole thing.
A few hours later, not having moved from her spot on the couch, Sara decided she had to know the truth, one way or another. Picking up the phone, she hit number four on her speed dial.
A tired and cranky sounding Catherine eventually answered. "Hello?"
"Cat? It's me, Sara. I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Hey, Sara," Catherine said pleasantly. "No, I'm awake, unfortunately. Just nursing another cup of coffee."
"Are you alone?"
"Huh? Well, Lyndsey's in her bedroom…"
"I meant is Warrick with you?" The question made Sara uncomfortable. It was none of her business, but she didn't want Warrick there for this conversation.
Catherine laughed slightly, "No, Warrick's gone. I think he's a little mad at me, actually."
"Oh."
"Sara? Everything okay?"
"Well I was kind of wondering about earlier. What you said."
"Sara, I had too much to drink at Grissom's, even for me," she admitted. "I don't remember half of what I said."
Sara paused. Maybe she really was overreacting. Catherine had been drunk and here she was, getting upset because of it.
"Sara? You still there?"
"Yeah."
"Sara, tell me what I said; don't pull any punches. You're talking to a former addict here, I have to know."
"It was about you and Grissom…You said you'd been there, done that. Done what, Catherine?"
Sara was sure she could hear Catherine cringing on the other end of the line.
"Oh, honey," Catherine said. "That was probably one of the stupidest things I've said in a long while. I'm so sorry."
Sara steeled herself and repeated the question. "Done what, Cath? What did you do with Grissom?"
"Sara, you haven't talked to Gris about this, have you?"
This was harder than Sara had thought it would be. She was a little upset that Catherine wouldn't give her a straight answer.
"No, I haven't. Please. I need to know, Cath."
Catherine sighed, "I'm sure you do, Sara. But all I can tell you is that it was a lifetime ago and it doesn't mean a damn thing." Then, gently, "I can't tell you want you want to know. It's not right. Ask Gil."
That was exactly what Sara *didn't* want to do. Whatever had happened, she wasn't sure she could take hearing it from him, but now she didn't have a choice. Nearing tears, she thanked Catherine and quickly hung up.
The knock on the door was sharp and sudden. Grissom knew it could only be one person - he just didn't know if that was good or bad at that moment.
When he opened the door, and saw the confusion in Sara's face, he wanted to fold her into his arms and tell her how much he loved her, neither of which he'd done before. He wondered if he'd ever have the opportunity in the future.
Grissom let her into the townhouse; she sat down at the table where they had eaten earlier in the evening, and he sat across from her. He had a feeling he was being interrogated and this seemed the most appropriate positioning for it.
"I called Catherine," Sara stated.
Grissom nodded. "What did she say?"
"That it was a lifetime ago, and it didn't matter."
"That's right."
"She wouldn't tell me what 'it' was though. She said to talk to you."
"I wish you had talked to me first."
Sara looked down. "I know. I couldn't."
"I know."
"So what happened?"
There is was. The question he had been expecting and dreading was out there hanging between them as if the words were actually written on air for anyone to read, like a lesson on Sesame Street.
"Sara, I was never hiding this from you. I need you to know that. "
Sara nodded slightly. They'd just barely begun to date; they'd known each other for what felt like a lifetime. Somewhere in between Grissom knew that he had every right not to tell Sara, but that she had every right to want to know.
"I know," Sara said. "Go on."
"It was before I met you," Grissom started. "When Catherine and I first started working together."
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Grissom respected Catherine, probably more than she knew. His passion for science had started early; it was practically instinctive for him. Catherine had taken quite a different route. She'd danced to support herself and Eddie and she had no regrets, despite getting addicted to cocaine in the process. But she had jumped at the chance to do better for herself, getting her degree and becoming a CSI. In the end she had not just succeeded, but excelled.
He was not an easy man to connect with, Grissom knew that. Yet he and Catherine seemed to get past that. He had not judged her for being a dancer and she respected him for that. She had not judged him understanding science better than people, and he respected her for that. Why she was still with Eddie was a mystery to Grissom; Ed was often drunk, frequently foul tempered and probably unfaithful, but he did not judge her for that either, only tried to be the best friend he knew how to be. The fact that he talked less and listened more seemed to ease the way for their friendship. What Catherine had really needed was just someone to listen.
He listened often. On nights when Eddie was out drinking or gambling or womanizing, Catherine had started inviting herself over to his townhouse. Catherine drank and talked, and Grissom cooked and listened. It was better that way; when he talked it was usually about bugs or something equally esoteric and Catherine would look at him, bored and bemused, but grateful for the temporary distraction.
That was how it had started that day.
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Grissom paused at this point in the story, feeling Sara's eyes nearly burning a hole looking into his. Sara merely raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue. Pursing his lips, in short order he did.
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He had already left for work and had walked leisurely back to his office to get something he had forgotten, but didn't really need. Days like these, when the sky was clear blue and the temperature was mild, he was most reluctant to go home. Home was supposed to be where the heart was, but it held no heart for him. Inside Dr. Grissom, renowned Forensic Entomologist was just Gil, and Gil was lonely, no matter how much he hated to admit it. His work kept him from people, but it also kept him from himself, and he wasn't sure which he needed it for more.
