"Sit down," he motioned to the chair, as he made his way around to the other side of the desk.
"Thanks. I'll stand," she answered coolly. He tossed the file on his desk, and looked over at her.
"Sara." She glared at him. "Sit. Now." He pointed to the chair again. She looked down at it, then back up at him. He raised his eyebrows, waiting. She remained standing; defying him. He sighed. "Sara-." He tossed his glasses on his desk, and rubbed his eyes. He was trying to restrain himself, trying not to lose his cool—but she was pushing him.
When he opened his eyes again, she had finally sat down. He let out a breath of relief.
"What do you want Grissom." She was looking around, trying not to look at him. He walked around to the front of his desk, and leaned against it. She sat back, watching him.
"You know why you're here," he ignored her statement, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He looked at her, his expression dour.
"No—I don't know why I'm here. Care to tell me." She threw back at him. He clenched his jaw, holding back a rebuttal. He slowly let out a breath.
"You know why-"
"No, I d-"
"Why is he here!?" he snapped. She stared at him, mouth open in amazement. She shook her head in disbelief.
"He, has a name."
"Why is he back here Sara?" he was ignoring her.
"Jesus Christ Grissom!" She pushed herself up out of her chair. "He has a name!" She was now standing toe to toe with him. "Why are you acting like this?—Again?" she was frustrated. Grissom didn't move.
"Answer my question Sa-"
"Answer mine!" she exclaimed, walking away from him. She mumbled something inaudible under her breath. He rubbed the bridge of his nose—this wasn't going like he planned. He dropped his arms down by his side, and gripped the desk.
She was pacing now, back and forth, looking up at the ceiling, arms crossed, eyes blinking rapidly.
"Sara." She ignored him—continuing to pace. "Sara." Again no response. He had had enough of this. "Sara! Godammit listen to me!!" he slammed his hand down on his desk. That caught her attention. She stopped walking, and looked at him.
"Why should I?" she asked after a moment, eyes narrowing. He sighed, shaking his head. "Cuz you obviously haven't been listening to Dom, and you don't seem to be listening to me," she accused him. He paused, trying to come up with an answer.
"I did listen to your friend 'Dom', and I am li-"
"Bullshit! You didn't even-"
"Don't interrupt me again Ms. Sidle," he warned. She looked at him incredulously, jaw dropped. She couldn't believe this man, couldn't believe what he was saying.
"Fine. Grissom. Fine, have-have it your way," she threw her hands up in disgust, turning towards the door—threatening to leave.
"Sara; come back here," he demanded. She leaned against the door, resting her head against the plate glass. "We aren't finished. Don't you dare walk out that door again." She didn't move. He took a deep breath, and counted to 5. No one said anything for a few moments.
"Why do you have such a problem with him?" She didn't turn around.
"What?" She looked back, then turned around to face him.
"Why do you have such a problem with him?" She walked closer. He hadn't expected that question. He shifted uneasily.
"I don't have a pr-"
"Yes you do-" she was standing right in front of him now. "When he first walked through that door you had a problem with him. And you hadn't even met him yet!" She stared intently at him. He didn't answer right away, he just let out a heavy sigh.
"Don't you find it weird for him to call you after all these years?" he was avoiding the question. She looked at him—she knew what he was doing; and even though she was angry—that made her smile.
"Answer my question," she replied
"Answer mine." She looked at him—trying to read his emotions. He folded his arms across he chest again, defensively. She looked away as she thought about it for a moment.
"Does it matter?" she answered vaguely. That aggravated him.
"Does it mat—Of course it matters! You don't know where he's been, what he's been doing all this time—doesn't that concern you?" She didn't say anything for a few seconds. The clocks ticked in the background.
"No," she finally spoke, shrugging. This bothered him.
"No?" he asked incredulously. "Are you that trusting—that you would allow someone back in your life; someone whom you haven't spoken to in months—even years?" She looked away, then back at him, making eye contact. She paused.
"If it didn't matter before—why should it matter now?"
* * * * * * *"Coffee?" Catherine offered. Dom smiled, shaking his head.
"I'm all set," he said, holding up his drink, and then taking a gulp of it. She
looked over at what he was holding.
"Pepsi's better," she remarked, grabbing her coffee. He almost choked.
"If you say so," he said, shaking his head. She gave him an odd look. He grinned at her. She gave a hesitant smile back.
"So who are you—really?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee. She leaned against the counter; watching him. He sighed.
