Feedback!
Summary:With you I quote Shakespeare and dream in Neruda. I see the beauty of a sunset and the sensuality of a rainstorm. You taught me bravery and compassion – and even stupidity. There are days when I look at you and I wonder why you stayed for so long in that place and that situation, but I also understand, somehow, why you couldn’t go. We understand each other, we are good together, and that frightens me.
Black eyes are apart of one’s life
So you don’t always see straight
Covering up the different colors of your skin
Just to let him get away
Yea, I’ve been trying to leave this life
I’m nearly half way home
Till I realize there’s nothing left
Worth fighting for
~Lennon Murphy (“Main Gravel Road” on Career Suicide)
October 15, 2000
I never thought I would miss conversation. I live alone, I exist in a place where I see people but few see me. I prefer being a ghost. But, you are not a ghost. You touch everyone, everything. You do not know it, but everything you work with blossoms.
You lived here only a couple of weeks, just long enough to sign the papers on your new apartment, but I already miss your presence. It seems silly to miss you, I will see you tonight at work, but I’ve existed without you for so long, and when you are with me, I realize what I’ve been missing without you. Suddenly our lives can be more than e-mails and hurried late night phone calls. You are tangible again.
With you I quote Shakespeare and dream in Neruda. I see the beauty of a sunset and the sensuality of a rainstorm. You taught me bravery and compassion – and even stupidity. There are days when I look at you and I wonder why you stayed for so long in that place and that situation, but I also understand, somehow, why you couldn’t go. We understand each other, we are good together, and that frightens me.
It frightens me because you exist in a world that I cannot comprehend. You are young and beautiful – and four years ago the difference did not matter as much as it does now.
I love you, deeply. I love you but I do not know you. I know of your education and I know of your career choices, but I do not know you any more than you know me. Our lives together began when I first noticed you in that seminar, and there are days when that is good enough for me. After all, do you truly need to know about Desrea? Do I need to know about your life before?
I wish we could find a good way to explore the past, but the world is a different place now. I do not know if I can love you as I wish and also keep you here, on my team. I cannot live without seeing you every night, but this choice must be made – and it was a conversation that I avoided the other day. I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t look into your eyes and tell you that it couldn’t happen again. It is unethical to take you to my bed, as much as I want to. So we must exist as we are – and we cannot cross the line again. If I do, I do not know if I can step back. For now, this must be what we have.
~From the journal of Gil Grissom
San Francisco, CA
June 1996
The logical, tenured, methodical investigator in the back of Gil Grissom’s brain knew full well that kissing her this way was completely unethical. After all, he was her instructor over the course of the next few days and then would be her superior at the San Francisco Lab while he filled in for one of the supervisors who had found the need for a well-deserved sabbatical.
Right now though, that logical voice was pushed back against the wall right next to the same voices who had often told him to blow off chemistry in college or who suggested as of late that he take the butt of his gun to Conrad Ecklie’s head.
The man that Gil Grissom was: dominant, controlling, passionate was speaking now, loud and clear and he wanted to do nothing more than to take Sara Anne Sidle to bed.
Sara Anne. It was such a simple name for such a complex woman.
She moaned against him and every voice in his head suddenly jumped onto the team with the passionate man. Every romantic cliché he’d ever heard raced through his mind. This was right. They’d been meant to come together like this, even if it made things strange and uncomfortable in the morning or at the seminar or at the lab.
“Can I pretend to invite you in for coffee?” Sara broke for air and leaned against the door of her condo with a nervously seductive smile.
“Please.” Grissom caught her lips in a softer kiss before allowing her to lead them both inside.
Las Vegas, NV
September 2000
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Sara teased softly while he put the takeout bags on the counter. She wandered around the room, as familiar with it as if she came home to it every night and not as if it was the first time inside the austere home. It was perfectly Gil, and yet, she could tell that even here, he held some part of himself back. Even here, in his sanctuary, his ghosts followed him. It was something she could identify with.
