Watching You

Chapter 3


Sara was exhausted. The evening had started off with a whimper but had gone
out with a bang. The liquor store case Grissom had assigned her and Greg should
have been routine. In fact, she had had every intent of supervising while Greg
worked the case. He had shown rather quickly that he was going to be a very
capable CSI and Sara knew that he would appreaciate the gesture. But, upon
arriving at the liquor store her plans were shot to hell.
"Hi, Mrs. Dinh, I'm Sara Sidle and this is Greg Sanders. We are with the Las
Vegas Crime Lab."
"You goin to fine who did dis?" Mrs. Dinh questioned in a heavy Vietmanese accent.
"We are going to do our best," Greg answered trying to calm the aggitated woman
down.
"Well, you betta," the old lady demanded.
"Ma'am...," Greg started to ask the lady's permission to start checking for prints but
he was interupted by a man who came running into the store from a back office. He,
like Mrs. Dinh, was of Vietmanese descent. He was screaming something neither Greg
nor Sara could understand. The man was so livid it took a minute for Sara to realize
the man was holding a gun.
"Sir," Greg began in a soothing voice, "I am gonna have to ask you to put that weapon
down." The man didn't look in Greg's direction. Instead, he grabbed the old lady and
held the gun to her temple.
"I shoot, I swear, I shoot," the man warned.
"Sir, please don't do that. If you'll just take a minute and tell us what's bothering you.
We will try to help you," Greg offered.
As Greg talked to man, Sara looked outside but couldn't locate the officer who
had been there when they arrived. They must have left she thought. Damn, where
was back up when you needed it.
The old lady began frantically conversing with the man in their native tongue.
While the man was focused on the old lady, Sara unclipped her service weapon but
didn't unholster it. She nudged Greg's arm hoping he would get the message to do
the same.
"Sir, my name is Greg, can you talk to me?" Greg continued to try to engage the man
in conversation.
"I don't care about you name. We have lost everything do you hear? Everything!"
"No Sir, they only got a few hundred dollars out of the register. I'm sure your insurance
will cover it. Besides the most important thing is that you have your lives. You still have each
other."
"No, No, No, you stupid American boy, You don't understand."
"What don't I understand. If you tell me, explain it to me, I will try to understand," Greg promised.
"My boy, he did this, he disgrace his family, his parents, his ancestors."
"Your son robbed you?" Greg asked purposfully not allowing it to sound like a judgement.
"Yes, for drugs."
"No, my son would never, you lie," the old lady spat on her husband.
"And now she try to protect him. She is disgrace too. She make it look like robbery.
So insurance pay. But I find out truth. They conspire against me. He is already with
his ancestors." Upon hearing her husband's confession the woman erupted into a
fit of wails.
"Shut up, you betray you ancestors, why you cry? They the ones dishonored."
With that the man pulled the trigger. The old lady fell limp to the floor. Sara reached for her
weapon. She wanted to be ready in case he drew the weapon on her or Greg. Greg tried
once again to get the man to calm down. But deep down he already knew the outcome.
Another shot sounded in the small store and it was all over. The man's body fell lifeless
on top of his wife's.

It took Sara and Greg the remainder of the shift to process the three dead bodies.
They found the son's body in the apartment above the liquor store. The son's death had
been more brutal. The father had decapitated him with a machete. It was one of the most
gruesome things Sara had ever seen.


When Sara arrived at Grissom's the first place she headed was the shower. He had said
to make herself at home and she desparately needed to get clean. She was surprised to
see that he had a sunken tub as well as a shower stall. 'He really does like the finer things,' she
thought as she shed her clothes and stepped into the shower. Had she not been so distraught over
the evenings events she might have indulged in fantasizing about her and Grissom in the tub. Instead
her conscience was beating her up over the fact that she had done nothing. She felt that maybe if
she had gone for her weapon things would have turned out differently. She wondered if she could
have taken the old man's life. She also wondered if she had shot him was there any guarntee that
he still wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger. She knew there would be nightmares when she slept.

The scent of Sara's shampoo greeted Grissom as he entered his townhouse. He knew this had been
a bad idea. If is libido responded to the scent of her hair products he didn't want to think about what
would happen when she came out of the shower smelling all sweet with her hair damp and curly.
He decided the best course of action would be to write her a brief note telling her he was tired and that he
would see her later.

