The Next Day (or whenever their shift starts again)
"Greg, have you seen Grissom?" Catherine asked, pausing by the lab. The beleaguered lab tech looked up from his microscope. He looked at her with a sleepy gaze.
"No." He returned to peering down the microscope. Catherine sighed.
"Well—do you know where he might be?" she prodded him. He just shrugged, not looking up. She rolled her eyes. 'Right' she thought to herself. She mulled over interrogating Greg some more, but quickly decided against it. He was busy enough as it was.
"Thanks Greg," she called over her shoulder as she exited the tiny lab.
"Anytime," he responded offhandedly, still looking down the microscope. Catherine shook her head, and smiled to herself. She checked the file she was holding, then tucked it under her arm, and continued on down the hallway.
She checked her watch—she was a little early. Grissom was lurking around here somewhere; (it was doubted that he even went home), and the others had yet to arrive. She wondered where Sara was…
"Grissom!" he had just walked out of one of the computer labs ahead of her. He looked up, slightly startled.
"Catherine?" he closed the file he was holding. She quickened her step to catch up with him.
"Hi."
"Hi?-"
"Whaddya got there?" she nodded towards the file he was clutching. He quickly glanced down, then back at her.
"Background information on our vic," he nodded down the hallway, signaling her to walk with him. Catherine gave a slight nod— the file would give them a place to start… they had diddly squat without the DNA right now.
"Any news?" she asked, looking at him. He didn't respond right away, he was staring down the hall. "Grissom?"
"Greg—of course not," he answered icily. She sighed. "Brass is notifying the family, and Sara is looking into the shoe, to see if we can get a lead off of that." He stopped walking.
"Is Sara here?" He didn't reply. She looked at him, concerned. He blinked repeatedly, as if trying to discern that the image in front of him was real. His grey eyes glistened.
"What's he doing here." He clenched his jaw. Catherine looked from him, to down the hall. She didn't see anybody—anybody out of the ordinary.
"Who?" She peered down the hallway, checking faces. He didn't respond.
* * * *"Sar- do you really think this is a good idea?" Dom asked, accepting the Coke she handed him. She smiled, as she closed the 'fridge. Nobody was in the lounge at the moment—probably since there was no coffee.
"You're here, aren't you?" She emptied and cleaned out the dirty coffeepot. He rolled his eyes and took a swig of the soda. He made a face.
"Do you got any Pepsi?" he asked, wiping his mouth. Sara gave him an irritated look, as she put the pot back on.
"Like there's a difference," she chided him. She turned the coffeemaker on, grabbed a water, and walked over to lean on the table next to him.
"Oh—there's plenty of difference. Like calorie content, total carbohydrates, ingredients," he was counting them off on his fingers. "Taste. That's a big one. One tastes better than the other," he remarked, waving his hands around. Sara shook her head, smiling. She batted away his hand. There was a pause.
"Which one?" she asked, taking a sip of her water. He glanced over at her.
"Which one what?" She looked at him, like he was crazy.
"Which one? Which one tastes better?" She put her water down. He still seemed confused.
"Oh. OH, that. Yea--," he looked away, as if to think. She watched him, expecting a long winded answer. He took a deep breath in, and looked at her. "Yea—I don't know," he mumbled, shrugging in defeat. He looked at his hands, smiling. "Do you?"
"Do I what?" She knew full well what he was asking. He looked at her, not repeating himself—he was waiting for an answer. "I prefer water," she answered after a moment, taking a sip. He scoffed. She made a face at him.
"What's wrong with water?" she asked indignantly.
"Oh nothing… I guess. If you like that sort of thing." She put it down on the table.
"What do you mean by "that sort of thing"?" she goaded him. He shrugged.
"Nothing was meant by it." She didn't believe him. She sighed and stretched her arms out, but as she brought them back, she knocked over her open water bottle. The water spilled onto the table, causing a giant puddle. She leaped off the table quickly.
"Sorry! Did you get wet? Sorry. Paper towels… paper towels… where are the paper towels?!" she hopped quickly over to the sink, and grabbed a dishtowel. Dom stood up quickly, without saying a word. She ran back over, and started mopping up her spill. Dom watched her, his gaze shifting up and down…
"Did any get on you?" she was frantically trying to wipe up her spill. He took a step back.
"Nah… its just water. I'll be ok," he answered slowly. She continued to mop up. He started to play with his watch… he didn't need to be caught staring.
"Dom?" She was calling him. He looked up. She was looking at him.
"Yeah?"
"Can you toss this in the sink over there, and get a paper towel?" She handed him the soaking rag.
"Sure." He walked over to the sink and threw the towel down. "How much water did you spill?" he was patronizing her.
"I just wanna make sure it's dry." He gave her a smirk, and then tugged at the paper towels. All he got was a tiny section. He sighed.
"By the time you get over here, it'll have already evaporated," she mocked. He laughed.
"Fine, fine," he was finally able to get a big enough piece. He ambled over. "Here." He held it out for her. She went to grab it, and he pulled back. She sighed, dropping her arm. He saw the look on her face, and relented. She took the towels, and proceeded to wipe the table dry.
He tried not to look this time—so he concentrated on the clock across the room. He squinted—he could almost see the minute hand move…
"Dom?" He looked down at her. She had stopped cleaning. "How'd you find my number?" 'What the hell. Where'd that come from?' he silently screamed.
"I—uh—have connections," he responded. He seemed to get nervous, he was looking around the room quickly—Sara watched him do this… she was slightly suspicious now.
"Uh-huh," she was crumpling up the damp towels in her hand. She paused. "So why are you really here?" He paused.
"That's what I'd like to know." They both quickly looked at the doorway. Sara squeezed her fist together hard.
"Grissom…hey," she tried not to panic. He didn't even acknowledge her. Dom moved over next to Sara, Grissom continued to glare. If looks could kill…
There was a tense moment of silence. Catherine finally emerged from behind Grissom, looking at Dom, then back at Sara. Dom looked nervously from Grissom to Sara; Grissom to Catherine. He swallowed uneasily.
"I-a-I don't think we've met," he was finally able to say to Catherine.
"No… we haven't," Cath replied, still not sure she wanted to be there.
"O-ah-Catherine Willows, meet Dominic Henley, an old friend from school," Sara introduced the two without getting up. Dom extended his hand. Cath shook it, without hesitation.
"My friends call me Dom," he said warmly, trying to forget that Grissom was there.
"Huh—what do your enemies call you?" Grissom asked coldly. Dom leaned away from him.
"I-a-wouldn't know. Sir." He coughed, as he sat down next to Sara. Grissom looked at Catherine, she just shrugged. He paused.
"Why are you here. Again." He asked accusingly. Dom looked straight at him, taking his time.
"We weren't done." Grissom scowled. He gripped the folder he was holding. He reverted his attention to the younger CSI.
"You," he pointed at Sara. "With me." A look of confusion flashed across her face, but then it was replaced with an innocent look. She looked at Dom; he patted her knee, as in reassurance for himself. Grissom grit his teeth, eyeing the younger man.
Sara didn't say anything; she just shook her head. When she finally stood up slowly, she adjusted herself, and then walked out the door after Grissom.
Catherine and Dom watched them go, as they quickly walked out of sight. Dom sighed and put his face in his hands. He looked up after a couple moments; Catherine was now over by the counter pouring herself a cup of coffee. She turned around.
"Sooo—who are you?"
* * * * * *