But his silence informed her that he was ignoring her comments, and when he came up behind her, carefully– she knew she’d scared him when she’d flinched in his office- she just smiled softly. It was clear he wanted to know exactly what had happened with Dan, and she knew that when they made it to his bedroom (as she fully intended to), he’d see the bruises and the bite marks and she’d have to tell him to be gentle with her because her cracked rib was still healing. But, as they stood there, her leaning against him, his arms lovingly around her waist, she knew they were both finally relaxing.
“I’ve missed you, Sar …”
Sara bit her lip at his words. His soft murmur rasped against her skin and she shivered, leaning more into his arms. The solid strength of his body gave her the first real comfort she’d felt in four years. “I’ve missed you too, Gil …”
“We need to talk …” he bent to kiss her shoulder.
“Can it wait?” She needed him.
“Please …” he whimpered before spinning her in his arms and capturing her entire body against his. Lips clashed, hands moved inside of clothing – somehow he lifted her legs up around his waist, and when he reached for the light in the bedroom, she stopped him from turning it on. The shadows would be a friend right now, and she wanted to delay the inevitable self-blame he’d heap on himself when he saw the remnants of the day she’d finally thrown Dan out of her life. Right now, she just wanted this.
San Francisco, CA
June 1996
Grissom woke. Despite spending so much of his time in hotel rooms, he didn’t sleep well in unfamiliar beds, and right now, he was much more interested in the body next to him than sleep. Slowly, carefully, he rolled over, taking advantage of Sara’s state of sleep and the covers being pulled out of the way to take a good look at her for the first time. Pre-dawn light filtered in through the windows, casting shadows around the room and across her toned and pierced body.
Yes, pierced.
Two belly button piercings and a nipple ring. She hadn’t even been wearing earrings, but here, hidden from the world, were painful body modifications. Unlike those who did it for some kind of attention, something drove her to do this for herself. Slowly, he traced the small breast, realizing that the piercing was a silver butterfly.
Gently he cupped the pierced breast in his hand. She shifted, slightly, at the touch, her body reacting, but he continued on, looking, daring to explore. Just below the areola, shadows of butterfly wings floated up from the underside of her breast, fading out around the darker skin. All of the wings were torn, ragged at the edges. Instantly he understood the symbolism – the death of innocence.
He wondered what had happened to her. Something told him that his imagination could never accurately create the horrors she’d actually experienced.
“Hey …”
Grissom cast his gaze to her face, leaving his hand on her breast but feeling slightly guilty for being caught in his exploration.
“I have a confession …” she whispered, looking away from him.
“Yes?” At this point, she could confess that she was a serial killer and he wouldn’t mind.
“I just broke up with my boyfriend. You aren’t a rebound thing or anything, but … I felt like you should know.”
Grissom just nodded, slowly. “Something told me there was a recent someone else.”
“You …” she sat up just a bit and his heart sank as the words continued to fall from her lips, “You know … if you want to leave … it’s okay. I won’t hold it against you or anything. I know things like this happen with seminars …”
“If I don’t want to go?” He stroked her cheek, feeling more at home than he had since the night he’d carried Desrea over the threshold.
She heaved a sigh of relief that had him chuckling. She joined him, but there were tears in the laughter – she was so confident in front of others but alone, in the most vulnerable of places, she was a broken woman – a butterfly with torn wings. He stroked her cheek and smiled when she snuggled down against him. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I already like having you here.”
Las Vegas, NV
September 2000
She’d already come once and her body was still trembling; he knew just what to do to keep her going. He’d pull back, let her body cool off, and then bring her back to the edge all over again. His tongue was diving deeper and his fingers were up at her breast, tugging on her healed nipple ring. She was helpless to do anything but reach behind her and grip the slight gap in the headboard. He loved being in control and she loved giving it over to him.
His lips were now at her breast, kissing around the still healing nipple while his experienced fingers worked the other. “I love this …” he murmured. “You, Sara Sidle, are a naughty, naughty woman.”
