"Greg!"
"Don't 'Greg' me, you know it's true. Did you really think a little bit of makeup could hide the fact that you've been crying?" Greg's tone of voice was intense as his expression. Sara wanted to look away, but she was caught by his accusatory stare. 'Has it been that obvious to everyone?' she asked herself. It certainly appeared to have been to Greg. His next comment made her wonder if he could read minds.
"It's been obvious to me." Greg took Sara's other hand and held them tightly, knowing somehow that giving her a hug (his first instinct) would be too much for her right now. "Some people may not look at you closely enough, but I do."
"Oh, Greg!" Sara tried to laugh, to mask the lump in her throat, and it came out as pathetic as she hoped it wouldn't have.
"Am I interrupting anything?" Grissom's cold voice cut through her heart, and she and Greg turned to find him standing there, files in hand, looking disapproving. She opened her mouth to explain, then shut it. What did she care what he thought of her now?
"No." Greg's voice was firm, and he stepped in front of Sara, a move calculated to protect her from Grissom's penetrating stare. Sara felt sick. 'How long has he been standing there?!'
"Good, because I need you to run this right away." Grissom held out the evidence bag and waited for Greg to take it. He didn't leave once the lab tech had it though, he appeared to be waiting for him to leave, so he could talk to Sara. Greg stood his ground, though, and when Grissom raised an eyebrow at his audacity, Greg turned around, grabbed Sara's hand, and dragged her out the door with him.
"Greg, what are you doing?!" Sara had been unprepared for his action, and had nearly sprained her ankle tripping after him.
"I'm not going to let him hurt you again."
Before Sara could protest, Grissom's voice called through the lab.
"Sara, could I have a word with you please?" Sara groaned, and started pinching her own arm, hoping against hope that this was all just a horrid nightmare.
"Don't go, Sara."
"Don't make it worse, Greg," Sara watched as his face fell, and she reached out and squeezed his hand in reassurance. She was about to say something when a shadow cast over them. Grissom was at the door, and when she looked up, she thought she almost could have seen a flicker of pain in his eyes as he saw Greg's hand in hers. 'Don't forget what he's done to you, Sidle. Stay strong,' she told herself firmly. Sara shot Grissom a look of pure hatred, and then marched past him into the breakroom. Once there, she sat down at the head of the table, Grissom's usual seat, and leaned back in her chair, feet propped up on the table. 'The next best thing to confidence is the appearance of it,' she thought to herself.
To say that Grissom was confused would be an understatement. To say that he was hurt would be putting it lightly. A more apt description of how he was feeling (although he'd never in a million years admit to it) would be to say that he felt like Sara had taken his heart and stomped on it with high heels. 'Sara doesn't wear high heels,' he thought to himself incongruously. 'Since when do you notice her enough to know?' Tonight was just getting worse and worse.
He'd just spent the past half hour or more convincing himself to go talk to her; going on the look in her eyes before their tumultuous kiss. He had been sure he'd seen desire there, almost convinced she'd seen admiration, and wouldn't let himself even hope he'd seen... what? Love? Grissom was too prosaic to allow himself the thought. Not that it mattered now, anyway. She'd gone straight from his arms to Greg's. 'That's not how it was, Gil, and you know it.' Grissom was in no mood to listen to reason. He'd walked in on Sara and Greg holding hands, and when he'd sent the lab rat off to do work he'd actually had the audacity to drag Sara with him. Then, the comment. He could still hear it ringing in his ears.
"I'm not going to let him hurt you again."
He knew he had hurt her, in his desperate attempt to gain control, to not give in to his desire to...Grissom shut out the images before they could cloud his better judgment. The thought that Sara had gone straight to Greg, to relate the whole incident, was sickening. He had thought he'd known her better than that! He turned the corner into the breakroom to find Sara ensconced at the end of the table, her feet up and a devil-may-care look on her face.
"What do you want?" She asked it as though he was the one telling secrets. Grissom took a deep breath, and told her.
"I want to know why you ran from my office to the DNA lab to tell Greg--"
"You want to know... WHAT?!" Sara's voice boomed through the small space. Petulantly, all he could think about was that she'd cut him off before he'd had a chance to finish.
Sara hadn't thought it was possible to be more angry at Grissom, but it turned out she was wrong. Very wrong. She abandoned the cool, confident posture she'd attempted to convey, and instead got up to pace around the room. In typical female fashion, whenever her eyes rested on a small, hard piece of matter, she contemplated what it would do to his head. Sara wasn't much for swearing, but she always thought there was a time and place for everything. While she was composing an answer to his audacious question, he had the temerity to speak again.
"Sara, maybe here isn't the best place to discuss--"
Sara wasn't about to let the jerk finish a sentence.
"Oh, no, Mr. Boss Man, there's no way I'm going anywhere NEAR that office of yours." Sara's work ethic caused her to lower her voice a few decibels. It wasn't anyone else's fault she was upset anyway, why make them suffer?
"Grissom, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Sara went on, quickly, as the question was meant to be rhetorical. "How could you even think that's what I was doing? As a matter of fact, I went straight to the locker room to cr--" Sara stopped herself just in time. There was no way she wanted him to know just how upset his rejection had made her. What was it her mother had always said? 'The truth comes out when you're angry...' Sara was horrified to find that her eyes were misting up even as she yelled at him. She turned away, hoping he hadn't seen.
He had seen. Grissom's anger melted away as he realized just how badly he'd screwed up. Sara had stopped herself from speaking the word 'cry,' but it wasn't too difficult to deduce the word. He was disgusted with himself for his assumptions, knowing that most women needed comfort when they were upset. Sara probably would have rather died than ask for it from him. Grissom's nerves were on edge as he felt unfamiliar terror rush through his veins. What if he'd really screwed up this time? He'd never seen Sara this upset, and he knew it was all his fault. The last time he'd screwed up this badly, she'd immediately filed for a leave of absence.
Grissom knew a plant wouldn't be enough to fix this.