The lights in his office flickered on with a flip of the switch and he saw her sitting there. A startled sniff and a hurried wipe of her eyes did little to hide Catherine's obvious misery. Startled by the lights heralding Grissom's unexpected return, she jumped up.
"Gris! I was just – "
"Catherine? What's going on? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," she insisted lamely. "I'm sorry; I thought you were already gone."
"I was. Sit back down. What's the matter?"
Grissom took in her appearance. Her normally immaculate hair was mussed, and her eye makeup was smeared. Most concerning to him was the air of defeat that had bent her head, which she normally held so high, and the slump in her shoulders, which she normally held back so proudly and confidently. This was not the Catherine he was used to seeing, even on her worst days.
Sitting her gently back down in the chair, Grissom had taken the seat next to it, pulling it and him closer to her.
"It's Eddie, isn't it? What did he do?" he asked gently.
Catherine attempted a smile. "No, it's fine, really. Everything's fine. I just – he- ." She buried her face in her hands; her shoulders shook but no sound came out. Grissom reached out to smooth down her hair and try to comfort her.
"Shhh. It's okay. It's okay. C'mon, I'm taking you home with me."
Catherine sniffed again, and tried to put on a brave face. "No, Gil. I'm fine. You go on home; I just needed to pull myself together. It's silly."
"You're right. It is silly. Now come on, you can leave your car here, I'll make us some breakfast and I'll drop you back off here later. No arguments."
Wearily, Catherine stood up and gathered her jacket and purse. Grissom put a protective arm around her shoulders and led her out to his car. As much as she had needed a friend that morning, so had he.
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"So was it Eddie she was upset about?" Sara asked hesitantly. "I mean, what had he done to upset her so much?"
Grissom shrugged, "What did he ever do?"
Sara pressed for more information, "So what was so different?"
"We all have our breaking point, Sara. We all do."
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That morning Grissom had made them blueberry waffles, and they both drank Bloody Marys. They sat on the couch and a surprised Grissom let Catherine rest her head against his shoulder. He covered her with a blanket; she curled her feet under her and they sat and talked for a while. Eventually Grissom's shoulder grew sore and he put his arm around her. Catherine's head rested against his chest and he kissed the top of her head. They both relaxed and just enjoyed the ease of the other's company.
"Hey, Gil?"
"Yes?"
"You're a good friend."
"Thanks."
Catherine shifted her weight to look slightly up at him. Though neither was drunk, the combined warmth from the alcohol, the weariness of the end of a hard night's work and their body heat seemed to have charged the air between them.
"I mean it, Gil. You're a true friend," she said quietly. Her face was dangerously close to his and his heart beat faster, pumping blood to places he wished it wouldn't.
"I'm always here for you, Cath. Always."
Neither of them initiated the kiss, or at least neither one of them would admit to initiating it. But there they were, lips to lips, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. Grissom leaned into Catherine and she reciprocated easily. Reason and reasons were beside the point. All that mattered was two friends reaching out for something and finding each other.
Afterwards, they had lain close together, each lost in their own world. Grissom would rub her back or her hair and Catherine would look over and smile, but conversation seemed to be confined to their respective consciences.
Grissom pulled himself out of his thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"
"Eddie," Catherine said slowly.
"I thought so," Grissom replied.
They were silent again until Catherine spoke up. "What are you thinking about?"
"Eddie," Grissom said slowly.
"I thought so," Catherine replied, and they both laughed a little.
Catherine reached over and rubbed his stubble affectionately with her knuckles. "You know I love you as a friend."
An easy, warm smile crossed Grissom's face. "As do I."
"I should get going."
"Yes, you should. Get dressed. I'll drive you back to your car."
"Okay."
They rode back as they had come, quietly, letting the strains of Grissom's opera CD flow around them in the car. When they arrived, Grissom shut the engine off and turned to face Catherine.
"You're sure you're okay with this?" he asked.
"Hey, I was there, too, remember?"
Catherine had opened the car door and then turned back to Grissom. "She's gonna be one lucky woman, whoever she is."
Grissom had nodded and smiled, "So is he."
"Whoever he is," Catherine said ruefully.
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Tears welled up in Sara's eyes, giving them a glossy sheen that she knew was not going unnoticed by Grissom. The lake threatened to spill over and become a waterfall, but she forced it to retreat through sheer will. The pain in Grissom's eyes reflected her own back at her. It wasn't his own pain she saw in his eyes, but hers; Grissom was hurting for her. She wanted to explain to him what she was feeling, but how could she do that when she couldn't explain it to herself?
"Please say something," he pleaded.
"I don't know what to say," she replied.
"Then tell me what to say."
'Say you love me,' she thought.
She couldn't manage to say the words out loud, so the two of them simply sat there.
"I thought you trusted me," Grissom said softly.
"I thought I did, too." He looked like someone had just died. "We're late for work."
'Make me even later!' her brain screamed. 'Hold me. Touch me. Make it all go away!'
"Sara-"
"No, Grissom. Don't. I just can't handle this now."
"Will you ever?"
'God, I hope so,' she thought.
"I don't know," was what she said.
Sara wandered the halls of the lab on auto-pilot, her body was there, her mind was anyplace but. No matter how hard she tried, all she could see in her mind's eye was the man she loved more than anything making love to his best friend.
