Ch. 9

"Because I wouldn't let it."

Five words. How could five words have such an affect on one person? Allie Moore couldn't believe it. It's as if her whole perception of Greg Sanders had changed completely, utterly, in ten seconds. Maybe less. She shook her head, mug of hot chocolate pressed up against her face as she stared vacantly out of the window. Several of her neighbours had passed by, possibly even waved to her, although she didn't notice. Her phone may have rang. She didn't really notice that either. Until her doorbell went, her thoughts were on a different train altogether. Getting up to answer it, she remembered about this evening and the blind date. She sighed, wondering what would the random guy think if she just didn't show up.

"Hello Allison."

"Grissom?!"

Gilbert Grissom was stood at her front door holding a brown paper bag in his hand. He peered inside her house, probably thinking she wouldn't notice. "May I come in?"

Allie checked behind herself. "Of course…uh…"

"Shocked?" Grissom's eyebrows shot up in amusement.

"Kinda, yeah." Allie laughed, pulling her tiny blue pyjama tank-top down at the bottom. Grissom entered the house, not looking at the rest of the room. "Everything alright?"

Grissom waited a few minutes before answering, making Allie even more edgy than she already was. "I'm not sure." Was his final reply. Allie turned her back to him for a second, purely to roll her eyes. Grissom always made her wait and then… nothing! The stupidest, tiny, little answers. Sometimes it really irked her.

"Can I help in any way?"

"Only if you know where Sara is."

"Uh, Sara? Sure, she's working the case…with…you?" Allie couldn't have been sure if this was the correct answer in Grissom's opinion. He shook his head slowly.

"She isn't. I can't find her."

"At her house?" Another head shake. "The lab, maybe…uh, the…" Allie held her hands up in defeat. "Grissom, why are you here? I mean with me? Sara doesn't particularly…talk to me. Much." Allie spoke slowly, making sure she didn't accidentally offend him.

"She does like you." Grissom sat down, sighing and rubbing his face concernedly.

Allie sat beside him, growing more and more worried by the second.

She waited for a while before talking.

"Is everything alright between you two?" She pried. Grissom looked up. "I-I didn't mean-"

"Can you keep a secret?" His voice had turned deeper, more serious than before. Allie arched a suspicious eyebrow.

"Depends…on the secret, really." She swallowed. "Can you?"

Grissom, slightly appalled, looked up. "Yes. Of course I can."

"All right. What's your secret?"

"What's yours?"

Allie cocked her head to the side. "Um, okay…my secret is…I was an extra for Party Of Five once." She smirked. Telling everyone this fact used to be her pride and joy until suddenly the show stopped being cool. She'd worked really hard to be an extra. Well, if showing up and standing in the background counted as hard work these days, then she was a slave. Besides, how many lab rats could brag about that? "Guess it's not that much of a secret, huh?" Grissom smiled wryly. "Your turn."

"I…" he started. His face was deadly serious for a second, then it brightened considerably. "I don't have one." He rose from his seat, walking to the door. "It was nice seeing you."

"Grissom-"

"I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"But-"

"Goodbye, Allison."

He walked out of the door, closing it quietly behind himself. Allie watched him walk down the drive, into his car and leave. What the hell was that? she thought to herself as she walked upstairs to her bedroom.

Greg Sanders stood in front of his bathroom mirror frowning dubiously. He wondered what sort of a woman Jean Stokes was. He ran a hand through his newly cut-and-dyed hair. Allie had made a better job of it than some of the hairdressers he'd been to lately. He smiled lightly, walking over to his wardrobe. He picked out a plain blue tee, black jacket and dark jeans. Converse Vans were always best for the darker outfit.

He glanced at his watch before pulling his shirt on. 9:13AM. Roughly forty-five minutes before he went to the bus stop. Then, just roughly eight hours before the date…

Greg sighed and shook his head before trying on another shirt.

