Author’s Note:

The characters of CSI were created by A. Zuiker, and are the property of CBS and its affiliates.  All other characters depicted in this story are fictional; they are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author.  Although the locales in this story are real, all events, incidents and characters are pure invention.  
© July 2003. LSI.

Sweet Addiction

Gil Grissom hung up his jacket and absently dropped his briefcase on the kitchen counter.  He took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank almost half of it in one long swallow.  It had been a tiring night. 

On his way to the bathroom and a much needed shower, he picked up the briefcase and put it on his desk next to the laptop computer.  The computer was on, but not connected to the network.  He wondered if his one cyber friend had been online last night.  She liked chatting with her buddies on her nights off.  He ran the tip of his fingers along the top of the monitor, gently, almost lovingly.

If anyone had told him six months ago that he could become addicted to something—anything, other than his work anyway—he’d have laughed clear in their face.  He’d always been way too practical to ever deviate from the regimented lifestyle that had served him so well and been so comfortable over the years.  His one addiction hadn’t even been his work.  It was knowledge—a broad brush of it; he loved learning, about discrepancies in human behavior and what shaped a criminal mind, anything really that could later be used to solve a case.  His interests held no boundaries, which was why he’d been among the first to welcome the wonderful world of the Internet, and the vast source of information it provided.

And until six months ago, its appeal had been limited to the pursuit of knowledge.  And then Sara had taught him an entire new use for his computer, and he’d started eyeing the small black portable much as he would have a mistress. 

He smiled and let himself be transported back to a fateful day six months ago…

GREG was astonished to learn that he was not familiar with MSN Messenger. 

“Why would anyone want to talk to strangers on the Internet?” he asked him, genuinely mystified by the appeal of such a service.

“You don’t have to talk to strangers, although you could discover communities of people who share similar interests and correspond with them.  I mostly talk to friends. 

Nick laid the last half of a ham and cheese sandwich on the wrinkled paper wrapper it came in, and rubbed his hands free of crumbs.  “Yeah…I exchange MSN accounts like I used to exchange phone numbers.  Much less intimidating than calling a girl for the first time.  If you see them online, it usually means they’re open to chat.  What about you, Sara?”

She'd been quietly sitting on the break room couch, leafing through a trade magazine while listening to their conversation, a fact that was made obvious when she briefly looked up and shrugged.  "I have a few buddies that drop in every once in a while,” she responded vaguely as she turned another page.

Buddies...as in men.  Grissom squashed an all too familiar pang of jealousy.  No other woman had ever ignited that emotion in him.  It irked him that she did.

He’d already analyzed why he found Sara so enticing.  He had a mental list of reasons, among them that she was a tall, beautiful brunette—his personal preference.  Sharp as a whip was on it too, as dedicated to her job as he was to his, confident, reserved, yet with a good sense of humor, witty even.  She was a complex woman of contrasts.  On the inside all softness and compassion, but outwardly, tough as nails.  And he liked working with her, felt more alive around her--a condition he hadn't examined too closely other than to admit to the ego boost it gave him when she made him feel like the only man on earth.

For a long time, it had been that simple.  Then, he’d learned about her relationship with that EMT, and nothing had made sense anymore.

There was no single emotion to describe how he felt when Phillip Gerard had dropped that morsel of information.  Shock, betrayal, confusion, sorrow…they’d all fused into one giant fist that had squeezed his heart.  The scientist in him had not been able to rationalize his reaction.  It wasn't as though she was his fantasy woman.  She was too young for one; too emotional; too daring at times. He was her boss, for God's sake!  That alone made these feelings she was capable of igniting in him inappropriate.

He eventually managed to focus on the reasons why it was just as well that she had become involved with that guy, and he retreated, put some distance between them, and she’d followed his lead, which should have made him happy, except that he missed her.

He missed her smile; he missed catching her intense brown eyes staring at him…there was so much mystery in those eyes.  Yet at times, they weren’t mysterious at all.  They saw him.  They understood him.  And there had been moments between them when her eyes had made words redundant and he'd let himself fantasize that they adored him. 

Everything that had once made her eyes shine with a brilliance that would light a flame inside him was gone now, and he wanted it back.  And he hadn’t known how to get it back until Greg gave him an idea.  