His best friend. Wasn't that it, really? Catherine was Grissom's best friend and she had been his lover, too. What did that make her, second best?
God, how she'd hurt him, telling him she didn't know if she trusted him anymore. At the core of their relationship, wasn't that what they'd always had?
"I trust you." He'd said that to her when he told her about Holly Gribbs. It had been enough for her then, enough for her to pick up and move from San Francisco. Why wasn't it enough now?
So she'd hurt him. Good. Now he knew how it felt. How could he have slept with her, when she was married no less? If he'd been able to justify it then, what was stopping him now? Her? Had she just been deluding herself into thinking that he and Catherine were just friends? No wonder Catherine had disliked her so. She clearly was intruding where she wasn't welcome.
Her mind was being her own worst enemy. She knew that, but she couldn't stop it. Around and around it went, in endless circles of doubt and insecurity and fear.
"This a private party or can anyone come?" Warrick's even voice made her jump. She was so busy kicking herself that she hadn't noticed him coming into the layout room.
"Oh…hey," she said listlessly.
"Whoa…it can't be that bad, can it?" He pulled over a chair and straddled it across from her.
Sara looked sourly at him. "You were there, you ought to know."
Nodding, Warrick leaned slightly back in the chair. "So that's what you're in a funk about. True, I was there. So?"
"So? That's all you have to say?"
He shrugged, "What should I say?"
How could he be this calm? He had to be more upset than he was letting on. She was.
"You know, don't you?" she asked incredulously.
"Yup. Cat called me after you called her. Figured she and I needed to have a little talk."
"And?"
"And she told me what happened. Seems like Grissom must've told you."
"Yeah. So what do you think?"
"Doesn't matter what I think, that's between me and Cath. Matters what you think if you're acting like this."
"I don't know what to think." Sara looked away; Warrick had this way of cutting to the quick, especially with her.
"I don't care if you lie to me, Sara. But don't lie to yourself."
"Fine," Sara said. "I think I hate them. Or at least what they did."
Warrick raised his eyebrows. "That's pretty harsh for something that didn't involve you."
Sara's eyes flared. "How can you say that? Doesn't it bother you that they slept together?"
"Why? They're not sleeping together now."
"What's stopping them from doing it now, or in the future?" Sara demanded.
"Aside from the fact that they're not interested in each other? Us."
"War, what I can't get out of my head is what Grissom said to me: 'Everyone has their breaking point.' How do I know they won't reach that point again?"
"Sara, Grissom's human; he makes mistakes. Believe it or not, you do, too. Like when you thought you caught me gambling but you didn't? People have let you down, Sara, they're gonna keep doing it. You gotta give 'em a break. Most of all you've gotta give yourself a break. Making mistakes doesn't make you a failure, it makes you human. If you're gonna trust Grissom, you gotta trust yourself first."
Warrick stood up and walked around the table, giving Sara's arm a quick squeeze before leaving her alone again with her thoughts.
What little sleep Sara was able to get the next morning was marred by dreams she couldn't remember. But she couldn't shake the emotions they left behind, making her feel guilty and somehow unclean. More than anything, she wanted to forget this, but forgetting wasn't a solution even if it were an option.
If she was being hard on Grissom and Catherine, it was only because she was being twice as hard on herself. Her parents had said that everyone was equal, but Sara had known the truth: she had to be better. If only she could be that much better than everyone else, her parents would notice. She didn't want to be equal to everyone else in their eyes; she wanted to be the best. That was why she had gone to Harvard: any other school wasn't good enough; it was why she maxed out on overtime each month: anything less wasn't enough. She couldn't be as good as everyone else, she had to be better; failure wasn't an option. Warrick had been right as usual; for her, making a mistake did equal failure, and if Grissom and Catherine could make a mistake with so many repercussions, who was to say she wouldn't?
After struggling for so long to find a place where she fit in, Sara had not only fit here in Las Vegas, she belonged there. These people were not just her friends, they were her family. The thought of hurting them, and most of all of hurting Grissom, scared her more than any crime scene could.
The longer this dragged on, the more unfair Sara knew she was being to Grissom and to Catherine. She wanted to put in into perspective the way Warrick had. Before she could trust Grissom, she had to trust herself. She had to solve this on her own; no one else could do it for her. She just had to figure out how.
For the second time in as many days, Sara picked up the phone and pressed number four on her speed dial.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Catherine. It's Sara again."
Catherine sounded surprised and a bit guarded. "Hey, Sara."
"Can I…buy you a cup of coffee before work?"
There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the line. "Sure. Where?"
"The diner around the corner from the lab? 10 okay?"
"I'll be there."
Sara hung up the telephone. "Well, it's a start," she said to herself.
It was her meeting, so Sara made sure to arrive first. In any event, she had a few minutes to settle her nerves and think about what she wanted to say. Catherine arrived a little late and apologized, explaining that she had been helping Lyndsey with her homework.
"No problem," Sara said. "I really appreciate you coming." She sat up straight with her hands in front of her, fingers laced around the coffee cup. Her index fingers rubbed together, a physical manifestation of her nervousness caused by the thoughts churning inside her head. Catherine sat back against the booth with her usual cool exterior in place. Both women assessed each other uncertainly.
