By Jane Doe
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI and all research done for this is accessible by the Encyclopedia Smithsonian. Everything else is my imagination.
Notes: As promised this is the next installment, though I'm sorry that it's late. It's been hectic in my part of the world. I would like to thank those that reviewed and please keep them coming. Any grammatikal mistakes can be directed at my beta, whose body will be used as a shield to ward off flames. Part III will be up a little quicker I promise. }:^D
Part II: Courtship Ritual
Specific rituals have developed through evolution and must be precise routines. Sudden alternations or disruptions in courtship will almost certainly lead to a missed opportunity for reproduction.
The weatherman was wrong of course. The "light" showers were really a monsoon and came a day earlier than anticipated. Under normal circumstances, Sara found a rainy day relaxing. While working a scene though, she grew more and more unnerved as she watched the evidence become part of the sewage system. In fact, returning from a wet crime scene always diminished her spirits for the rest of shift and sometimes throughout the entire case. It's hard to believe the weather could have such a great effect on her mood. She couldn't deny it though. Rainy weather made her feel as muddy as the puddles.
She sighed loudly as she hung her dripping raincoat in her locker. She also knew the rain wasn't entirely to blame for her lack of cheeriness. The passed few months were not noted for their good days.
The drops of water dinged on the aluminum bottom as if agreeing with her.
Recently just getting through the day was a trying task. She loved her work, and she loved the effects of good work. The passion was still there. That didn't seem to be the problem. It was everything else. Her life felt off balance. She began to think, only in safe seclusion, that she could be venturing towards depression. Nothing serious or problematic, she always assured herself, but a resilience casting a shadow on her mood. If described, it would be an edge of fuzziness that wouldn't go away. Her head felt like a movie reel constantly in a loop of pessimistic thoughts.
"Stop."
She said it aloud to enforce it. No time or need for such musings. She squared her shoulders and checked her light application of makeup in the mirror. She wasn't concerned about how nice she looked, but how horrible. The mirror never lies. The dark clips seemed almost eerie in the poor lighting, and would be worse in the florescent light of the lab. She quickly made a touchup before abandoning the effort and heading out the door. In the lounge, the coffee she perked prior to hanging her coat would be ready with a steamy goodness that could always make her feel a little better.
He was standing with his back to her when she walked in. She stopped. She would rather come back at another time than take a coffee break being ignored by the one person she wanted to notice her. The special coffee would have to wait until she could fully enjoy it. Sara started to retreat when he spoke aloud holding her attention for only an instant but long enough to pull her in.
"Thanks Greg." Grissom said aloud tipping the steaming white cup to his mouth, and still completely unaware of the person behind him.
"No, that's my coffee." She said folding her arms across her chest.
He gulped the hot coffee. "Ouch!"
His bark quickened her pulse. She hadn't intentionally meant to scare him, but at least it was a reaction. Instinctively she winced as he dabbed at his burning tongue and lips with a paper napkin. The now set aside coffee still had a string of thick steam bellowing up.
"You okay?" Her voice cracked.
"Fine." He grumbled turning to face her. "Do you need something?"
She hid her eyes from him by looking around as if for a sign that she was in distress, or "in need". She found no such indications. "No."
He stared at her. She was greatly dressed down he noticed. Her formal slacks and fashionable blouse were replaced with a simple pair of faded Levi jeans and a black V-neck fleece sweater. The only thing that seemed to break his mind away from the dark circles under her eyes was the modest white shirt poking forth beneath the sweater. And was her hair damp?
"How's your case coming along?" He finally asked as the thoughts trailed on.
She shrugged. "The rain water-logged a lot of the collections. We'll see."
He made an 'O' with his mouth. Of course, she was out in the rain, that's why her hair is slightly wet. He picked up his coffee and began to sit down at the table. "I never liked the rain when working a case." He said nonchalantly.
Despite the evident tension, a small smile crept onto her face when his words mirrored her thoughts in the locker room. "Yeah."
