Greg snored.
This was a piece of information he could've lived without, but when Grissom walked into the break room in search of Warrick it was a fact he learned nonetheless.
Two lab techs were out with the flu and Greg had willingly come in for a double shift on his day off. After a particularly busy workload the past few hours, things seemed to have calmed and Grissom had suggested a break before the inevitable wave of new evidence from people still on-site.
Exhausted, Greg had no problem taking advantage of the time. He lay curled up on the break room sofa, softly snoring. A post-it on his forehead read: WAKE ME AT 2!
Confirming that Warrick was nowhere in sight, Grissom grabbed an apple and left, catching Greg smirk in his sleep and making a very strong effort to not imagine why.
"Do you know where Greg is?"
Grissom stopped in his tracks, startled by Sara's sudden appearance at his side. "The break room."
"I was there a minute ago. It was empty."
"Look down." She gave him a puzzled look. "Try the warm lump vibrating the sofa."
She wrinkled her nose. "That's one experiment I never want to be part of."
Grissom half-smiled. "He's asleep. Be gentle."
She grinned evilly. "Aren't I always?" She backtracked while Grissom remained in the hallway, watching her go in and hearing a file smack Greg.
"...No way it's two already."
"C'mon, Goldilocks. I need these hairs analyzed before my perp gets released."
Sara came striding out of the break room and Greg stumbled out a moment later, barely conscious, rubbing his head. "Y'know, I've imagined waking up to you, and sometimes there was even some 'punishment' involved, but you've thoroughly wrecked that dream."
"I'm the only one back with evidence," she taunted him, turning the corner. "Process me quickly enough and you can go back to whatever dreamworld you want, Greggo."
Grissom raised an eyebrow at the suggestion behind her words and retreated to his office.
He was engrossed in some lab results of his own when there was an urgent knock at the door. "Yes?"
"Um, Mr. Grissom?" It was Kelly, some intern he vaguely remembered approving last month. She spent the majority of her time with day shift. "I'm sorry if I'm bothering you."
"It's fine." She seemed more fidgety than usual. "What do you need?"
"Greg –the lab technician? – he asked me to find you."
"Is there a problem?"
"I'm not sure. Ms. Sidle told me not to, but Greg asked first, so..." As her voice trailed off she looked at him with wide hopeful eyes.
"Okay, Kelly. Thanks."
She brightened up. "Sure thing."
Strange. Usually Sara couldn't wait to discuss a piece of evidence. Grissom put his own findings aside and headed to the lab, his curiosity peaked.
As he neared it became clear that something was up. Sara was sitting, only her face visible, frowning and staring down. Greg was nowhere in sight. He pulled open the door and Greg popped into view next to Sara. "What's going on?"
Now that he was in the room, Grissom realized that Sara wasn't frowning; she was wincing. She was on Greg's stool and her right foot was lifted in front of her, her boot discarded on the floor. A red stain was spreading on her sock.
She hissed in pain. "Ah, damn damn damn."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It's nothing." She sounded so annoyed with herself.
"Your foot is bleeding, Sara. That's not nothing." Greg stood nearby with a guilty 'aw crap, I broke her' look.
"Greg, go to the break room and find the first aid kit." He nodded, eager to be of use, and hurried off. Grissom turned his attention back to Sara, looking at her foot with concern. "What happened?"
She only looked up with unreadable eyes. "It's really nothing. Greg and I were just goofing around and..."
"And?" She didn't seem interested in adding more details. Grissom sighed. "Alright, fine. We need to get you out of here."
"So I don't contaminate evidence, I know. I tried telling Greg. He wouldn't let me move."
He looked at her with puzzled eyes, thinking, And people think I'm work-obsessed. "No. In the break room you can keep your leg properly elevated." He went to her side and reached for her arm. After a second of hesitation she let him put her arm around his shoulders. She slid off the stool and tested her balance.
"You good?" She nodded. "Okay. Let's get you in there before Greg flies back in here and hurts you again."
"It's not like he attacked me," she mumbled, cautiously taking each step.
"I was kidding, Sara."
"Now I know you're overthinking this cut," she joked. She instinctively hissed as she took a step with her injured foot and quickly covered with, "Once we get in there I'm sending Greg back to my sample. Chance of a perfect match was looking very good before."
"Before your act of spontaneous hemorrhaging?"
"There isn't that much blood."
"Short of a papercut, I'm not going to distinguish levels of blood loss with my CSIs. If you get hurt like this again, take care of it and let me know." He noticed her sending a quick look his way before they stepped through the break room doorway.
Greg was rifling through the first aid kit. Grissom sent him back to the lab. "Humor the wounded."
Alone together, Grissom took out gauze, disinfectant and a bottle of Tylenol while Sara adjusted her leg on the sofa and continued to look annoyed.
"You'll need to take that sock off." She made a face but did as she was told and Grissom's jaw clenched at the sight. Her gash from the attack two weeks earlier had mostly healed, but there was an ugly reddened slit down the middle covered in a line of professionally even butterfly bandages. The blood had been running from between the bandages.
"You told me that you were healing well," he said, incredulous.