She giggled and somehow managed to wrap a shaking leg around his hip. “A fact known only to a few select people.”
“Let’s keep it that way, hmm?” He kissed her softly before pulling back just enough to work her legs completely apart. As always, he looked into her eyes before sliding into her body and she gasped, her arms tightening around him as her body adjusted to his size. He was almost too big for her, but the pain was a perfect stimulant. Let the naysayers out there talk about how it wasn’t possible for a woman to have a vaginal orgasm. She hadn’t believed it either until Gil Grissom had entered her body.
They had so much to talk about, but it could all wait. All of it.
San Francisco, CA
June 1996
The taste of syrup lingered on her lips and he found himself playfully trying to kiss the sugar away. She laughed, mirroring his antics, but there was a cautious lightness in her response, as if she expected everything to change in an instant.
The back of his knees came into contact with the edge of her bed and they sank together, her on his lap, but he wanted to actually see her, see all of her, so he tugged and she rolled, coming to rest where his own head had been the night before.
Grissom looked at Sara gently, curious as to how last night had left her feeling. Despite his own rush of feelings, he wasn’t quite sure where to go from here, even though they’d both enjoyed themselves, and had just spent breakfast feeding each other waffles. Beyond the fact that she was beautiful, there was something else; she reacted to him like almost no other women had, she understood his primal self. Already, he had fantasies of watching her succumb to his dominance; of switching and letting her take the lead.
But right now, he had to think about heading back to the hotel and change before the seminar. They still had to be professional towards each other in a few hours. “Um …”
“It’s okay …” Sara’s smile faded slightly. “What I said last night still holds …”
She’d still respect him, but he didn’t know if he’d respect himself for walking away. It wasn’t even because of the need he already had to protect her. “What if I don’t want to walk away?” He repeated his question from the night before, whispering as he took her slender hand in his. “It won’t be easy, but … I want something with you, Sara.”
Her smile eased his fears and he leaned in to kiss her, gently undoing the belt on her robe as he did so. They had a couple of hours, and he wanted to touch her again.
But when he looked back down at her bared breasts, it was the dark spreading at her ribcage that made him catch his breath. He’d missed it in the shadows in the bedroom – but the bruise definitely formed a hand larger even than his own. He looked closer and found a matching one on the other side.
He gulped.
The ex-boyfriend. The abusive ex-boyfriend.
“He’s gone …” she whispered.
“Sara …” he gulped, wondering just how rough he’d been with her last night, worried that he’d hurt her. “Really. Are you okay?”
“Really.” She repeated the word to reassure him, “I’m fine.”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
“No …” she shook her head. “No. Actually, you made me forget for a little while.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really, if you don’t mind …”
He kissed her shoulder gently, all thoughts of repeating their activities from the night before vanishing. “Can I just hold you?”
She smiled and they both relaxed. “Please.”
Las Vegas, NV
September 2000
There was something inherently calming about his townhouse. It wasn’t something she’d expect of the slate floors and the coarsely decorated rooms, but Sara found herself almost at peace as she leaned against one of the living room windows, peeking out into the bright Las Vegas mid-afternoon.
Something wouldn’t let her rest, though. With a sigh, she pressed the cell phone to her ear, listening for what had to be the millionth time to the last of the six new voicemails she’d had in the past twelve hours. The other five had been deleted, but for some reason, she couldn’t do it to this last one. Just the sound of Dan’s pleading voice made her queasy but she couldn’t bring herself to hit the button on her phone that would erase his voice permanently.
But that was the lie. It wasn’t permanent and she knew the cycle all too well. He’d call back again and again until she answered and he’d sweet talk his way to keep her from hanging up and he’d show up at the apartment with flowers and a book she’d been wanting to read and he’d kiss her so gently and apologize and promise he’d get help for his drinking. He’d tell her he was so sorry, but sometimes she just made him so mad and he didn’t know why; it was probably not really her, of course, but the pressures of the job. She knew how it was. Anyway, he’d tell her, she had a temper too. Maybe she could work on that temper and maybe he wouldn’t fly off the handle again. And while he was saying it, he’d grip her face just a bit hard and he’d kiss her and she’d give in, out of fear and out of love for him.
