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by LSI |
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Chapters: Prologue 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
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Chapter Eleven He tried to remember the exact moment he’d fallen in love with her. He searched recent memories and some not so recent, going back almost eight years to when he’d first met her. He couldn’t pinpoint a specific moment. There’d been so many times when his heart had beat a little faster, and his breath had come a little quicker just from being in the same room with her. He remembered the excitement, the jealousy, the fear…Mostly the fear. And he remembered his relief when he learned his surgery had been a success. It had felt as though a gigantic obstacle had been removed, and he wondered now how much of that relief was because of her. Had he known it then on a subconscious level? Gil frowned. The uncertainty was giving him a headache. Did it really matter when it had happened? All that should matter was that he loved her, even if it had taken him a long time, maybe too long, to realize it. And when he had, he did something he’d done so many times before it had become habit. He fled. He fled to this place that had always been a refuge for him, where he could remove his masks without fear of revealing himself and being judged for his inadequacies. All that was safe and comfortable and that he could control resided within these walls. Except that tonight, he couldn’t find any comfort in them. With a flick of the finger, he turned on the music, his usual classical collection that helped him decompress at the end of the day. He kicked off his shoes, lay down on the couch, and closed his eyes. His mind spun with thoughts of her, how she had looked, fully exposed and opened to him, her smile, and her eyes when she said she wanted him. He could have had her. He had been so close. Just one time, he had promised himself. Satisfy a curiosity, a need, and then move on. Despite his reservations about their professional status and their age difference, it had seemed so simple, until he realized that his need could never be satisfied with only one night with her. I love her. The words still sounded foreign to his brain. And they terrified him. It had been much easier when he could chalk all that he felt down to an attraction that would fizzle out in time. So, what now? He had managed to make it through forty-seven years without falling in love. Gil was surprised he even recognized the emotion. Where was that certain freedom that was supposed to come with clarity of thought? He didn’t feel free. If anything, his life had just become more complicated. Why
couldn’t I just stay away from her?
Why didn’t I just let her take a cab home?
That way, he could have entered his world again without thought, without feeling, without her. He immediately recognized the lie in his musings. He hadn’t been free of her for a long time. He had told himself that he was too old for her, that she needed someone younger, someone like Hank. That name still rankled, but at least he had understood when he learned of their relationship. He’d even convinced himself it was for the best—for them both. But he had never been free of her. Irony of ironies, she’d probably end up married to someone close to his age anyway. Gil drew in a sharp breath. Sara married. He’d never really thought of it in those terms. Not even when she was with Hank. He forced the image past the sudden ache in his gut. Would he be expected to attend her wedding? Who would be there with her? Blake, or some faceless, nameless guy? It would really be over then…too late to change anything. He could go back to his peaceful existence and forget her. Could I forget her? The questions came at him one after the other like the incessant throw of a baseball pitching machine. The images came just as quickly, each one hammering at his gut. Is that what I have to look forward to? He looked around him. His house felt desolate...The kind of place where men without a purpose lived. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to live there anymore. Gil got up and grabbed his keys. He wasn’t thinking then, only feeling. He sprinted to his car, threw the engine in drive and made a U-turn in the street. There was only one thing that frightened him more than what he was about to do and that was not doing it. HE TOOK THE stairs two at a time, but his step slowed when he reached her floor. Instinct more than experience told him he should approach her door with caution. After the way he left her, she was bound to be furious with him. Mentally and physically bracing himself for her wrath, he knocked softly. Once he explained everything, she would forgive him. She always forgave him. It was one of the things he loved about her. She, more than anyone, seemed to accept him for who he is, and it was in no small part her tolerance of him, quirks and all, that had drawn him to her. It gave him a sense of security he’d never felt before, which led him to think that, with her, he could