Later, at the end of shift, he listened for Sara's footsteps in the hallway outside his office.  When she walked past, as she did every morning, he called out to her.  She poked her head in instead of leaning in his doorway as she'd done so many times before.  Her face was a cool mask of detachment.  Gil raised a brow.  "Have a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I need help setting up that MSN service Greg mentioned earlier.”

Surprise registered in her eyes before she sucked in her lips for a moment and then graced him with the prettiest smile he had seen in a very, very long time.  “Want me to help?” she asked with her trademark cocketishness.

Gil gave her mock scowl.  "If you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all."  She came in and he rose from behind his desk, offering her his chair.  Sara immediately went to work and with a couple of clicks of the mouse, launched MSN on his computer.

When the setup dialog box appeared, she said, “Do you have a Hotmail account?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

“Okay, the first thing you have to do is choose a screen name…a handle.” 

He shrugged.  “Any ideas?”

“It could be anything, really.  If you want to protect your privacy, I wouldn't recommend your real name.”

“What’s yours?”

“CSIDLE”

He smiled wryly in amusement.  

"So?..." she prompted.

"I don't really care.  You choose."

“Okay…”  Sara crunched up her brow.  After only a moment’s hesitation, she said, “How about, BUGDOC?”

 “Sure, why not.”

“Let’s see if it’s available.” 

As if it wouldn’t be.

She typed in the moniker and within minutes the account had been approved and he was ready to use the service.  As she began taking him through the features of the service, Gil leaned forward, bracing himself on the desk with his right hand while stretching his left arm across the back of her chair.  Physically, it was the closest he had been to her in months, and when she stiffened, he felt the first glimmer of hope that there was still something to be salvaged from their relationship. 

An energy he remembered well radiated between them, a spark of electricity that made him suddenly wary of the dangers of trying to rekindle their friendship.  His reaction to her was no less disturbing and frightening than it had been in the past, and he hesitated, but only a moment as he remembered how much he'd missed her these past months.  Instead of retreating, he inched even closer to her on the pretense of getting a better look at the monitor, but really all he wanted was to smell her hair and feel the heat of her body close to his one more time.  

It wasn't until he heard the slight catch in her throat and her voice faltered, that he realized he hadn't been paying attention to a word she was saying.  Her cheeks had turned a delicate shade of pink, betraying her own awareness of him, and suddenly he didn't have a clue what he was doing, and didn't care.  

Sara cleared her throat.  “When you want to add a contact, all you need to do is this," she said as she demonstrated, her fingers working the keyboard and the mouse, showing him the steps.  

“Why don’t we add one now?” he suggested.     

She looked up at him, a swift movement that brought their lips mere inches apart and made his breath quicken.  Swiftly, she turned back to the screen. “Mine?”

“Do you mind?”

“N-no.”  She typed in CSIDLE.  “When I log on later, I'll get a pop-up asking whether I accept the request."

“Will you?”

“Will I what?”

He drew back to his full height and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.  “Accept.”

She really looked at him then, confusion filling her eyes.  “Sure, why wouldn’t I?”

And that was how, once no more than a machine that gave him access to information or the exchange of information, it had become a friend.  For a while, anyway.  And then it became so much more. 

Their chats had started like this…

CSIDLE:     Hey.  Got a minute?

BUGDOC:  What's up?.

CSIDLE:     I’ve got a buddy of mine from SF on chat.  His doctor says he’s been bitten by a brown recluse spider?  What do you know about them?

BUGDOC:  I know they don’t live in California.  Your buddy should get a second opinion.

CSIDLE:     Oh…really?  Ok.  Thanks.

BUGDOC:  YW

CSIDLE:     Hey, you’re into acronyms already.  Made a lot of MSN friends?

BUGDOC:   No.  Only one.  Acronyms…borne out of necessity.  I’m not a touch typist.

CSIDLE:     LOL.  Uh…Do you know what that means?

BUGDOC:   No.

CSIDLE:     Laughing out loud.

BUGDOC:   OK.  I still don’t get why people would choose to converse like this rather than in person, or by phone.  If I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t know what your laugh sounds like, and that would be a shame.

