Black Betty's Prize

Author: Alison Nixon / VIgirl

Chapter Two

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay in getting this done.  I've been under the weather and couldn't face the prospect of Geek angst. LOL.  Thanks for continuing to read and/or review—I'll try not to take so long with the next update…

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Pale yellow, absurdly cheerful, one tiny envelope after another marched down the screen.  Ordinarily a full inbox would be a good thing, but somehow, spammy subject lines like "You have to see the New Girl Work it" and "Barely Legal" left Sara unmoved.  Shaking her head, she eased her chair closer to the desk.  Soon, the mouse she held began blinking furiously, signaling via infrared the start of her daily ritual of clicks and deletes.  It was monotonous work, but some aspects of it did amuse her.  So…is ssidle666 that evil twin I've been searching for all my life?  Oh wait, can't be. Where would that leave ssidle@dominatrices-delight?  

Lips twitching ever so slightly, Sara kept working, weeding out each offender.  Her fingers flashed so quickly that a few seconds passed before she realized her mistake.  Puffing her pale cheeks with a harried breath, she clicked opened her trashcan to restore the last message she had dumped there.  As she focused on the sender's name, though, her stomach began to twist and turn.  Pressing one clenched hand against her navel, she tried for a smile, hoping her face's false emotion would fool her body.  So she felt physically ill every time the next step toward leaving arrived--so what?  It didn't mean anything.  In fact, I wish I felt even worse.  Maybe then she could have avoided eating her way through the past couple of months.      

The little tummy stood as some sort of sad emblem of her life.  She wasn't a vain woman, but still, it stung.  The others probably figured it was part of some post-breakup binge.  But, truthfully, she hardly thought of Hank at all anymore.  It wasn't about him; it was about what he stood for.  Since the day she ended it, the most shocking thing had been the sudden return to her solitary life, her dull routine.  Not too long ago, she would have filled the void with as much work as she could get, but now… Now, instead of going in to the lab just to be near the man she wanted bud did not know how to approach, she had slouched at home reading, watching, waiting, and inevitably, pushing food into her face out of sheer nerves.  Story of my life…Hank had that other woman waiting in line. The only things waiting for me were ten extra pounds and Grissom blowing me off.  

She ground her fist deeper into her stomach.    

I have to face it. He's decided not to decide.  So…fine, I have my answer and I move on. 

For perhaps the hundredth time since she had decided to leave, she tried to say the words as if she meant them.  This is a good thing.  You'll see. 

You'll see.

Her fingers jerked as she bit down on her lip.  With effort, she forced herself to scroll down the page until she could see the first line of text. 

June 30, 2003

Re: Physical Scientist (GS 9/13) - Job Ann. No: 20152-LB

Dear Ms. Sidle:

Thank you for your interest in the Physical Scientist position at the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  Your application has been received and it is complete.  As your application progresses through our personnel system, we will update you regarding its status.  As the job announcement indicated, the FBI Lab would like the candidate selected to begin work by August 15th.  Therefore, applicants will be notified very shortly of our decision.

If you have any questions, you may call 1-800-FBI-JOBS.  Please reference the Job Announcement Number if you do.

Sincerely,

Elizabeth Page

Recruitment Specialist

Office of Personnel Management

Sara's shoulders listed forward, disappointment mingling with a sense of relief.  She had known it was too early for them to have made a decision, so why had she been so nervous?  I do want this—who wouldn't?  More money, more responsibility, more respect… More of everything, it seemed—everything but the one thing that mattered most. No matter how many times she weighed the pros and cons, staring at the two-column list written in short hand that she kept in her date book, the scales stayed stubbornly, impossibly unbalanced…in his favor. 

If she stayed, the happy ending might still come.  If she left, the very instant she pulled out of his orbit would signal the end of everything.  Between her anxious pride and his suspended animation, there could be no return.