succeed at a relationship. When seconds ticked by into a minute, he knocked again, a little louder this time. Maybe she was sleeping, though he’d seen the light at her window. Then, another, more disturbing thought entered his mind. What if she didn’t want to see him? What if she wouldn’t forgive him this time? A feeling of dread overtook him and knotted his stomach. Before it could turn into full-blown anxiety, the door opened slowly. His mouth opened, but everything he’d planned to say suddenly eluded him. She looked so damn sexy in a brief satiny dressing gown; it barely reached mid-thigh, revealing her perfect, long legs. But it was her eyes that knocked the breath from him…deep, dark, bottomless pools of emptiness. They were neither cold, nor warm. Just blank. Dead. And they seemed to stare straight through him. Gil took a step forward. “Sara—“ She moved, closing the door a little more around her, blocking his entrance. “If you’re here to apologize, don’t waste your breath. I’ve heard enough of your apologies to last me a lifetime.” Her voice could have cooled the scorching Vegas sun. He’d expected her to be angry, but what he saw and heard was not anger. He had seen her angry before, so knew what that looked like. This was far worse. The skin on the back of his neck crawled; he automatically put a hand up to stroke it. “Sara, I’m…” A movement behind her distracted him and he paused, looking past her into the brooding face of Blake Garrison. Shock settled in first, mind-numbing and suffocating, and then a steel fist gripped his gut cutting the blood flow to his heart. He felt the blood leave his body. His hand dropped limply to his side. He was certain he now knew what death felt like. “Everything okay, Princess?” Gil’s gaze flew to Sara’s, questioning, accusing. “Would you give us a minute, Blake?” Garrison nodded and moved out of eyesight. Sara stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. A minute! For what? To get rid of him so she could get back to...to— Gil’s blood roared back and he closed his fists furiously and held them at his side. He had to hold on to his control. “Grissom, this is not a good time…” “I can see that,” he said in a fierce whisper. “What did you do, Sara? Call him the minute I left? You needed someone to finish the job I started?” Her eyes flickered and darkened, like storm clouds appearing suddenly over the horizon. “Well…it’s not like you wanted to finish it,” she spat back angrily, but, Gil noticed, she didn’t deny it. Gil closed his eyes against the sharp ache developing behind them, and then, forcing them open, past caring if she could see his torment, he swallowed the bile in his throat and rasped out, “How could you do this to me?” “How could I do what to you? That’s just it, Grissom. I don’t do anything to you. You’ve been toying with me for years. Well guess what? I’m finally sick of it. I trusted you tonight; I’m not going to make that mistake again.” She turned and opened the door. “Oh, I almost forgot…” She reached in for something on her hall table and stepped out again, his tie dangling from her fingers. “Here, I think you’ve tied up my life long enough,” she said as she handed it to him. “Now please leave. I have nothing more to say to you.” He ignored the tie. “Sara…I know I hurt you, and I am very sorry about that. If this is some kind of payback…“ Her spurt of temper died. She looked at him sadly. “Games aren’t my style, Grissom.” “Well that’s too bad because you would have won this one,” he delivered with all the contempt he could muster before turning on his heels and rushing down the hallway. “Hey, your tie…” “Keep it,” he bit out, and without a backward glance, shoved the stairwell door open and crossed the threshold with as much urgency as he had entered her hallway mere minutes ago. Only when it closed behind him did he stop to catch his breath. * * * * * As much as Grissom had hurt her in the past, Sara didn’t think anything had ever been more painful than the pain she’d just inflicted on him. She could see it in his eyes, could hear it in his voice, but still had been incapable of pity. Instead, she acerbated the situation by letting him believe that she had sought Blake’s comfort after he left. And she hated herself for having derived—if only fleetingly—some satisfaction from his pain. But how could he think so little of her that he would believe her capable of jumping from his arms to another’s so easily? That he did, hurt her more than his rejections ever had. Sara closed the door behind her and dropped his tie on her hall table. “Are you okay?” Blake asked from his post on the other side of the breakfast bar which separated her kitchen from the living room. Sara had for a moment forgotten he was there. She nodded as she swallowed past the bad taste in her throat. “I’m fine.” She had welcome Blake’s friendly support, but hadn’t told him what had really happened earlier that evening. Though they hadn’t raised their voices, she suspected Blake had heard enough of her brief conversation with Grissom to figure it out. She looked at him for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression