Disclaimer: Same as the first chapter. I also don't own the song
'These arms of mine'. Although Christmas is coming!
Author's Notes: I know the first chapter says 'The End' but all the wonderful reviews (hint, hint!) inspired me to continue. Enjoy!
Grissom and Sara were greeted with distinctive music upon entering the small diner. The song wasn't nearly recent, but was the kind that was expected to be playing. Sara often went there; whether it was with her colleagues or alone. She particularly enjoyed being accompanied by Grissom, though. Not only did they receive better service from the waitresses, she enjoyed his company. She really clicked with him. They understood each other on a level that Sara had never thought to be possible.
They walked through the small restaurant in search of a seat. Other people were there, but it wasn't crowded. A frazzled looking woman was there with twin babies. She was younger than Sara was; yet the criminalist was ready to bet that in two years unwanted gray hairs would be popping up among the blond ones.
They sat across from each other at a booth near a window. The slight draft coming from the pane of glass convinced Sara to keep her jacket on. The two criminalists sat in silence; flipping through the menus that an overly perky waitress deposited at the table.
It had been a few mere minutes before another waitress -older and larger than the first- came to take their orders.
She eyed Grissom seductively. "What would you like?"
"Whole-wheat toast, fruit, and a glass of milk, please."
Sara fought the childish urge to roll her eyes. Health food. Grissom was so predictable.
The waitress -who had 'Betsy' scrawled on her name tag- reluctantly tore her eyes away from the man and cast them upon Sara. "And you?" she asked curtly.
"A bagel, please," she stated as she closed the laminated menu and put it on top of Grissom's. "With strawberry cream cheese and an orange juice."
Betsy scratched the order on her notepad. She then gave Grissom one last hopeful gaze -which he avoided completely-, scooped up the menus, and left.
Grissom glanced around the room before observing the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner. It was guilty of projecting the peculiar music.
"Interesting selection," he commented before his attention returned to his colleague.
"Otis Redding, 'These Arms of Mine'," she stated without hesitation.
Grissom raised an eyebrow. "That's before your time."
She smirked. "Not with my parents. I'm sure they still have all their old records."
Grissom smiled curiously. "Did they play them often?"
Sara nodded dramatically. "Long live the sixties."
Grissom stared blankly, not knowing what she meant. For the first time, he realized he didn't know anything about her family.
Betsy returned with their drinks, still inspecting Grissom. Once she had vanished yet again, Sara declared -almost sheepishly- "They were hippies."
Had he heard her correctly? The workaholic, Harvard graduate, Sara Sidle, had been raised by ex-hippies? He didn't know what to say. He had never imagined Sara bringing up the topic of family, and in turn wasn't sure how to respond.
The female CSI was shocked at what she had just done. She told Grissom, of all people, about her parents? Had Betsy laced her juice with some mind-altering chemical? Struggling on what to say next, she blurted out, "What were your parents?"
"Where is she going with this?" wondered Grissom. He'd once told Catherine that his mother was deaf, but not about his family. To make things even more complicated, this was Sara. She was special. Was he ready to tell her? More importantly, did she actually want to know, or had she too, just been searching for something to say?
Sara watched her companion closely. Was that nervousness he was trying to suppress? Had her simple question made him that uncomfortable? She was wishing it possible to go back in time and to never have asked when he answered.
"My mother is deaf. She lost her hearing when I was a kid. Four, to be exact."
What if she asked how she lost it? He couldn't say 'otosclerosis', because if Sara didn't already know about it, she'd research it and discover it was hereditary. Everything between them would change, and what little friendship he had with her would be over. What was their current relationship? It had definitely evolved beyond boss/employee. Grissom considered her a friend, but there was something beneath that. If he told her that he would eventually loose his hearing, he would loose what little chance he had with her. Who would want to be with someone who was 15 years their senior and deaf due to a condition that could be passed to any future children?
He continued with his story. "I can't remember what my father did. He wasn't around much, and left us after hitting my mother. I was five."
"I'm sorry," said Sara, studying the rim of her glass while tracing it with her index finger. "That must have been tough." She didn't know what else to say. Never had she expected Gil Grissom to open up that much to her.