He was right. She did have a temper. And that would stay on her mind while she let him be rough with her and the flowers would never make it into a vase and the book would never get around to being read and in a few weeks he’d come over, again smelling of another woman and too much alcohol and when she denied him he’d force her up against the wall and pin her arms behind her back and there would be nothing sensual about the domination of the encounter. The blows would be so carefully placed that no one would even suspect when she wore a tank top the next day that anything was wrong. He’d yank her hair back and force her to her knees and she’d give in because she didn’t want to think that a man she loved could rape her.
He’d unpack the things she’d packed up for him and then, in a few months, she’d come home late and he’d be logged into her computer, reading the latest e-mail from Grissom. He’d demand to know why she was still in touch with him and she’d fight back and tell him that he had no right to hack into her personal accounts. He’d slap her, hard, and order her to stop e-mailing him while she was holding her fist to her face in a desperate attempt to stop the swelling. He’d yank at her new, still unhealed nipple ring until she bled. He’d go out and find his “comfort” in one of the girls from the day shift and then go into the department the next day and tell all his fellow cop buddies that she was still cheating on him. The girl from the day shift would spread rumors and talk about how Dan was so upset because he loved Sara so much, all the while she’d be checking her compact every ten minutes to make sure the makeup covering the bruise hadn’t rubbed off. Later, when she was assigned to a case and one of his buddies was there, they’d contaminate the scene or leave her alone before clearing the premises.
She wanted to hate the girl from the day shift, but, honestly, she didn’t know if the girl knew any better. Dan could be sweet. Too sweet. And who knew – maybe he really did just go over to her place and cry into his beer about how Sara was in love with another man.
After all, was she really being fair to him? Her feelings for Grissom had never gone away, and that was a terrible thing for any lover to have to contend with.
Her breath caught and the pull of her ribs reminded her of why she’d finally managed to work up the courage to actually throw Dan out of her life. Of all the beatings, all the times she’d ended up in various stages of purple and yellow, he’d crossed a line right as something snapped inside of her. For the first time in her life, she truly understood her mother’s choices. Even as Dan had held her back against the wall, it was the image of her mother floating behind her eyes that kept her from completely giving in. But still, here she was, listening to his voice mail, amazed her that for all her strength, for all the promises she’d made to herself when she’d finally come to terms with her father’s death, she couldn’t get away from someone who used her for a punching bag. She could still find ways to make the cheating, the bruises, the broken bones, and the threats acceptable.
For a long moment, she allowed her thoughts to linger on the memory of her mother’s face, cut and bloody, begging the nurse to not call the police; she couldn’t leave her husband. She shivered, feeling her father’s fist across her own face.
Sara, baby, I’m so sorry, honey. Come home. I know you’re on a case right now, but when you get back, let me come home. I’m sorry for what I said to you the other night. You know I love you. You know it. Honey, please. I didn’t mean it. You know how I get when I’m drinking. I’ll get help. You can help me get help. Honey, let me come home.
She didn’t know how long she stared at the number seven on the keypad before she finally pushed it. The mechanical voice told her the message had been deleted. She felt strangely lighter.
Strong arms slipping around her waist scared her momentarily, but she leaned back against the firm body behind her, breathing in the mix of Old Spice and Listerine that combined sensuously with the musk that he exuded. “You should be in bed,” she whispered, not wanting him to ever let go.
