A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beta, Marlou. Your insight into this story has been a great help.
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It wasn't long before Grissom knew he wasn't going to accomplish anything that night. He'd been working on the file sitting before him for the last hour when it should've only taken a quarter of that time. He threw his glasses onto the desk then leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes as he got comfortable.
Sara Sidle had been trouble since the first day he'd met her. Trouble to him physically, mentally and most definitely emotionally.
She'd nearly killed him on her way to his seminar when she rounded a corner in the hallway too fast in her attempt to make it on time, his files and body landing in a heap on the floor. She'd confused the hell out of him when she hastily made the decision to quit grad school to become a CSI and the emotional aspect remained an ongoing problem. He never knew when she would hit him with another invitation to dinner or whatever else she had in mind. And although it was certainly flattering and something that, if he'd been a few years younger, he'd have jumped at the chance. Now… well he was going on forty-eight years of being alone. She was just turning thirty-three –no, wait, she had just turned thirty-three. Time certainly was flying by.
Even though he knew that his feelings for the woman was something he had to put aside, try to ignore, it was becoming increasingly harder to do. Her smile would light up his day, and her frown would worry him, making him think that he was the cause. He had to face that. Lately, he had been the reason. He grimaced at the self-reflection. He'd hurt her with his answer of no to her dinner invite but it had been rotten timing, several years in fact.
During his evaluation of his relationship with Sara, Grissom's mind had tuned out everything around him. He hadn't heard the knock on his door or the throat clearing by his senior CSI. It wasn't until something flashed before his face that he realized he wasn't alone. The hand disappeared quickly and he turned in his chair to follow it until he was looking into the face of Catherine Willows. He groaned when he saw her expression –it was her 'caught you daydreaming' smile.
"So, where were you this time?" she asked, the smile growing as she took the seat opposite his desk.
"Not somewhere that I care to discuss with you," he said under his breath. "Busy here, Catherine. Is there something you need?," he asked as he put his glasses back on and tried to look as though he was delving back into the file's contents. Diverting the conversation into less dangerous territory was his primary objective but he should've known better than to even try.
"Hmm… doubt you'll be getting much of that done anyway, the way you were staring off. Does this have anything to do with Sara and her disappearance from work tonight? I mean, I think I saw her at the crime scene but then it might've just been my imagination. And I know she was here at the lab long enough to have an argument with you."
"And you would know how, since you weren't here?" Grissom asked, peering over his glasses at her and trying to look stern. She just blew it off.
"Gil, you know as well as anyone that the gossip grapevine runs long and deep in the lab. Everyone's talking about it. It's understood that she handed you her gun and ID. The question is, did she quit or did you suspend her or fire her?" she asked with a tinge of excitement in her voice.
Grissom had to wonder if the latter wasn't something on her wish list. He had to nip this in the bud while he had the chance. "Catherine, have I ever been one to divulge private information?" She shook her head and would've said something further but he cut her off. "I don't recall that my position required me to fill you in on my decisions or the personal decisions concerning members of our team. I would appreciate it if you would remember to curb that curiosity of yours in the future except in regard to investigations of the criminal kind."
Bristling at the reprimand, Catherine stood in disbelief, "Gil, I was …"
"I know Catherine, but you're in a senior position. You've got to set the example." Sighing heavily he sat back in his chair, entwining his fingers over his stomach. "I don't know what's going on with Sara. I'd appreciate it if you'd try to dilute the rumors rather than lending them credence."
Her mouth was held agape as though she was too dumbstruck by his set down to speak. He could only hope.
"I didn't know you felt that way. Is…" Before he could cut her off this time she shook her head to indicate she wouldn't continue. She began to leave his office but stopped as she reached the door and asked, "I actually came here to see if you'd heard from Nick?"
"No. In regard to the case?"
"Yeah. We found something other than the victim's blood on the knife."
Grissom sat up in his chair, greatly interested. He waited with abate breath but when she didn't continue, he asked, "What is it?"
"Dried blood… old blood." Their gazes met and held. "It's human. Greg's been given the samples to process." She left him alone to digest that information.
The thoughts congesting his brain were too much. How did Sara know about the knife unless she'd seen the scene before? If she'd seen the scene then there might be a serial killer at work. Grissom shook his head. They were going to have to search for more information to see if this had happened anywhere else.
His mind wandered back to early in the night when he'd glimpsed her walking into the kitchen. What he'd seen on her face jolted his heart. Her eyes were glued to the victim but were strained. The paleness of her flesh was in dark contrast to the shadows under her eyes. His first thought at seeing her was that she had put in too much overtime again, but then he remembered that it had been well over a week since he put her on lab duties only. She'd already maxed out on her limit. Seven days of only lab duty and she looked like the walking dead.
Grissom winced in pain as he felt the first twinge of a migraine beginning. He hadn't had one for months, not since his surgery. This was not the time for it to rear its ugly head. He needed to speak with Sara, get more information. But now was not the time for that either. He needed to wait for Greg to spin his magic on the old blood sample. He didn't want to assume anything but at this point he couldn't help putting his own spin into action as he considered what or who the blood was from.
He couldn't resist the urge to pull out Sara's personnel file. There might be something in it to give him a bigger clue as to her knowledge about the murder weapon.
Feeling heavily weighed down, he rolled back in his chair to the file cabinet then rummaged in it until he found a neat and somewhat small file. The name on it read –Sidle, Sara A. – Hire Date: 09/22/00. He closed the cabinet, pushing himself from it with his foot to send him back to his desk. He laid the file on top of all the other paperwork on his desk and opened it, pushing his glasses further up on his nose as he peered over the contents. He skimmed over the sections he already knew, albeit some were things he always wondered about, such as why she quit grad school.
There were no commendations listed or any special notes in regard to her work. Sara did her work professionally and clean –she always dotted her i's and crossed her t's. But then this wasn't unusual; like him, she wasn't one for public notice. The best commendation for her was knowledge that she'd done her best and in putting the perpetrator away. Although, that wasn't always necessarily enough.
He noted on her criminal record that it was clean. She kept her nose out of trouble. While holding the file, he leaned back in his chair then stared off over the top of it. He couldn't help thinking that Sara had no reason to get into any trouble –she didn't do anything, at least that he knew of from the small glimpses he'd been allowed to see into her life. If it wasn't for her work, Sara would be a hermit. The girl needed, as Nick had aptly quipped once to her, to get a life.
His mind itched. He rubbed the back of his neck attempting to rid himself of the feeling that the hairs on his neck were standing on end. Something was missing here. There was something missing and he'd be damned if he knew what it was.
"Grissom." A small voice drew him out of his reverie. His eyes were not clear yet as he tried to switch from his thoughts of Sara to the uninvited interruption, his head swiveled toward the voice as if in slow motion. It then dawned on him that the room had darkened slightly. Greg had shut the door when he came in.
"What have you got, Greg?" he asked when he saw the file held tentatively in the young lab tech's hands -noticeably shaking.
Greg sank down into the chair that Catherine had vacated earlier. He appeared to be trying to form his words carefully, almost like he was afraid to speak. Mumbling, he softly said, "I wasn't sure if I should give these to Catherine or to you but because of the results I thought it best for you to see them first." He handed the file over, but held it tightly so that Grissom fairly had to yank it out of his hands. He was starting to feel the dread course through him.
He looked over the results. They told him that the dried blood belonged to a female and they matched someone In-house. His eyes darted up to Greg. The young man was nervous and if Grissom read him well enough, worried. "Who, Greg?"
"Sara."
TBC...
