Everyone deserved to be happy. She was absolutely no different.
So she dated, she saw men who claimed they saw something in her. They did dinner and movies and obscure things like amusement parks and museums. She had more numbers weighing down her address book than she ever had before, that was the luxury that came with letting go of the past, of finally letting go of him. There were other men, other men who wanted her, who wanted to please her. There were other men who wanted to make her happy.
It never lasted more than five dates, she made sure of that; it never came to sex. It always started with simple dating and ended on good terms. She always left them with a smile, sometimes a hug but in the end she'd just go home and sleeping off the pseudo relationship she had just put an end to.
She saw them for coffee and brunch, lunch and dinner. It was intensely diverse, and that's why she liked it. Once, she had been taken out by a twenty-five year old, a nice man who was mature for his days, but who was only in town for two weeks. That was fine because after than she had been asked to dinner by a fifty-seven year old anthropology professor who doted on her so easily that she almost fell for him. Almost.
The one thing that was different about him, Kenny, was that she let him take her out on a sixth date. Having never experienced more than five with one person she felt rather taken back when the words of acceptance instead of rejection had sprung from her lips. And he'd taken her hand; she let him. Wonderfully intelligent, funny and good looking, she was almost excited that she had agreed to see him.
After the eighth time, he sent her flowers at work, a wonderfully sweet gesture that she had never been on the receiving end of. He sent her not roses or tulips or something equally as cliché, but Korean orchids. And he hadn't written anything too revealing on the card, just, "Enjoyed our talk last night, Kenny." She had smiled a bit and taken the flowers from the front desk into the locker room. On the way there, Sara mused that she liked that he called himself Kenny and not Ken; she couldn't bear the thought that she was a Barbie doll.
The flowers needed light but for that time they were banished to the confines of her dark locker. She told herself it was so she wouldn't be asked questions by Greg and Catherine and, and, and. But really, somewhere, deep down in the back of her mind she knew very well that it was so Grissom wouldn't find out about them, about the other men.
But she deserved to be happy, she did. She was happy, she was. Really, really she was...
Kenny, Kenneth... he arrived at work two days later to surprise her at the end of shift. He was on summer break from the University but still, it was a treat to see him so early in the day; he normally would not have been up at that hour but he had made a mention that she was worth it.
His chinos and polo shirt were crisp; his hair was perfect, salt and pepper waves secure behind his ears with some sort of gel. He looked distinguished and, she had to admit to herself, handsome. Fingers thrummed at the reception desk as he waited for her to be paged and made known of his presence.
Sara's smile was genuine when she met him at the front desk, dropping a kiss on his cheek while grabbing his hand.
"Just let me grab my things and we can uh, go." He nodded and she walked off, back to Grissom's office (back to Grissom, oh the irony at that), where she had been signing off on some of her case notes.
Grissom was standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb as if he were somehow relaxing there. There was a patronizing smile on his lips and Sara felt suddenly as if she were somehow cheating on him. She simply brushed past him and picked up the pen once more. Grissom spun around on the spot, still resting in the door. "So, are you happy then?"
Sara ignored him, scribbling her name across sheets of paper hurriedly. "I asked you a question," he said, attempting to keep his voice light.
"No," she said seriously, spinning around to face him, her lips a line of anger. As if he had any right to ask her that in the first place.
It was difficult for Grissom to keep the smile on his lips from flitting up a bit. Sara tossed the pen onto the desk and brushed past him once more. She began stalking off, but thought better of it. The turn she made was slow, but when she did, her eyes were blazing embers that threatened to set him aflame.
There was nearly venom glistening from her teeth and she glared. "But then again, I'm not alone and lonely anymore, am I?" And with that she began her exit once more. 'Like you,' she had wanted to say, 'Like you'll always be.'
Words tumbled sadly from his lips before he was able to halt them. It was nearly a plea. "Does he love you?" Grissom called softly after her, wanting to ask 'Does he love you like I do?' He had no claim over her, absolutely nothing that would make him worthy of even a semblance of an answer.
And she didn't answer, simply walked into the locker room, grabbed her things and went out to meet Kenny. They left, hand in hand.
She wasn't happy but then again, neither was he.