Jean Stokes stood at the bus stop, holding her luggage close to her. She checked her watch again. Her bus driver, Martin, had turned out to be a semi-sane lunatic who drove at least 20MPH above the legal limit, thus getting here a lot faster. And he had been early. By a good fifteen minutes or so. She had contemplated walking to this crime lab…but maybe that'd be cramping Nick's style. She placed her tallest bag down and sat on it. She could feel something beneath her vibrating. Confused, she picked up her bag, unzipped it and took out her cell phone. She hadn't remembered clicking it to silent, but it couldn't have just changed itself, could it? She didn't know. Gadgetry wasn't her niche. The number on the caller ID was unfamiliar. She answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi…uh, is this Mrs. Stokes?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"Greg. Uh, Greg Sanders."

"Oh! Gregory, how are you?"

"I'm…fine thanks. Are you okay? You sound kinda…shaky?"

"Well, the bus journey from hell didn't help, but I'm alright."

"Good."

There was a few moments of awkward silence before Greg spoke.

"I assume you're off the bus now. I didn't really get Nick's instructions…am I picking you up?"

"Yes, dear. I thought Nick had told…oh nevermind. When can you come?"

"Uh, I'm on my way now, Mrs. Stokes-"

"Call me Jean."

"Okay, wait there Jean."

Jean laughed, clicking the phone off. This guy seemed a lot more normal than Joe. Just thinking of Joe made Jean shudder slightly. What Nick saw in him, she'll never understand.

Allie stared at the writing on the white pen in her hand as the phone began to ring. After two rings, someone picked up. She was Texan, but she sounded tiny.

"White Rose Café, Antoinette speaking. How may I direct your call?"

"Hi. I'm calling on behalf of a Mr. Nick Stokes. He made a reservation for two people this evening and I was wondering if it's available for this evening?"

"Nick Stokes? Oh, how is he?"

"Fine. He told me, in fact, to say hello to you."

"Really? He said that? Aw, how sweet."

Allie rolled her eyes as she heard the girl on the other end clear her throat.

"Yeah, that's Nick. Sweet. I, uh, don't suppose you have that information for me yet…but could you also tell me the name of the two people he booked it for?"

"Well, he told me not to tell anyone, but okay! That's Allie Moore and Greg Sanders. 7:30. Table eleven. Beside the window. Champagne. Two red roses. Very stylish. So romantic. Laugh What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't, but thanks. Bye!"

"Oh, uh, bye-bye now. Have a great rest of the day!"

Allie hung up, grinning like an idiot. Greg Sanders?! What a strange idea…Allie and Greg. Somehow, though, it seemed strangely attractive to her.

Suddenly, Allie couldn't wait for 7:30.

Jean Stokes was about to take the secret packet of cigarettes out of her purse and light up, until a large dark vehicle pulled up beside her. She quickly stuffed the packet up into her pocket. The man sitting in the driver seat with odd hair rolled the windows down.

"Jean?"

"Greg?"

He nodded, turning the ignition off. As he strode out of the car, he wondered what she made of him. He went for a khaki green tee, regular trainers and dark jeans, not bothering with a jacket. Her outfit mainly consisted of a dark-red dress, cutting off at the knees. Her shoes were red, too. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun. Greg couldn't remember if he was taking her to somewhere fancy or not. Jean walked up and shook his hand. He couldn't help but notice how he towered above her.

"Hi there! It's so good to finally see a person. I've been out here for ages!"

"Actually, it's only been nine minutes since you called me."

"Was it?"

"Yep."

Jean frowned, handing Greg her bags. "Well, that seems reasonable."

After transporting her many bags of different bright colours, Greg sat himself back in the driver's seat. "So, where do you wanna go?"

"Well, I would really like to go somewhere to sleep."

"Sleep?"

"Yeah, my bus guy went to fast for me to take a nap. And the desert's so damn bumpy! Honestly, I want Nick to think you've treated me well…he talks very highly of you, you know."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes! So, if you find me somewhere to sleep, then I'll tell him you were the absolute best help I've ever had."

"Well, that's not strictly fair, but-"

"Why not? You got me out of here, didn't ya?"

"Okay. Gold Coast Hotel?"

"Step on it."

A/N: Jeez, I hate writing filler chapters. Sorry to anyone who had suggestions for the date…this no internet business is a disgrace! But still, there will be more than one date, so go ahead and suggest!

Hope you liked it…please R&R but no flames. It will get better, I promise!

Have a great day!

JauntyChick

XOX