Did I really say that?  Smooth, Gil.

CSIDLE:     Yeah…but look at it this way.  If I hadn’t seen you online, we wouldn’t be talking at all right now.  It’s not as if I would have called you at home to ask about a spider that I could have researched on the Internet.  But since you were already online…available…asking you was faster than doing the research.

BUGDOC:   I see your point. 

But why wouldn’t you call me at home if you needed me?  You used to.

CSIDLE:     Which reminds me…I’d better get back to my buddy and tell him what you said.  Thanks for your time.  Bye.

That was abrupt.

CSIDLE:     You should say ‘bye’ too…indicates end of conversation.

But I don’t want to end the conversation, yet…

BUGDOC:   Bye.

And so it began, innocently enough.  It took her about a week to ‘drop in’ on him again.  He’d kept his connection open for hours every day that first week, waiting, hoping that she’d start a chat.  He hadn’t felt comfortable initiating one.

He was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, when he heard the sound wave announcing she was online.  He dropped everything.

CSIDLE:     Hey.  Do you have time for another Internet lingo lesson?

Gil smiled and sat at his desk.

BUGDOC:   Student becomes teacher?

CSIDLE:     Interesting prospect.  I bet I could teach you a thing or two.

BUGDOC:   I don’t doubt it.  What would you like to start with?

CSIDLE:     I’ll have to think about that.  I wouldn’t want to venture into something too complicated your first time.  ;-)

Oh yeah?  This is becoming intriguing.  And where did she get that icon?

BUGDOC:   Never underestimate me, my dear.  Hey, where did you get the icon?

CSIDLE:     Ah…my ‘winking smiley’.  Just click on ‘emoticon’ in the conversation window.  There’s a library of them there.

Hearts—full and broken—a rose, a kiss, and smiley faces for a whole bunch of emotions...icons to add another dimension to this one-dimensional form of communication.

BUGDOC:   Got it.  :-D  See, I’m a quick study.  Care to venture into something more difficult now, teach?

CSIDLE:     LOL.  I don’t think you’re ready for what I have in mind next.

BUGDOC:   Try me.

CSIDLE:     Whoops, gotta go.  Someone at the door.  Bye.

Damn, you’re elusive.

BUGDOC:   Bye.

She never received his salutation.  She’d gone off line before he had time to send it.  Gil wondered if she’d come back later.  He kept the computer connected to the network just in case, and went back to the kitchen and his breakfast.

He wandered over to his computer every so often for the next two hours to check if she’d come back online, but she hadn’t.  He finally gave up and went to bed.  He had to work that evening.

For the next three weeks they occasionally met on MSN.  She always initiated, and they’d talk about this and that, nothing important, but it had felt good to have her there.  Then the silence came.  He’d see her online, but she’d never open a discussion.  This went on for a couple of weeks.  He wondered if he’d said something to upset her, but after a while, he feared she might have just become bored with him.

After another week of silence, he couldn’t take it anymore and initiated a chat.  It was a Friday night and they both had the weekend off. 

BUGDOC:   Busy, teach?

CSIDLE:     Never too busy for you, Doc.

Well that’s something. 

BUGDOC:   That’s nice.  No date tonight?

Why did I ask that?  Because I want to know if she’s seeing someone.

CSIDLE:     Nope.  Date with myself.  Me and my Vodka and OJ. 

Well that doesn’t tell me much.

BUGDOC:   Mind if I tag along?

CSIDLE:     Be my guest.  One condition though.  If I start to babble, don’t hold it against me.  It’ll be the booze.

BUGDOC:   Any reason why you want to drink yourself into oblivion?

When at first you don’t succeed, take another tack.

CSIDLE:     Just bored, I guess.  BRB (that’s be right back).  Need a refill.

BUGDOC:   OK.  I think I’ll join you.

A few minutes later…

CSIDLE:     B. (That’s back.)  I see you’re joining me in a drink.  What’s your poison?

BUGDOC:   Scotch.

CSIDLE:     Never acquired a taste for it.  That’s why I like Vodka.  It doesn’t taste like much, but has the same effect.

BUGDOC:   I didn’t think you were much of a drinker.