"So," Catherine said. "You want to talk about me and Grissom."
Sara tried to look relaxed. "Sort of. Actually it's about you and me."
"Okay. You've got my attention."
Sara realized that her posture was a bit offensive and Catherine's was a bit defensive. She breathed out and sat back, mirroring Catherine.
"We never really got off on the right foot when I came here. That's as much my fault as it is yours. Things have certainly gotten better with us, but I don't think we've ever really talked about what the problem was in the first place."
"Which was?'
"What it is now. Grissom."
"Sara, I don't have any problem with you and Grissom. Really."
"Yeah, but on some level I think you do, and as much as I hate to admit it, I think I have a problem with Grissom and you. Cath, I'm not the best person when it comes to being in touch with my feelings, but I've had to make up for that pretty quickly."
Catherine genuinely felt for her. "I really am sorry for what I said."
"I know you are. See, since I came to Las Vegas I've been so concerned about me and Grissom that I may have taken it out on you, and maybe you kind of did the same to me. The thing is I think maybe you wanted me to know about you and Grissom, about what you've meant to each other. "
"You have been doing a lot of thinking."
Sara laughed without much humor. "Yeah, well, I can't say it was very much fun."
"No, I don't imagine it was," Catherine said sympathetically.
"Cath, my point is that Grissom wants…Grissom needs both of us."
Catherine smiled, "What I said was the truth, Sara, Grissom's not for me, not like that. He's for you. I'm sorry if I did anything even unintentionally that made you think otherwise. I want Gris to be happy. You make him happy."
Sara pursed her lips and looked down, blushing a little. "I hope so."
He would be home, Sara knew he would be. The question was, did he want to see her? They couldn't go back to the way things were, but they could move forward if he was willing. Their relationship always seemed to be two steps forward, one step back and she wondered why that was. Could a relationship survive like that or did you eventually grown tired of fighting of each tiny piece of momentum? If they loved each other, was that enough?
The door to Grissom's apartment opened. How had he known she was there? He knew. He had always known. That was the only answer there was.
"Hi." He stood in the doorway.
"Hi. Can I come in?" It was an honest question.
"Yes. Please do." He let her pass.
"Can you forgive me?"
"For what?" he asked.
"For not trusting you."
"You don't need to ask that. Ever."
They stood awkwardly just inside each other's personal space. She stared into his eyes unsure what else to say. Without warning, he reached for her, folding his arms around her narrow frame and holding her to him. She listened to the steady beat of his heart and felt the constant rise and fall of his chest.
Sara wrapped her arms around his waist, allowing herself to simply be held and to know with utter certainty the answer to her questions: no matter what, they would love each other, and no matter what they would make it be enough.
That was all she needed to know.
--FIN--
Author: WashDCChick
Rating: PG-13 for implied unseemliness
Disclaimer: What gave you the impression I thought I owned these characters? Blame me for the story. Blame CBS, Anthony Zuiker, et al. for anything else related to CSI:.
Summary: When a piece of Grissom's past is revealed, some members of the team are forced to re-evaluate their feelings. GSR
A/N: Believe it or not, I started this story way back in September. I've tried to use it to explore not just the GSR, but to explore things I never saw in certain other pairings' fics. Hopefully it's worth the wait. If not, I blame it on the tentacles.
Thanks: To K, Stepf and Meg: the best friends and betas ever.
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Catherine's screwdriver was threatening to spill from her glass. She continued gesturing wildly, and Grissom tried to remember why he had agreed to host the dinner party in the first place.
"So I said to him, I said, 'just try not to think of them as tentacles,'" Catherine said pointedly. Clearly she thought she had made a grand joke and waited for the expected laughter from the others. "Cause it was squid. We were eating squid."
Grissom just looked at her. Sara seemed a bit worried.
Warrick lay a steadying hand on Catherine's arm, which held the glass. "Easy there, killer. Gris, you want to pass the OJ? I think I'll just adjust the juice to vodka ratio here."
Grissom was infinitely grateful for Warrick's presence at that moment. Catherine pouted, but seemed appeased when Warrick slid his arm behind her on the couch.
The gathering had been Catherine's idea in the first place. Grissom's intentional privacy about his and Sara's first date had backfired; Catherine had kept playing matchmaker and said if he didn't ask Sara out, she would.
"Look, War and I will even come over. It'll be a party."
"I don't have parties," he had said.
"Fine, it's not a party. It's just – dinner – with friends."
Which brought them to that afternoon. Sara looked radiant. They had been inching ever closer, Grissom taking every opportunity to pass this or that. He reveled in the pure pleasure of feeling her fingers touching his, in seeing her smile and telling himself that her smiles were meant just for him, that he really had finally gotten it right with her between the plant and the hockey rink and everything else. Maybe after Catherine and Warrick left they could even…
Grissom was snapped out of his thoughts by the conversation trickling into his subconscious. Catherine was leaning over the coffee table, talking in what she seemed to think was a conspiratorial tone to Sara, except that everyone in the room could hear her.
"I always knew you two were perfect for each other," Catherine was saying loudly to Sara. "I told him 'Gil,' I told him, 'You've got to lift your head out of that microscope.'"