His brow furrowed. What had he missed? She smiled but he didn't say anything funny. Rain at a crime scene always ruined the evidence, so for that reason he never liked the rain. He felt cheated when it rained on his crime scene. If he didn't get a good start, everything that would follow could be dismissed in court. Why would she smile? Is he so out of touch with everyone lately that his opinion is amusing or absurd? Had his hearing gone out and he missed a witty response? He wasn't watching her lips as closely as he should. But his hearing was fine, everything else was wrong.
Generally, he might have asked what was so entertaining but things have been stressed for some time between them. Even he couldn't ignore that. He had handled Sara like he did budget warnings from the mayor --through evasion. He talked himself into believing this was the best thing to do under the circumstances or when things became awkward.
Without another word, he began to flip through a newspaper someone had left behind.
She stood in a complete confused stupor. He ended the conversation by reading as if she were invisible. However, she accepted his attitude toward her with only quiet anger because anything else would require more energy that she simply didn't have today. Finally, she decided she would need that cup of coffee. The sweet rich aroma began to relax her as she poured the semi-dark liquid into a clean cup. It wasn't Greg's Blue Hawaiian, or the most expensive, but certainly worth its weight in gold to her.
He watched her over his glasses while her back was turned, and then looked down at his coffee. It definitely wasn't Greg's coffee, but very original in taste. "This is your blend?"
His words surprised her. She turned slowly, as if unsure. "It's not a blend, but yes it's my coffee."
He ran he tongue across his lips. "It tastes...different."
She frowned. "You don't have to drink it."
"I meant it in a good way." He abandoned his paper by folding it in half. "I simply meant that it is something I haven't tried. It's almost sweet and..."
"That's probably the low acidity with berry flavoring." She interrupted but unenthusiastically. "It's Costa Rican 'La Amistad'. It's organic."
Suddenly he was interested despite his evasive instinct. "Isn't all coffee organic?"
"It's just a term...you don't know the difference?"
"No." He answered neutrally.
"It's called organic because of the way it's grown and manufactured." She began. "Certified organic coffee is usually grown in the shade of banana or mango trees, which replace the depleted nitrogen in the soil and offer a habitat for wildlife that eat insects that could damage the crop. The farmers use no herbicides or pesticides, only natural advantages; all of which is strictly supervised. Organic coffee farmers help promote the wildlife preserve. La Amistad specifically is now privately protected and responsible for saving possible endemic species that were on the verge of extinction." She drew an intake of air. I feel like a damn encyclopedia, and I am falling for one of your games, she thought.
Impressed, Grissom's eyebrow went up. "By drinking this coffee, we are saving the planet."
Despite the flashing 'Warning' sign at the back of her mind, she found herself slightly smiling at his childlike simplification. Her smile had an effortless undertone, but only after layers of complexities was peeled away. Grissom didn't see it enough so he returned the gesture.
In that instant Sara almost felt like her old-self again -- when it was comfortable and enjoyable to banter back and forth with Grissom, or when a smile or touch was commonplace.
Then somewhere deep within her she backed away. She was setting herself up again. As that particular thought crossed her mind, a slither of fear wedged itself in her chest. She was actually afraid to set herself up for something she couldn't handle right now. For the first time, she wanted to keep him away. She wanted to push him away before he could get close enough to cause any further pain.
She didn't like the feeling, but she didn't know what she could do about it, if anything should be done at all.
He felt the subtle change as he met her eyes. She broke the contact prematurely before he could get an understanding so he looked away as well. Becoming uncertain of what was happening, he decided he should leave. "Well I better get back to work." He managed to say with as little awkwardness as possible.
"Yeah, me too." She agreed.
She watched him leave. She did not object or call him back like she thought she might. She simply stood alone, feeling empty and strangely defeated. It wasn't a bold feeling-- she felt this way but didn't realize what it meant. Part of her, the part that needed him, didn't want to know what it meant. The other part still tottered on the edge of indecision.
