Disclaimer: I don't own either Greg or Sara, or any of the other wonderful CSI: crew
It's five o'clock and I guess you really don't mind much since your pajama pants are low slung, the waist nearly clearing the hem of the raggedy tee shirt you always, always wear and you shuffle past me with a murmured greeting.
Biting my bottom lip, I realize through the words of my forensic journal that our scuffle just after shift wasn't put out of mind, and as our eyes meet you quickly glance back at the coffee pot you're attending to. An apology itches the very tip of my tongue but I can't tell you. I've never been able to just tell you anything and while I know you understand my abrasive feminism, it still stings all the same, especially after this morning.
Sitting across from me, your left-over Kung Pow chicken in one hand and well-handled chopsticks in the other, you mention Catherine stopping by later on; her mother's sick and Lindsay needs a sitter. I shrug but you only snort, your feelings very obviously on your sleeve and I can't help but think how you're doing it again. No one else can keep me in line the way you do with one simple gesture, the mere expression of your disgust with my actions crawling awkwardly under my skin and staying there until I can finally apologize to you.
I hate myself as I ignore you again, glancing back down at my journal and forcing myself not to stare across the table at your droopy eyes still trying to wake up and your hair jutting in all different directions. It resembles the way it looked yesterday in the bathroom after I had convinced you I worked wonders with hair gel. Funny how that seems so long ago now.
Another long lapse of silence before you finally stand, your face telling me you want so bad to say something but you don't, and I can only guess I'm wearing the same expression as you turn away from me and disappear into the bedroom where I decided not to sleep this morning. You were hurt enough; I didn't want my presence adding to your pain. But the longer you stay in the bedroom the more I become worried and follow your steps in there. I spy you standing in front of the dresser mirror, shirtless, leaning forward and eyes and fingers studying the blazing red mark on your collarbone.
Assessing the damage, you say coolly, your large brown eyes gazing at my reflection before moving back to the bruised skin. And here I thought biting ended when one graduated from kindergarten, you add and I pick up the undertone of pained sarcasm.
I cross my arms and I know you immediately note the defense mechanism but then again I'm an open book to you which is what scares me so much, why I so violently pushed you away. Remembering the morning more clearly now I look away from your red flesh, replaying the events in my head and wondering why I hadn't just broken down in your arms like I had desperately wanted to.
"Sarah!"
"What Greg?"
"Huffing off isn't going to make you feel any better. The guy's an ass and if you just –"
"So he has the right to talk to me that way? Act like a pompous jerk just because he's missing an x chromosome? If I didn't know any better I'd think you two were pals."
The station doors had opened and I had lunged for him, ready to rip his head from the his neck and spit down the stump but you had stopped me from making a classic Sara mistake, reacting before thinking. Your fingers closed around my wrists, your body mass had kept me from hurling myself into him, and instead of allowing you to protect me I had damaged your pride in front of an onlooking Nick and Warrick. After digging my fangs into your shoulder I had decided it wasn't enough and kneed you as hard as possible.
Trying to play along just as coolly, I step further into the room and even smirk, asking how the family jewels are doing, and I just know the laugh that escapes your lips is genuine.
The next comment shared is a little unexpected, your smile fading only slightly at your attempt for a truce between us and I nod.
Yeah. We're good…
And here it comes, raw, somewhat unneeded
I'm sorry Greg.
Good…so it's agreed that my balls remain peach instead of black and blue?
At least on my end, I reassure you and our laughter mixes perfectly together just as the door rattles with a knock. Breezing by me, you plant a kiss on my forehead and I watch you with a smile, thankful you know exactly how to keep me from meandering too far off the path, thankful I wake up next to you at whatever hour in the day.
The door opens and I wave at Catherine, the thought crossing my mind that I can just ride with her to work.
"Lindsay!"
"Hi Greg!"
And I watch you two embrace, the image almost eerie and sending a chill down my spine, so I quickly dismiss it, gathering my coat and leaving you with a quick kiss before joining Catherine at the elevator for a long shift without you to distract my attention.