CSI_Trainee
CSI Level One
*shudder* trust falls scare me so bad i don't think i could even get through that. Great chapter i woulda commented earlier but my puter decided it wanted to freeze.
The Retreat
- Thread starter Zan1781
- Start date
Raven, gooey blue stuff...? Hmmm! Thanks for your comment, though. I figured a lot of people have been bullied in their life, and would identify with Grissom's situation. And thanks for reading my chapter!
And CSI Trainee, I hate trust falls, too! I WASN'T able to get through it, and I kinda regret that! But thank you for your comment
.
And CSI Trainee, I hate trust falls, too! I WASN'T able to get through it, and I kinda regret that! But thank you for your comment
.CSI_Trainee
CSI Level One
I eneded up completeing them, but i think it was cause i half fainted ...... i have a fright of heights and the smallest high scared the crap out of me, but i have overcome the small hieghts now.
Shipwrecked
Police Officer
omg...definitely my favorite fan fic ever!
Update pleeez, especially the butterfly exhibit, because it's adorable!
Update pleeez, especially the butterfly exhibit, because it's adorable!
Shipwrecked
Police Officer
gotta keep it up! This is great!
CSI_Trainee
CSI Level One
hope u do another update soon lol its a really good story, I have a tarantula named Grissom a hamster named Willows and I have a kitten named Horatio, I have CSI on the brain so I will be here waiting for a update lol
Shipwrecked
Police Officer
update soon!!!
CSI_Trainee
CSI Level One
Actually i would have to worry more about Grissom going for Horatio cause Grissom is a tarantula, then Horatio for Willows and the hamster has nothing to go for lol, Can't wait for another update you have such great writing skilss Zan!
(First of all, thank you SO much for your kind words. I appreciate them! Secondly, you guys are totally cracking me up! I hope that you like this chapter, though... and I hope that it makes sense! If not, I'll try to explain it better, after you read it!)
---------------
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. Thanks also goes to Wikipedia, for the information on balance!
Title: Equilibrium
---------------
“That was awesome, Grissom,” Greg grinned, as the six criminalists walked back down the path toward their campsite. “I mean, I really didn’t think that you were going to be able to do it there at the end, but that was really awesome! And you trusted us. We told you that we wouldn’t drop you,” he enthused. “And we didn’t!”
Grissom shuffled along the path beside Sara, not entirely sure what to say, rubbing his beard in slight embarrassment. I just can’t believe that I told you all about the tree incident.
“Take some credit for once in your lifetime, Gil,” Catherine chided him. “You overcame one of your greatest fears, and you did it was grace and honor. That says a lot about your character, you know.”
Grissom quietly nodded, staring straight ahead of himself, as they neared their campsite. “Perhaps,” he finally admitted. “Although I believe that all of you being so patient with me also says quite a bit.”
“Nah, man,” Nick spoke up. “Catherine is right; you did well. You believed in yourself, and you believed in us. You did it!”
“Yeah,” Warrick added. “And you showed those punks who’s the boss.”
“I knew you could do it,” Sara whispered to Grissom, lightly bumping his shoulder with her own in order to get his attention, and smiling up at him.
Grissom gave Sara the smallest of smiles, before the six criminalists walked into their campsite.
“Is it time to swim, yet?” Greg asked the moment that he neared his tent. “Because I’d really like to swim,” he announced to his colleagues.
“Well,” Grissom frowned. “We were supposed to do some more talking during lunch, but I have to admit, I could really use a break. Would anyone else like to go swimming?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Hell, yeah,” Warrick immediately replied.
“Definitely,” Catherine affirmed, before walking into her tent in order to change.
“Me, too,” Sara smiled, following her inside.
“I guess so,” Nick non-committally shrugged, nervous with the fact that he would have to speak to Sara sooner or later; hopefully sooner, rather than later.
“Last one changed is a rotten egg!” Greg chuckled, darting into his own tent in order to change into his bathing suit.
Grissom just raised an eyebrow, leaning into his tent far enough to grab his suit, before standing back up, and heading toward the restrooms. I almost got dizzy there for a moment, he thought to himself, before grinning. But then again, the last time that Sara got dizzy, well… his mind trailed off, already lost in the memory.
