Summary: A few moments that could have taken place during AtS. GSR Angst,
of course
Disclaimer: Don't own anything. I always forget to state this, but really,
I rent and I go to school, so if you sued me, all you'd get are my cats,
and one has a tendency to spray.
Spoilers: Yep.
The Pretty One By Pheo 1.21.04
Sara scowled as she watched the interaction between their suspect and Catherine. No matter how many cases she herself managed to get emotional about, it was still okay for Catherine to go and lick a suspect's ear. The pretty one. he had asked specifically for Catherine. The pretty one. Sara shook her head.
It didn't matter that her solve rate was better. It didn't matter that she had never been a drug addict-or had any type of sordid past, for that matter. It didn't even matter that she had never directly compromised a case. The woman still one-upped her on countless levels, and Grissom was only too happy to turn his head the other way while she did it.
Grissom. Now there was a piece of work. She stole a glance at him and watched as he stood silently, observing the interrogation just three feet from her. The pang she still felt angered her. There was nothing for her with him; he knew this. He never failed to make that clear to her.
So why didn't she know it?
Her heart simply refused to follow the blatant evidence presented. It didn't matter to her heart that he said no when she'd asked him to dinner. Nor did it matter that he continued to either ignore her, or treat her like a spoiled child, every time they were in close proximity. She was simply powerless to the feelings she had for him.
If she could extinguish the torch she carried for him, she knew she would. That would at least make it easier to work around him.
*
She stood above the valleys, watching as Catherine gave her a smirk as she let the suspect lead her around. She hugged her stomach, wanting to be sick. The woman was insufferable.
Sara couldn't believe Grissom's behavior. She and Nick would both lose an opportunity to prove themselves with this case. Not only that, he'd openly taken Catherine's side-yet again-without question. She wondered if there was anything the ex-stripper could do that was wrong.
She could see Grissom approaching in her peripheral vision. She refused to look at him. If she did, she feared, she may very well push him over this hill.
The mental image of Grissom catapulting down the hill gave her a brief feeling of satisfaction. While she knew she could never inflict that much pain onto anyone, let alone her heart's desire, she snorted, nonetheless, thinking of him standing up bowleggedly, looking around for his glasses.
"Care to share?" he asked quietly.
"Contemplating your doom," she replied with relish.
He gave her a sharp look. "Scared of you."
"No kidding," she murmured. Had it been last year, he may not have heard her; she was accustomed to muttering whilst in his presence.
However, he had heard, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
She turned her head, meeting his stare head on. "Care to share?" she mimicked.
He turned to leave her on the hill. The image was clearer than ever. She snorted again, and he whirled around. "What is so damned funny?" he demanded.
"Nothing," she said immediately, choking a laugh behind the back of a hand.
"No, really, I may be an old man, but I have been known to appreciate a good joke from time to time." He sounded irritated.
"Grissom," she started, then thought better of it. "You ever had one of those guilty little daydreams that you know are wrong, that you know should never happen, but it's such a pleasure you give into having them once in a while anyway?"
"Yes," he answered immediately.
"Well, that's what I was doing before you interrupted my thoughts."
He cocked his head at an angle, waiting for an explanation.
"I was thinking of what horrible things I could do to you once I saw you."
He seemed to mull that over. "I suppose I deserve that."
He turned again, and she suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for him.
"Hey Griss," she called.
He turned again.
"What do you daydream about?"
He paused, pursed his lips. "The pretty one," he finally answered.
Her jaw dropped. She felt as if she'd been stabbed straight in the chest. She looked down toward Catherine, the smirk still plastered across the blonde's face, and back up at Grissom. He watched her and when her eyes met his, he slowly shook his head.
She tilted her head this time, confused. "Who."
Her voice trailed off at his pointed look. She slowly brought her hand up in front of her chest and pointed at herself, her eyebrows raised in a question she couldn't ask.