CSIDLE:     I’m not.  That’s why the ‘babble’ warning.  Booze hits me fast.

BUGDOC:   So tell me, teach.  Why tonight?  Men problems?

Please say no.

CSIDLE:     Since Hank, you mean?

That name still rankles.

CSIDLE:     Hey, Doc…Still there?

BUGDOC:   Yeah, I’m here.  I’ve been meaning to tell you how sorry I am about that.

CSIDLE:     Yeah, I bet you are.

What’s that supposed to mean?

BUGDOC:   I’m sorry he hurt you.

CSIDLE:     No big deal.  Wasn’t the first, probably won’t be the last.  Come to think of it, he wasn’t the last.

BUGDOC:   You’ve dated someone else since him?

CSIDLE:     No.  I tried, but he turned me down.

Was she referring to…

BUGDOC:   You mean me.

CSIDLE:     I should teach you the proper way of refusing a woman’s advances.

BUGDOC:   I’m sorry about that too.  Sometimes words don’t come out the way I mean them to.

What I meant to say was that I was flattered and excited at the prospect…but smart enough to refuse.

CSIDLE:     Well, lesson number one is to at least pretend to consider it.

My ‘no’ was abrupt.  You caught me off guard.

BUGDOC:   I’d already done that…before you asked.

CSIDLE:     Oh.

BUGDOC:   Is there a lesson number two?

CSIDLE:     Let me think… Maybe a less cryptic excuse.

BUGDOC:   Less cryptic?  What do you mean?

CSIDLE:     Something more definitive, like…I don’t think it’s a good idea, or even better…I’m seeing someone else.

BUGDOC:   OK.  I’ll remember that next time.

CSIDLE:     So, will you have dinner with me?

What the…?

CSIDLE:     Call it a test to verify that you paid attention to my lessons.

You have no idea how much I wish I could say ‘yes’.

CSIDLE:     Are you still there, Doc?

BUGDOC:   I’m considering…

CSIDLE:     LOL.  You are a quick study.  Now, for quiz number two…

It’s more and more difficult to come up with a reason why we shouldn’t do this.

BUGDOC:   It’s too dangerous.

CSIDLE:     Good answer.  But it begs another question.  Why would having dinner together be too dangerous?  We’re having drinks together tonight.

But I’m not looking into your eyes.  I don’t have to worry about keeping my hands off you.

BUGDOC:   This is safer.

CSIDLE:     You obviously haven’t heard of cyber sex.  BRB… another refill.

Cyber sex?  Boy, do I need another drink, too.

As he was pouring himself a drink, Gil mused that one didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what cyber sex was.  The idea of engaging in sex of any kind with Sara had kept him awake on more nights than he cared to remember, and the thought of having a conversation of that nature with her now was dangerously arousing.  His hand trembled as he picked up his glass and drained it.

CSIDLE:     Back.  So where were we?

End this conversation now, Gil!

BUGDOC:   Cyber sex.

CSIDLE:     Oh yeah.  I take it you haven’t tried it yet.

BUGDOC:   No.  Something else you want to teach me?

CSIDLE:     Afraid not.  I’m a cyber sex virgin.

Thank God.

CSIDLE:     Anyway, I imagine it would just add to the frustration, especially when the real thing is only a few miles away?

Breathe, Gil.  She’s probably talking about someone else.  Is she?

BUGDOC:   Who’s only a few miles away?

CSIDLE:     You.

CSIDLE:     Am I shocking you?

You have no idea what you do to me, witch.

BUGDOC:   Is it you or the Vodka talking?

CSIDLE:     LOL.  A little of both, I guess.

BUGDOC:   Well tell your Vodka friend that it would be wise to change the subject.

CSIDLE:     I hear you.  I don’t think my Vodka friend does.  What would be so wrong with it, Doc?  Two consenting adults, one night, no strings…Sounds like a perfect arrangement to me.

What happens when I can’t let you go?

BUGDOC:   I’m the same guy who said dinner would be dangerous.

CSIDLE:     What are you afraid of?

Falling in love with you.

BUGDOC:   You do know a relationship with me is not an option?

CSIDLE:     I’m not asking for a relationship.  Just a one-night stand.  Isn’t that every guy's dream?  Great sex.  No strings.