---------------
The third date, nine months prior
“Sara, just take my hand,” Grissom quietly told her, as they stood in line for their turn to walk through the equilibrium exhibit at the Las Vegas Museum and Science Center.
“No, I’m fine,” Sara smiled at him, before closing her eyes, in order to stop the dizziness from getting any worse.
“Why won’t you just take my hand?” Grissom asked again. I thought you liked holding my hand. We held hands at the butterfly observatory; has something changed in the span of a couple of weeks?
“Because I’m fine!” Sara repeated, this time a little bit more sharply than she intended. “Really, I’m fine,” she tried to assure him, taking a deep breath.
“But you’re already dizzy,” he hesitantly pointed out, glancing up the tilted ramp which led into the museum’s exhibit on equilibrium. Although they were standing outside of the “house,” and waiting to enter, Grissom and Sara could still see a small part of what was going on inside; which meant that Sara’s brain was already busy trying to process the visual cues that it was receiving.
The exhibit, brand new this year, was built to toy with the equilibrium of each and every participant. From the outside, the exhibit looked fairly innocuous; a fake house, perhaps ten feet in width, and thirty feet in length. The inside, however, was designed to prove how straight lines and level floors can help maintain equilibrium, by doing the complete opposite; the interior of the “house” contained a floor built at a constant forty-five degree angle, a mix of zigzag and striped lines along the walls, tilted windows, crooked paintings, and visually off-centered tiles covering the floor and the ceiling. Participants entered through a door on the right-hand side of the exhibit, following a railing to their right, and eventually exiting a short-distance later, on the left-hand side of the exhibit.
“I’m not dizzy,” Sara repeated, closing her eyes in order to end the visual onslaught from the house. “Really, I’m fine.” I don’t want to fall; falling would be embarrassing. And I don’t need your help, she told herself. I don’t want your help; I don’t want anyone’s help.
Grissom sighed, standing beside her, but letting the subject drop. It wasn’t worth fighting over, and he knew that the chances of her actually falling were really pretty slim. Although, frankly, I just wanted to hold your hand.
“They’re laughing,” Sara quietly spoke up, as two teenagers stumbled out of the exhibit’s exit. “That’s a good sign, right?” she asked.
“I’m sure they’re just amused with being so disoriented,” Grissom replied, as they moved forward in line. “What we are about to see is not something that we are actually used to seeing,” he reminded her, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah,” Sara simply smiled, as she moved up another spot in line, so that she was the next person who would have the opportunity to enter. “Well, that’s good, I guess,” she shrugged, as the attendant waved her in. “Ready?” she asked Grissom, who was still behind her.
“Yes, I’m ready,” he nodded, resisting the urge to grab her hand, just for fun, and following her into the house.
Once they were inside, Sara raised an eyebrow, attempting to take it all in. “This is bizarre,” she whispered, as her eyes widened in the attempt to reconcile what she was actually seeing, with what her brain was telling her that she was seeing. “I feel like I’m being pulled to the left,” she commented, gripping the railing to her right. “Truthfully, I feel like I’m being pulled down a hill, except for the fact that the hill is actually only a forty-five degree angle.”
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Grissom mused, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a small smile.
“Yes,” Sara chuckled, as she once again closed her eyes, trying to regain her balance. “This place is unreal,” she commented, slowly opening her eyes in order to glance around the exhibit. “I feel unbelievably dizzy right now—”
“Would you like to hold my hand?” Grissom immediately interrupted her.
Sara tried not to roll her eyes at him. “No. As I was saying, I feel unbelievably dizzy right now, but I want to analyze what is really taking place.”
“Understandable” Grissom glanced at her. “And I’ve done just that. Our equilibrioception, or our sense of balance, can be distorted, when people create visual cues that make us feel as if we are vigorously moving. We don’t realize it, but level floors, level walls, patterns, straight windows, and non-crooked pictures, give our brains a frame of reference. We do not become dizzy, until the images begin to clash with one another, making us feel as if we are rapidly moving in circles.”