Betsy chose that awkward moment to reappear. At least their food was ready. She gracefully placed Grissom's plate in front of him, resorting to a sleazy looking smile. After her silent rejection, she disposed of the plate that bore Sara's bagel on the table.
They ate in silence, the conversation piece still playing.
The draft from the window was annoying Sara. Surely the management could afford to use the profits from their over-priced breakfasts to get it fixed.
Finished her meal, and curious as to whether or not the window was cracked, she turned her attention to it.
She nearly jumped out of her seat! Crouching on the other side of the pane, peering over the window ledge and between the partially parted curtains were Greg Sanders and Nick Stokes! Realizing they'd been discovered, the grown men leapt up, and ran out of the view of the window. Before they'd completely disappeared, Sara noticed that Nick was holding a Polaroid camera.
If Nick had told Greg about their bet, half the lab probably knew by now. She could imagine the two men, gossiping like schoolgirls, after she had left the lab. Why had they felt the need to spy on her and make it a Kodak moment? It was just breakfast with Grissom.
What if Griss found out that the reason she'd invited him was that she'd lost a bet? It wasn't the only reason, but it was the one that the gossip queens knew about. Just when Grissom had finally opened up and let her into a small part of his life, Nick and Greg had to be involved! What would Grissom do if he found out? She had to get that picture!
Grissom Observed Sara. He had never been good at understanding human emotions, but her body language had changed. She was no longer relaxed. Her eyes were wide open and darting about as they scanned the scene outside. He could almost hear her brain working a million miles a minute.
He pushed his empty plate aside. "Is everything alright?"
Her gazed snapped from the window and back to him. "Fine," she answered with a forced smile.
He raised an eyebrow. Now what should he do? He didn't want to pressure her. What ever had alerted her couldn't be that important, right? Surely she'd talk if it had been something urgent.
"Are you ready to leave?" she asked.
"Yes." Maybe she just remembered something she had to do? Something that couldn't wait?
After each paying the bill, and leaving a tip for Betsy, of course, they left the diner. The crime lab was just a few blocks away, and they had taken Grissom's Tahoe.
"I'll drive you back to the lab," offered Grissom as he unlocked the doors.
"The lab?" thought Sara nervously. "How does he know I need to go back to see if Nick and Greg are still there? Did he see them? Does he know?"
"Uh, the lab?" she questioned nonchalantly.
"What is up with her?" "Your car is in the parking lot."
Her mind gave a breath of relief. She had to get control over her paranoia, or she'd end up telling Grissom herself. "I'm fine. Walking, I mean. The lab's just over there." She couldn't let him see her enter the lab. As far as he knew, she was just going home. He'd notice her entering the lab and find it odd that she hadn't put in for overtime that day. He was a trained investigator, after all.
"You're sure? I don't mind."
"I'm sure. See you tonight."
"Bye. I enjoyed eating with you."
"It was great." She had to get that picture!
When Grissom was in his vehicle, Sara started walking. Brisker than usual. What if the pranksters had already left?
She ran up the cement steps and yanked open the door of the lab. The lobby was deserted. There were still a few hours before the dayshift started.
Where to look first? She walked down the corridor, approaching the DNA lab. That would be a good place for the cohorts to hide out. It was usually deserted in between shifts.
Unfortunately, that was the case today. Even though the lights were off, she opened the door to make sure they weren't hiding under the cover of the darkness. Greg's metal stool was sitting neatly behind the desk. A few of his CDs were stacked in the corner with the CD player. The computer on the desk was turned off and was surrounded by the vast amount of equipment, none of it being used at the moment.
She closed the door and proceeded to the locker room. She burst through the door, hoping to catch them in the process of doing something sinister. The harsh fluorescent lights were on, but only illuminated an unoccupied room.
She went to Greg's locker. The lab tech never bothered locking it; often joking that no one in his or her right mind would ever steal in a crime lab. Both his jacket and bag were missing. Damn it! They'd already left!
Sighing dejectedly, she left the room and went out to her car. She'd just have to question them that night.
Meanwhile, somewhere within the depths of the building, a young man was diligently working on the task at hand. It was a bit out of the ordinary, but not out of his league. He wouldn't be able to declare it as working overtime, since it wasn't work related. Not directly, anyway. But when he finished, Nick would owe him a favor.
