Chapter 35
Sara was not pleased. She'd arrived early to work and left Grissom's clothes on his office chair, figuring no one was going to pull it out but him. Just her luck, not five minutes after she'd left the room, Catherine sauntered into it. She hadn't come out again. And now Grissom had gone in, and neither of them had come out still. This was shaping up to be a bad replay of yesterday's shift. At least she knew that Grissom wasn't going to blurt out that he'd been sharing a bed and clothes with Sara for days. Though she rather thought it'd serve him right in this case to have to deal with Catherine's freaking out at that particular revelation.
She ground her teeth. Reminding herself to calm down, that her privacy was in no danger, Sara made her way to the breakroom. Nick and Greg were both there, just pouring cups of what was presumably Greg's premium coffee. "Hey Sar, what's up?" Nick greeted her cheerfully.
Sara struggled to keep her expression amiable. "Oh not much, Nicky. How bout with you guys?"
Nick shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable. Sara supposed he was just now remembering her confrontation with him and the other CSIs yesterday. Well, none of them had apologized to her, so he could just squirm until he got the balls to do so.
"You're getting as closemouthed as Grissom, Nick," she advised him as she walked out of the room. "Trust me, don't make that your goal – it won't get you anywhere." She thought of Grissom embarrassedly explaining to her how he disliked vocal communication and felt a pang of guilt. Maybe she should have stayed this afternoon . . . he'd told her something he hadn't confided to anyone else, displayed his trust in her, and then she'd walked out just because he'd mentioned Hank.
No, she reminded herself staunchly. Not "just because he'd mentioned Hank." Because he'd said she'd rather be with Hank. And because he refused to believe that her relationship with the EMT was innocent. And – and this was the kicker – because Grissom had implied that she was some sort of . . . cheap woman or something, who jumped from man to man to keep herself amused. Be with Hank, indeed!
What she'd said had been partly true, though – Sara liked to go out with Hank because Hank, unlike most men, never pushed. He seemed to be in awe of her, and though it was an unpleasant thought, it meant that he allowed her to have her own life. Hank wouldn't get drunk and tell her to kiss him because he'd be too shy. Hank would never refuse to speak to her at work, he always let her drive his car, and he definitely wouldn't practically call Sara a slut because she didn't want to go to the movies.
The problem was that Hank couldn't ever make her day by lending her journals she'd been dying to read . . . or talk her into making friends with his pet insects . . . or make washing flour out of her hair a wonderful experience. Hank didn't understand how Sara couldn't comprehend people. Then again, he also didn't understand what a quark was. Neither of which counted in his favor.
She wished she could choose which men to love. Someone like Hank, easy to handle and kind, would make her life a lot easier than all-too-prickly Gil Grissom. It didn't work like that, though. She'd tried to feel something for him – even embarrassed the shit out of herself over him at a crime scene once – but the most she could manage was a desire to ruffle his hair the way she would a brother's. And god knew she'd tried to fight her feelings for Grissom, but that hadn't worked either. Even when he treated her like a pesky little sister, she still had to fight the urge to kiss him.
Pulling herself out of her reverie, Sara realized she had made a circle around the fishbowl and was headed toward Archie's lab. At least she wasn't crying this time, she mused as she pushed open the door. "Hey Arch."
Archie looked up in surprise. "Oh, Sara, hey. Listen, I've got a lot to do tonight, so please tell me I don't need to ride to your rescue again. Not that I minded," he added, grinning sheepishly, "but once a week is enough for me."
Sara leaned against the doorjamb, crossing her arms in front of her. "Very funny. No, I don't need you to 'rescue' me again. I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate your doing it. Well, when it doesn't make me want to smack you, that is."
Archie relaxed. "Well that's ok, then – as long as the thankful side wins out whenever you're actually within striking distance. And hey, Greg's jealous as hell now that I got to be your white knight and he didn't."
Sara grinned. "Bonus." Giving him a jaunty wave, she headed back into the hallway.