Grissom freed one arm long enough to take the cell phone from her hand and toss it over onto the couch. The arm then moved back, strongly, around her waist and held her against his naked body. “So should you, Honey.” He murmured into her ear, nipping at her earlobe.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I’m awake now.” He tugged on her, gently. Everything was gentle right now – he’d seen the bruises on her back and stomach and since his initial horror, she’d felt him channel his pent up passion into making sure she felt safe and protected. It killed her that she’d given up so much. All she’d had to do was say yes four years ago when he asked her to come with him. She knew the question was still there, and he was just waiting to ask it. This time, she wouldn’t turn him down. “Sara …”
San Francisco, CA
July 1996
“Are you always this tireless?” Gil chuckled as he watched Sara unload the evidence from the latest case.
“The answer is usually in the question,” she tossed back at him. “Anyway, you weren’t complaining last night,” she murmured as she walked past.
“Last night, you were doing things to me that I didn’t know were possible.” Laughing, Gil helped her with one of the larger boxes, while forcing his face into some level of decorum for the benefit of the rest of the San Francisco lab. Gil had to admit that he was impressed with Sara’s ability to separate work and personal. Despite his absolute certainty that they were the rumor of the lab, it wasn’t because of anything Sara had done. To him, there was no mistaking the eyes she cast at him, and the flirting was fun, but she never crossed the line in front of other people. Even still, more than a few cops glanced Sara’s way as they walked inside. He knew, by now, that these were friends of her ex-boyfriend’s; these men were a good part of the reason, he assumed, that she had kept going back to Dan.
In silence, he helped her to log the evidence and then, after confirming that there was nothing more they could do until the next shift, she followed him out to his rental car. Only when she was curled up against him, her head against his shoulder, his hand on her leg, did he dare to speak again. “Sara, are you in any danger from Dan?”
She just shrugged. “Probably not. I mean, really, he’s just a drunk with a temper. I can handle it.”
“Should you be handling it?”
“Stop mothering me, Gil.”
With a sigh he nodded and just squeezed her leg a bit. It was going to be hard, getting in his car in two weeks and heading back to Vegas. If he was smart, he’d convince her to come to Vegas. Something told him that the minute he was out of the city, Dan would be beating her door down again.
San Francisco, CA
September 2000
“I won’t lie.” Joss handed over the last of the paperwork and graced her with a relieved smile. “I don’t want you going, but I’m glad that you are.”
Sara blushed and stared down at her knees. “I …”
“The fact that he hasn’t killed you yet only shows how strong you are, Sara.”
“I …” she tried again and then just looked up at her boss and mentor, trying to not be angry at the lack of response from any of her friends or colleagues. That damned code of honor made for some sticky situations.
“Most people don’t want to know.” The supervisor shook his curly blonde locks. “We’re cops, we aren’t supposed to do this kind of thing, you know. Most people probably think it’s just a drama-ridden relationship, but it’s my job to observe people. You do a very good job at covering up the black eyes. I’m just glad that there won’t be any more of them.”
Words failed her and her hand went self-consciously to her ribs. “Yeah …” she whispered, softly.
“You’ll get out of this one.” Joss gave her a gentle smile. “Go and do good in Vegas. I’m proud of you, Sidle.”
“Thanks.” The conversation professional again, Sara stood up to shake his hand, and then turned to flee.
She’d never left the lab so quickly in her life.
San Francisco, CA
August 1996
The pounding on the door work both of them and Gil stirred, reaching blindly for the bedside lamp. Sara bolted up, the sheets clutched to her body, the panic evident on her face.
“Hey,” Gil reached for her, wrapping his arms tenderly around her now shaking body, “you changed your locks. He can’t get in.”
She looked petrified and he held her close, stroking her hair while they listened to Dan’s rantings from the other side of the living room door. His curses echoed, growing louder and angrier. Sara kept trying to pull away, to go to the door to silence him, but Gil held her tightly against his body. If she went to the door, Dan would know he was here. The outcome of that would be bad for him and even worse for Sara. “I’m right here,” he whispered, wondering how it was that this man was still walking the streets. “I’m right here.”
“You won’t be next week …” she whispered.