Sara raised an eyebrow, her knuckles white from tightly holding onto the railing. “Thank you,” she tried not to chuckle at his scientific explanation. “That makes perfect sense to me, actually.”
“Hey, Mister?” A boy of about four years old interrupted Sara, trying to quickly move along the railing in order to reach Grissom. “Hey, Mister?” he repeated, releasing his hold on the railing, and finally just running toward him. “You’re smart,” he grinned. “And your wife is pretty, too!” he added, as he tried to pass right on by Grissom, so that he could look more closely at Sara.
“Oh, no, I’m not his wife—” Sara started to say, her face turning crimson.
“No, she’s not my wife—” Grissom mumbled, blushing, shifting from foot to foot in embarrassment.
“Oh,” Franklin shrugged, taking another step toward Sara. “She’s still the second-most prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” he informed Grissom, teetering from side to side, almost as if he was about to lose his balance.
“Franklin?” his mother yelled at him, reaching a hand out toward him.
“No, mommy! I just want to see the pretty lady!” he giggled, before trying to once again push past Grissom, in order to get to Sara. Misjudging his footing, however, Franklin nearly fell down, before reaching out, and grabbing a hold of Sara’s arm. Still falling to the left, and pulling Sara with him, he shrieked, as his mother snagged his arm, and Grissom made a grab for Sara, pulling her tightly to his body.
“I’m so sorry, Sir, Ma’am,” Franklin’s mother uttered in embarrassment, as she ushered her young son out of the exhibit. “I’m really sorry!” She repeated over her shoulder, before briskly walking down the exit ramp, holding Franklin’s arm firmly in one hand.
It’s okay, Sara was going to tell her, until she realized that Grissom actually had his arms wrapped around her. Noting the rapid thumping of her own heart beating, and becoming aware of the sudden sweatiness of her palms, Sara tried to take a deep breath, in the hopes of calming herself down. “Thank you,” she finally whispered to Grissom, her eyes riveted to his, as she felt one arm tightly encircle her waist, drawing her even closer to him, as his other hand firmly held onto the guide rail.
“No problem,” he quietly replied, his own heart pounding, as he flashed Sara an amused expression. “But I did warn you,” he commented, a slight twinkle in his eyes.
“What…?” Sara asked, licking her lips.
“I told you just to hold my hand.”
“True, you did,” Sara mused, slightly smiling. “But you know what?”
“What?” Grissom asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I like this a whole hell of a lot better,” she grinned at him.
---------------
Campsite
“Let’s go, let’s go!” Greg eagerly tried to spur everyone on, as he glanced down the path that would lead them to the lake. “Seriously, I want to get some swimming in!”
“Hold your horses, Greg,” Catherine ordered him, stepping out of her tent, and wrapping a towel around her waist. “Give everyone a chance to get dressed.”
“How long does it take to pull some clothes off, and then to throw on a bathing suit?” he mumbled, standing with the towel draped over one shoulder.
“It takes approximately two and a half minutes,” Warrick replied, shuffling out of his tent. “Or longer, if you’re Grissom.”
“What about if you’re Grissom?” Sara asked, popping out of her tent, her towel already wrapped around her waist.
“Nothin’,” Warrick grinned, standing beside Greg. “So now we just need Nick and Grissom, and we’re good to go.”
“Correction,” Nick spoke up, climbing out of his tent. “Now we just need Grissom.”
“Who’s right here,” Grissom added, calmly walking down the path from the restrooms. “Let’s go,” he announced to the five waiting criminalists, the moment that he reached their sides.
“How’d he get way over there?” Greg whispered to Warrick, as the two men started walking down the path toward the beach.
“It’s magic,” Warrick joked, his towel slung over one shoulder.
Catherine just rolled her eyes, as she, Sara, and Grissom, all took off down the path after Greg and Warrick.
“Yo, Nick, you comin’, man?” Warrick suddenly called out over his shoulder, after having noticed Nick still standing by the tents, as if stuck in place.
“Yeah, in a minute,” Nick replied, watching his friends leave the campsite. “Hey, Sara?” he hesitatingly tried to get her attention.
