It's Time

Sparkling chandeliers. Sultry music. And all of Las Vegas’ finest dressed to the nines in penguin suits and slinky dresses. It’s exactly what I expected: another grand occasion to celebrate whatever it is we’re celebrating tonight. I tend to lose track. But I’m here because it’s easier being here than having to answer to the Powers That Be on my next shift.

That said, I guess I’m also here to support my team. My people. The people I’m so proud of. Catherine once said I was building a family around me whether I liked it or not, and I guess that’s true. I scan the crowd, looking for the familiar night shift faces.

My attention is finally captured, but not by the sexy flirtatious blonde in the centre of the room who exudes confidence and is surrounded by a group of equally attractive men.

No, quite the contrary. It’s captured by the brunette sitting off to the side, quietly sipping on a long-stemmed glass of champagne and looking rather pensive. Mysterious, even. It’s captivating.

She always gets to me this way.

I stand still for a full minute, secretly drinking in the sight of her from my position near the door. I see her glance briefly around the room, exchange pleasantries with a CSI from another shift, and then return to her contemplation.

I wonder what she’s contemplating. I don’t have to wonder for long.

She glances around the room again, and her eyes settle on me. Her beautiful, soul-baring brown eyes. I’m still staring, and I feel like a deer caught in headlights. She gives me a quizzical look, then a half-smile in acknowledgement, and returns to sipping on her drink.

I’m quite conscious of the fact that my heart-rate has just about doubled and we haven’t even exchanged words. If I’m honest with myself, I can say that nobody has ever had that effect on me before. The analytical part of my brain asks why while the emotional part tries to deny why.

Because.

That’s all there is to it, really. Some things just are. They just exist and have to be accepted as part of the natural world. I may not know exactly what to do about it, but I’m not going to deny it anymore.

The evidence never lies. Crap.

I start moving towards her table.

*   *   *
 

She watches me as I approach her table. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I just know without a doubt that I need to be here right now.

“Sara,” is all I manage to say in greeting.

“Grissom,” she replies back. Then, “I was making bets with myself as to how long you were going to stand by the door.”

She smiles. She’s joking. I smile too in relief.

“I was looking for you guys,” I reply. It’s mostly the truth. The fact that I found a few of my shift members several minutes before is something I keep to myself.

“I’m surprised you didn’t see Catherine first. She’s hard to miss.”

I follow Sara’s gaze to the dance floor, where Catherine and her very flattering dress are engaged in an elegant waltz with Nick.

“Well…” I begin, and I see a hint of something flash across Sara’s eyes for a moment. Then it’s gone. May as well plough right in, Gil, I tell myself. “…I did, but I thought I’d prefer to spend time with you.”

Good man. Honest does it.

Apparently it does it for Sara too, because her mouth drops open slightly and her eyes go wide for a moment. Then she regains her composure, although I swear I can see a slightly smug grin playing across her lips.

I really don’t know where to go from here. Now is not the time for awkward conversation. So I do the only thing I can think of doing in the circumstance.

I hold my hand out towards her. “May I have this dance?”

She looks shocked again. It’s endearing.

“Uh… yeah.” She still looks confused, but smiles and reaches out to put her left hand in mine. It’s soft and cool, and oh so dainty in my much larger one. A perfect fit. I pull her up towards me. She trips slightly as she gains her footing in her high heels, and her other hand comes to rest against my chest as she steadies herself. We’re very close.

She looks up at me, and I see the same emotion reflected in her eyes as I feel in my heart.

Fear.

*  *  *

Am I really doing this? Are we really doing this?

I lead her to the dance floor, and we slip into a surprisingly comfortable embrace as we begin moving to a slow ballad. I studiously try to avoid the gaze of everyone I recognize, and soon find it easier to simply look at the woman in my arms.

Her eyes meet mine shyly. Within them lies a whirlpool of emotions I cannot even begin to guess at. A wonderful, deep brown whirlpool. I find myself being sucked in and don’t try to put up much of a mental struggle.

“Why?” she asks, so softly that I barely hear her voice above the strains of music. She is the brave one, putting a voice to this uncertainty.

I lean in to whisper an answer, but don’t know quite what to say. My mouth lingers by her right ear for a moment as I try to think, and I smell her perfume - a subtle yet intoxicating scent that immediately imprints itself on my brain and renders me helpless.

I stop moving. She doesn’t, and her foot lands on top of mine. I try to raise my head too quickly, and she is off balance, and my lips collide with her cheek in an unintentional caress.

She blushes profusely and starts to pull away but I instinctively pull her closer.

“Because. Meet me outside in five minutes,” I whisper with fake confidence, my lips once again at her ear. Then I pull back, give her what I hope is a disarming smile, and turn and walk towards the coat check.

I do not dare look back at her as I leave the room. My heart is once again trying to pound its way out of my chest, and a continuous-playing loop has set up shop in my head.

“You kissed her cheek. You kissed her cheek. You kissed her cheek…,” it taunts.

“Shut up!” I grumble to nobody in particular, although several other guests gaze at me curiously as I pass by.

I am a man with no plan. I have bought myself some time, but it will never be enough and maybe that’s a good thing. I have bought myself too much time in the past.

I find myself standing just outside the ballroom entrance, anxious about what the rest of this evening will hold. But there’s something else there too, something I haven’t felt in a long, long time. 

Anticipation.

“Griss?” I hear spoken softly behind me.

It’s her. It’s time.