Author's Notes: I know the first chapter says 'The End' but all the wonderful reviews (hint, hint!) inspired me to continue. Enjoy!
Grissom and Sara were greeted with distinctive music upon entering the small diner. The song wasn't nearly recent, but was the kind that was expected to be playing. Sara often went there; whether it was with her colleagues or alone. She particularly enjoyed being accompanied by Grissom, though. Not only did they receive better service from the waitresses, she enjoyed his company. She really clicked with him. They understood each other on a level that Sara had never thought to be possible.
They walked through the small restaurant in search of a seat. Other people were there, but it wasn't crowded. A frazzled looking woman was there with twin babies. She was younger than Sara was; yet the criminalist was ready to bet that in two years unwanted gray hairs would be popping up among the blond ones.
They sat across from each other at a booth near a window. The slight draft coming from the pane of glass convinced Sara to keep her jacket on. The two criminalists sat in silence; flipping through the menus that an overly perky waitress deposited at the table.
It had been a few mere minutes before another waitress -older and larger than the first- came to take their orders.
She eyed Grissom seductively. "What would you like?"
"Whole-wheat toast, fruit, and a glass of milk, please."
Sara fought the childish urge to roll her eyes. Health food. Grissom was so predictable.
The waitress -who had 'Betsy' scrawled on her name tag- reluctantly tore her eyes away from the man and cast them upon Sara. "And you?" she asked curtly.
"A bagel, please," she stated as she closed the laminated menu and put it on top of Grissom's. "With strawberry cream cheese and an orange juice."
Betsy scratched the order on her notepad. She then gave Grissom one last hopeful gaze -which he avoided completely-, scooped up the menus, and left.
Grissom glanced around the room before observing the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner. It was guilty of projecting the peculiar music.
"Interesting selection," he commented before his attention returned to his colleague.
"Otis Redding, 'These Arms of Mine'," she stated without hesitation.
Grissom raised an eyebrow. "That's before your time."
She smirked. "Not with my parents. I'm sure they still have all their old records."
Grissom smiled curiously. "Did they play them often?"
Sara nodded dramatically. "Long live the sixties."
Grissom stared blankly, not knowing what she meant. For the first time, he realized he didn't know anything about her family.
Betsy returned with their drinks, still inspecting Grissom. Once she had vanished yet again, Sara declared -almost sheepishly- "They were hippies."
Had he heard her correctly? The workaholic, Harvard graduate, Sara Sidle, had been raised by ex-hippies? He didn't know what to say. He had never imagined Sara bringing up the topic of family, and in turn wasn't sure how to respond.
The female CSI was shocked at what she had just done. She told Grissom, of all people, about her parents? Had Betsy laced her juice with some mind-altering chemical? Struggling on what to say next, she blurted out, "What were your parents?"
"Where is she going with this?" wondered Grissom. He'd once told Catherine that his mother was deaf, but not about his family. To make things even more complicated, this was Sara. She was special. Was he ready to tell her? More importantly, did she actually want to know, or had she too, just been searching for something to say?
Sara watched her companion closely. Was that nervousness he was trying to suppress? Had her simple question made him that uncomfortable? She was wishing it possible to go back in time and to never have asked when he answered.
"My mother is deaf. She lost her hearing when I was a kid. Four, to be exact."
What if she asked how she lost it? He couldn't say 'otosclerosis', because if Sara didn't already know about it, she'd research it and discover it was hereditary. Everything between them would change, and what little friendship he had with her would be over. What was their current relationship? It had definitely evolved beyond boss/employee. Grissom considered her a friend, but there was something beneath that. If he told her that he would eventually loose his hearing, he would loose what little chance he had with her. Who would want to be with someone who was 15 years their senior and deaf due to a condition that could be passed to any future children?
He continued with his story. "I can't remember what my father did. He wasn't around much, and left us after hitting my mother. I was five."
"I'm sorry," said Sara, studying the rim of her glass while tracing it with her index finger. "That must have been tough." She didn't know what else to say. Never had she expected Gil Grissom to open up that much to her.