Catherine, Sara, and Grissom all stopped walking, turning around to look at Nick. “Hmm?” she asked him, noticing that Greg and Warrick had continued walking.
“Can we, uh, talk for a couple of minutes?” he anxiously asked, standing beside the fire pit.
“Sure, Nick,” Sara sighed. Finally. “We’ll catch up with you two later,” she smiled at Catherine and Grissom.
Grissom uneasily glanced at Sara, then Nick, followed by Sara again, nervously rubbing his beard.
Catching his gaze, Sara flashed him another small smile. I love you, she mouthed to him.
I love you, too, he mouthed back, swallowing, before looking at Catherine.
“It’ll be fine, Grissom,” Catherine quietly assured him. “Just let them talk.”
“Right,” Grissom sighed, giving Sara one last lingering look, before slowly following Catherine toward the lake. I certainly hope so, anyhow.
---------------
TO BE CONTINUED
---------------
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. Thanks also goes to Wikipedia, for the information on balance!
Title: Equilibrium
---------------
“That was awesome, Grissom,” Greg grinned, as the six criminalists walked back down the path toward their campsite. “I mean, I really didn’t think that you were going to be able to do it there at the end, but that was really awesome! And you trusted us. We told you that we wouldn’t drop you,” he enthused. “And we didn’t!”
Grissom shuffled along the path beside Sara, not entirely sure what to say, rubbing his beard in slight embarrassment. I just can’t believe that I told you all about the tree incident.
“Take some credit for once in your lifetime, Gil,” Catherine chided him. “You overcame one of your greatest fears, and you did it was grace and honor. That says a lot about your character, you know.”
Grissom quietly nodded, staring straight ahead of himself, as they neared their campsite. “Perhaps,” he finally admitted. “Although I believe that all of you being so patient with me also says quite a bit.”
“Nah, man,” Nick spoke up. “Catherine is right; you did well. You believed in yourself, and you believed in us. You did it!”
“Yeah,” Warrick added. “And you showed those punks who’s the boss.”
“I knew you could do it,” Sara whispered to Grissom, lightly bumping his shoulder with her own in order to get his attention, and smiling up at him.
Grissom gave Sara the smallest of smiles, before the six criminalists walked into their campsite.
“Is it time to swim, yet?” Greg asked the moment that he neared his tent. “Because I’d really like to swim,” he announced to his colleagues.
“Well,” Grissom frowned. “We were supposed to do some more talking during lunch, but I have to admit, I could really use a break. Would anyone else like to go swimming?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Hell, yeah,” Warrick immediately replied.
“Definitely,” Catherine affirmed, before walking into her tent in order to change.
“Me, too,” Sara smiled, following her inside.
“I guess so,” Nick non-committally shrugged, nervous with the fact that he would have to speak to Sara sooner or later; hopefully sooner, rather than later.
“Last one changed is a rotten egg!” Greg chuckled, darting into his own tent in order to change into his bathing suit.
Grissom just raised an eyebrow, leaning into his tent far enough to grab his suit, before standing back up, and heading toward the restrooms. I almost got dizzy there for a moment, he thought to himself, before grinning. But then again, the last time that Sara got dizzy, well… his mind trailed off, already lost in the memory.
---------------
The third date, nine months prior
“Sara, just take my hand,” Grissom quietly told her, as they stood in line for their turn to walk through the equilibrium exhibit at the Las Vegas Museum and Science Center.
“No, I’m fine,” Sara smiled at him, before closing her eyes, in order to stop the dizziness from getting any worse.
“Why won’t you just take my hand?” Grissom asked again. I thought you liked holding my hand. We held hands at the butterfly observatory; has something changed in the span of a couple of weeks?
“Because I’m fine!” Sara repeated, this time a little bit more sharply than she intended. “Really, I’m fine,” she tried to assure him, taking a deep breath.
“But you’re already dizzy,” he hesitantly pointed out, glancing up the tilted ramp which led into the museum’s exhibit on equilibrium. Although they were standing outside of the “house,” and waiting to enter, Grissom and Sara could still see a small part of what was going on inside; which meant that Sara’s brain was already busy trying to process the visual cues that it was receiving.
