[A/N Howdy folks! Okay, I decided to post both these chappies at the same time, for some reason I can't upload anything onto fanfiction! I'm so sad, I actually did do some work, too. : P Alright you read zee disclaimer already, so if you pleeeze care to review, it would make moi tres happy. Well, you know the drill, read, review, and thank you! Oh yeah, I kinda took a little artistic license, I know they are night shift, but it's a smallish change to have them work any time…]
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Sara walked out of the locker room, and stretched her arms. She felt much better since she put on clean clothes. She looked up at the clock, it was 4:59. She walked down the hallway, then stopped outside the chem. lab. Greg was standing, motionless, staring at the wall. She stood for a moment, then walked in.
"Uhh, Greg, what are you doing?" She asked. He didn't turn around, instead he just said:
"Hey, Sara, come here. Quick, stand over here." He gestured at the floor next to him. She stared at him for a second, then walked over.
"Watch." He said. She stared at him, then at the wall, then back at him.
Sensing her confusion, he added
"The clock Sara, it's about to change, look." He gestured at the clock.
Well, that's a little odd… well, this seems important to him, I guess it can't hurt.
She stood there, next to him for around twenty seconds, then the hand moved, and the clock let out a quiet ding, as if it were muted somehow in respect to the early hour. She turned to him, one eyebrow raised in questioning.
He chuckled nervously.
"It's a bad habit, kind of, something my mom taught me before she left. If you watch the clock just when its about to roll over to another hour, your supposed to use that split-second to make a wish… it's supposed to come true because you in neither hour, so essentially your in two places at once… at least, that what my mom said. I don't know, I always do that… when I was a kid I used to stand by my clock and wish every hour for her to come back. I would get really upset if I couldn't be near a clock when it happened."
He was quiet just looking at her, trying to see what she thought of him baring part of his soul to her. Sara blinked, soaking in the information. Greg had… surprised her. She didn't think there was more to him than rock music and humor, but he sounded sad and wistful. She felt bad for him.
I wonder what happened to his mother…
She smiled at him.
"That's pretty neat, the only family tradition I have is a Christmas tree." She joked. Greg grinned and laughed.
"My family wasn't really all that big on family traditions…we never really were all that close I guess." Sara finished. Greg nodded sympathetically.
"My mom left me and my dad when I was 10. She ran off with a guy she knew from work, just out of the blue one day I woke up and she was gone.
After that my dad kinda fell apart. He tried to do the normal things, Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, but he just couldn't, so after awhile we just stopped celebrating holidays as much. We'd give gifts on Christmas, but there wasn't ever that real, holiday feel, no carols or fireplaces, just the holiday, only stripped down to its emotionless state."
She nodded that she understood. She felt bad for Greg. She could sort of relate: though her parents had never gotten divorced, there wasn't a whole lot of love between them either. They sort of lived their own lives, and the only time the rally interacted was when she was there. A machine beeped, and Sara came spiraling back to reality. She was in the lab, standing close to Greg.
Standing very close to Greg… Ack! Shut up brain… I don't want to day dream about any of this romantic stuff between co-workers… I want to solve this case!
That's not all you want
The thought came quickly…. She felt like she was turning scitzophrenic. She tried to focus on work, but her stubborn mind had other plans… she mentally promised herself to stop reading romance novels… they were making her crazy.
She backed up, and Greg turned around and went over to the printer. He held up a piece of paper.
"Another case brought home by Yours Truly."
He grinned haughtily. Sara rolled her eyes. Unfazed, he continued:
"A smoking gun… literally. Tobacco residue on the gun, same as was on our guy's fingers. Some bad habits are annoying, others put you in jail."
Sara smirked.
"Not up to your usual standards, Gregg-o. Smoking can put you in jail, but more likely, it'll kill you… and that's damn worse." He continued smiling.
"Of course, mother, I'll remember that." Sara huffed at his remark. She walked over to the exit, slapping him playfully on the shoulder as she left.
"Ow, geez Sara, you trying to put me on medical leave? Don't hit so hard."
He pantomimed extreme pain, so she walked back and gave hi a much stronger slap, then waltzed out of the room. Greg watched her leave, then looked at his arm.
"Ow, that girl can hit…" he mumbled to himself as he rubbed his shoulder absently.
Sara walked down the hallway. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. 5:05. Grissom would be here soon, as well as Eckley and the other supervisors. Today was supposed to be her day off, but she would take tomorrow off and treat herself to a four-day weekend. She was already here, after all. And it wasn't like she had anything better to do anyway. She sighed.
She was great at her job, and was friendly to just about everyone, and to say she had no friends would be a lie, but still she found herself perched on the couch, watching TV or reading during her days off. Catherine had her kid, and she knew Nick and Warrick were good buddies and often went out for drinks. But she didn't really have anything. No connections to people, no real roots despite the fact that she had moved out here over two years ago.
I haven't even finished unpacking everything.
It was true, in the back of her closet, there was a box of things she never unpacked. Mostly stupid things, a potted plant (which she remembered to water, but never put out) was perched on top of the box as much as she could remember. A few photos, some things she had made when she was younger, a box of cards… that was her one strange habit. She saved every card that she ever got. She had birthday cards, graduation cards, Christmas cards. At least 100 of them, all carefully chosen before she had moved. A sad defiance against those who would say there was nothing about her that was personal: that she only had functional, useful things. A stack of old cards is about as useless as you can get.
She turned the hallway and sat down in the breakroom. She remembered her failed attempt at making some coffee, and decided to see if she could get the old pile of junk to spit out a cup or two. She waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And as my favorite saying goes: "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then give up. There's no need to be stupid about it." Stupid machine…
Giving it a final whack of farewell, she walked over to the insta-coffee machine and dug around in her pockets to find some change.
Oh damn. I need another 50 cents. Why don't you take credit cards!!
She raged silently at the inanimate machine. She didn't carry around much small change, just her credit cards, and a few crumpled 20-dollar bills. She pocketed her $1. 75, and tried one more search through her jeans.
Well… either go bck to locker, or go without drink. Trip to locker, or dying of thirst… Hmm. Oh screw it, I need that coffee after all.
She spun around and whacked straight into something hard—Greg.
"Ow… sorry, I was going to get some change." She stated.
"No problem… hey, I have about 10 bucks worth in quarters, just borrow some off of me. How much you need?"
Sara was going to refuse, but she wanted that drink, and she didn't even know if she had change in her locker….
"Fifty cents. Thanks a lot, I don't know whether or not I have any change even in my locker."
Her handed her two quarters, and she popped them into the machine, then pulled out her other money, and added it. She pressed the buttons, and waited for the coffee to pour out the spout.
"I hate our coffee machine. It never works." She tried to make small talk while she waited.
"Yeah, it shorted out on me a while ago. I was standing eating a sandwich, then it makes this weird noise, kind of like a popping, and a few sparks come out from the socket. It freaked me out, it was late, I thought I was dealing with a possessed coffee-machine."
She laughed then saw her cup was full. She grabbed it, thanked Greg again, and walked down the hall to her office. She heard the doors click down the hall, and she knew Grissom must have gotten in. She looked at her desk. It was empty.
Where did I put those witness files? Oh. In the drawer…
She dug through her drawer until she found all six reports, then sat down to scan through them.
[A/N All right, I know that was boring, ut I needed to get some stuff laid down as groundwork. So, what did ya think? Loved it? Loathed it? Thnk I am an insane axe murderer who needs to be locked up? Great! Tell me! Cuz you-re opinion counts *puts on cheesy car-salesman grin* lol. No, seriously folks, thanks for even reading, and please review!]
~ Razberry_Moon@hotmail.com
