Title: Consequences
Author: Eve (little_grey_woman42@yahoo.de)
Keywords: Angst, and once again oddness.
Spoilers: Up to PNN and maybe beyond (just to be safe).
Author's notes: 1st warning: I know that most of the time my usage of metaphors is as subtle as the proverbial frying pan - this here is another example. 2nd warning: After suffering from a real bad writer's block that lasted about two weeks I don't seem to be able to leave our favourite CSI couple alone. Just keep in mind that I want them to be happy. I really do. 3rd and last warning: I might just have written the second instalment in what may become my first series of stories. This here actually seems to fit somehow somewhere after "Glass Caskets". Now that's a scary thought, isn't it?


Consequences
by Eve

Sara stood in front of the mirror and pulled at her clothes, clearly dissatisfied with her reflection. Everything looked so baggy she wondered whether she had actually lost some weight. Frowning she threw a glance at the clock on the wall. She sighed. Aware of the fact that he was due to arrive any minute now she decided that her outfit would have to do for the evening.

As if on cue the doorbell rang and she almost mustered a smile. She quickly checked her hair and make up for the last time and then left the bedroom in order to answer the door.

But when her hand closed around the knob she hesitated.

Not for the first time during the last couple of weeks Sara wondered whether she was doing the right thing.

What had initially started with a phone call had slowly evolved into something that actually could be by now described as a real relationship. Just thinking about it in those terms scared her. Before him she hadn't been seriously involved with anybody for quite some time and was now still trying to get used to it. There were also times when it got pretty awkward at work but she told herself that they would finally get over it - after all almost everybody else was already coping surprisingly well.

That was at least what she kept telling herself each time she was met with another forced smile.

She would have accepted this temporary alienation from her colleagues if it wasn't for her own doubts, for the feeling that she was being unfair to him. She knew she didn't deserve what he gave her willingly, knew that her own feelings didn't quite meet up to what he was feeling for her. She loved his company, loved the way he made her feel, loved the way he made her laugh. But she didn't love ... *him*. Instead, she was -

She startled when the doorbell rang again and she instinctively turned the doorknob around, unintentionally opening the door in the process. She managed to smile just in time before he caught sight of her.

"Sara! Hi, honey!" He embraced her and gave her a quick peck on the lips before he walked past her. "Hi, Hank," she replied and followed him into the living room.

"Hey, did you do some redecorating?"

"What? No, no, I didn't."

"Really? Something definitely feels different ..." He looked around and suddenly grinned. Pointing at the window he said: "There! I knew it. The orchid is gone."

She stared at the empty spot.

When she didn't confirm his findings right away he walked around her unmoving form and went over to the window-sill. "It always stood right here. You know, my mother had one in the living room when I was a little kid." When he finally realised that she still hadn't spoken he turned around. "I liked it. Always kinda reminded me of home." He smiled. "Where is it?"

The smile that appeared in response on her face didn't quite reach her eyes. "I had to throw it away. It was dead," she replied, her strained voice betraying her facial expression.

"Aww, that's a shame," he said, pulled her in a hug and affectionately rubbed her back. "Well, my mother always used to complain that orchids are quite high maintenance. And it already looked pretty much withered the last time I picked you up. But you know what? I'll buy you a new one."

"No," she said a bit too quickly, "Don't." He tried to pull back and look into her eyes but she wouldn't move. She just clasped her arms tighter around him and buried her face into his shoulder. "I don't need it."

"Okay," he said and planted a kiss on her forehead. Then he asked: "You ready to go?" She disentangled herself from his arms. "Yeah, sure, just let me get my jacket."

She took her jacket from the counter, grabbed her keys and walked over to the door as he opened it and stepped outside. The empty window-sill was the last thing she saw before she switched the light off and turned around to followed him.