The exhibit, brand new this year, was built to toy with the equilibrium of each and every participant. From the outside, the exhibit looked fairly innocuous; a fake house, perhaps ten feet in width, and thirty feet in length. The inside, however, was designed to prove how straight lines and level floors can help maintain equilibrium, by doing the complete opposite; the interior of the “house” contained a floor built at a constant forty-five degree angle, a mix of zigzag and striped lines along the walls, tilted windows, crooked paintings, and visually off-centered tiles covering the floor and the ceiling. Participants entered through a door on the right-hand side of the exhibit, following a railing to their right, and eventually exiting a short-distance later, on the left-hand side of the exhibit.
“I’m not dizzy,” Sara repeated, closing her eyes in order to end the visual onslaught from the house. “Really, I’m fine.” I don’t want to fall; falling would be embarrassing. And I don’t need your help, she told herself. I don’t want your help; I don’t want anyone’s help.
Grissom sighed, standing beside her, but letting the subject drop. It wasn’t worth fighting over, and he knew that the chances of her actually falling were really pretty slim. Although, frankly, I just wanted to hold your hand.
“They’re laughing,” Sara quietly spoke up, as two teenagers stumbled out of the exhibit’s exit. “That’s a good sign, right?” she asked.
“I’m sure they’re just amused with being so disoriented,” Grissom replied, as they moved forward in line. “What we are about to see is not something that we are actually used to seeing,” he reminded her, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah,” Sara simply smiled, as she moved up another spot in line, so that she was the next person who would have the opportunity to enter. “Well, that’s good, I guess,” she shrugged, as the attendant waved her in. “Ready?” she asked Grissom, who was still behind her.
“Yes, I’m ready,” he nodded, resisting the urge to grab her hand, just for fun, and following her into the house.
Once they were inside, Sara raised an eyebrow, attempting to take it all in. “This is bizarre,” she whispered, as her eyes widened in the attempt to reconcile what she was actually seeing, with what her brain was telling her that she was seeing. “I feel like I’m being pulled to the left,” she commented, gripping the railing to her right. “Truthfully, I feel like I’m being pulled down a hill, except for the fact that the hill is actually only a forty-five degree angle.”
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Grissom mused, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a small smile.
“Yes,” Sara chuckled, as she once again closed her eyes, trying to regain her balance. “This place is unreal,” she commented, slowly opening her eyes in order to glance around the exhibit. “I feel unbelievably dizzy right now—”
“Would you like to hold my hand?” Grissom immediately interrupted her.
Sara tried not to roll her eyes at him. “No. As I was saying, I feel unbelievably dizzy right now, but I want to analyze what is really taking place.”
“Understandable” Grissom glanced at her. “And I’ve done just that. Our equilibrioception, or our sense of balance, can be distorted, when people create visual cues that make us feel as if we are vigorously moving. We don’t realize it, but level floors, level walls, patterns, straight windows, and non-crooked pictures, give our brains a frame of reference. We do not become dizzy, until the images begin to clash with one another, making us feel as if we are rapidly moving in circles.”
Sara raised an eyebrow, her knuckles white from tightly holding onto the railing. “Thank you,” she tried not to chuckle at his scientific explanation. “That makes perfect sense to me, actually.”
“Hey, Mister?” A boy of about four years old interrupted Sara, trying to quickly move along the railing in order to reach Grissom. “Hey, Mister?” he repeated, releasing his hold on the railing, and finally just running toward him. “You’re smart,” he grinned. “And your wife is pretty, too!” he added, as he tried to pass right on by Grissom, so that he could look more closely at Sara.
“Oh, no, I’m not his wife—” Sara started to say, her face turning crimson.
“No, she’s not my wife—” Grissom mumbled, blushing, shifting from foot to foot in embarrassment.
“Oh,” Franklin shrugged, taking another step toward Sara. “She’s still the second-most prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” he informed Grissom, teetering from side to side, almost as if he was about to lose his balance.
