Please R&R!! I do NOT own CSI or any of its characters. Also, I will take requests for a GSR fanfic; send ideas via review or PM if you would like me to post one. It must be one-shot.
"A sequence of situations which have the potential for disaster and inevitably result in disaster."-Murphy's Law
In a quiet, residential area of Vegas, lab rat extraordinaire Greg Sanders was in dreamland in his apartment. What was he dreaming of? The same thing he dreams of every night. The vision of beauty, in his eyes at least. Only a fool could ignore the sparkling brown eyes, the medium length brunette hair that bounced off her shoulders as she strode down the lab hallways, and that gap-toothed grin that she saved only for special occasions. God, he loved that smile, the way she seemed to glow when she wore it, how it made a room glow, and how it made him melt inside. He couldn't deny it; he was head over heels in love with Sara Sidle.
BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!
Greg moaned sleepily as he rolled onto his side to turn the annoying device off. This was how each and every one of his dreams ended; he was always torn back into the real world by the incessant beeping of his alarm clock, a reminder that he had to go to work. Reluctantly, he left his bed and began to get dressed.
"Damn it!" Greg cried as the zipper of his favorite pair of slacks broke and narrowly missed pinching his 'Mini Greggo', the pair was a gift from Sara and left him severely peeved that he couldn't wear them. Then, he remembered something that his Nana Olaf had always told him:
"If something precious to you that was given to you by someone precious to you, breaks; it is a very bad omen. It means something bad will happen to that person."
Greg just shrugged it off and headed to his Mustang, putting on his seatbelt, starting the engine, and flipping through stations to find music that he liked. After settling on Manson, he was off to work.
Two minutes into the drive, he ran over a small bump. At first, Greg thought nothing of it; but then he heard the tire flatten and screech.
"Just flipping greaaat." Greg muttered under his breath as he pulled over, pulling out his cell phone and dialing. After two rings there was an answer.
"Sidle." Greg heard from the other line
"Hey, Sar. It's Greg. You haven't left for work yet have you?" Greg asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.
"I just started the car, why?" Sara asked curiously
"Well, I uh, have a flat tire and no spare. Could you pick me up? I'm on Casino Drive." Greg asked, almost pleading.
"Sure, I'll be there in a few." Sara said, clicking the phone off on the other end.
Greg waited for five more minutes until Sara pulled up next to him. He had already called a body shop for a tow truck; so, wordlessly he got into the car. Sara noticed that he didn't seem like himself and; for only being awake about forty-five minutes, he looked exhausted. She decided to ask why.
"Greg, you look horrible. What's wrong?" Sara asked with genuine concern, wondering what could be troubling her spiky haired lab rat. Greg just looked at her with bloodshot eyes and said:
"Murphy's Law, Sara. This morning my favorite pair of slacks broke at the zipper; now I'm going to have to pay a towing fee on top of getting my tire fixed because someone stole my spare!" Greg rambled, only catching Sara's attention at the pants part.
"The slacks I got you last Christmas?" Sara asked, looking over at him briefly before turning her attention back to the road. 'A bad omen' she thought as Greg nodded his response shortly before they pulled into the lab-parking garage.
Several hours later, Greg had avoided the consequences of Murphy's Law for most of shift and was testing samples in the lab; but as he turned to his right to investigate an odd odor a bright flash blinded him. He felt himself almost instantly being thrown through the Plexiglas window of the lab to land on the floor with a jolt. It was surreal; he didn't feel anything or hear anything in those few moments. It was as if he was an outsider looking in on the explosion. Instinctively, he picked his head up and looked to his left; there he saw Sara, sprawled on the floor and looking at him with wide, shocked eyes. Everything faded to black after that.
As she walked down the corridor, Sara was having a mental discussion. She liked two men, maybe even loved one of them, but she didn't know whom to pick.
'Okay, I'll ask, and if he turns me down, I'll go with Greg.' Sara thought to herself, as her heart interjected its two cents into the discussion.
'That's what you want anyway, Sara.' Her heart told her. Her head had no time to retort in the matter, however. Just as Sara was passing the lab the hallway lit up like a high school bonfire and glass shards hit her left side as she was thrown into the wall, she let out a scream as she went. Just before she was thrown, Sara made out Greg flying into the window. If they both hadn't been in danger at the time she would've thought it looked cool.
At the hospital, Sara stood in the doorframe of Greg's room watching him sleep. He looked so peaceful, even in his situation. Sara looked at him and thought that she was glad Grissom was a lost cause. This man in front of her now, even though immature and unorthodox, could make her laugh and smile without even trying. She could spend her life with him. Grissom was good for her as a friend, but he couldn't give her what she needed as a boyfriend or husband. Plus, she was certain that given the choice between Lady Heather and herself; he would choose the former, even if Sara were with him.
"You can stop staring at me, I'm awake." Greg spoke, startling Sara and making her realize that she had indeed been staring at him all this time.
"How are you feeling?" Sara asked, walking over to the bed to sit in the adjacent chair.
"Well, I'm on enough Morphine to knock a horse out; so right now I'm feelin' pretty damn good." Greg replied letting his eyes fall to her bandaged right hand.
"How are you feeling?" Greg asked, searching her eyes. He didn't know what for, but still searching nonetheless.
"A little shaken, but I'm alright. Grissom gave me the rest of the day off so I came to check on you." Sara said, scrutinizing Greg's various bandages and cuts.
"I think you came for more than that, now; what did you need to tell me?" Greg asked with a coy smile, noting the pensive look that crossed her features.
"My favorite coffee mug, the one you gave me last Christmas; it uh, broke just before I left for work. I remembered what you said about your Nana. Then when you said that the slacks I got for you 'broke' I realized that I might love you. When I saw you fly through the glass window and hit the floor I realized that I do love you." Sara spoke, chuckling at Greg's shocked yet happy expression.
She kissed him gently, so she wouldn't aggravate any injuries. He returned the kiss with three years of built up emotion as he wrapped his good arm around her and deepened their kiss.
That day, Greg came to the conclusion that Murphy's Law was his favorite law.