A/N: Here's one for what we did not see on CSI (and the writers failed to mention!) for a Happy Valentine's Day in Vegas for our favorite couple! Enjoy!
February 15, 2010 in Las Vegas
Greg Sanders loved working with Sara Sidle. Truth be known, he wanted to love Sara Sidle and he had hoped for years she would love him, but that was history now that she wore that gold band on her left hand. He grinned as he heard her swear beyond the door. He knew if he were completely honest with himself that he never stood a chance with his working partner. She had always loved Gil Grissom.
"Hey," Sara said from the door. She looked around at the mess. "Wow, do we know how he got in here?"
Dave Phillips looked up from his position near a body. "According to the manager, the freezer door wasn't locked." He returned to his work, checked pockets and handed a worn wallet to Greg. "Well, he's frozen."
Sara had entered the walk-in freezer, shivering before she was cold, and knelt between Greg and Dave. "I think I've done this before, Dave."
"Not with me," said Greg.
Dave turned his head toward Sara, a serious look on his face. "Not with me—I would remember."
"Nick, then," she said. "And I think the guy was shot."
Two men appeared at the door, holding steaming buckets. "Hot water," one said.
"He's stuck," Dave explained. He directed the men to pour the water around the body. Quickly, they lifted, placed the body on a stretcher, wrapped it up, and wheeled it out of the freezer.
Sara and Greg remained inside the cold room; Greg tugged his cap over his ears and shivered.
"What's the story?"
Greg could recite word for word everything he had heard as he explained how the dead man had been found inside the freezer. "No one had opened it since early this morning and when the manager was closing up," he spread his hands, "she found Mr. Popsicle."
"Oh, Greg," Sara groaned at his attempt at humor. "Where do we start?"
The freezer was a frozen disaster; boxes of frozen meat patties all over the floor, torn bags of French fries scattered everywhere, breaded chicken nuggets lying about like small stones, a small pool of red liquid—blood from the looks of it, and a huge slick brown puddle on the floor—human waste, Sara suspected.
Breathing made clouds of frosty haze as they scraped and collected bits and pieces.
Greg sighed as he put a frozen patty in an evidence bag. "I'm saying the old guy wandered in here, couldn't get out and made this mess trying to find the door and died."
"Could be—let's see if there is a car outside. I'm nearly frozen in here so it could happen pretty quickly."
They took the offered coffee, spoke with the manager and the first officer to arrive, and walked around the parking lot with Detective Vega looking at cars finding none abandoned.
"The manager can't swear the freezer door was locked—they have a smaller freezer in the kitchen—employees going in and out—the guy could have gotten locked inside unnoticed—busy day. You see a few of these big freezers like this, but most open inside the building." Vega said, leaving them outside leaning against the CSI vehicle.
Greg enjoyed working with Sara for moments like this. Just he and Sara, sharing some time, talking as friends do. She was talking about walking Hank who was not at the dog sitter's. He knew his friend was happier and more content than she had been in years; yet he could not work his mind around the physical separation of their current state. It puzzled him every day.
"So, Sara," he teased. "What's with Grissom and Valentine's Day? He can't drag himself to Vegas long enough to be with his one-and-only?"
She shot a side-long glance his way and grinned. "You are just too curious, Greg Sanders!"
His hands and feet danced nervously, "Tell me."
"You'll put it in some book you write one day."
Greg mocked a horrified look, "Never!" His hand came up, "Promise!"
"Well, if you must know," she turned sideways and leaned her shoulder against the vehicle. "We talk every day before I come to work, and we talk after I get home. You know I'm flying over there every time I can—it's working for us. He'll be here in a few weeks."
Greg grinned; this was no more than he already knew. "What did he you get for Valentine's Day?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Some things are best not shared."
"He didn't get you anything, did he?" Greg said, putting another shocking look on his face. "No flowers? No candy? No jewelry—sparkly stuff?" He shook his wrist in the air.