gave nothing away. “Blake, it’s late…” “Do you want to be alone?” “Yes…no…I don’t know,” she finally said, looking away from him. She needed his friendship, but if he really wanted more from her, it wouldn’t be fair to pour her heart out to him. She had deliberately hurt one man tonight, and though Grissom had provoked her with his thoughtless behavior, Sara was still reeling from the guilt of it. She couldn’t hurt another one. Looking at him, she said, “This isn’t fair to you.” A corner of his lip curled up in a gentle smile. “I won’t deny that I hoped we’d rekindle our…I don’t even know what to call it…but don’t worry, Princess. I’ll survive.” Blake skirted the bar and came to stand in front of her, a playful, quizzical frown on his face. “What was it?” Sara pursed her lips and pretended to think for a moment. Then, “Great sex?” “Yeah, that it was.” Blake chuckled. “Come on.” He took her hand and led her to the couch, sitting close to her. He folded her into his arms. “You need a friend? I’ll be your friend. Talk to me sweetheart.” She snuggled next to him, welcoming his warmth. “You’re a good man, Blake. Why didn’t I notice before?” “You were too busy enjoying the other stuff I’m good at?” he quipped. Sara laughed and the mood was lightened. It felt good. “Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with you?” When he didn’t answer, she pulled back and looked at him. “You said earlier that you’d like to think I’ll be important to your future. But, you’re not…in love with me, are you Blake?” She needed to be sure. He sighed. “What do you want me to tell you?” “The truth works for me.” “The truth, huh?” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, as if the answer was somewhere up there. Then, he closed them briefly before looking at her. “I…care about you. Always have. Remember the other night you told me you’d hoped you’d fall for that paramedic? I guess it’s something like that. We were good together. I’ve always enjoyed your company...still do. The sex…well that was fabulous. When I came here, I hoped you’d still be available and that we’d pick up where we left off. I know now that’s not possible, but that’s okay. I’ll be what you need me to be, Sara, nothing more and nothing less.” “Why are you so nice to me?” “Because you’re a great gal and you deserve someone who’ll be nice to you. Not like that idiot who just left here.” “He’s not an idiot.” “There you go…defending him again.” “I don’t do that.” “Yes you do. You did the other night, and you’re doing it now. When I showed up here tonight it was obvious you’d been crying. I knew he drove you home—“ “How’d you know?” “The Mayor’s wife saw you leave with him. I also know he didn’t just drop you off.” Sara looked at him curiously. “The tie,” he said. “Dead give away.” “Oh.” One of the first things Blake had done when he’d shown up was take off his jacket and tie. Guy thing, Sara thought. She’d yet to meet one who didn’t hate the constraint of a tie. She snuggled back into him and yawned. Blake reached for the lamp and switched off the light, and then he kicked off his shoes. “What’re you doing?” “Relax, Princess.” He stretched out on the couch, and pulled her down next to him. Sara didn’t resist. His arms were friendly and welcoming. It felt good to have him there. She put her hand on his chest and found comfort in the steady beat of his heart. “I missed you, Blake,” she said between yawns. “I missed you too.” He dropped a light kiss on her forehead. “Do you want to tell me what happened tonight?” “Well, you already know I tripped and fell on the pavement when I got home…that’s how I hurt my hands. I also hurt my ankle, although it’s fine…not sprained or anything, but he helped me up and…took care of it.” She paused, and then said, “Remember Seinfeld?” He didn’t answer, but she felt his nod. “Well, yadda yadda ya, and he left.” Blake laughed. “How much yadda yadda ya?” “Not enough, obviously.” They were both silent for a while. “Do you want more?” he asked, his voice was soft and tentative. Sara didn’t have to ask him what he meant. He might not be in love with her, but he was a man and she was lying in his arms in a somewhat state of undress. She didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her response was measured. “Yes, I wanted more, from him. He…he didn’t.” “I find that hard to believe.” “Thanks.” “You’re welcome, but that’s not what I meant. He came back, didn’t he?” “I wonder why. Obviously not for his tie. I think he wanted to apologize.” “Umm…maybe, but most guys would wait a day or two, then pick up the phone.” Sara yawned again. “He’s not most guys,” she said wearily, snuggling closer into the crook of Blake’s shoulder. “No…he’s an idiot.” “Don’t call him that, Blake. He’s a lot of things, and he’s…limited…in some ways, but he’s not an idiot.” “I know, you’re right, and I’m sorry. Any man who’s in love with you could not be an idiot.” Sara stiffened. “He’s not…in love with me. I thought he might be, but… It’s always the same thing with him. He’s attracted to me, but he won’t allow anything to happen between us because