"Dominic Henley—but you can call me Dom," he answered, smiling.
"Riiight—cuz that's what your friends call you," she answered sarcastically. His smile faded. She took another sip, eyeing him over the lip of the mug. He looked down at his hands, and then back up at her.
"Yea—and you're Catherine?" he asked, looking for an answer. She nodded. "Ok," he didn't seem to know what to say, she made him a little nervous. They were quiet for a few moments.
"So how do you know Sara?" she finally asked.
"Huh?" he had spaced out for a second.
"How do you know Sara?" she repeated herself, setting her mug down on the counter. He ran his hand through his hair, and leaned back.
"We a—went to college together," he answered, glancing at her. "At least for a little bit anyways," he said with a laugh, looking around the room. She gave a slight smile. "Yea—I-a-knew her for a couple months before I left." He rubbed the back of his neck, staring straight ahead of him. Cath nodded.
"A couple of months huh—musta made a good impression to be remembered after all these years," she answered slyly.
"Yea-I guess…good times, good times," he nodded in agreement, looking down at the floor. Cath gave an amused look, but didn't say anything. "Wait-" his head snapped up. "If you think—Nooo—it never—no—we—never—no that-that never happened," he stammered, his words coming out in a choked pattern. "We-we were in the same physics class."
"Riiight," she answered, nodding as if she understood. She paused. "So therefore you feel inclined to talk to her so many years later—because you were in one physics class together," she responded scathingly. He thought about that for a moment.
"I guess so—Yea," he answered, with a grin. She rolled her eyes. He laughed.
"There's got to be more to it than that," she pushed, walking closer to him. He shrugged, still grinning.
"She helped me with physics—and I—I helped her get out more…experience new things," he answered, shrugging again. He looked at the wall, then at Cath.
"I'm sure you did," her eyebrows raised. He shook his head, still smiling.
"You don't give up do you?" he asked, looking over at her. She shrugged back.
"Comes with the job, I guess," she answered, turning around. He accepted that. She walked back to the counter, and picked up her mug.
"So why'd you leave?" she asked, turning back around. He stared at the wall. He paused.
"That usually doesn't come up until at least the second date," he joked, not looking at her. She chuckled.
"I move quick," She took a sip of her coffee, he was eyeing her warily.
"Apparently."
"So?" she wanted an answer. He clasped his hands together, then looked back over to her.
"Who says I just didn't graduate?" he posed, raising his eyebrows. She mulled over that idea for a few moments.
"Come on, really, why'd you leave?" His jaw dropped in bewilderment.
"That hurts," he looked away, eyes closed. "That really hurts."
"Oh—?," she apologized lamely. He didn't respond. "Dom?" she walked closer to him. He looked down at the ground, then back up at her. He had a smile on his face.
"Yea—Who am I kidding?—I didn't graduate," he said grinning. She made a face. "What? You actually believed me?!" he was amused now.
"Maybe I went into the wrong profession."
"Now I can see why he doesn't like you," she mumbled, walking away. He slowly regained his composure.
"What?"
"So what do you do now?" she ignored his question, and sat down at a table. "Since you didn't finish school."
"I work out in Hollywood," he answered, grabbing his briefcase. She gave him an amazed look.
"Wow. Hollywood. You gave up Harvard for that…impressive," she remarked, smirking.
"Ouch," he said dramatically. He sat down across from her, tossing his briefcase down heavily. "I guess I deserved that though," he sighed. She nodded.
"So why'd you leave?" she tried again. He looked at her.
"Basically—I realized—college—was not for me," he answered, staring at her. She stared back, but then broke up in laughter. He slowly broke into a smile. "Don't believe that either?" She shook her head. "God—it takes a lot to please you," he remarked opening up his briefcase. She shook her head.
"No, not a lot." she smiled. He rolled his eyes.
"Yea—I'm sure," he replied, opening up his briefcase.
"So why'd you leave?" she did not give up. He sighed.
"Told you, it wasn't for me."
"Just tell me."
"No."
"C'mon."
"Nope. No. I'm not telling," he remained firm. She looked at him.
"Can't say? Won't say?" he didn't answer. "Just a little hint?" He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the papers inside his briefcase.
"How bad was it then?" she was curious. He didn't say anything, his eyes still down. She stared at him, trying to get him to look up. It didn't work. She sighed. "Fine—I'll ask little Ms. Sara then," she said teasing him. He shrugged.
"Go ahead—I'll doubt she'll know."
* * * * * *