A/N: I don't visit the Vegas side of this fandom often, but "Fannysmackin'" has been on TV a couple of times lately, and this little Sara/Greg number sprouted in my head as a result. Let me know what you think :-)
She knew that he had a crush on her, had for a several years now, probably since the day she started at the lab. It was cute, she'd always thought, and he was sweet, complimenting her, helping her out on cases after hours, even teasing her occasionally when he could work up the nerve. She saw the way he looked at her, the way his cheeks sometimes turned pink when she smiled at him, the way he tried so hard to impress her.
She knew there was something very innocent about his feelings for her, which is why she never told him to bug off, to give up, to just forget about her, even when she was seeing someone else. It's why she encouraged him ever so slightly from time to time, keeping the faintest hope alive in his heart that she adored him the way he so clearly adored her. And why she never wholly put the idea out of her own mind.
She knew that he was a good friend, that he would do anything for her. She didn't even have to ask—if he so much as suspected she was in need of an item or service or shoulder to lean on, he was there to provide it. It had always reassured her to be so certain that, no matter what happened at work or at home, he would be there.
She knew it was him when she heard the radio call from the first arriving officer proclaiming there was a CSI down. She hadn't been there when Grissom sent him to process the liquor store robbery, but she knew it was him just the same. A quick call to dispatch had confirmed it, and, without hesitating, she went straight to her Denali and drove directly to the scene. She jumped from the truck the moment she pulled up and hurried toward him, barely slowing down to speak with Sophia as she moved.
Because now she needed him to know how much he meant to her. She didn't have many people in her life that she could count on, that loved her unconditionally, and hadn't learned very well how to deal with those she did have. She wasn't good at communicating her emotions, but she knew for him she had to try. Kneeling down beside him, she wracked her brain for some way to make him understand how important he was to her, to offer him the same comfort he'd always been ready to offer her.
He knew it was her, even with both of his eyes swollen shut, and began to relax immediately. He felt her gently stroking his hair and smiled inwardly, noting how tender her touch was, drawing strength from it, from her. He found he was able to describe a lot of what happened, her presence calming him, allowing him to think clearly. He also discovered a steely reserve he didn't know he had, fueled by her attention, bolstering him enough that he insisted she process the scene and leave him for later, knowing he could wait.
But when she told him that she had come for him, he could hear in her voice what she couldn't say in words. And he knew how much she cared for him.