She trembled as she entered the cold apartment. The sun had beaten against her skin the entire day as she combed the desert for evidence, any clues they could possibly find that might give Brass some sort of lead. They'd come up with nothing on a full day's work; today had not been a good day.
The scene was one of only a few that had left her so unsettled. She was covered with blood, having meticulously examined the gore of two bodies, two female bodies, bludgeoned while still alive. It hadn't helped that she had had to work the scene with Grissom. Things had become even more strained between them lately and he watched her like a hawk the entire day, continually asking if she was all right. It was her job, God damn it! Of course she was all right.
Yet deep down she wasn't all right. Their forensic work had matched the DNA to both victims, placing their ages about twenty years apart. Mother and daughter they'd assumed. Two beautiful women, splayed across some barren wasteland, and she still wore the front of being perfectly capable of handling it all. She was fine and that's the way she wanted it to be.
The cold air in the room sank into her sweaty clothes and Sara trembled again. She had shed some of the layers she had worn to the investigation, opting only for the tight sleeveless t-shirt that had been under all her clothing. She drew her knees up into herself as she sat on the couch in her living room thinking about the day. Wrapping her arms around them, she shook her head and silently chastised herself. It would do her no good to keep reliving it. She needed to let it go.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She opened the door and was surprised to see Grissom. "Hey," she drawled tiredly, "What's up?"
Leaning against the frame his eyes took her in, fairly unused to her scantily clad form. He wore an expression of concern, his eyes returning to her face. "I was worried about you. You didn't look like you were feeling too well out there today."
He watched as anger crossed her face. She lifted a brow and drew her arm up to wrap it around her chest, cupping her other shoulder. "Yeah, well, working the desert in a hundred and ten degrees, knee deep in guts tends to do that to a person. A regular person," she added under her breath.
"It's okay," he said softly. "I just wanted to check up on you, that's all. Mind if I come in?" His hand reached up to pull the sunglasses off, giving her his sexy grin.
"Yeah, sure." Standing aside she let him pass, his body brushing hers as he walked by. Involuntarily she trembled once more, only this time not from the heat of the desert, the cold of the apartment, or the grizzly nature of one more crime scene. This tremor was caused by him. Just one simple touch... just one bare brush of his body.
Grissom looked around, shrugging out of his coat, laying it on of her rather contemporary chairs. "It's cold in here. Are you cold?"
"Yeah," she smiled, walking over to the thermometer on the wall kicking the temperature up a few degrees. He surprised her when she turned around to find him standing so close. She jumped, startled by his nearness, her breath catching in her throat to silence her surprise.
"Sorry," he barely whispered, standing back to allow her room to move. "I just wanted to see what you had it set at in here. It's cold enough to freeze meat."
They both laughed and the unexpectedness of it eased their tension. Sara offered him something to drink and they both settled back into the couch.
Sara laid her head back against the covered pillows and closed her eyes breathing a sigh of relief. "Today was rough out there. I can't believe we didn't come up with anything."
"It's a big scene. Forensics may come back with something from the rape kit and then there's always whatever the autopsy shows."
"If there's anything left," she groaned, shivering once more with the sudden flash of the things she'd had to wade through that afternoon. She felt the space between them lessen as Grissom slid close her to her, wrapping an arm around behind her, pulling her into him.
"You know, Sara," he murmured, speaking the words matter-of-factly, trying to hide his concern for her, "you don't always have to be strong. You don't always have to be so brave. Not with me."
For a moment she began to relax into his embrace, but anger soon flared inside her. How could he say these things after all the times she had pursued him and been shot down? With one rough push to his chest she was out of his arms and standing, turning on him with irritation. "Dammit, Grissom. You can't just come into my house and try to get inside my head! You can't just... argggggg!"
Turning away in frustration she swung her balled-up fists, then spun back to face him. "Look! You were the one that pulled away, not me. You want me to be something with you that I can't. Don't come here and expect me to fall apart in your arms when... when..."
He rose from the couch and stood before her, reaching out to brush her matted curls from her forehead. "Don't," she spat back at him, tears beginning to well within her eyes.