After towel drying her hair, brushing and flossing her teeth, and applying her facial moisturizers, Sara
headed for the kitchen. She hoped Grissom had something in the house she could eat. She hadn't
been able to take a lunch break and her stomach had began growling at her. She spotted a bowl of
fruit on his breakfast bar. She grabbed an orange and noticed his keys laying beside the bowl. She wondered
where he was. Surely he hadn't turned in already. She wanted to talk to him about what had happened
earlier. Brass had already told her she had done the proper thing but for some reason she needed to hear it
from him. As she peeled the orange, she looked around for any sign as to where he might have gone.
The door to the balcony was looked so he couldn't be out there. She looked down the hall that she
surmised led to the bedrooms. One door was open and the other was closed. She assumed he must be
changing out of his work clothes. She wondered if he would come out wearing pajamas. She took a seat on the
couch to wait for him. Finishing her orange, she spied the note on the coffee table.

Sara,
Make yourself comfortable. There is fruit on the bar and yogurt in the
fridge. If you want to make a veggie omelete or something that
would be okay as well. Just please don't burn the place down.
I have left blankets and pillows for you in the spare room.
I will most likely sleep in late this afternoon. So if you wake
before me feel free to leave whenever you want. You don't
have to say goodbye.


Grissom

Sara didn't really know what she had expected when he had invited her to stay here, but
she sure as hell hadn't expected him to treat her as if she had the plague. She didn't think she
would ever understand the enigma that was Gil Grissom. At times like this she wondered
why she even tried. "To hell with it," she muttered as she headed off to bed.


A strange sound awoke him. He glanced at his bedside clock. It read 11:39. He had only been
asleep for an hour. After arriving home at 8:30 he had gone to his bedroom to avoid Sara.
The plan backfired on him. He lay there with a full bladder for two hours waiting for her to
go to sleep. He couldn't face her. He felt like such a coward. He didn't know how to react
to her being in his home. It felt so intimate. He wasn't good with intamacy, at least not where
she was concerned. It had been so easy with other women but dammit she was different. He had
had dates before, he had affairs before, and he had a relationship before but he had never been in love
before. He didn't like not knowing what to say or what to do. Certainlay inactivity was better than
doing the wrong thing, wasn't it?

After deciding that she had fallen asleep, due to snoring that would wake the dead, he trodded off
to relieve himself. Once in the bathroom he was again bombarded with the scents of Sara.
Who knew women had so much paraphenalia? It fascinated him. He sniffed her shampoo, conditioner,
and lotion before heading back to bed. He stopped briefly on his way back to bed just to watch
her sleep. That was an hour ago. He wished now that he hadn't left his door open upon returning to
bed because it sounded like she was crying and he couldn't stand to hear her cry. It broke his heart.
He lay there a few minutes hoping she would quieten down. But the sound only escalated. It became
obvious to him that she was having a nightmare. He wondered if it were and old nightmare or a new one.

He went to her. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Sara, it' s okay, it's over," he soothed.
She awoke with a start. She raised up and threw her arms around him. Tears streamed down
her face as she erupted into a fit of sobs. "I should have done something, something, anything,"
she murmured.
"Sara, you did all that you could."
"No you don't understand, I should've," she couldn't get the words to come. Her mouth was
open but nothing came out.
"No, No, No, honey, if you had pulled your weapon. He may have shot your or Greg. Sara,
you and Greg tried to talk him down. Sara, it was all that could be done. For neither of you
to be trained in hostage situations, I think you both did a remarkable job. I'm proud of
you both and so very glad that neither of you were hurt. I proud of you especially for
keeping your cool, baby."
Grissom rocked her in his arms as he cooed, "Shhhhhhhhh, it's gonna be alright."
Neither of them said anything. They just sat on the bed in each other's arms. Grissom
continued to rock her and stroke the back of her head with his big open hand. Sara hated the
feeling of being vunerable. She didn't want to need anybody. She wanted to be independent.
But deep down she knew she needed him and badly. She felt small in his embrace. Strangely
she felt more loved than she ever had. She openly took his comfort. After a few minutes, Grissom
got beneath the covers with her. He lay on his back and situated her so that her head rested on his
chest and her long arm snaked around his torso. He kissed her on the forehead and whispered,
"Sleep now, Sara." And she did.