he’s my boss, and because he believes he’s too old for me.” She couldn’t see Blake’s face, but she heard the grin in his voice. “Well, I can understand about the age thing. He’s probably scared to death he won’t be able to keep up with you and you’ll dump him for some younger guy some day.” Sara let out a frustrated sigh. “Why are men so proud?” “It’s not necessarily pride, Princess. Men have hearts too, you know. But we’re not as clever as women at the love thing, so we really need to trust that you gals will take care of our hearts before we can commit to you.” “There are no guarantees in life, Blake.” “I’m not talking about guarantees…I’m talking about minimizing the risk of failure. That’s probably a man’s greatest fear.” “Failure?” “Mm…“ “Then with today’s divorce rate, I’m amazed men still marry.” “Ah…but that’s where it gets complicated. Once a man falls for a woman, his desire for her will overshadow his fear of failure.” Sara absorbed this information for a moment. Grissom’s desire for her had not overshadowed his fears, so if she took Blake’s explanation at face value, that would mean he wasn’t in love with her. Yet, she was in love with him, and had shunned his advances…several times in fact in the past few days. She groaned inwardly. This was too complex a problem for her tired mind. “If I understand you correctly, Blake, in love, men and women are not different at all.” “I suppose we aren’t. We just approach it differently.” “A cop by day and a philosopher by night, huh,” she said on a sigh. Blake chuckled. “The two require the same power of observation.” “Have you ever been in love?” He was silent for a long moment. Then, “Yes.” “What happened?” “She’s not in love with me.” “I’m sorry,” Sara said softly, her voice weakening with fatigue. “He’s not in love with me either, you know,” she murmured. “If he was, he would have stayed.” He kissed her forehead gently and pulled her closer to him. “He came back, Princess. Don’t forget that.” But his words fell on deaf ears as exhaustion got the better of her and she surrendered to a blissful slumber. * * * * * “Gil! You’re supposed to be off tonight.” Out of habit, Gil took a sniff from the carafe of what looked like two-hour-old burnt coffee. “I am,” he replied without looking at Catherine. He poured himself a mug-full of the thick liquid, not caring that it would taste bitter on his tongue. When
he left Sara’s apartment he’d driven to the So he’d come to work. “Did you go to the Mayor’s?” He heard the accusatory tone in Catherine’s voice, and sighed loudly. He’d just about had it with people who thought he needed to be constantly reminded of his duties. He forcefully replaced the carafe on the burner and turned to her. “Yes, mother,” he said condescendingly, not bothering to mask his annoyance. She took a long look at him and wrinkled her nose at his disheveled appearance. He was still wearing his dressed shirt and pants, though they were badly rumpled from long hours of wear. Sara’s delicate, flowery scent still lingered on his shirt as a painful reminder of his awakening a day, or was it only an hour, too late. He took a long swallow of coffee, wishing it was something more potent, and grimaced. “You look like hell.” “Well thank you, Catherine.” He dumped the rest of his coffee in the sink along with the dirty mug. “I’ll be in my office.” He’d almost made it to the door when he heard Nick’s voice in the hallway. “You should have seen her, man, she—looked—fabulous,” Nick was saying to his cohorts. “But if looks could kill…” “Yeah, well you know Sara,” Warrick replied, as they entered the break room, Greg following close behind. All three stopped in the doorway when they saw him. “Hey, Gris,” Warrick greeted him in his usual monotone. “Weren’t you supposed to be partying with the Mayor tonight?” “Grissom parties?” Nick joked, earning himself a glare. Gil had been mentally cursing himself for leaving the sanctuary of his office. The lab had been quiet when he arrived, so he’d assumed they were all out doing field work. He didn’t particularly care to socialize with Catherine, or anyone else for that matter, and had fully intended to escape...until he’d heard Sara’s name mentioned. He lagged behind as the guys filed in. Warrick and Nick sat at the table while Greg, coffee expert that he is, crinkled his nose at the coffee pot and dumped the last of its content down the drain. Gil shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked at Warrick. “What was it you were saying…about Sara?” he asked in what he hoped was an offhand manner. He caught Catherine’s astonished glance in his peripheral vision. If anyone, she’d see right through his interest, however mildly expressed, but he could put up with that if it satisfied his curiosity. The woman already knew much more than she let on anyway. Warrick looked at him contemplatively. “It was nothing.” “Not nothing, man!” Nick exclaimed earning himself another glare, this time from Warrick. He either missed it or ignored it. “Yesterday morning, after shift, me and Greg are on our way to IHOP for breakfast when we pass by this dress