Las Vegas
September 2000
Maybe she’d made a mistake. After all, Vegas wasn’t the only place that wanted her services and the Feds paid better. Had Gil really talked to the team? Did they actually want to bring her on? Could she work with Warrick Brown and not feel guilty for almost ending his career?
Standing in the break room, clutching her bag, wondering when Gil would show up to get her paperwork signed, she honestly wondered if this had been the best choice. Maybe she should have just moved back East and forgotten about this whole chapter of her life completely.
“Hey …”
She turned, the Texas accent catching her attention. “Nick.” They shared an uncomfortable smile, but the southern boy was far too polite to extend anything but hospitality to her. That, at least, was helpful.
“Look, Sara …” she watched him head for the fridge and one of the bottled iced teas inside. “Just to let you know …”
“Yeah?”
“I still have seniority.”
She laughed and shook her head, “I’ve been a CSI three for almost two years, Nick. Explain your thought process to me.”
“You,” he tossed her an apple, “are still the new girl. Now, I don’t know how it works in San Francisco, but that means you get to work yourself up to things like getting the days off you want.”
Grinning playfully, Sara shook her head. “Nick, you’re about to learn a couple of things.”
“What’s that?” They shared a grin again and Sara found herself warming up to this guy on a deeper level. He was going to be her ally, beyond even what Gil could be for her.
Grissom. He wasn’t Gil anymore. Here, at work, she had to think of him as Grissom. Once his first name escaped her lips, it would be all over. “First, I still hold the record back in San Francisco for the longest shift pulled. Time off, really doesn’t matter that much to me.”
Nick chuckled. “Okay. And second?”
“You’d better be nice to me otherwise when you think you need to switch shifts with someone and you come to me, instead of covering for you, I’ll suddenly discover a love for my time off.”
This completely broke the ice and Nick just started to laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I got ya.”
The break room door opened a crack and Grissom stood there, a half-smile on his lips and conflicted look in his blue eyes. At least, Sara thought, she wasn’t the only one who was going to have trouble remembering to separate the professional and the personal. “Sara?” The calm voice asked, “Do you want to go get those papers signed? We’ve got a busy night ahead of us.”
They shared a grin, far different than the one she and Nick had been sharing just moments ago. As they fell into step with each other, she could feel his claim on her and she relaxed considerably. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it just might work.
San Francisco, CA
August 1996
“I don’t want you to go …”
Grissom stared into Sara’s eyes and sighed, his emotions mirroring hers. He wasn’t a man to love easily, but here he was, deeply in love with this contradiction in terms. She was strong, but desperately vulnerable. She could fight, but only for the souls of others, never for herself. “I don’t want to either, Sar …” he stroked her cheek, wondering if all he needed to do was ask one more time, and she’d agree to the transfer. But he’d tried, and he couldn’t handle having his heart crushed with another refusal. She had a life here. Didn’t she?
“Sara!” They both turned and Grissom found himself reminded of the so-called life she had here. Carefully, he stepped closer to her, doing his best to shield her from Dan, but the younger cop was stronger than both of them, and his rage only heightened by the drinking he’d been doing. Red-faced and stumbling, Dan grabbed at Sara’s upper arm before she could step free of his reach. “You mind telling me why you’re ignoring my calls?”
“Because I have nothing more to say to you.” She tried to shake free, but he was too strong, too angry. “Let go of me, Dan.”
“You heard her,” Grissom’s voice was low and deadly as all the control he focused in every part of his life started to slip. “Let go of her. You don’t want to make a scene, Andrews.”
“Stay out of this, Bug-Man. This is between me and my girlfriend.”
“I’m not your girlfriend anymore!” She tried to pull free again and screamed as his hand tightened around her upper arm. “Dan, let me go!”
Grissom leapt into action but he wasn’t fast enough, and Dan had her down on the ground in front of him. “Let her go!”