“Franklin?” his mother yelled at him, reaching a hand out toward him.
“No, mommy! I just want to see the pretty lady!” he giggled, before trying to once again push past Grissom, in order to get to Sara. Misjudging his footing, however, Franklin nearly fell down, before reaching out, and grabbing a hold of Sara’s arm. Still falling to the left, and pulling Sara with him, he shrieked, as his mother snagged his arm, and Grissom made a grab for Sara, pulling her tightly to his body.
“I’m so sorry, Sir, Ma’am,” Franklin’s mother uttered in embarrassment, as she ushered her young son out of the exhibit. “I’m really sorry!” She repeated over her shoulder, before briskly walking down the exit ramp, holding Franklin’s arm firmly in one hand.
It’s okay, Sara was going to tell her, until she realized that Grissom actually had his arms wrapped around her. Noting the rapid thumping of her own heart beating, and becoming aware of the sudden sweatiness of her palms, Sara tried to take a deep breath, in the hopes of calming herself down. “Thank you,” she finally whispered to Grissom, her eyes riveted to his, as she felt one arm tightly encircle her waist, drawing her even closer to him, as his other hand firmly held onto the guide rail.
“No problem,” he quietly replied, his own heart pounding, as he flashed Sara an amused expression. “But I did warn you,” he commented, a slight twinkle in his eyes.
“What…?” Sara asked, licking her lips.
“I told you just to hold my hand.”
“True, you did,” Sara mused, slightly smiling. “But you know what?”
“What?” Grissom asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I like this a whole hell of a lot better,” she grinned at him.
---------------
Campsite
“Let’s go, let’s go!” Greg eagerly tried to spur everyone on, as he glanced down the path that would lead them to the lake. “Seriously, I want to get some swimming in!”
“Hold your horses, Greg,” Catherine ordered him, stepping out of her tent, and wrapping a towel around her waist. “Give everyone a chance to get dressed.”
“How long does it take to pull some clothes off, and then to throw on a bathing suit?” he mumbled, standing with the towel draped over one shoulder.
“It takes approximately two and a half minutes,” Warrick replied, shuffling out of his tent. “Or longer, if you’re Grissom.”
“What about if you’re Grissom?” Sara asked, popping out of her tent, her towel already wrapped around her waist.
“Nothin’,” Warrick grinned, standing beside Greg. “So now we just need Nick and Grissom, and we’re good to go.”
“Correction,” Nick spoke up, climbing out of his tent. “Now we just need Grissom.”
“Who’s right here,” Grissom added, calmly walking down the path from the restrooms. “Let’s go,” he announced to the five waiting criminalists, the moment that he reached their sides.
“How’d he get way over there?” Greg whispered to Warrick, as the two men started walking down the path toward the beach.
“It’s magic,” Warrick joked, his towel slung over one shoulder.
Catherine just rolled her eyes, as she, Sara, and Grissom, all took off down the path after Greg and Warrick.
“Yo, Nick, you comin’, man?” Warrick suddenly called out over his shoulder, after having noticed Nick still standing by the tents, as if stuck in place.
“Yeah, in a minute,” Nick replied, watching his friends leave the campsite. “Hey, Sara?” he hesitatingly tried to get her attention.
Catherine, Sara, and Grissom all stopped walking, turning around to look at Nick. “Hmm?” she asked him, noticing that Greg and Warrick had continued walking.
“Can we, uh, talk for a couple of minutes?” he anxiously asked, standing beside the fire pit.
“Sure, Nick,” Sara sighed. Finally. “We’ll catch up with you two later,” she smiled at Catherine and Grissom.
Grissom uneasily glanced at Sara, then Nick, followed by Sara again, nervously rubbing his beard.
Catching his gaze, Sara flashed him another small smile. I love you, she mouthed to him.
I love you, too, he mouthed back, swallowing, before looking at Catherine.
“It’ll be fine, Grissom,” Catherine quietly assured him. “Just let them talk.”
“Right,” Grissom sighed, giving Sara one last lingering look, before slowly following Catherine toward the lake. I certainly hope so, anyhow.
---------------
TO BE CONTINUED