Two hours later I was feeling much better, thanks to a cup of coffee and
some of Greg's humor. I felt I would be able to handle Dylan. It wouldn't
be that difficult, all I had to do was ignore him and continue with my
life, get a good night of sleep and do a flawless job on the next case. My
plans would be thwarted sooner than I had anticipated.
So far Dylan and I had had two major fights. He always got a sick kick out of annoying me and I was raving mad because we were sharing the same city. Which, let me say, was just a shred too small for the two of us. Basically we were back at square one, San Francisco all over again: tension, tension, tension.
None of our unfriendly tête-à-têtes had taken place anyway near our respective co-workers. Until today.
Warrick, Catherine and I were idling time away in the break room, waiting for a bunch of tests results to come out. Warrick was enthusiastically playing some Nintendo game while Catherine practiced her storytelling abilities on me, telling me about a crazy case she'd had a few years ago. Catherine's back was facing the hallway and Warrick's attention was on the screen when Dylan waltzed pass the break room's door and stopped behind Warrick. He put a picture against the break room's glass wall. He was smiling.
"Cath…could you excuse me for a second?", I asked trying to hold myself together. I must have turned white as a sheet because Catherine looked at me as if I were about to pass out.
"Sure, I'll be here" I raced towards Dylan who was parading the photo around the hallway, holding it by its upper corners with his thumbs and index fingers.
"What do you think your doing?", I asked crossly. Catherine glanced back at us.
"Relax, people can't tell what you're doing by seeing just this picture", he explained, still smiling. I snatched the photo of his hand, folded it four times and slid it into the back pocket of my jeans.
I leaned close to him and whispered "People can tell what you are doing in one of my pictures."
I observed, with pleasure, how his calm and confident façade melted away, revealing his very volatile real self. I could tell by the look in his blue eyes that if we had been alone he would have strangled me with his bare hands. Yeah, he loved me that much. He still couldn't get his brain around the idea that he wasn't in control anymore, that now there were two playing the game.
He grabbed my wrist and twisted in a way that, to any potential observer didn't appear to be hurting me. To be truthful, I was in agony.
"You do that and Grissom gets an early Christmas present."
I glanced to my right, Catherine was staring at us. He released my left wrist, I wriggled my wrist to check if he had done any serious damage.
"I will do it if you pull another act like this one", I lowered my voice until it was above a whisper "If you don't back off I'll---"
"You'll what?", he howled at me. He had his hands on his hips, the schmuck. This time Warrick turned around to investigate the source of the noise, as did many of the staff around.
Suddenly it hit me: he was testing me. He wanted to now if I had changed during the time we'd been apart. He was just 'playing' with me, trying to make me snap.
Smile, Sara, make it look like he cracked a joke.
"Remember", I threatened him with my best 'i'm-cute' smile, "if you pull the trigger, I will too."
I was seething. If I had an ulcer it would be bleeding right now.
Our staring contest finished when he spun around and walked away, leaving me with a sore wrist and the inner desire to beat the crap out of him. I considered taking up boxing. I had to find an outlet or else someone would wind up hurt.
I took a deep breath and let the air slowly out through my mouth. I was tired of the empty threats, we both knew the other wasn't going to do anything unless the other did it first. Why couldn't we just arrange a friendly photo swap and get on with our lives? I knew the answer to that. I knew he was a backstabbing pig and he didn't trust me. Oh, what a healthy relationship.
"Are you OK? You look a bit pale." That was Catherine, looking very concerned.
"Yeah, I'm OK." We didn't say a word for a few awkward seconds. By the look on Catherine's face I could tell that she knew the conversation hadn't been a friendly one. And here I was thinking my fake smile had worked.
"It looked like you two were fighting", she said, "He is the new 'heart breaker' from 'Frisco, right?"
"Yeah, he's a jerk too, add that to your profile", I replied.
"I talked to him a few days ago, he's one smarmy guy. My female instinct, which has never failed me, tells me he has the ego the size of a Malibu condo."
I didn't know if she was sharing her assessment of Mr. Harris biggest character flaw with me to make me feel better or because she really thought that way. I decided it was the latter, Catherine could read men and their intentions faster than I could say 'cheese'.
"You're not wrong about his ego", I said as we went to the lab. Greg had the results in his hand. I mentally commanded myself to channel all the energy I had left on the case and how to solve it.
**********
I breathed in the cold, fresh air of the 'outside' as opposed to the unnatural air conditioning atmosphere 'inside' the Las Vegas Police Crime Lab. I padded across the parking lot towards my car. I had a few goals in mind, get home, take two of my magic sleeping pills and sleep like a log until the next shift or until the end of the world, whichever came first. I wasn't going to think, ponder or torture myself with the past. The only mental activity I had planned was choosing what pajamas I would wear. Nothing would stop me---
This is a joke. This can't possibly be true, I'm hallucinating.
I squinted. Two flat tires??.
I went to check the other side of my car. Four??
I did the math in my head. I had pissed off Dylan and now I have four flat tires. Gee, I don't see the connection.
I squatted beside one of the tires, it had a slit on it, probably from a knife. Damn him.
"I can't take this anymore", I said out loud.
"What can't you take anymore?"
I turned my head to the left to see a pair of familiar shoes beside a bunch of folders and documents I had dropped on the pavement at the sight of my crippled car. I looked up. Oh-o. Grissom.
"Nothing. I mean, flat tires. I hate them."
He lifted all my papers off the pavement and waved me to an SUV, parked a few spaces from my car.