He was powerless to stop what happened next. Dan’s steel-toed boot came down on Sara’s forearm and the sound of crunching bone echoed throughout the hotel’s parking garage. Sara’s agonizing scream followed and the reaction in his body was enough to finally shove the stronger man out of the way. The blow connected hard with Dan’s jaw but Grissom didn’t register the pain in his own hand. The cop rubbed at his jaw and in that moment, Grissom knew that his reaction was only going to make Sara’s life even more difficult. She would be the one to pay for the bruise on Dan’s cheek. But he couldn’t think about that right now, Sara’s screams had died down to shocked whimpers and he needed to her to the hospital. His plane could wait.
Las Vegas, NV
September 2000
She knew full well what went through his mind when he looked at her. She knew it in his touch, in how controlled he was over every aspect of his life. It was why they worked so well together, and he knew it as much as she did.
Struggling, barely, against his strong hands as he pushed her down into his mattress, Sara gave herself over completely, and laughed as she heard the length of duct tape being pulled from the roll.
“Yes, actually,” he nibbled at her ear, “I do want to tape you up.” Gently, he rolled her over, meeting her eyes as he clasped her slender wrists in his own hand. “Can I?” He knew she wouldn’t struggle, but he needed to hear it from her, to make sure it was okay.
A long, slender leg wrapped around his hip, anchoring him in place. “Yes …” she moaned, granting him the permission he needed. Her arms went above her head as he bound her, carefully. She could tell he didn’t want to hurt her, but that this was a fantasy he’d been living with for a long time. “It’s okay, Gil …” she murmured as her arms found a comfortable place. “I trust you.”
It was all the permission he needed. His mouth sought hers, before be began a thorough exploration of her body.
His lips started with her neck, kissing and tasting the sensitive skin, spending time on the places he knew made her squirm. A strangled cry escaped her lips as Grissom moved down her body to lathe her nipple with his tongue. Unable to touch him, completely under his control, she writhed, gasping, giving herself over to him completely. She’d started it, she knew, back in the hallway of the lab, but he was going to finish it.
Being unable to respond to him in any way other than to spread her legs to grant him better access only heightened her awareness of what his mouth and hands were doing to her body.
Weight settled over her body again and she looked up into his eyes as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Neither said a word as he slid into her body and set them in motion. His words in her ear egged her on, his complete control of her body send her into sensory overload, and her trembling helped to push him over the edge.
Collapsing into each other, she kept him in her body, her legs tight around him. They needed this, right here, this connection, because already she could feel the job coming between them. Once the lease on her new apartment was approved, nights like this would start to disappear.
“Sara …” he murmured into her ear.
“No …” She couldn’t let him say it. If he said it, she’d never be able to let him pull away. If he said it, she’d never recover from the heartbreak she knew was coming. “I know,” she whispered.
“Do you? Really?”
Leaning up just enough to snag his lips with her own, Sara kissed him softly before pulling back. “I do.” She smiled, trying to keep the sadness out of her eyes. “Me too.”
It was easier, she knew, to love him like this, without the words. The words would make it real, and right now, all she could face was the fantasy.
San Francisco, CA
September 1996
Moving was painful, but it had to be done. Her finger sought out her sore breast and caressed under the nipple ring, unable to stop the whimper that came from her lips when she touched the swollen flesh. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have given into the silent pressure and not filed charges and had him arrested? She knew better! She got frustrated with so many of the victims she processed because they hadn’t found ways to protect themselves. She knew the signs, but Dan had just sucked her in with his apologies about her arm. She knew better, but she’d let him into the house, and then into her life again. She wanted to blame it on the misery of Gil’s departure, but that wasn’t fair to him.
Carefully, slowly, she got up, shaking off the soreness in her bones as she padded across the darkened bedroom. Coffee first, then shower.
Coffee. A piece of beef jerkey. A peach. An English muffin.
She moved to turn on the TV, whimpering again at the lingering pain in her ribs, glad that she had no idea where Dan was. A glance down at her arm revealed ugly bruises turning green now, the yellow at the edges making her skin appear sallow. She’d wear the blue sweater again today. People never suspected anything when tall, skinny girls wore sweaters.