Sara giggled. "Greg, sometimes it's not about possessions." She elbowed his rib. "Let's get to work—that freezer will not get warmer."
They gathered and bagged and labeled more frozen "stuff" from the floor finally taping the door and telling the manager to lock up, leaving keys with the officer.
"Let's hope this one is easy," Greg groaned as he crawled into his SUV.
Sara waved; so did she. Driving back to the lab, she dialed an international number, listening to the ring until it rolled into message mode. She had lied to Greg, sort of. She and her husband always talked before work, but today, he had not answered nor had he called her back. She sighed, more sad than worried, because this would be the first time they had not talked before her shift since she returned to Vegas.
Greg had waited for her before heading to the morgue where their frozen man was defrosting slowly. Doc Robbins had found a significant contusion on his head which suggested a fall. They knew some of the swabs indicated a significant blood pool on the floor of the freezer.
The next few hours, they ran name searches and located their man's address—one of the many temporary rooming houses in the area—and sent the information to Detective Vega. Finally, they settled into their office chairs and worked on several open cases until both decided it was more fun to talk about other things.
"Where's Catherine tonight?" Greg asked.
Sara smiled. "I think Catherine might have a date."
"It is Valentine's Day," Greg grinned when he looked at Sara. "You know who it is!" He rolled his chair around the desks to sit beside her. "Come on, tell me! Is it someone I know?"
She laughed. "Greg, you seriously need to find a girlfriend!"
"I'm working on it—cute new girl on day shift—maybe a double shift and I can get to know her better." He scooted his chair back to his desk while Sara shuffled papers. He propped his feet on the desk. "How about a few pointers?"
Sara snickered. She loved Greg like a brother and he tended to tease her as he would a sister. Her personal phone buzzed and she checked caller ID and answered immediately.
"Hey," she said, turning away from Greg. "Not too busy," she said as she got up and left the room.
Greg grinned; he knew who she was talking too. He left the office and headed to the vending machines with a hand full of change. If Grissom wouldn't buy his wife candy, Greg would. He chunked in coins and pressed a number and retrieved a large chocolate bar. Returning to the office he folded a piece of paper and drew a heart on it, then tented it over the candy bar.
When Sara returned, she was smiling which broadened when she saw the heart and candy. "Ah, Greg, you're so sweet!"
"Well, if the big man can't deliver—I will," he laughed as she made a face at him. "Tell me, Mrs. Grissom, just between us—do you have 'phone sex' with Mr. Grissom? I'll never tell your secrets!"
At that, she threw the candy bar at him. "You can have your candy back—that's none of your business!" She caught the chocolate that he tossed back at her.
"That means you do!" He chuckled and ducked behind the desk as she pitched the candy at his head. The candy made a thud sound as it connected to the back of his head.
They both laughed as he unwrapped it, took several broken pieces and passed the remaining candy back to her.
"The lobby is filling up with flowers," Greg said, "and all the old man can give you is a phone call." Greg kept teasing and Sara kept laughing at him, unwilling to provide him more information about her love life—or her married life.
Their dead guy in the freezer proved to be a low priority—living alone, elderly and confused—as his death appeared to be an accident. Before shift ended, Sara decided to leave early; these days there was a limit to how much time she wanted to spend in the lab, even with Nick and Greg and their unlimited talk of ballgames and cars and places to eat. They joked and laughed as they walked with her to her car—because it was a quiet night and because they cared about her more than they would admit to each other.
Jim Brass drove up as she was leaving. "Where's Sara going?" He asked when he saw the two men in the parking garage.
"Home," Nick said. "Doesn't care for our company like she once did."
Brass chuckled. "She'll have a surprise when she gets there."
His comment started an avalanche of questions and he kept them guessing until Greg said "Grissom's here."
Instead of confirming Greg's guess, Brass gave a smug look as he said, "I think it's safe to say Mrs. Grissom will be taking off tonight."
A/N: Now leave a review--and we have a little sweet smut coming up!!