"Come on, I'll give you a ride." I glanced forlornly at my car, and then back at him. I remembered my sleeping pills, waiting for me on my bedside table. Screw the car, I'll do something about it tomorrow.
TBC…
So far Dylan and I had had two major fights. He always got a sick kick out of annoying me and I was raving mad because we were sharing the same city. Which, let me say, was just a shred too small for the two of us. Basically we were back at square one, San Francisco all over again: tension, tension, tension.
None of our unfriendly tête-à-têtes had taken place anyway near our respective co-workers. Until today.
Warrick, Catherine and I were idling time away in the break room, waiting for a bunch of tests results to come out. Warrick was enthusiastically playing some Nintendo game while Catherine practiced her storytelling abilities on me, telling me about a crazy case she'd had a few years ago. Catherine's back was facing the hallway and Warrick's attention was on the screen when Dylan waltzed pass the break room's door and stopped behind Warrick. He put a picture against the break room's glass wall. He was smiling.
"Cath…could you excuse me for a second?", I asked trying to hold myself together. I must have turned white as a sheet because Catherine looked at me as if I were about to pass out.
"Sure, I'll be here" I raced towards Dylan who was parading the photo around the hallway, holding it by its upper corners with his thumbs and index fingers.
"What do you think your doing?", I asked crossly. Catherine glanced back at us.
"Relax, people can't tell what you're doing by seeing just this picture", he explained, still smiling. I snatched the photo of his hand, folded it four times and slid it into the back pocket of my jeans.
I leaned close to him and whispered "People can tell what you are doing in one of my pictures."
I observed, with pleasure, how his calm and confident façade melted away, revealing his very volatile real self. I could tell by the look in his blue eyes that if we had been alone he would have strangled me with his bare hands. Yeah, he loved me that much. He still couldn't get his brain around the idea that he wasn't in control anymore, that now there were two playing the game.
He grabbed my wrist and twisted in a way that, to any potential observer didn't appear to be hurting me. To be truthful, I was in agony.
"You do that and Grissom gets an early Christmas present."
I glanced to my right, Catherine was staring at us. He released my left wrist, I wriggled my wrist to check if he had done any serious damage.
"I will do it if you pull another act like this one", I lowered my voice until it was above a whisper "If you don't back off I'll---"
"You'll what?", he howled at me. He had his hands on his hips, the schmuck. This time Warrick turned around to investigate the source of the noise, as did many of the staff around.
Suddenly it hit me: he was testing me. He wanted to now if I had changed during the time we'd been apart. He was just 'playing' with me, trying to make me snap.
Smile, Sara, make it look like he cracked a joke.
"Remember", I threatened him with my best 'i'm-cute' smile, "if you pull the trigger, I will too."
I was seething. If I had an ulcer it would be bleeding right now.
Our staring contest finished when he spun around and walked away, leaving me with a sore wrist and the inner desire to beat the crap out of him. I considered taking up boxing. I had to find an outlet or else someone would wind up hurt.
I took a deep breath and let the air slowly out through my mouth. I was tired of the empty threats, we both knew the other wasn't going to do anything unless the other did it first. Why couldn't we just arrange a friendly photo swap and get on with our lives? I knew the answer to that. I knew he was a backstabbing pig and he didn't trust me. Oh, what a healthy relationship.
"Are you OK? You look a bit pale." That was Catherine, looking very concerned.
"Yeah, I'm OK." We didn't say a word for a few awkward seconds. By the look on Catherine's face I could tell that she knew the conversation hadn't been a friendly one. And here I was thinking my fake smile had worked.
"It looked like you two were fighting", she said, "He is the new 'heart breaker' from 'Frisco, right?"
"Yeah, he's a jerk too, add that to your profile", I replied.
"I talked to him a few days ago, he's one smarmy guy. My female instinct, which has never failed me, tells me he has the ego the size of a Malibu condo."
I didn't know if she was sharing her assessment of Mr. Harris biggest character flaw with me to make me feel better or because she really thought that way. I decided it was the latter, Catherine could read men and their intentions faster than I could say 'cheese'.
"You're not wrong about his ego", I said as we went to the lab. Greg had the results in his hand. I mentally commanded myself to channel all the energy I had left on the case and how to solve it.
**********
I breathed in the cold, fresh air of the 'outside' as opposed to the unnatural air conditioning atmosphere 'inside' the Las Vegas Police Crime Lab. I padded across the parking lot towards my car. I had a few goals in mind, get home, take two of my magic sleeping pills and sleep like a log until the next shift or until the end of the world, whichever came first. I wasn't going to think, ponder or torture myself with the past. The only mental activity I had planned was choosing what pajamas I would wear. Nothing would stop me---
This is a joke. This can't possibly be true, I'm hallucinating.
I squinted. Two flat tires??.
I went to check the other side of my car. Four??
I did the math in my head. I had pissed off Dylan and now I have four flat tires. Gee, I don't see the connection.
I squatted beside one of the tires, it had a slit on it, probably from a knife. Damn him.
"I can't take this anymore", I said out loud.
"What can't you take anymore?"
I turned my head to the left to see a pair of familiar shoes beside a bunch of folders and documents I had dropped on the pavement at the sight of my crippled car. I looked up. Oh-o. Grissom.
"Nothing. I mean, flat tires. I hate them."
He lifted all my papers off the pavement and waved me to an SUV, parked a few spaces from my car.
"Come on, I'll give you a ride." I glanced forlornly at my car, and then back at him. I remembered my sleeping pills, waiting for me on my bedside table. Screw the car, I'll do something about it tomorrow.
TBC…