shop, and there’s Sara, decked out to the nines in this black evening gown. Wow, man, you should have seen her. Mm, mm!” “Uh, Nick,” Greg said, ”Sara swore us to secrecy remember. I’m not going down for this.” “Nah, that was just about the lingerie.” Gil frowned. “Lingerie?” Nick cleared his throat and looked at them in turn. He leaned forward and laced his fingers in front of him on the table. “The sexiest little baby doll. I always thought of her as a cotton pajama type myself.” He laughed. “She was furious when I took it out of the bag to show Greg.” “You are so dead, man,” Greg warned. Nick sat back and crossed his arms. “Ten to one she had a big date tonight. Who’s in?” It was as if the air shifted in the room, making everyone uncomfortable. Nick seemed to be the only one oblivious to it. Gil caught Catherine’s sympathetic glance. Warrick’s eyes were downcast, and Greg had gone back to making coffee. He wanted to get away, but it was as if the message wasn’t transmitting from his brain to his limbs. He stood cemented to a spot near the door. Then Catherine spoke, and slowly his senses returned. “You thought of what Sara wears to bed, Nick? Care to explain that?” Suddenly, everyone’s attention shifted to Nick and Gil saw it as his opportunity to leave. Having realized his mistake in coming in to work, he didn’t go back to his office. Instead he headed for the exit. He thought longingly of a near-full bottle of Scotch waiting for him at home. That’s what he’d do, he thought, go home and get wasted. That would erase those unbearable images of Sara in bed with Garrison. He was convinced now that it had been her intention all along. He jumped in his car and sped out of the parking lot. Somehow, he made it home, but he would never remember how he got there. The quick twist in his stomach he’d felt when Nick had mentioned the sexy lingerie Sara had purchased had turned into a steady burn in his chest. Garrison hadn’t been his substitute. He’d been Garrison’s substitute. He’d had no idea a heart could break more than once. He
was on his third drink when he heard the knock at his door.
He looked at his watch. Then the doorbell rang. There was no mistaking it. Could it be Sara? By the time he made it to the door, his mind had conjured up all kinds of scenarios, each one concluding the same way. She wanted to be with him. He took a steadying breath and opened the door. “Warrick?” “Hey, Gil,” Warrick said in his usual morose way. “I thought you might like some company.” Gil tried not to let his disappointment show, but at the same time, he was genuinely surprised to see Warrick there. “Why aren’t you at work?” “Slow night…not much to do. May I come in?” Gil stepped back, opening the door wider. “Sure.” He was about to ask him why he thought he’d need some company, but thought better of it. He’d noticed his reaction in the break room earlier. He wouldn’t insult him by pretending there was nothing wrong. “Scotch?” Warrick nodded. “Sounds good.” He stood in the middle of his living room, looking around, taking in his surroundings as if it was his first time there. Gil realized Warrick hadn’t visited his home in at least three years, not since the Strip Strangler case, yet he considered him a friend. The oddity wasn’t lost on him. I’ll have to entertain more. He returned with another glass and sank into his leather couch. As he poured him a drink, Warrick took a seat in the armchair on the other side of the coffee table. Gil sat back and propped his feet up on the edge of the table. He lifted his glass. “Cheers.” There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Warrick seemed to be weighing something in his mind. “Say it, Warrick.” “She was there tonight, wasn’t she?” When Gil didn’t immediately respond, he pinned him with his intense gaze. “Sara,” he said, as if he needed to clarify. “Yes. She was there. And, looking every bit as beautiful as Nick said.” Warrick nodded. “I want to apologize for Nick. He’s…clueless sometimes.” “But you’re not, are you Warrick.” “No. I’ve known for a while that there’s something between you two. Otherwise, I might have gone for her myself.” Gil threw him a surprised glance. “You? I didn’t think you liked her very much.” Warrick chuckled. “I didn’t…at first. She was on my case a lot. But she grew on me, I guess. It’s hard not to like her.” Gil couldn’t agree more. She could be infuriating, but at the same time, so lovable. Sadness washed over him. If only he’d realized sooner just how lovable. He grabbed the bottle of Scotch. “Another?” Warrick nodded and extended his glass. Gil poured for both of them, and then tossed the content of his glass down his throat. He set it down on the end table and leaned back into the couch. "You would have had to stand in line...behind Greg." "And you." "Yeah. And me." Then, “I lost her, you know.” Warrick looked at him. “I’m sorry, man.” “So am I.” Warrick pulled a deck of cards from his pocket, and shuffled them with considerable skill. “Game?” Gil straightened. “Sure.” It’s not as if he’d be getting any sleep tonight anyway.
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