Hi all... This is my first CSI fanfic. I'm actually a GS shipper, but this story just screamed to be written. It's a short vignette... Some SG angst and SB friendship. The usual disclaimers apply... I don't own these characters, clearly, because if I did they'd be having a lot more fun!
Evolution
She'd been replaced.
It was odd, Sara thought, that Grissom would turn to someone like Sofia. But then, Grissom was an odd guy. Wasn't that what had attracted her to him in the beginning?
The first time Sofia marched into Grissom's office and took a proprietary seat on the edge of his desk Sara didn't think anything was strange. Sure, Sofia was bold, but weren't most women in law enforcement? The second time, Sara found it vaguely annoying but gave Grissom the benefit of doubt. Sofia was new to the team. He was merely being friendly, trying to establish some sort of rapport.
The third time, Sara had to accept that more was going on than met the eye.
She'd wandered in to Grissom's office to give him the results of a DNA test. They'd nailed their suspect, and she knew he'd want to know immediately.
A gleeful, "Hey, Grissom…" died on her lips as she found herself speaking to Sofia rather than her former mentor. "Oh, sorry," she murmured, completely confused. Grissom didn't like for people to hang out in his office when he wasn't there. Not only was Sofia alone, she'd appropriated Grissom's chair.
Sofia smiled serenely. "He should be back soon."
The words were simple, the tone was… complicated. Condescending.
It rankled.
Before Sara could formulate a reply Grissom burst into the office. "Got it!" He excitedly waved a thick journal in his right hand. "Tell me again why I should believe…" He stopped short when he saw Sara, kinetic energy evaporating from his stocky frame.
In a practiced move, he lifted an eyebrow and silently inquired why she was there.
"Thought you'd like to know that Mia got the results on Fuller's DNA test," she offered in a businesslike tone. "We got him."
He gave a brief, satisfied smile. "Good."
She smiled back. Sort of. She wanted to say more -- to provide details, to revel in the glory of putting another scum-sucking pervert behind bars. But something in his face told her that he'd rather continue his debate with Sofia.
His vague indifference left her feeling alone and exposed. She wondered for the millionth time how it was that such a socially… inept… man could make her feel so unbelievably awkward. And to add insult to injury, his rejection had an audience.
A quick look to her left found Sofia still sitting at Grissom's desk. Still smiling serenely.
Conceding defeat, unable to bear Grissom's neutered stare for another moment, she pivoted and walked away.
The break room seemed as good a retreat as any. She meandered down the hall, careful to school her features into a calm expression. A short wave to Archie through a glass window and then she was blissfully alone.
Quickly she poured a cup of Greg's special Hawaiian blend and levered herself onto the sofa. Her foot tapped restlessly on the ground, channeling her frustration and pain.
Damn him.
Damn him and his unbelievable, undeniable ability to slice her to the core.
If it had been anyone other than Grissom she might have rationalized that the flirtation was some sort of political ploy. After all, Sofia was Ecklie's pet and therefore needed to be watched carefully. But Grissom's extensive literary repertoire did not seem to include any Machiavelli.
If it had, the night shift might all still be together.
No, for all his brilliance, Grissom had the political skills of a toddler. He admitted that himself. So there had to be something else going on. Something basic. She shuddered.
Man.
Woman.
Did it get much more basic than that?
What truly pained her was the fact that Sofia was just like she used to be… Fun, flirty, fearless. Sofia had no respect for Grissom's personal space. Nor had Sara… Once upon a time.
Had it really been four years since she'd cheekily waved a roll of duct tape at Grissom and asked him to tape her up? Where had that woman gone?
What had she turned into?
"That's an awfully loud sigh – Don't tell me there's a problem with the Fuller case."
Her head popped up. "Brass. Hey."
"Hey yourself." He offered a genuine smile and put a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "Seriously – What's up?"
Somehow she didn't think the truth was a wise move. "Nothing. Long case, I guess."
"Uh huh."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He poured a companion cup of coffee and seated himself next to her. There was a wealth of experience in his eyes, and not a small amount of understanding. "How are you?"
She supposed she could have sloughed him off again -- provided some platitude, mumbled a noncommittal reply to satisfy his curiosity. But when she looked over and saw the genuine concern in his face, she decided he'd earned the truth. Her PEAP counselor had told her repeatedly that the only way for her to move forward was to start acknowledging and confronting her feelings. Vocalization was a necessary first step.
"I've been better, Jim..." She could tell her honesty had shocked him – his mouth formed a silent O "…But I'll be okay."
Defiant, she met his gaze head on.
He must have liked what he saw, because his lip curled in a snarky grin. "Need help hiding the body?"
Unable to stop herself, she choked on her coffee, then spluttered, "Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
She couldn't help but grin. His comment really didn't deserve a reply, so instead they sat in comfortable silence, sipping coffee.
Finally Brass took a long swig, settled his empty cup on the table and stood up. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" With a wink, he was gone.
Comforted, Sara leaned back and took another luxurious sip. Closing her eyes, she vowed once and for all to move on.
It was time.