Possibilities
By: Emmithar
Rating: K
Summary: Greg questions Sara's motives. Post WTG, Sandle
Disclaimer: Last time I checked I still didn't own CSI or anything associated with it.
Possibilities
"I haven't seen him for two days."
Sara sat quietly in the chair, unsure of what she wanted to do, to say. It felt oddly uncomfortable here, taking into account all that had happened in the last week. Their work never stopped, not even for the living, or, in the more likely case, for the dead. The bodies just kept rolling in.
It was a reminder to them that no one was immortal; they would all meet their match sooner or later. Grissom had seemed comfortable enough with that three nights ago. The same night he had asked her to stay.
For a moment she contemplated on saying no. A close friend of his…of everyone's, was in the hospital. Although he was more or less was in the clear now it did not change the fact of what had happen. The last thing she needed was to fill out a pity-report, but at the same time she couldn't say no. Could she?
"He's called in sick," Grissom responded, lost somewhere in the mound of ever growing paperwork. Normally she or someone else, namely Catherine, would be harping on him to get it finished. Evaluations, pay raises, benefits, it all depended on whether or not the forms were filled out, and turned in. But tonight…tonight they would stay there, and tomorrow as well. They could stay there until things became normal again, if they ever were normal again, that was.
"He's not answering his phone," Sara pointed out, "either one of them. I've stopped by twice as well; he's not answering the door. I'm worried."
"You'll have to worry over it later," he handed her the slip of paper. "419, you and Warrick are working it."
She held the paper in her hands, briefly scanning over the hand written note. A young male, it noted, a car accident, near the same address as Greg's…Sara shook her head. Surely it couldn't be Greg, how did such ideas work their way into her mind? Glancing up a Grissom she let out a frown, watching him.
"What will you be doing?"
He let out a shrug, his eyes still glued onto the monitor; a click here and there could be heard as he moved the mouse around. "I'm sure something will come up."
"Grissom…you're the supervisor…"
"And I'm supervising," he cut her off, pointing towards the door. "Go."
"You can't just sit here and sulk. I know you're worried, I'm worried as well, and just about Brass…" she stopped, unable to finish as she clutched the paper firmly in her hand. "It's pointless to explain, so don't worry about it."
The look of confusion on his face would have been priceless if she had stayed long enough to see it.
"You think we covered everything?"
"Possibly," Warrick commented dryly, taking one last picture before setting his camera down for good. "Twelve hours at this damn crime scene and the only thing we get is a peeved traffic controller who had one too many cups of coffee."
Sara let out a smile as she sank to the ground next to him. The young male victim had already been picked up by David and taken back to the lab for further processing. He had died upon impact, pronounced at the scene. Thankfully he had only taken out a mailbox and lamppost, or at least had tried to do so. The steel rod wasn't going anywhere soon, but would need more than a basic paint job to repair the damage.
The car was a different story, it would take a miracle to get the hunk of junk back to the lab in one piece, and that meant a lot of cleanup they had to do to ensure that nothing was left behind.
The other disaster, of course, was the amount of witnesses. Nearly fifty people had seen the car careen off into the other lane, and yet they all had different stories. But that was common, and they not only expected it, but were quite used to it as well.
Even though they had been there for near half a day, there was still a lot of work that had to be done. However Sara found it increasingly harder to stay focused with Greg's apartment building in her line of sight. Silently she wondered what had gotten into the man, to make him suddenly disappear like this. Obviously he was still around, due to the calls he was making.
It was hard for her to believe that Greg was actually sick. Concerning the last time she had seen him he had been quite healthy, although a bit moody, withdrawn. But it was to be expected; after all she hadn't been miss sunshine herself either since Brass' accident. On the other hand she hadn't tried to hide from the world.
And if Greg were truly sick as he said he was, then why would he not answer his phone, his door? Why would he not return her calls? She had left him plenty, and she knew he checked him message daily, if not hourly. Months ago they had somehow fallen into habit of sending one another text message throughout the day, even more so when they didn't work cases together. It had died down since then, true, but more so from Ecklie's understandable unhappiness of the cost more than any other reason.
It was after that meeting when they shared their first kiss. It was unexpected, sudden, but dainty. Greg had blushed, a deep crimson color she had seen only a few times before. He had turned away, muttering an apology, something about being inappropriate, and unprofessional. Sara had only silenced him with yet another kiss, one that was deeper, more meaningful. She smiled warmly at the thought, knowing that it had been just the start of a wonderful relationship.
