Target
An entertaining game with Sara and Greg
Sara Sidle is well known around the Las Vegas Crime Lab for having an attitude. She wants things when she wants them and never any other time. She's similar to the other female in that respect, but they have different extremes. Sara woke up one evening after a fitful sleep and began to prepare herself for work.
She never truly worried about her appearance (as Catherine had pointed out once before) so it was a short process. She had plenty of time left over when she finished, so she settled herself down on the thrift store couch and grabbed a book. Like every other book she owned it was on forensics. This one was a particular favorite and she could quote most of it.
The timer on her oven went off, reminding her it was time to leave for work. She got in her Denali after taking a moment to admire the insignia on the side and drove off. The automatic doors whirred open when she stepped up to the motion sensor.
Judy, the receptionist, was in tears, her curls matted with moisture. Conrad Ecklie, whose skin vaguely resembled that of a tomato, was yelling at her. Sara could almost see the strings of spit flying from his mouth. He nearly drowned a person every time he spoke.
She turned to walk down the hall and practically mowed down Greg Sanders. She helped him steady and muttered an apology. He grinned like a fifteen-year-old fresh out of braces and took her aside.
"I feel like playing Elvis," he whispered.
She wrinkled her forehead in confusion and he pointed to the man at the counter.
"Ecklie's head looks like a disco ball. I feel like a chorus of 'Hound Dog' is about to resonate from speakers all over the lab."
For some reason Sara found this all very funny and had to place her hand on the wall to keep from falling over. Had she been a hundred pounds heavier dressed in a red suit one might mistake her for Santa, she was laughing so hard. Ecklie heard the whooping and shot her a piercing glare. She took that as cue that it was time to get to work.
It appeared as though the inhabitants of the greater Las Vegas area had found better things to do on this day than kill one another. The grave shift stayed around the lab looking for ways to entertain themselves. Crowded around the break room table they gave ideas for things to do, but no one seemed to come up with anything worthwhile.
Greg got up from his chair and moved to the fridge. He removed a cherry-red apple from the second shelf and tossed it Sara's direction. It bounced off the table and landed on the floor, no doubt bruising the interior.
"Ping-pong," she said causing the other members of the team to look up from their various states of distress.
"What?" Greg asked. It was unlike Sara to utter random words. In fact, he'd hardly ever heard her say something that didn't relate to a case.
"I feel like a game of ping-pong. You know, the one with the paddles. I used to love that game as a kid. I haven't played it in ages."
"Well you haven't been a kid in ages," Nick said stressing the final word. This earned him a smack in the head from both Sara and Catherine.
"You're older than she is," the red-head said.
The room quieted a little and everyone soon drifted off back into disdain. It was one of the few times they actually wanted something to happen. At least that would give them something to do.
Grissom traipsed in the room whistling a tune. It was very off key so Sara could not recognize it. She doubted anyone else could either. He held up a sheet of paper and a few gasps erupted.
"Okay, I've got a case here. It won't take all of you, so who wants it?"
"Without knowing what it is? You've got to be kidding," said Warrick.
"That's a risk you'll have to take," Gil replied.
The following scene was like little kids in a toy store. Everyone except Greg and Sara jumped from their seats and made a grab at the sheet. Grissom seemed to take delight in this and pulled it out of their grasp. After getting a swift kick in the shin from Catherine he released the paper and the three eventually agreed to go together. Grissom limped back to his office and Greg and Sara stayed sitting at the table.
Greg leaned back in his chair and placed his feet up on the glass. He rubbed his chin and pursed his lips.
"You know, Sara," he said, "I just happen to have a ping-pong set stashed around here somewhere."
She chuckled. "Why does that not surprise me?"
He began to dig through the cupboards, tossing out strange objects that one would not think to find in a place of business. A rubber duck hit the floor and let out a small quack. Sara looked on with amazement at her coworker. At last he removed two wooden paddles and a small white ball.
They walked around the lab looking for a good place to set up. It was difficult; the lab had not been designed for game time. Greg got a familiar twinkle in his eye when they reached a small room directly across from Ecklie's office. The door was open, but the man sat with his back to it, his head shining brightly.
Sara scrunched her nose. "I don't know. Now that I look at it, his head seems more like a mirror."
"Yeah, I bet that's what Catherine does her makeup at when she's here," Greg responded.
The two laughed quietly and tip-toed into the next room. Greg set an array of small boxes in the center of a table to use as the net and tossed the small ball to his companion. She flicked it his direction with a bit more oomph than was necessary. It flew out the door and hit the wall in the hallway.
"Gentle, Sara, gentle," said Greg. He demonstrated and ball soared gracefully over the "net" and bounced on the other side.
She winded up and smacked at it. Greg dropped to the floor to avoid decapitation. Ecklie was not so lucky. The ball ricocheted off his head and continued on to bounce off several figures in his office.
Sara suppressed a laugh and walked in the office. She picked up the ball which had landed on a stack of papers and turned toward the very confused man.
"Sorry, sir," she said, "this little devil has been getting away from us all night. Strange piece of evidence, don't you think?"
He only nodded and watched wide-eyed as she returned from whence she had come.
An idea had emerged from Greg's mind while Sara was away. The two took turns on that side of the table trying their best to shoot the ball at the lab's Assistant Director. They found it especially amusing to make up excuses as to why this was happening.
"Your head's not made of metal, is it?" Greg asked. "We put a magnet in this thing, for experimental purposes of course, and it just seems attracted to you."
"You might want to call animal control about this," said Sara. "It seems to be extremely dangerous and I don't think it's safe for us mere C.S.I.s to handle."
Surprisingly, Ecklie let this go on for another hour before coming to the conclusion that the ball would not hit him if he closed his door. The top of his head was no longer a shiny, pasty white, but rather the color of Dorothy's ruby slippers.
Their fun was done and Sara and Greg went back to the break room busting at the gut. Sara held her side and felt like a six-pack was forming from all the laughing.
They collapsed on the floor, still breathing heavily.
"What do you suppose Ecklie did before working here?" Sara asked once she could speak.
"I don't know. He said something about helping with target practice at an army camp, didn't he?"
"I don't know where you heard that, but if it's true, I bet he really did help."
"Yeah," Greg replied sitting up and taking her by the hand, "I bet he was the target."
They spent the rest of the night discussing why table tennis was now an Olympic sport and listing all the reasons Ecklie should try out. A particular favorite was so that people could see him get hit.
Warrick, Catherine, and Nick wound up in the break room at the end of shift and found an incredible sight. Sara and Greg lied curled up on the floor, clutching ping-pong paddles in their hands.
A/N: Hmm. Your thoughts?