Her mind stumbled over this, tripping over the tangled mess their feelings had become.  She felt her eyes drift down to the clock that blinked at one of the corners of her screen.  It was just after seven in the morning.  Time to go home.  She had not caught so much as a glimpse of him after he handed out the assignments at the start of shift; it was hard to tell if he was avoiding her or not.  Sara exhaled, her shoulders slipping still further before she turned her attention back to her mail.  Some housekeeping was in order: job-related things to be forwarded to her Jobs folder, junk mail to be scanned and discarded, updating her Contacts with the Page woman's email…

She felt him before she heard him, almost as if her senses had pricked at some unseen shift in the stillness of the room. 

She turned her head.

He stood in the doorway, watching her.  Sara looked instinctively for the folder or piece of paperwork in his hands.  Ever since the night of his refusal, he never seemed to approach her unless he held something in his hands, some artifact to mark the parameters of their interaction and keep any personal conversation to a minimum.  A clever strategy, but if he thought he had fooled her with it, he was mistaken.

"Yes?"

His eyes slid away, dropping to some point near her feet.  He hid his empty hands in his pockets.

"Busy?"

"I'm just finishing up.  I was about to leave."   When he did not continue, she couldn't quite keep the tinge of impatience from her voice.  "Did you need something?"

The tip of his tongue touched his lips; if she hadn't known better, she would said he smiled, despite the way he kept his eyes trained on the floor. 

"Doesn't everyone?"

Grissom took a breath.  If this was going to work, he would have to look at her.  He could see her watching him, but with a strange remoteness, as if from a great distance.  After a moment, she turned her face to the screen and placed one hand back on the mouse.  She spoke without even looking his way.

"I used to think so."

She did not see the second, rare smile.

"Used to?"

"Then I met you."

Grissom blanched, the skin across his face growing taut, as if drawn back by strings.  Sara looked up.  When their eyes met, the charge hit her like a storm, trapping the breath in her throat.  After the last time, she had promised herself that she would never bring that look to his eyes again. He was not a machine; he did have feelings.

"I…I'm sorry, Grissom. I—"  

Head bent, she closed her eyes.  When they opened again, she could only repeat herself in the hope she would be believed.  "I'm sorry I said that."

His voice, sounding hollow despite its lightness, came quickly.

"Forget it."  He managed a tight shrug.  "I already have."

What else could she do but look away? 

He rushed ahead, grasping blindly for words he knew he should leave unsaid.

"I won't keep you.  I just wanted to let you know…I just got a call from a colleague of mine at the FBI Lab.  He was kind enough to tell that you've applied for a position there."  The protest rose in her face, but he cut her off.  "Call it a professional courtesy—he's a friend." 

He paused, letting the silence linger just long enough for his emphasis of that last word to settle in her mind.    

"As a supervisor, of course, I would hate to lose a CSI with your skills.  But if that's what you want…" 

"If that's what I want?"  She stood up abruptly, sending the chair skittering backward on its wheels and folding her arms against her body.  "If that's what I want."

"Yes."

"You…"

"I just came in here to see if there was…any work issue that you wanted to discuss, any aspect of your job here that led to this decision to leave.  I would be remiss if I didn't try to find out how to avoid this happening with anyone else on the team."

"I haven't left yet, Grissom."  The words were bitter.

"But you will." 

It had been intended as a question.  It had.

"What…what does that mean?  You don't know what I'll do—"

Her anger should have shaken him, but it just urged him on.  

"I'll tell you what I do know, Sara.  I know that you're out there looking for opportunities to leave.  Looking for opportunities that my lab can't compete with—seventy grand, supervising a team of your own, getting involved in cases all across the country.  You know the limitations here.  Given that, I can only assume that what we have to offer is no longer what you want, since you aren't even giving us a fair chance to change your mind."

"A fair chance? What--"

"Fair would be applying to another city or state crime lab, one which has the same constraints that we do.  What is not fair is applying to the biggest and best-funded lab in the country, which might as well have no constraints at all.  The lab where you won't have to settle for less."

The surge of adrenaline crashed the moment he saw the look in her eyes.  Without it, he could not risk waiting for her reply.  It was only as he wheeled around to leave that the logic of it struck him.  Of course this is how it would end. 

Of course. 

Better to look back in anger than in regret. 

Better to refuse the prize, which even if won, cannot possibly be kept. 

TBC…