He was fun, and she needed to smile. He was supportive, and she needed to rant, and on more than one occasion. Somehow Greg understood her, even before she had to explain herself. Sometimes, just sometimes it was nice to turn around, and see the comprehension in his eyes.
The nights they had spent together were a mixture of undeniable fun and comfort. Her idea of nice time together was a quiet evening at home, an order of takeout, an old murder mystery flickering on the television screen in front of them.
Greg had a slightly different approach. Sara always expected him to be the loud, partying type, so she wasn't surprised when on his first night that he took her to a club. Driving music, flashing lights, and plenty to drink. How was she going to tell him that this wasn't her, that she didn't do these kinds of things?
Imagine her surprise when Greg completely ignored the dance and instead led her behind the club, to where a nursery had been, the greenhouse filled with many plants that she had never even seen before. When asking where the idea had come from he had blushed, meagerly shrugging it off as he stated that he thought she would have enjoyed going there. It took Sara nearly ten minutes to convince that she had.
It was much of the same with him; somehow he was able to find the neatest places to go, even if she had known about them all along subconsciously. Whatever the case was he made the outings quite enjoyable. Sara only wondered if he felt the same on the nights she chose their destination.
"Hey dream girl," Warrick called a little firmly, pulling her from her thoughts. "You want to get your head out of the clouds and help a little?"
"Sorry," Sara mumbled, moving to her feet. She brushed the dirt from her jeans, grabbing the last of the evidence bags that sat in the pile on the sidewalk, following him back to the vehicle that was parked just beyond the yellow crime tape.
"You want to take a break?" he wondered, climbing into the driver's seat. "We can stop and get something to eat on the way back to the lab."
"I'd rather stop by Greg's place," she confessed to him as she slid into the passenger's seat. "Just to check up on him."
"Ah yes," Warrick nodded as he turned the car on, "he's down with the flu, I nearly forgot."
"You know that he's sick?" she asked, surprised now.
"Talked to him yesterday when I was trying to find someone to help me back up a scene."
Sara frowned, falling silent as she buckled in. How many other people had talked to Greg, how much more did everyone else know than her? It made her angry, but not as much as hurt. He was screening his calls, and Sara wondered briefly what would happen if she called him using someone else's phone.
Now that she knew Greg was avoiding her, she could only speculate to as why. What had she done, or was it something she had said? Miserable now she rested her head against the window, paying vague attention as Warrick pulled to a stop in front of the building.
"Are you going to go in?"
For a moment she sat there, but then nodded slowly. "You don't have to wait," she wet her lips, opening the door. "I think I'm going to stay for a bit."
Sara knew that it would be quite a lot longer than that, if Greg was avoiding her as she suspected than they needed to talk. It was better to get the fire out in the open now rather than letting it grow.
"You wont need a ride will you?"
Sara shook her head, surveying the scene. "I'll take a cab if I need to, or I'll just walk. It's not that far."
Warrick studied her for a moment, but finally relented. The brunette did not need to explain every aspect of her life; he knew the two had been close, but how close he wasn't certain. Perhaps there was a longing there, the same longing he felt every day when he saw Catherine. The part of uncertainty could be brutal though, as he had found out numerous times.
He waited there long enough until she had let herself inside the apartment, leaving him somewhat surprised that she had a key to his place, or at the very least, a spare. It was an apparent form of trust. With a small smile he drove away, the building fading into the distance in his rearview mirror.
He was aware that he was no longer alone the moment he woke. Greg didn't need to open his eyes to confirm his speculations either. The simple fact that he was covered in a blanket was enough confirmation alone, considering he had gone to sleep without one.
There was also a light on, presumably coming from the kitchen, and the tv, though on mute, was still on. With a quiet groan he glanced around the room, kicking off the heavy blanket in short attempt to cool down. There was really only one person that could be here, and he wasn't in the best mood for visitors.
"Why are you here?"
Sara glanced at him skeptically as she came into the living area, holding the small laundry basket of clothes. She set them down first before taking a seat of own, moving to fold them as she answered his question.
"Well, someone has to do the work around here. You couldn't even recognize the place."
"You know what I mean," Greg grumbled, rubbing his forehead as his eyes closed. "And turn the lights off; you're giving me a headache."
She huffed, but moved to please him. Lights now off she found her way back to the chair, going back to her previous task.
"You still didn't answer my question," Greg pointed out, sinking back into the cushions. It was definitely too early for him to be awake, but he desperately wanted to know the answer.
