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Coming home from his disastrous breakfast with Sara, Grissom walked straight to his kitchen, pausing only to toss his keys on his desk. He retrieved a glass with ice and his bottle of scotch. He placed the items on the coffee table and sat down on the love seat, leaned back and closed his eyes. With a frustrated groan he rubbed his face and thought about the conversation with Sara. It hadn't gone as he'd hoped.
His first clue that their meeting was doomed was the fact that Catherine had let the cat out of the bag. Whether by intervention or accident, it was not her place. The only consolation was that Sara showed up anyway. Knowing the gist of his intentions - knowing that he wanted to make his feelings known - she still came. That had to mean something. Calling her on it, well, that had been a mistake and it went downhill from there.
He knew that he'd had her heart. He also knew that he'd broken it - several times. Dissecting their conversation further, Grissom realized he never offered her anything. All he spoke of was what he wanted - her heart, for her not to go, her patience. Not once did he let her know that she already had his heart. He wanted her to think about her choices but he really never gave her any. Coming in at the eleventh hour wanting another chance was hardly his best move.
Opening his eyes, he rolled his head over to view the picture on his side table. It was a small abstract print of a butterfly that his mother gave him years ago. She said that it reminded her of when he was growing up and developing his love for insects. He had to learn how to treat the insects he collected. If you demanded too much they grew weak and died - if you neglected them they ran away.
The bottom of the print bore the quote, Love is like a butterfly, hold it too tight, it'll crush, hold it too loose, it'll fly –Unknown. He thought he learned that balance but obviously he missed something along the way. Mothers always know.
Grissom sat up and rested his elbows on his knees – hands posed in prayer – and stared at the untouched bottle and glass. The glass was now filled with water – the ice had melted. He picked up the glass from the puddle condensation had left behind. Once again he was too late. He waited too long to have his drink and if he were to pour the scotch in now it wouldn't be the same - it would be watered down.
Getting up, he walked to the kitchen and poured out his glass. He refilled his glass with ice and on his way back, grabbed a hand towel to clean up the water ring. Setting the glass this time on a coaster, he used his other hand to wipe up the mess knowing that if he really wanted this, he needed to start over. He still had the key elements - this could still be fixed.
He had to tell her that he could do this - that she is worth it. She needed to know that he was going to work on regaining her trust and hopefully her heart. Time was not on his side and he knew that she and Alex would probably still go on their vacation. But he had to take his time. He had to cleanup their mess and start again. He still had the key elements - himself and Sara.
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Her nervousness now stemmed from the knowledge that Alex was going to want answers to his questions about her breakfast with Grissom. The problem was that she knew less than she did before. How do you tell the guy that shares your bed and has his own place in your heart that the love of your life wants another chance?
Sara opened the door and the first thing she noticed was how quiet it was.
"Alex? You home?"
Entering the kitchen she noticed a letter on the counter accompanied by a muffin. She peeled off the wrapper and began to eat the muffin as she read the note.
Sidle-
I know that whatever you ate was
not enough. The muffin is from Paul's
Bakery - your favorite. I got called in for
an arrest. Shouldn't be too long.
Wait for me.
-Alex
Grateful for the time to digest the conversation this morning, as well as the muffin, Sara laid down on the couch and waited for his return.
TBC…