The sad tilt of his lips provided her with the answer he could not give. He made his way down the hill, and she decided that she didn't want to push him down the hill anymore.
Not today, anyway.
The Pretty One By Pheo 1.21.04
Sara scowled as she watched the interaction between their suspect and Catherine. No matter how many cases she herself managed to get emotional about, it was still okay for Catherine to go and lick a suspect's ear. The pretty one. he had asked specifically for Catherine. The pretty one. Sara shook her head.
It didn't matter that her solve rate was better. It didn't matter that she had never been a drug addict-or had any type of sordid past, for that matter. It didn't even matter that she had never directly compromised a case. The woman still one-upped her on countless levels, and Grissom was only too happy to turn his head the other way while she did it.
Grissom. Now there was a piece of work. She stole a glance at him and watched as he stood silently, observing the interrogation just three feet from her. The pang she still felt angered her. There was nothing for her with him; he knew this. He never failed to make that clear to her.
So why didn't she know it?
Her heart simply refused to follow the blatant evidence presented. It didn't matter to her heart that he said no when she'd asked him to dinner. Nor did it matter that he continued to either ignore her, or treat her like a spoiled child, every time they were in close proximity. She was simply powerless to the feelings she had for him.
If she could extinguish the torch she carried for him, she knew she would. That would at least make it easier to work around him.
*
She stood above the valleys, watching as Catherine gave her a smirk as she let the suspect lead her around. She hugged her stomach, wanting to be sick. The woman was insufferable.
Sara couldn't believe Grissom's behavior. She and Nick would both lose an opportunity to prove themselves with this case. Not only that, he'd openly taken Catherine's side-yet again-without question. She wondered if there was anything the ex-stripper could do that was wrong.
She could see Grissom approaching in her peripheral vision. She refused to look at him. If she did, she feared, she may very well push him over this hill.
The mental image of Grissom catapulting down the hill gave her a brief feeling of satisfaction. While she knew she could never inflict that much pain onto anyone, let alone her heart's desire, she snorted, nonetheless, thinking of him standing up bowleggedly, looking around for his glasses.
"Care to share?" he asked quietly.
"Contemplating your doom," she replied with relish.
He gave her a sharp look. "Scared of you."
"No kidding," she murmured. Had it been last year, he may not have heard her; she was accustomed to muttering whilst in his presence.
However, he had heard, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
She turned her head, meeting his stare head on. "Care to share?" she mimicked.
He turned to leave her on the hill. The image was clearer than ever. She snorted again, and he whirled around. "What is so damned funny?" he demanded.
"Nothing," she said immediately, choking a laugh behind the back of a hand.
"No, really, I may be an old man, but I have been known to appreciate a good joke from time to time." He sounded irritated.
"Grissom," she started, then thought better of it. "You ever had one of those guilty little daydreams that you know are wrong, that you know should never happen, but it's such a pleasure you give into having them once in a while anyway?"
"Yes," he answered immediately.
"Well, that's what I was doing before you interrupted my thoughts."
He cocked his head at an angle, waiting for an explanation.
"I was thinking of what horrible things I could do to you once I saw you."
He seemed to mull that over. "I suppose I deserve that."
He turned again, and she suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for him.
"Hey Griss," she called.
He turned again.
"What do you daydream about?"
He paused, pursed his lips. "The pretty one," he finally answered.
Her jaw dropped. She felt as if she'd been stabbed straight in the chest. She looked down toward Catherine, the smirk still plastered across the blonde's face, and back up at Grissom. He watched her and when her eyes met his, he slowly shook his head.
She tilted her head this time, confused. "Who."
Her voice trailed off at his pointed look. She slowly brought her hand up in front of her chest and pointed at herself, her eyebrows raised in a question she couldn't ask.
The sad tilt of his lips provided her with the answer he could not give. He made his way down the hill, and she decided that she didn't want to push him down the hill anymore.
Not today, anyway.