Betsy chose that awkward moment to reappear. At least their food was ready. She gracefully placed Grissom's plate in front of him, resorting to a sleazy looking smile. After her silent rejection, she disposed of the plate that bore Sara's bagel on the table.
They ate in silence, the conversation piece still playing.
The draft from the window was annoying Sara. Surely the management could afford to use the profits from their over-priced breakfasts to get it fixed.
Finished her meal, and curious as to whether or not the window was cracked, she turned her attention to it.
She nearly jumped out of her seat! Crouching on the other side of the pane, peering over the window ledge and between the partially parted curtains were Greg Sanders and Nick Stokes! Realizing they'd been discovered, the grown men leapt up, and ran out of the view of the window. Before they'd completely disappeared, Sara noticed that Nick was holding a Polaroid camera.
If Nick had told Greg about their bet, half the lab probably knew by now. She could imagine the two men, gossiping like schoolgirls, after she had left the lab. Why had they felt the need to spy on her and make it a Kodak moment? It was just breakfast with Grissom.
What if Griss found out that the reason she'd invited him was that she'd lost a bet? It wasn't the only reason, but it was the one that the gossip queens knew about. Just when Grissom had finally opened up and let her into a small part of his life, Nick and Greg had to be involved! What would Grissom do if he found out? She had to get that picture!
Grissom Observed Sara. He had never been good at understanding human emotions, but her body language had changed. She was no longer relaxed. Her eyes were wide open and darting about as they scanned the scene outside. He could almost hear her brain working a million miles a minute.
He pushed his empty plate aside. "Is everything alright?"
Her gazed snapped from the window and back to him. "Fine," she answered with a forced smile.
He raised an eyebrow. Now what should he do? He didn't want to pressure her. What ever had alerted her couldn't be that important, right? Surely she'd talk if it had been something urgent.
"Are you ready to leave?" she asked.
"Yes." Maybe she just remembered something she had to do? Something that couldn't wait?
After each paying the bill, and leaving a tip for Betsy, of course, they left the diner. The crime lab was just a few blocks away, and they had taken Grissom's Tahoe.
"I'll drive you back to the lab," offered Grissom as he unlocked the doors.
"The lab?" thought Sara nervously. "How does he know I need to go back to see if Nick and Greg are still there? Did he see them? Does he know?"
"Uh, the lab?" she questioned nonchalantly.
"What is up with her?" "Your car is in the parking lot."
Her mind gave a breath of relief. She had to get control over her paranoia, or she'd end up telling Grissom herself. "I'm fine. Walking, I mean. The lab's just over there." She couldn't let him see her enter the lab. As far as he knew, she was just going home. He'd notice her entering the lab and find it odd that she hadn't put in for overtime that day. He was a trained investigator, after all.
"You're sure? I don't mind."
"I'm sure. See you tonight."
"Bye. I enjoyed eating with you."
"It was great." She had to get that picture!
When Grissom was in his vehicle, Sara started walking. Brisker than usual. What if the pranksters had already left?
She ran up the cement steps and yanked open the door of the lab. The lobby was deserted. There were still a few hours before the dayshift started.
Where to look first? She walked down the corridor, approaching the DNA lab. That would be a good place for the cohorts to hide out. It was usually deserted in between shifts.
Unfortunately, that was the case today. Even though the lights were off, she opened the door to make sure they weren't hiding under the cover of the darkness. Greg's metal stool was sitting neatly behind the desk. A few of his CDs were stacked in the corner with the CD player. The computer on the desk was turned off and was surrounded by the vast amount of equipment, none of it being used at the moment.
She closed the door and proceeded to the locker room. She burst through the door, hoping to catch them in the process of doing something sinister. The harsh fluorescent lights were on, but only illuminated an unoccupied room.
She went to Greg's locker. The lab tech never bothered locking it; often joking that no one in his or her right mind would ever steal in a crime lab. Both his jacket and bag were missing. Damn it! They'd already left!
Sighing dejectedly, she left the room and went out to her car. She'd just have to question them that night.
Meanwhile, somewhere within the depths of the building, a young man was diligently working on the task at hand. It was a bit out of the ordinary, but not out of his league. He wouldn't be able to declare it as working overtime, since it wasn't work related. Not directly, anyway. But when he finished, Nick would owe him a favor.