Title: It Wasn't
Summary: [Post Butterflied] "He walked out of the interrogation room, and into the one sight he hoped to miss."
Rating: G
Category: General/Romance
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Author's Notes: Y'all can blame a three consecutive nights of this dream for this. Honestly. I live a bizarre life
Disclaimer: I wish I didn't own and like this idea, but I do.
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He walked out of the interrogation room, and into the one sight he hoped to miss.
"Hey Gris," she said, her smile broad. But it was not in her eyes, and he knew.
"You heard."
He motioned towards the room and she nodded.
"Yeah. You seeing someone I hadn't heard about?"
It was a joke. He knew this. There was even a hint of gentle teasing in her tone. But still, it felt like an accusation. Guilt would have made him deny this, but he had trained it not to. All he did was stand there like a fool, looking at her. The bustle of the station didn't even make its way here, and all was silent.
Sara shrugged then.
"There are things a man can do and things a man can't do. Doesn't make them better or worse for it."
He acknowledged her forgiveness with a faint grin. A change of subject was in order though, and she provided that.
"When did you sleep last?"
"I lost track..."
Which was not exactly true, but he wasn't going to admit it.
"Come on Gris. I'll drive you home," she offered, dangling her keys in front of her.
He attempted to protest, but she cut him off with a glare.
"You're a menace behind the wheel at this point. I'm just not in the mood for the next case to be a game of Picking up the Pieces of the Night Shift Supervisor. Got it?"
Any hope of refuting her complaint was wishful; thinking, because she had already headed for the door.
~+~
They had been driving for nearly twenty minutes in silence when he first broke the silence.
"There was a picture of her. In the bedroom. It could have been you, I swear."
"I noticed the resemblance," she said, her voice a combination of humour and disgust.
"It wasn't what she looked like, not really. It was this smile she had on her face, like she owned the world," he abruptly changed the subject then. "Do you remember yoru first trip to Vegas, Sara?"
"Yeah, some convention or something. I had just started at the morgue, scared little rookie sent off to the city of bright lights and sleaze. Don told me to look you up, said I'd never see Vegas in the same light," she paused, as if considering, then let out a small laugh. "He was right. First time I thought of an entomolgical study as recreation."
"This picture...it could have been from that day. For a moment, it could have been your murder I was investigating. Then you phoned, to tell me about the hairs, and I was forced with a fact: I wanted it to be your murder. At least then I'd have some excuse, some buffer for my regrets. If it was your murder, I would just have to get used to you not being around the office. I was sure I could do that."
By some irony she pulled into his place as he finished. She had listened intently, for what he had left out as much as what he had put in. Now they sat in silence, neither one having a reply to such an admission.
"It wasn't," was all she could say.
.............
Well, this can be read as a stand alone. A second part, more shipper friendly and somewhat less in character is written. But my motherboard is fried, and I typed this piece up while visiting family. Anything to avoid exam reviews. ^-^ I should be getting the computer back sometime early next week though, so if there's sufficient interest I'll post it then.
Summary: [Post Butterflied] "He walked out of the interrogation room, and into the one sight he hoped to miss."
Rating: G
Category: General/Romance
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Author's Notes: Y'all can blame a three consecutive nights of this dream for this. Honestly. I live a bizarre life
Disclaimer: I wish I didn't own and like this idea, but I do.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*+*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
He walked out of the interrogation room, and into the one sight he hoped to miss.
"Hey Gris," she said, her smile broad. But it was not in her eyes, and he knew.
"You heard."
He motioned towards the room and she nodded.
"Yeah. You seeing someone I hadn't heard about?"
It was a joke. He knew this. There was even a hint of gentle teasing in her tone. But still, it felt like an accusation. Guilt would have made him deny this, but he had trained it not to. All he did was stand there like a fool, looking at her. The bustle of the station didn't even make its way here, and all was silent.
Sara shrugged then.
"There are things a man can do and things a man can't do. Doesn't make them better or worse for it."
He acknowledged her forgiveness with a faint grin. A change of subject was in order though, and she provided that.
"When did you sleep last?"
"I lost track..."
Which was not exactly true, but he wasn't going to admit it.
"Come on Gris. I'll drive you home," she offered, dangling her keys in front of her.
He attempted to protest, but she cut him off with a glare.
"You're a menace behind the wheel at this point. I'm just not in the mood for the next case to be a game of Picking up the Pieces of the Night Shift Supervisor. Got it?"
Any hope of refuting her complaint was wishful; thinking, because she had already headed for the door.
~+~
They had been driving for nearly twenty minutes in silence when he first broke the silence.
"There was a picture of her. In the bedroom. It could have been you, I swear."
"I noticed the resemblance," she said, her voice a combination of humour and disgust.
"It wasn't what she looked like, not really. It was this smile she had on her face, like she owned the world," he abruptly changed the subject then. "Do you remember yoru first trip to Vegas, Sara?"
"Yeah, some convention or something. I had just started at the morgue, scared little rookie sent off to the city of bright lights and sleaze. Don told me to look you up, said I'd never see Vegas in the same light," she paused, as if considering, then let out a small laugh. "He was right. First time I thought of an entomolgical study as recreation."
"This picture...it could have been from that day. For a moment, it could have been your murder I was investigating. Then you phoned, to tell me about the hairs, and I was forced with a fact: I wanted it to be your murder. At least then I'd have some excuse, some buffer for my regrets. If it was your murder, I would just have to get used to you not being around the office. I was sure I could do that."
By some irony she pulled into his place as he finished. She had listened intently, for what he had left out as much as what he had put in. Now they sat in silence, neither one having a reply to such an admission.
"It wasn't," was all she could say.
.............
Well, this can be read as a stand alone. A second part, more shipper friendly and somewhat less in character is written. But my motherboard is fried, and I typed this piece up while visiting family. Anything to avoid exam reviews. ^-^ I should be getting the computer back sometime early next week though, so if there's sufficient interest I'll post it then.