Sara
Nick slid another slice of pizza toward her. "Eat."
"Nick, I've already eaten three pieces. I'm full!"
"Eat it anyway. I may need to feed you into a stupor to make you tell me what's going on." He grinned at her. "You know you're going to tell me eventually, Sara. Why not just get it out in the open. I swear it'll make you feel better." He was starting to worry; usually Sara was all too quick to let loose with her frustrations. Her reticence this morning was a bad sign – this problem was bad. It could only be something about Grissom.
Sara took a bite of the pizza. "Your technique is lacking – Catherine just gave me two bottles of wine and waited half an hour."
"I'll keep that in mind for next time." He gentled his voice, trying to communicate his genuine concern. "Now come on Sar, tell me."
Grissom
Catherine pushed the bottle of scotch toward Grissom. "Drink."
"I've already had three of these, Cath. I don't think it's a good idea for me to overdo it on the alcohol tonight. I might start crying on you."
"Drink it, Gil. You're stiff as a board right now; I sincerely doubt the first three glasses have had any effect on you." She added another splash of the drink to the glass he held. "God knows you won't tell me anything without something loosening you up. Besides, you know you'll end up feeling better about it once I explain the world to you." Grissom was always hesitant to reveal his thoughts, but tonight thought she saw a chink in his armor. He was really convinced that Sara had deserted him, and she guessed that he didn't have the mental energy to try to block her out anymore.
He took a sip of his newly refilled drink. "What is it with you and alcohol? You used it to pry information out of Sara, and now you're trying to use it to get the story out of me?"
"What did you expect? Pizza? Trust me, alcohol works better than cheese when it comes to getting people to talk." She sat back against the couch. "Now tell me what happened, Gris, and don't leave anything out."
Sara
Nick ran a hand over Sara's hair. "Come on Sara, calm down, ok?" No response. He tried another tactic. "Sara, you're getting my shirt wet. Come on, you want to wash this thing? Didn't think so."
That got a small smile out of her and she unwrapped her arms from around his waist. "Thanks, Nick. At least I know I can sob into your shirt, if no one else's." She swiped a hand across her face and let out a deep sigh. "I still don't know what to do. Come on Nick, you're male, you're supposed to be able to explain this stuff to me. What would possess a mature man to throw a fit of jealousy, imply that I sleep around, and then think that he can just charm me into forgiving him?"
Nick threw up his hands. "I don't know! Half the time I don't even know what socks I'm wearing, Sara, and you expect me to be able to figure out GRISSOM?"
"So we're back at square one."
He shook his head and poked her in the arm. "Don't give up so easy! Just because I don't know what the hell he was thinking doesn't mean I'm not skilled in the art of helping you figure it out. Let's start with the basics: are you happier with him but fighting, or without him but peaceful?"
Sara sank down on his couch and stared at the ceiling. "You know, I still have dreams about that Nigel guy in your attic."
"Trust me, so do I. Don't change the subject."
"I was happy with him . . . but I don't know whether I was happy because it was a good relationship, or because I'd finally gotten what I'd been wanting for close to ten years."
Nick plopped down next to her. "He was never just some popular kid that you wanted to show off to your friends, Sara. I'm pretty sure that you didn't want him just because you couldn't have him. Grissom's a hard-to-like guy, and if you'd just wanted a man to chase around the building, there were more obvious choices," he grinned, puffing out his chest comically. "Anyway, if you ask any of the people who work the night shift with you two, we'll tell you that you two are practically made for each other."
"So I should just forget about it because you think I love him?"
"No! I think you should do what makes YOU happy, not what makes me happy, or Greg happy, or Grissom happy. Do what you need to do to resolve this in your own mind, then worry about resolving it with the other players." He put an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "See, that's your problem. You're fighting with yourself, and while you're struggling with that, there's no way you'll be able to figure out what's going through Grissom's head."
"I know what's going through Grissom's head," she said bitterly. "Thoughts about what a flighty female I am, and why do I take offense at every little thing he says, and why the hell can't sex fix everything?"
"I don't think so, Sara. Have you been watching him the past few days? I'd say what's going through his head is something more like, 'What am I going to do if she gives up on me?' or 'She won't leave Las Vegas because of me, will she?' or 'God, I wish women came with instruction manuals'. But Sara, my whole point is that you don't know what's going through his head, you can only guess. So first focus on figuring out what's going on in your own twisted mind." He raised his hand to block the piece of pizza crust that came flying at his head.
Grissom
"I know what's going through her mind, Cath," Grissom said in a slightly blurry voice. "She's wondering why she ever decided to date an old man. She's thinking that even if there was a good reason, I'm not worth it anymore because I keep causing trouble. And she's probably planning how she's going to get her belongings out of my house without having a confrontation with me."
Catherine snorted. "Great, I get you drunk and you start wallowing in your own misery. Get a grip, Gil, this is Sara we're talking about. She's never defined people by their age. If she just wanted to date someone who wasn't fifteen years older, she could have gone after Nick or Warrick, but she didn't even give them a second glance – she focused on YOU."
"That's because I'm her boss."
"No, it's because you're Gil Grissom." She plucked the glass out of his hand. "That's enough for you – you're just making yourself more confused. She's not thinking you're trouble. She IS probably wondering why you two can't be in the same room without arguing over something, but I really doubt she's blaming it on you. Perfectionism, you know? She's probably blaming herself if she's blaming anybody. And since when have you ever known Sara to back down from confronting something she's afraid of? If she decided to move out – which, I'm telling you, she probably won't – you'd find a big note on your door telling you the date and time and ordering you to be there."
"I'd like to think that, Cath, I really would. But everything I do seems to make my relationship with her worse. One of these days I'm finally going to drive her away and she'll be out of my life forever. And that'll be the end for me, I'm telling you."
Catherine tossed a bottle of water at him, not apologizing when it struck him in the chest. "Get over yourself, Gil. Stop worrying about what Sara's going to do and start worrying about what you're going to do to heal this split."
Sara
"I want him, Nick. I really do think I love him, and I refuse to throw that away and crawl back into my dark hole of a social life." She drew a deep breath. "I'm going to head home. I have some heavy thinking to do." She smiled a weakened but recognizable version of the Sidle grin.
Grissom
"I can't leave this alone another day, Cath. I need to go talk to her. I don't know what I'm going to say, but I need to see her and try to explain." Before Catherine could ask her next question, he answered it. "And yes, I'll be okay driving. I had my last drink almost four hours ago, it will have cleared my system by now."
The door of Sara's car slammed shut. Nick leaned in the window to deliver his last advice. "I'm here if you need me, Sara. But I think you know what you're going to do, even if you won't admit it to me or yourself."
Catherine put out a hand to stop the car door as Grissom tried to pull it closed. "Be careful, ok? Watch the road and watch what you say when you get to Sara's. I don't want to have to scrape you off Sara's street OR her kitchen floor." He nodded. "Luck, Gris!" she called as he backed out of her driveway.