Sara was sitting there like a deer trapped in headlights; there was simply nothing she could do to escape the situation, no matter how much she wanted to. Grissom sat motionless himself, wondering why Warrick wasn't doing anything, why he wasn't doing anything, but then it all happened so fast there wasn't anything anyone could have done to stop Catherine from saying it.
"He's certainly not for me. I mean, been there done that, you know?"
Catherine's face instantly showed that she knew she had clearly gone too far this time. Even Warrick looked taken aback.
"What I mean is that I've known Grissom for so long," she sputtered hastily.
Standing up suddenly, Warrick pulled Catherine to her feet by the elbow. "Man, would you look at the time? Gris, thanks for dinner, really. I gotta get Catherine home before curfew."
That made twice that evening that Grissom was indebted to Warrick. Standing up alongside Sara, he shook the taller man's outstretched hand and looked him in the eye, silently thanking him for at least trying to salvage the event.
When they had all said their goodbyes, Grissom gratefully closed the door on Catherine, Warrick, and hopefully the nightmare of the past afternoon. For the first time in what felt like hours Sara spoke up, but it was hardly what Grissom wanted to hear from her.
"Wow, it is late. I should really go, Gris. I should get some sleep before work." Sara stood stiffly, her posture was not welcoming and her smile was decidedly forced.
Grissom searched for what to say, looking desperately for the words that would make it better.
"Sara, I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen. Catherine –"
"No, it's okay, really. You don't owe me an apology. So Catherine had a little too much to drink? No big deal."
Grissom's heart broke a little. He could see Sara's hurt, but he couldn't do anything about it. He opened the door for her and guided her with a gentle hand on her back. Normally even this little touch would fill him with more joy than he thought was possible. Now he could only look to Sara for reassurance that all was not lost.
Sara stood looking at Grissom, telling herself what Catherine had said didn't mean anything. She thought maybe if she told herself that enough times she would believe it.
"I'll see you later, Gris. Thanks for dinner." Grissom placed his hand on her back and she softened slightly. Sara turned and gave Grissom a small peck on the cheek before fleeing for her car. Driving home, Sara's mind kept returning to the memory of what had happened, and she turned the music up loudly, trying to drive out the unwelcome thoughts.
Catherine hadn't actually said she'd slept with Grissom. And what if she had? That was all in the past now, wasn't it? The two of them were just good friends; she should just forget the whole thing.
A few hours later, not having moved from her spot on the couch, Sara decided she had to know the truth, one way or another. Picking up the phone, she hit number four on her speed dial.
A tired and cranky sounding Catherine eventually answered. "Hello?"
"Cat? It's me, Sara. I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Hey, Sara," Catherine said pleasantly. "No, I'm awake, unfortunately. Just nursing another cup of coffee."
"Are you alone?"
"Huh? Well, Lyndsey's in her bedroom…"
"I meant is Warrick with you?" The question made Sara uncomfortable. It was none of her business, but she didn't want Warrick there for this conversation.
Catherine laughed slightly, "No, Warrick's gone. I think he's a little mad at me, actually."
"Oh."
"Sara? Everything okay?"
"Well I was kind of wondering about earlier. What you said."
"Sara, I had too much to drink at Grissom's, even for me," she admitted. "I don't remember half of what I said."
Sara paused. Maybe she really was overreacting. Catherine had been drunk and here she was, getting upset because of it.
"Sara? You still there?"
"Yeah."
"Sara, tell me what I said; don't pull any punches. You're talking to a former addict here, I have to know."
"It was about you and Grissom…You said you'd been there, done that. Done what, Catherine?"
Sara was sure she could hear Catherine cringing on the other end of the line.
"Oh, honey," Catherine said. "That was probably one of the stupidest things I've said in a long while. I'm so sorry."
Sara steeled herself and repeated the question. "Done what, Cath? What did you do with Grissom?"
"Sara, you haven't talked to Gris about this, have you?"
This was harder than Sara had thought it would be. She was a little upset that Catherine wouldn't give her a straight answer.
"No, I haven't. Please. I need to know, Cath."
Catherine sighed, "I'm sure you do, Sara. But all I can tell you is that it was a lifetime ago and it doesn't mean a damn thing." Then, gently, "I can't tell you want you want to know. It's not right. Ask Gil."
That was exactly what Sara *didn't* want to do. Whatever had happened, she wasn't sure she could take hearing it from him, but now she didn't have a choice. Nearing tears, she thanked Catherine and quickly hung up.
The knock on the door was sharp and sudden. Grissom knew it could only be one person - he just didn't know if that was good or bad at that moment.
When he opened the door, and saw the confusion in Sara's face, he wanted to fold her into his arms and tell her how much he loved her, neither of which he'd done before. He wondered if he'd ever have the opportunity in the future.
Grissom let her into the townhouse; she sat down at the table where they had eaten earlier in the evening, and he sat across from her. He had a feeling he was being interrogated and this seemed the most appropriate positioning for it.
"I called Catherine," Sara stated.
Grissom nodded. "What did she say?"
"That it was a lifetime ago, and it didn't matter."
"That's right."
"She wouldn't tell me what 'it' was though. She said to talk to you."