BUGDOC:   I suppose you're right. 

But not with you.

CSIDLE:     Do I… repulse you?

Oh, God, Sara…no!

BUGDOC:   No.  You don’t.  Look, I think it’s more the liquor than you talking at the moment.  What do you say we call it a night?

CSIDLE:     Yeah, you’re right.  I am a little drunk.  A lot drunk actually.  And tired.  OK. Bye.

She was offline before he had time to respond.

Gil hit the ‘off’ key, closed the computer monitor and headed for that much needed shower. 

She had been drunk that night or she never would have been quite so direct.  MSN Messenger had also helped.  He recalled a case of an email relationship between a woman very much like Sara, and a convict.  Sara had pointed out how easy it was to wear your heart on your sleeve when you weren’t looking in the other’s eyes.  He had to agree.  For that very reason, MSN Messenger, which he’d once looked upon with distaste, had been the catalyst that had restored his relationship with Sara. 

Although they never discussed work during their online chats, and by some unspoken agreement, never mentioned their extracurricular activity at work—they’d kept both worlds separate, not even using their usual names for each other…she’d become Teach, he was Doc—the strain in their relationship had vanished.

Undressing quickly, Gil stepped under the shower.  His most precious memory of their online chats kept him company as the sharp, hot sprays pelted his body.

SLEEP HAD BEEN difficult to come by that night.  She’d been on his mind more than ever…he wanted her more than ever.  He’d replayed their conversation over and over in his head, wondering how he would ever be able to put a stop to this online relationship that had inadvertently developed between them. 

How did you go from discussing the possibility of making love to…’hey, what do you know about the brown recluse spider?’ 

Although they saw each other at work most days, he looked forward to coming home to be with her.  Even on those many days when neither of them would initiate a conversation, she’d been there, available to him, and he’d felt close to her.

That Saturday morning, the first thing Gil did was sign on to the network.  He wondered if she was hung over, and if she regretted their vodka-induced chat of the previous night.  She wasn’t online, but he kept his connection open…just in case.  He didn’t dare leave the house, or wander too far from the living room, for fear he’d miss her. 

Until Sara, he hadn’t known how compelling and sweet an addiction could be.

It was two in the afternoon before the sound wave announcing her presence made his heart lurch.  He didn’t wait for her to initiate a conversation.

BUGDOC:   Hey, teach.  How are you feeling?

CSIDLE:     You have to ask!  Headache, nausea, embarrassment, the whole nine yards.

I figured as much.

BUGDOC:   I bet Vodka’s no longer your friend.

CSIDLE:     You can say that again. 

CSIDLE:     Uh…Doc, can I ask you something?

BUGDOC:   Sure, fire away.

CSIDLE:     Was it a nightmare, or did I…proposition you last night?

BUGDOC:   It wasn’t a nightmare.

CSIDLE:     Oh God!  I was afraid of that. 

BUGDOC:   LOL

CSIDLE:     No laughing matter, Doc.  If I recall, you turned me down.

That’s the kind of fool I am.

BUGDOC:   And I felt like shooting myself this morning.

CSIDLE:     LOL.  Well, you have learned your lesson well.  This is the nicest rejection I’ve ever received.  Seriously though, I want to apologize for putting you on the spot like that.

BUGDOC:   No need for apologies.  It was flattering.

CSIDLE:     Well, I guess that beats repulsive.

BUGDOC:   Sara…I rejected a one-night stand.  I didn’t reject you.

CSIDLE:     Oh.  What does that mean?

It means I’m no longer afraid of falling in love with you.  I already am in love with you.

BUGDOC:   It means I don’t want you for one night if I can’t have you forever.

* * * * *

GIL SLIPPED INTO his robe and wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror.  He ran his fingers through his damp hair then felt the light stubble on his cheek.  Shaving could wait.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.  I was just thinking about you.”

She smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his waist.  “What were you thinking?”

He pulled her close and dropped a light kiss on her lips.  “Oh…just how happy I am that you chose forever.” 

At her quizzical look, he tilted his head towards their bedroom.  “Want to go back to bed… with me?”

“Doc, you know I do.”

 The End