*******
She read it again. It can't be, she thought. Mouth still open, she ran through the possibilities. These guys are messing with me—is it April Fools' already? No, we're still in February. But there is simply no way Grissom would…would he?
"You look like you've seen a ghost." Nick laughed, and reached over to snatch the card away from her.
"Hey, watch it!"
"Ooh, ooh, we want to see too. I'm sure your 'parents' won't mind if we see what they wrote to their little girl."
Sara had to smile—Nicky could be such the annoying little brother sometimes.
"And that goes double for you, Warrick! Don't even think about it if you want to keep that hand." She knew Nick would have given his sidekick the signal to go for the card too.
Warrick put his palms up to hold her off, giving Sara a real smile this time. "Whoa, settle down, Sparky. This must be good if you're going postal on me. Come on, you know you want to tell us…"
When Sara just glared at him, he turned to Nick.
"Yo, bro—a twenty says it's Hank."
"Oh, for God's…"
"Naw, dude, you're way off. Double down on it being Greg! I'm just surprised he'd make such a classy choice!" Nick sniggered.
"You two need professional help. Just step aside so my baby can breathe, OK?"
Sara was actually glad for their banter, since it gave her a chance to recover a bit. She glanced furtively at the card again—nope, it still read the same way—before she hid it in her back pocket. The warmth of a furious blush began to stain her cheeks as she backed away from the two men. She had to be dreaming, right? Whatever could have possessed the man? What could it mean?
"Hey, don't you guys have work to do, or something?" she grumbled absentmindedly.
Warrick shook his head. "And just think, man. She's leaving just when it's getting interesting." He clapped Nick on the shoulder and they walked out, still snickering.
Well, that was one word for it, Sara mused. Confusing was more like it. Does this mean he wants me to stay? Is it an apology? The man sent me a plant. He sent me a plant! Surely that was a big deal. But they were talking about Grissom here, so who knew? All he put on the card was "From Grissom"—pretty dry stuff, even for him. Maybe he wanted to make sure I didn't get the wrong idea. But how could I not get the wrong idea? She sighed and ran the tips of fingers over the plant's soft petals. Leave it to Grissom to be sweet and still manage to leave me hanging. Despite the uncertainty, though, just the thought that he picked something out for her set her face aglow.
I've got to find him—I need to see his face. Then I'll know, even if he can't quite admit it…She whirled around to search for Grissom and nearly bowled over Catherine instead, who had approached without her noticing.
Cath's eyes widened appreciatively. "Wow, will you look at that? That is just gorgeous." She stepped past Sara and bent down for a closer look. "Aren't orchids great?" she asked mischievously.
"Oh yeah, they're--amazing," Sara stammered, suddenly embarrassed. Her eyes flickered. "My, uh, my parents sent this. They know I love them. Pretty sweet, huh?"
"Pretty sweet…" Cath murmured, suppressing a giggle. She could make out the remnants of a telltale blush on Sara's fair skin.
"You look happy," she drawled teasingly.
Sara averted her eyes. "Uh…yeah, sure I am."
This is killing me, Cath thought impatiently. Oh the heck with it, matchmaker's prerogative. Besides, enquiring minds have got to know.
"Oh, I can't stand it—just tell me, have you spoken to him yet?"
Sara cocked her head to the side, puzzled. "Spoken to … what do you mean?"
"Oh for Pete's sake, Sara, have you spoken to Grissom since you got it?"
Cath was literally dying for the 411, but Sara sure was making it hard. They're peas in a pod, she thought and laughed aloud. In her eagerness, she didn't notice the other woman's startled reaction.
Sara held her breath for a long second. How the hell would Catherine… It didn't make sense.
"You know?"
Catherine's grin widened conspiratorially. "Yeah, I know. I'm as amazed as you are that he finally put himself out there. I guess what he needed was a good kick in the butt, you know? So, pal that I am, I obliged. That'll teach him to feed me drinks on an empty stomach!" She laid her hand on Sara's arm. "Oh, I wish you could have seen his face—it was priceless. He was so cute about it—he stuttered so much over the sentiment I thought I was going to lose it right there!"
Catherine choked with laughter. She soon stopped short at the look on Sara's face, however. Before she could get a word out, Sara stared her down.
"Let me get this straight, because I want to be sure I understand. Are you telling me that you were there when Grissom ordered this for me?"
Shit, Catherine swore, I know where she's headed…. "Well, yeah I was, but…"
"You were there, at his place, and somehow my name just popped into the conversation? Oh, that's right, he needed a 'kick in the butt,' so you gave it to him. Am I getting this right so far?" Catherine took a cautious step back from the taller woman, hands raised in protest. Sara just pressed closer, leaning over her slightly.
"So then it was your idea to have him send me something, is that it?"
"Misunderstanding? Explain to me what I'm not getting here. Oh yeah--did you dial the florist's number for him too? Was any of this his idea?" She was furious.
"Look, honey, take it easy, OK? It was Grissom's idea, I swear. All I did, all I did was try to light a fire under him to do something before you walked out of his life. I shouldn't have said anything to you at all. I just was just so psyched to see some … progress, you know?"
She sighed. "Please don't let this ruin it for you. He is trying to tell you something, in his own way." She patted Sara's shoulder gently and gave her a small smile, then quickly slipped out the door.
Sara had barely felt this parting touch; she was shaking too hard to notice. Her heart was racing--she took a deep breath and exhaled raggedly. Of course, she thought. What did I expect? It had been too incredible to believe anyway. As if Grissom was capable of reaching out to me on his own, without being nagged into it. He probably rationalized it as effective supervisory technique—do whatever it takes to keep your unit happy. After all, hiring a new CSI is so time-consuming and distracts from getting the work done. Sara's eyes smarted with tears. How stupid can I be?
She had only a few seconds before the tears overwhelmed her, so she hurried down the hall and out of the rear of the building. The only truly private place she could think of right then was behind the Tahoe's tinted windows. Her fingers trembled as she jammed the key in the door, forced it open and climbed in. She slammed the door shut and fell back against the seat. Her hand moved to massage her temple, where she could feel a headache starting.
Her emotions were so tangled; she wasn't sure how she felt. She was angry, of course, disappointed and embarrassed. But as she sat in the vehicle's cocoon, confronted by its artificial quiet, she could admit that she was more hurt than anything. What kind of man needs someone to pressure him into caring? Am I so incomprehensible to him that he couldn't figure out what to do on his own? I tried so hard not to just vent at him in his office. There was so much more I could have said—the really tough things, the turbulent, irrational things he sometimes makes me feel. But I held back because I was trying to get through to him, and not just hurt him like he's hurt me. But it's obvious whatever I say, rational or not, doesn't matter. Even Catherine's drunken ramblings have more impact than what I say. I shouldn't be surprised—she was there in his place, the little hermetic sanctuary that he'd probably rather die than invite me into. Doesn't that just say it all?
She wondered who brought it up first. Grissom doesn't take me seriously, so it must have been Catherine. Must have been worth a few yuks—here's crazy Sara at it again. No doubt Grissom slammed her for being "too emotional." Cath may or may not have agreed with that, but she would still have pointed out that Sara was volatile enough to follow through on her plans. He'd be losing a good CSI, and did he really want to go through the hassle of breaking someone else in? Do something; make a gesture. You could send her flowers or something. Come on, here's the number… Sara's throat tightened miserably. You were going to just let me walk out, weren't you, Grissom? I guess you answered my question at last. The problem here really is just about me.
Too dispirited even to cry, she put her head in her hands. After a long while, she lifted herself back up and looked back at the lab with dull eyes. Finally she stepped outside and walked slowly toward the door.