"I wish you had talked to me first."
Sara looked down. "I know. I couldn't."
"I know."
"So what happened?"
There is was. The question he had been expecting and dreading was out there hanging between them as if the words were actually written on air for anyone to read, like a lesson on Sesame Street.
"Sara, I was never hiding this from you. I need you to know that. "
Sara nodded slightly. They'd just barely begun to date; they'd known each other for what felt like a lifetime. Somewhere in between Grissom knew that he had every right not to tell Sara, but that she had every right to want to know.
"I know," Sara said. "Go on."
"It was before I met you," Grissom started. "When Catherine and I first started working together."
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Grissom respected Catherine, probably more than she knew. His passion for science had started early; it was practically instinctive for him. Catherine had taken quite a different route. She'd danced to support herself and Eddie and she had no regrets, despite getting addicted to cocaine in the process. But she had jumped at the chance to do better for herself, getting her degree and becoming a CSI. In the end she had not just succeeded, but excelled.
He was not an easy man to connect with, Grissom knew that. Yet he and Catherine seemed to get past that. He had not judged her for being a dancer and she respected him for that. She had not judged him understanding science better than people, and he respected her for that. Why she was still with Eddie was a mystery to Grissom; Ed was often drunk, frequently foul tempered and probably unfaithful, but he did not judge her for that either, only tried to be the best friend he knew how to be. The fact that he talked less and listened more seemed to ease the way for their friendship. What Catherine had really needed was just someone to listen.
He listened often. On nights when Eddie was out drinking or gambling or womanizing, Catherine had started inviting herself over to his townhouse. Catherine drank and talked, and Grissom cooked and listened. It was better that way; when he talked it was usually about bugs or something equally esoteric and Catherine would look at him, bored and bemused, but grateful for the temporary distraction.
That was how it had started that day.
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Grissom paused at this point in the story, feeling Sara's eyes nearly burning a hole looking into his. Sara merely raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue. Pursing his lips, in short order he did.
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He had already left for work and had walked leisurely back to his office to get something he had forgotten, but didn't really need. Days like these, when the sky was clear blue and the temperature was mild, he was most reluctant to go home. Home was supposed to be where the heart was, but it held no heart for him. Inside Dr. Grissom, renowned Forensic Entomologist was just Gil, and Gil was lonely, no matter how much he hated to admit it. His work kept him from people, but it also kept him from himself, and he wasn't sure which he needed it for more.
The lights in his office flickered on with a flip of the switch and he saw her sitting there. A startled sniff and a hurried wipe of her eyes did little to hide Catherine's obvious misery. Startled by the lights heralding Grissom's unexpected return, she jumped up.
"Gris! I was just – "
"Catherine? What's going on? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," she insisted lamely. "I'm sorry; I thought you were already gone."
"I was. Sit back down. What's the matter?"
Grissom took in her appearance. Her normally immaculate hair was mussed, and her eye makeup was smeared. Most concerning to him was the air of defeat that had bent her head, which she normally held so high, and the slump in her shoulders, which she normally held back so proudly and confidently. This was not the Catherine he was used to seeing, even on her worst days.
Sitting her gently back down in the chair, Grissom had taken the seat next to it, pulling it and him closer to her.
"It's Eddie, isn't it? What did he do?" he asked gently.
Catherine attempted a smile. "No, it's fine, really. Everything's fine. I just – he- ." She buried her face in her hands; her shoulders shook but no sound came out. Grissom reached out to smooth down her hair and try to comfort her.
"Shhh. It's okay. It's okay. C'mon, I'm taking you home with me."
Catherine sniffed again, and tried to put on a brave face. "No, Gil. I'm fine. You go on home; I just needed to pull myself together. It's silly."
"You're right. It is silly. Now come on, you can leave your car here, I'll make us some breakfast and I'll drop you back off here later. No arguments."
Wearily, Catherine stood up and gathered her jacket and purse. Grissom put a protective arm around her shoulders and led her out to his car. As much as she had needed a friend that morning, so had he.
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"So was it Eddie she was upset about?" Sara asked hesitantly. "I mean, what had he done to upset her so much?"
Grissom shrugged, "What did he ever do?"
Sara pressed for more information, "So what was so different?"
"We all have our breaking point, Sara. We all do."
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That morning Grissom had made them blueberry waffles, and they both drank Bloody Marys. They sat on the couch and a surprised Grissom let Catherine rest her head against his shoulder. He covered her with a blanket; she curled her feet under her and they sat and talked for a while. Eventually Grissom's shoulder grew sore and he put his arm around her. Catherine's head rested against his chest and he kissed the top of her head. They both relaxed and just enjoyed the ease of the other's company.
"Hey, Gil?"
"Yes?"
"You're a good friend."
"Thanks."
Catherine shifted her weight to look slightly up at him. Though neither was drunk, the combined warmth from the alcohol, the weariness of the end of a hard night's work and their body heat seemed to have charged the air between them.
"I mean it, Gil. You're a true friend," she said quietly. Her face was dangerously close to his and his heart beat faster, pumping blood to places he wished it wouldn't.
"I'm always here for you, Cath. Always."