These routines of courtship are very uniquely characteristic of the species. Dance patterns or short flights are often the most common courtship rituals. Unlike in humans, it's okay to dance circles around your date.
He sat in marvel by the basic fact. It was so simple, like the tiny smile of acknowledgment. Sara hated the rain too, and for the same reasons, which is why she smiled. Grissom leaned back in his chair and frowned. How could he forget?
Shift was over but his unexpected meeting with Sara wouldn't let him go home. One of the things that bothered him most: he knew she didn't like the rain. She told him in a small conversation maybe the first year she worked there. He knew it and yet he sent her out in the pouring rain on a solo case. He could have given Nick the solo and have Sara in the dry hotel with him. Nick wouldn't have minded the rain. He might have seen it as a personal challenge or a large step in gaining the approval of his supervisor. But Grissom sent Sara into the rainstorm, because he was too cowardly to work with her. Of course he didn't know it was going to rain, but he still felt partly responsible for sending her away. He was responsible for sending her away.
He sighed.
"That was quite a loud sigh."
For the second time that day he was startled. His head shot up in an instant connecting with the figure in his doorway.
"Well out with it. What's the sigh for? Rough case?" Catherine plopped down lazily in the chair in front of his desk.
"No." He shook his head but remained disconnected from her presence. His thoughts were elsewhere.
There was a long quiet pause. The clock made conversation with time.
She finally broke the silence with an upbeat demeanor that clashed with the office's atmosphere. "My case is as rough as it gets, since you asked. As you know eye witnesses are useless and our suspect's lawyer is out to dismiss all of the evidence because of some bogus Civil Right's loophole I've never heard about. Not to mention..." She trailed off. He wasn't listening. "It's nice to know you care enough to lend a friendly ear at the end of the day."
Another long pause.
She switched up. "Saw you with Sara today."
He blinked quickly back to the present, while Catherine suppressed a grin. She didn't know how he would take the teasing nowadays, so usually denied herself the fun. Something was very different about the man opposite of her. They were old friends and reasonably close, but if asked today whether he thought of her the same way she would be reluctant to agree. They lost the familiar connection she was confident she had. If it wasn't lost, it was buried beneath some inner turmoil for the time being.
"So anyway, how was her case?" She asked remaining professional.
His hands bridged in front of him. "Clinging to the bottoms of her shoes."
"Ah the rainstorm. You know she really hates the rain."
He nodded absently. He knows. He knew. He knew he screwed up, and maybe for the last time. Given time back he didn't trust himself to change the way things were turning out. He would repeat the same mistakes and push her away, push the team away, and draw his secret tighter. He sacrificed so much, yet had gained nothing but loneliness.
Catherine watched his eyes become more distant. "You okay?"
No. "Yeah, just...I'm fine. I'll take a look at your case and see if I can help."
"Thanks." She said, but she didn't care about the case anymore. "Are you going home?"
"Not yet."
She bit her lip. "Do you wanna get a drink? Maybe some food? The cases can wait 'till next shift."
"No thanks." He deserved the isolation. He fortified these walls, he would live behind them. "Maybe some other time."
"You know what Grissom?" She raised her voice in distasteful anger as she took in his pitiful sight but words refuse to come out. She hadn't the right to tell him to fix things with Sara. She knew that he was fully aware what needed to be done before it was too late. She also knew he was hurting Sara by giving her false hopes. So who would I be helping, she asked herself. This had to be resolved by them, not some out of practice divorced matchmaker.
"What?"
"Nothing. Never mind." She rose from her seated position. "I'll see you tomorrow. Try to get some rest, okay?"
If he was confused by her attitude, he didn't show it. "I will. Goodnight."
She swung her purse over her shoulder. "Goodnight Gil."
When he was alone again, his gaze dropped to his desk where it got lost in the white glow of his case files.
--------------------------------------
"Poor communication is as disquieting as black coffee and just as hard to sleep after."
"Coffee is best sweetened by good company."