"You had me worried, considering you've been avoiding me, you could have been dead for all I knew," she remarked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She was obviously irritated.
"Like you would care," Greg muttered under his breath.
"What?" Sara glanced up at him shocked. "Why would you say something like that?" she shook her head after a moment, "I do care, why in the hell do you think I'd be here otherwise?"
"Forgive me," he snapped, moving to a sitting position carefully. If he could manage sitting than maybe he would feel slightly better. "I just spent the other night waiting for you to show up only to find out that you're doing who-knows-what with our supervisor. Somehow I calculated that up to meaning you really don't care about me. Anyone could make the same mistake."
She bit her lip, realizing then why he had been so bitter. "The museum, eight o'clock, I forgot Greg…" she was going to apologize but Greg cut her off as he stood.
"Of course you did, because you obviously found something more important to do."
"Greg, you know that's not true," she started, cursing under her breath as he moved down the hallway. "Where are you going?"
He turned back around slowly, shaking his head. "The bathroom Sara, I'm sick. And unlike you I don't make up stories, I happen to tell the truth. You should try it every once and a while."
For several long minutes she didn't move from her spot, feeling both guilty and downright horrible. She had forgotten about their planned night together, it had been Greg's idea of a stress reliever, a way to unwind after the trying events. She had been all set to go, but then Grissom had approached her, had asked her to stay the night with him. And not only had she agreed, but she had completely forgotten about Greg. Further more, she had accused him of lying, when it was apparent he had been nothing but truthful.
She found him sitting on the floor, resting against the tub as he held his head in his hands. He didn't even bother to look up as she came in, only continuing to stare at the tiled floor. Quietly she eased herself down on the floor so that she was sitting across from him, reaching out tentatively to grasp one of his hands.
"What?" he wondered harshly, keeping his eyes closed as he worked to quiet his heavy breaths.
"Nothing happened," she told him with a nod. "We rented a hotel close to the hospital so if anything changed we could be right there, we did a lot of talking, ordered some room service, and then we slept…in separate beds if you must know."
"Tell me why I should believe you," Greg challenged her, opening his eyes. "You lied about where you were that night. How do I know you're not lying now?"
"I didn't lie Greg," she shook her head. "I just…didn't answer you, there's a difference."
"You told me that you were nowhere," he pointed out bluntly, "I guess you assumed I'd be able to put two and two together and come up with the conclusion that you were with Grissom all night. But I guess I just wasn't smart enough. I don't blame you for dumping me."
"I haven't dumped you Greg," she intervened sharply. "I didn't tell you because I knew would overreact."
"So you figured that it would be better to lie to me about it, despite the fact you knew that I would find out sooner or later?" he wondered, astonished.
"It wasn't my best judgment Greg," she agreed, "I didn't want to say anything because that's what it was. It was nothing, nothing at all happened. Grissom wanted someone to stay with him to keep him company. Catherine had to get home to Lindsey, and face it; asking you, Nicky or Warrick to spend the night with him would have just been awkward."
Greg laughed a little on the last comment, but was quick in wiping the smile off his face. He wasn't supposed to be having a good time; he was supposed to be angry with her, infuriated at the least.
"So I stayed," she continued to explain. "I would have done the same for Nick or Warrick, for Catherine and you, even if we weren't dating. Grissom and I, we're just friends. I'll admit that I did have something for him once, but it died a long time ago. I'm tired of waiting, and getting nothing in return."
"I don't like being lied to," he told her, his voice quiet, yet firm.
She nodded, "I know, and I'm sorry. I suppose if I explained everything you wouldn't have been so mad at me."
He stroked her cheek gently, the soft affection a bit of surprise on her part. "I love you Sara, but I don't know if I can deal with all of this."
"With what?" her brow furled in confusion.
"With all these maybes, and ifs. I can't always wait around to see if you're going to show up, and then sit there and try and reason with myself, try and rationalize. It's either all or nothing, I can't do both. Are you going to be here with me, or are you not?"
She nodded in understanding, squeezing his hand as she returned the affection, her lips pressing against his forehead. "I'm here now," she gave him a brief smile, grinning when he returned it.
Relationships weren't always easy, and this was just a simple question of trust. As they ventured further down the road they somehow knew they would encounter other obstacles, and even more setbacks. But it was what made them work, and it was how they became closer. Because no one is perfect, and mistakes will be made, but as long as forgiveness is in the heart, anything was possible.
The End