Neither of them initiated the kiss, or at least neither one of them would admit to initiating it. But there they were, lips to lips, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. Grissom leaned into Catherine and she reciprocated easily. Reason and reasons were beside the point. All that mattered was two friends reaching out for something and finding each other.
Afterwards, they had lain close together, each lost in their own world. Grissom would rub her back or her hair and Catherine would look over and smile, but conversation seemed to be confined to their respective consciences.
Grissom pulled himself out of his thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"
"Eddie," Catherine said slowly.
"I thought so," Grissom replied.
They were silent again until Catherine spoke up. "What are you thinking about?"
"Eddie," Grissom said slowly.
"I thought so," Catherine replied, and they both laughed a little.
Catherine reached over and rubbed his stubble affectionately with her knuckles. "You know I love you as a friend."
An easy, warm smile crossed Grissom's face. "As do I."
"I should get going."
"Yes, you should. Get dressed. I'll drive you back to your car."
"Okay."
They rode back as they had come, quietly, letting the strains of Grissom's opera CD flow around them in the car. When they arrived, Grissom shut the engine off and turned to face Catherine.
"You're sure you're okay with this?" he asked.
"Hey, I was there, too, remember?"
Catherine had opened the car door and then turned back to Grissom. "She's gonna be one lucky woman, whoever she is."
Grissom had nodded and smiled, "So is he."
"Whoever he is," Catherine said ruefully.
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Tears welled up in Sara's eyes, giving them a glossy sheen that she knew was not going unnoticed by Grissom. The lake threatened to spill over and become a waterfall, but she forced it to retreat through sheer will. The pain in Grissom's eyes reflected her own back at her. It wasn't his own pain she saw in his eyes, but hers; Grissom was hurting for her. She wanted to explain to him what she was feeling, but how could she do that when she couldn't explain it to herself?
"Please say something," he pleaded.
"I don't know what to say," she replied.
"Then tell me what to say."
'Say you love me,' she thought.
She couldn't manage to say the words out loud, so the two of them simply sat there.
"I thought you trusted me," Grissom said softly.
"I thought I did, too." He looked like someone had just died. "We're late for work."
'Make me even later!' her brain screamed. 'Hold me. Touch me. Make it all go away!'
"Sara-"
"No, Grissom. Don't. I just can't handle this now."
"Will you ever?"
'God, I hope so,' she thought.
"I don't know," was what she said.
Sara wandered the halls of the lab on auto-pilot, her body was there, her mind was anyplace but. No matter how hard she tried, all she could see in her mind's eye was the man she loved more than anything making love to his best friend.
His best friend. Wasn't that it, really? Catherine was Grissom's best friend and she had been his lover, too. What did that make her, second best?
God, how she'd hurt him, telling him she didn't know if she trusted him anymore. At the core of their relationship, wasn't that what they'd always had?
"I trust you." He'd said that to her when he told her about Holly Gribbs. It had been enough for her then, enough for her to pick up and move from San Francisco. Why wasn't it enough now?
So she'd hurt him. Good. Now he knew how it felt. How could he have slept with her, when she was married no less? If he'd been able to justify it then, what was stopping him now? Her? Had she just been deluding herself into thinking that he and Catherine were just friends? No wonder Catherine had disliked her so. She clearly was intruding where she wasn't welcome.
Her mind was being her own worst enemy. She knew that, but she couldn't stop it. Around and around it went, in endless circles of doubt and insecurity and fear.
"This a private party or can anyone come?" Warrick's even voice made her jump. She was so busy kicking herself that she hadn't noticed him coming into the layout room.
"Oh…hey," she said listlessly.
"Whoa…it can't be that bad, can it?" He pulled over a chair and straddled it across from her.
Sara looked sourly at him. "You were there, you ought to know."
Nodding, Warrick leaned slightly back in the chair. "So that's what you're in a funk about. True, I was there. So?"
"So? That's all you have to say?"
He shrugged, "What should I say?"
How could he be this calm? He had to be more upset than he was letting on. She was.
"You know, don't you?" she asked incredulously.
"Yup. Cat called me after you called her. Figured she and I needed to have a little talk."
"And?"
"And she told me what happened. Seems like Grissom must've told you."
"Yeah. So what do you think?"
"Doesn't matter what I think, that's between me and Cath. Matters what you think if you're acting like this."
"I don't know what to think." Sara looked away; Warrick had this way of cutting to the quick, especially with her.
"I don't care if you lie to me, Sara. But don't lie to yourself."
"Fine," Sara said. "I think I hate them. Or at least what they did."
Warrick raised his eyebrows. "That's pretty harsh for something that didn't involve you."
Sara's eyes flared. "How can you say that? Doesn't it bother you that they slept together?"
"Why? They're not sleeping together now."
"What's stopping them from doing it now, or in the future?" Sara demanded.
"Aside from the fact that they're not interested in each other? Us."
"War, what I can't get out of my head is what Grissom said to me: 'Everyone has their breaking point.' How do I know they won't reach that point again?"
"Sara, Grissom's human; he makes mistakes. Believe it or not, you do, too. Like when you thought you caught me gambling but you didn't? People have let you down, Sara, they're gonna keep doing it. You gotta give 'em a break. Most of all you've gotta give yourself a break. Making mistakes doesn't make you a failure, it makes you human. If you're gonna trust Grissom, you gotta trust yourself first."
