Author's Note: I always keep my promises. This is the last pre-written segment I have to submit. From here, I have to pick up the story and finish it, unless you think it ends well here. Any thoughts? PM me or leave an idea in your review.
Chapter Six: Revelations
Hours later, her phone rang, and she ignored it. When it rang for the third time, she picked it up and hurled it at the wall. At one point, a tentative knock sounded at her door, but even though she knew the door was unlocked, she did not move to see who it was or answer it or even slide the deadbolt home.
She watched the thin slivers of light that snaked past her shades glow gold, then crimson, then fade to black lightly touched with silver, and back to gold. She knew then that she had gone an entire half-day without moving, without eating or sleeping or turning to stare at the green glowing numbers on her bedside clock.
She started at the soft sound of her front door opening, then closing softly behind someone. She wanted to roll over and meet the eyes of her intruder, but she felt frozen in place, every muscle taut and aching. After a moment, the bed dipped behind her again, and a hand reached over to smooth the hair out of her face.
She stiffened at his voice but refused to turn around. "Doesn't anyone in this goddamn city knock anymore?"
"I'm sorry. I was a bit at a loss."
"You know, I'm not really sure what you're even doing here," Sara snapped, finally turning to face him. Dark blue button-up, black suede jacket, navy blue slacks. Slightly mussed hair, close-cropped beard, piercing blue eyes—she swallowed hard. God, she was actually going to miss him. She fought past the tender emotions welling up. "I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again."
The look on his face was so sad she nearly started crying. "I guess a part of me hoped that was just aftermath. I hoped you didn't mean it."
She steeled herself. "I meant it."
"All right." He rose and turned to go, and she felt a pain so sharp in her chest she wondered frantically if hearts could physically break.
He stopped but did not turn. "Sara, if you're going to say something else about your nightmares, or give me some cruel parting words, save it. I don't think I can take anymore."
"I—" What could she say? He was right; nothing she could say would make it better now. She could not apologize for her insane subconscious, or offer advice as to what might dispel the dreams and restore her trust. She dropped her head and stared at the floor. "Nothing. Never mind."
Grissom sighed. "Fine."
He stiffened. She continued in a rush. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to tell you about the nightmares. I know they don't really mean anything, or maybe they do, but I don't know what it is. And I'm sorry I said anything, and that I hurt you."
"You seemed pretty certain that you knew what they meant yesterday. You said I was killing you."
Sara pressed a hand to her throat. It was now or never. She could not hold anything back—what was the point, anyway? So she just let it go. "That's how it felt. That's how it feels. Because it feels like I'm drowning every time I look at you, and I wish that were just a metaphor, but it's not. I can't catch my breath, my chest aches and my head hurts and I just long—I long—for everything I can't have. That's why it hurts so badly when you shut me out, when you turn me down, when you turn me away. All I've ever wanted since the moment I moved to Vegas is you. Fuck the job, fuck the desert and the bodies and the science…you're it for me, and the only reason I would ask you to leave me alone is to try and survive. To try and catch my breath, before I really do drown."
He had turned to face her during her monologue, his face no longer impassive as it so often was, but flushed, his lips parted, and his eyes actually glistening. He looked like he was barely holding himself back from crossing the room to her, and she lifted beautiful dark eyes to his, not bothering to disguise the tears slipping from her eyes and falling in wet streaks to her cheekbones and chin. "All it would take from you is just a few simple words to give me some shred of hope, and I'm just crazy enough that I would stay. And given some time, and space, everything would probably be okay again."
He swallowed. "I can't give you time and space, Sara."
She fought back the urge to sob. "Okay."
"Sara." He moved toward her—hurried, stumbling steps.
"It's fine." She tried to force a smile.
"No." He caught her hands in his. "Sara—" He fumbled for words. "Time and space would mean leaving you—leaving you alone. And I can't. Not anymore."
"Do you have any idea how badly it hurt me when you said I was killing you?" The rawness of emotion on his face tugged at Sara's heartstrings.
"Stop." His voice was more anguished than she had ever heard in years of friendship, and with one tug Grissom had her on her feet and in his arms. "Please, Sara, stop."
His lips met hers in a swift movement, warm and a little desperate, and she felt her head swim a little as she clutched at his shoulders and kissed him back thoroughly, deeply. "Grissom," she moaned softly, when they parted for breath.
He gazed at her with darkened eyes, an expression she had never seen before in them. "No more nightmares," he murmured, his hands a little rough on the sides of her face. She drew in a shaky breath.
"Stay with me," she responded. In response, he kissed her again, letting his hands fall to the now-dry towel still wrapped around her body. For the first time, she really became aware that she was in his arms with only a layer of cotton separating her from his intense gaze. Trembling, she drew back, but he caught her back to him with one lazy tug of his arm around her waist.
"You need some sleep," he said slowly, the heat in his eyes belying his thoughtful words. Sara smiled gently.
"You're not wrong."
"I'm staying with you," he said firmly. "Not just because you asked me to, but because—" He drew in a breath. "I never want you to wake from a nightmare alone again."
"Planning to move in with me?" she asked lightly. He just stared into her eyes for a moment before gently pushing her toward the bed. Taking the hint, she slipped under the sheets again, watching as he toed off his shoes and slid in beside her.
"Is this how you thought I would finally wind up in your bed?" Grissom teased her, tugging her into his arms. Despite the foreign sensation of his warm body curved around hers, Sara found herself relaxing into his embrace. She laughed.
"Closer," she admitted, and he kissed her forehead.
"Maybe we'll start with a good night's sleep," he suggested. Sara feigned disappointment, but in reality, the warmth and comfort of him beside her was already lending weight to her overtaxed eyelids.
"See you in the morning?" she murmured, nestling her cheek into his chest.
"Always," he whispered, and she drifted off.