CNN talked about the OJ Simpson case and she rolled her eyes, for once glad that criminalists were ignored by the media. The officers were getting the brunt of the blame for the problems in the case. The evidence collection had been flawless, it was what the officers had then done with it that made it all suspect. Someday, she thought as she flipped through the channels, hoping for something besides OJ coverage, CSI’s will get the credit we deserve.
After making sure the door was still locked, Sara moved, slowly, into the bathroom, forgetting about the food her body needed. The blue mug of cooling coffee settled on the counter, her pajamas fell to the floor and while she waited for the warm water to flow through the aging pipes in her building, she stared at her naked form in the mirror. Her belly button showed off the piercings well, and she liked the new little silver bulb she’d bought for the lower one last week. But, around her rib cage, familiar, angry, dark purple hand shaped bruises contrasted against her pale skin and when she bent too far to the right, a rib hurt. Her breasts were firm in her hands, swollen with her monthly bloating, and her nipples were red from where Dan had bitten them. Her nipple with the ring looked red and puffy, but she couldn’t bear to take the jewelry out. Hopefully the salt soaks would flush it enough.
As steam began to rise from the tub, she reached for a plastic bag to cover the cast on her broken arm, and then climbed under the stream of water. From somewhere beyond the noise of the shower and the droning of the TV, she heard her phone ring and the message beep. She didn’t need to be listening to know exactly who it was, and in the safety of the falling water, she allowed herself to cry.
Las Vegas, NV
September 2000
“Well, that’s the last of it.” Sara sighed and dropped down onto her couch. The plastic covering the moving company had used crinkled under her in uncomfortable ways, but she was too tired to care. While she took a swig of her water, Grissom was already cracking into her boxes of books. “I’d thank you for helping, but I know that’s just because you want to see what I have that you haven’t read.”
Grissom laughed and pulled out her battered copy of the Tao of Physics. “Didn’t I give this to you?”
“That copy. You replaced the one I had that disintegrated in that rain storm.”
“Yeah.” He smiled at the memory and then looked over at her.
Sara just looked back and sighed. “Say it, Gil.”
“You already know what I’m going to say?” Slowly he moved up to sit with her on the couch. His hand brushed back a loose lock of hair and then made it’s path downward to the zipper on her sports bra. Sara’s hand stopped his from sliding the metal teeth open and he looked at her, confused.
She sighed at his expression. “I need to know what we do now. It was different when I was crashing at your place. It was easy to just curl up in bed with you, even though we’re just supposed to be friends. What does it mean now that I’m not living with you? You’re my boss, Gil. We can’t …” She sighed and blinked back tears. “Isn’t this the argument you’ve been having with yourself since I moved here?”
Grissom swallowed, looking down for a minute, before glancing back up into her eyes. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t mean …” he sighed. “I don’t know what it means.”
“Then maybe we … we shouldn’t do this anymore.” Her heart broke as she uttered the words, but maybe it was the right thing to do. Maybe it would be easier if they just became friends. Maybe too much time had passed and they were supposed to just remember those months in San Francisco. She didn’t know, and she needed Grissom to make a decision.
But he didn’t. His lips descended onto hers and the zipper on her sports bra slid down and the kisses and the touches they shared were desperate and passionate; anything to erase the conversation they’d just almost had. They needed to have it, they needed to set some kind of boundary, but right now, Sara was willing to give in to his own confusion. They could love each other like this, even if neither of them could say the words.
So what if history repeated itself? So what if it hurt more later? She’d tried, and he had rejected the conversation. It was dangerous territory, but she didn’t know any other way to live.
As he pulled her close, sliding her jeans down her hips, Sara knew that for the first time since his lips had touched hers four years ago, that she would regret this in the morning.
To Be Continued in Chapter Three: Damaged, Not Broken: Step one: Observation and description of a phenomenon or group of phenomena.