Warrick stood up and walked around the table, giving Sara's arm a quick squeeze before leaving her alone again with her thoughts.
What little sleep Sara was able to get the next morning was marred by dreams she couldn't remember. But she couldn't shake the emotions they left behind, making her feel guilty and somehow unclean. More than anything, she wanted to forget this, but forgetting wasn't a solution even if it were an option.
If she was being hard on Grissom and Catherine, it was only because she was being twice as hard on herself. Her parents had said that everyone was equal, but Sara had known the truth: she had to be better. If only she could be that much better than everyone else, her parents would notice. She didn't want to be equal to everyone else in their eyes; she wanted to be the best. That was why she had gone to Harvard: any other school wasn't good enough; it was why she maxed out on overtime each month: anything less wasn't enough. She couldn't be as good as everyone else, she had to be better; failure wasn't an option. Warrick had been right as usual; for her, making a mistake did equal failure, and if Grissom and Catherine could make a mistake with so many repercussions, who was to say she wouldn't?
After struggling for so long to find a place where she fit in, Sara had not only fit here in Las Vegas, she belonged there. These people were not just her friends, they were her family. The thought of hurting them, and most of all of hurting Grissom, scared her more than any crime scene could.
The longer this dragged on, the more unfair Sara knew she was being to Grissom and to Catherine. She wanted to put in into perspective the way Warrick had. Before she could trust Grissom, she had to trust herself. She had to solve this on her own; no one else could do it for her. She just had to figure out how.
For the second time in as many days, Sara picked up the phone and pressed number four on her speed dial.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Catherine. It's Sara again."
Catherine sounded surprised and a bit guarded. "Hey, Sara."
"Can I…buy you a cup of coffee before work?"
There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the line. "Sure. Where?"
"The diner around the corner from the lab? 10 okay?"
"I'll be there."
Sara hung up the telephone. "Well, it's a start," she said to herself.
It was her meeting, so Sara made sure to arrive first. In any event, she had a few minutes to settle her nerves and think about what she wanted to say. Catherine arrived a little late and apologized, explaining that she had been helping Lyndsey with her homework.
"No problem," Sara said. "I really appreciate you coming." She sat up straight with her hands in front of her, fingers laced around the coffee cup. Her index fingers rubbed together, a physical manifestation of her nervousness caused by the thoughts churning inside her head. Catherine sat back against the booth with her usual cool exterior in place. Both women assessed each other uncertainly.
"So," Catherine said. "You want to talk about me and Grissom."
Sara tried to look relaxed. "Sort of. Actually it's about you and me."
"Okay. You've got my attention."
Sara realized that her posture was a bit offensive and Catherine's was a bit defensive. She breathed out and sat back, mirroring Catherine.
"We never really got off on the right foot when I came here. That's as much my fault as it is yours. Things have certainly gotten better with us, but I don't think we've ever really talked about what the problem was in the first place."
"Which was?'
"What it is now. Grissom."
"Sara, I don't have any problem with you and Grissom. Really."
"Yeah, but on some level I think you do, and as much as I hate to admit it, I think I have a problem with Grissom and you. Cath, I'm not the best person when it comes to being in touch with my feelings, but I've had to make up for that pretty quickly."
Catherine genuinely felt for her. "I really am sorry for what I said."
"I know you are. See, since I came to Las Vegas I've been so concerned about me and Grissom that I may have taken it out on you, and maybe you kind of did the same to me. The thing is I think maybe you wanted me to know about you and Grissom, about what you've meant to each other. "
"You have been doing a lot of thinking."
Sara laughed without much humor. "Yeah, well, I can't say it was very much fun."
"No, I don't imagine it was," Catherine said sympathetically.
"Cath, my point is that Grissom wants…Grissom needs both of us."
Catherine smiled, "What I said was the truth, Sara, Grissom's not for me, not like that. He's for you. I'm sorry if I did anything even unintentionally that made you think otherwise. I want Gris to be happy. You make him happy."
Sara pursed her lips and looked down, blushing a little. "I hope so."
He would be home, Sara knew he would be. The question was, did he want to see her? They couldn't go back to the way things were, but they could move forward if he was willing. Their relationship always seemed to be two steps forward, one step back and she wondered why that was. Could a relationship survive like that or did you eventually grown tired of fighting of each tiny piece of momentum? If they loved each other, was that enough?
The door to Grissom's apartment opened. How had he known she was there? He knew. He had always known. That was the only answer there was.
"Hi." He stood in the doorway.
"Hi. Can I come in?" It was an honest question.
"Yes. Please do." He let her pass.
"Can you forgive me?"
"For what?" he asked.
"For not trusting you."
"You don't need to ask that. Ever."
They stood awkwardly just inside each other's personal space. She stared into his eyes unsure what else to say. Without warning, he reached for her, folding his arms around her narrow frame and holding her to him. She listened to the steady beat of his heart and felt the constant rise and fall of his chest.
Sara wrapped her arms around his waist, allowing herself to simply be held and to know with utter certainty the answer to her questions: no matter what, they would love each other, and no matter what they would make it be enough.
That was all she needed to know.
--FIN--