"I was. I am." She huffed in frustration. "I told you it was nothing. It's not even Greg's fault."
He gestured at the bandages. "When did this happen?"
She looked him in the eye. "Three days ago."
"Three—" He looked at her with skeptical disbelief. "And you didn't tell me?" She had been giving overtly independent, I-can-deal-with-anything signals lately, but failing to inform him of her new injury was blatant disregard of departmental regulations. Grissom suppressed a shudder at how boss-like he sounded, instead concentrating on his irritation with Sara.
"It wasn't important," she defended.
He frowned but bit back a sarcastic reply as he moistened a cotton swab. Clean the wound, apply new bandages, and then kill her.
When he reached for her foot she caught his hand to stop him, quickly adjusting her fingers to touch the cotton swab instead of him. "It's fine." There it was, the uncomfortable vibe they had grown so accustomed to. "I can do it."
He nodded and stood up. "We're going to talk about this later."
"Yeah, I figured that." She started cleaning the blood away, wincing a little at the cool water's contact. He straightened and walked to the door. "Grissom?" He turned. "Thanks for helping me in here." She offered a small smile, then turned back to her foot with the set mouth of concentration.
- - - - - - - - -
The rest of the shift flew by. He saw Sara once more, only in passing, and both were too distracted with new cases to consider stopping to talk.
Paperwork was piling up again. It was more in-depth than the usual signature-only stuff too. Grissom wondered vaguely if his last years with the department would be without any cases; nothing but paperwork and meetings until he finally surrendered and retired.
As if sensing his need for a break, Sara appeared in his doorway, knocking even though the door was open.
"I know I said we needed to talk, Sara, but it has to wait. I've managed to get way behind on paperwork. Again."
"Actually, I just came to drop this off." She set a Starbucks cup on his desk. "Nick did a coffee run. Everyone figured that with piles like these you'd be irritable."
"So you're the only one willing to face me?"
"Pretty much, yeah. Besides, my case is the only one finished. It seemed fair."
He smiled his thanks before reluctantly reaching for the next file. Sara made no move to leave. Grissom looked up, waiting. "Was there something else?"
"Well, actually, I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast." Her grin was stronger now. "Since I left you in the parking lot last time it only seems fair."
"I'm too busy to stop now."
The grin faltered. "Oh, well, yeah, I know. I mean, I figured as much. I meant whenever. My treat." He made the attempt before, she reassured herself. That has to put the boundaries a little more in focus.
"Can you give me an hour?" That snapped her from her thoughts. He didn't seem to think the question was unexpected. He merely watched with expectant eyes, waiting for her reply.
"Sure." Her grin was broad, completely authentic. "It'll give me time to go home and change. City lock-up isn't the cleanest of places." She hurried out, and it took a moment for Grissom to realize that she was leaving before he could change his mind or she started to ramble.
Blame it on the paperwork or the busy day he was wrapping up, but it didn't occur to Grissom that breakfast was anything more than a chance to talk about work. He was reading and writing so hurriedly his only thoughts on the topic were, "Forty-five minutes until I need to meet with Sara." and "Half an hour until I need to meet with Sara."
Finally, though, he glanced at his watch and thought, "Only five minutes until Sara gets here." His hand froze halfway to the dwindling pile.
Sara. Oh, crap.
"Ready for a break?" He looked up, still processing his minor epiphany. She looked freshly showered and her clothes were different than before. Deep blue looks good on her, he randomly thought. "Gris?"
"Yeah." How could he not have realized earlier? The purpose of the meal was completely undefined, but he reached for his jacket nonetheless, no idea of what trouble he was probably getting himself into.
"I know I'm early, but Greg keeps apologizing. I had to get out of there." She stood aside as he walked past and fell in step with him. "I know you have to come back. Why don't we take separate cars?"
"Sure."
"Meet you at the Desert Star?" It was the diner they usually chose for team breakfasts. Sara figured that they could use every bit of comfort possible.
Grissom's drive to the diner was a quiet one. He kept the radio off and the windows rolled up to guarantee complete concentration. He was having breakfast with Sara, just Sara, and after all the events of late he didn't want to place her in another awkward position.
Before, when they were just starting out as colleagues, there was no need for walls, and he missed that. And so he decided against a game plan. No strategy. He would simply treat the situation with the care of a butterfly ready to be framed. The layered irony was not lost on him.
She was at a corner booth big enough to seat six and Grissom silently thanked her for the breathing space. Almost as soon as he sat a waitress appeared to get their orders, recognizing them as regulars.
Once the waitress left they chatted about an upcoming lecture that Sara was schedule to attend. She was looking forward to the experience but, as always, wishing she didn't have to miss work because of it. Grissom enjoyed the relaxed conversation but wondered when Sara would get around to whatever topic was on her mind.
As it happened, though, Sara didn't seem interested in personal topics. They discussed cases, the journal he had mentioned in the parking lot, even the upcoming softball game against day shift. By the time their plates were cleared away the two were engaged in a cheerful debate of computer simulations vs. test dummies.
The check arrived and she snatched it from his reaching hand. "My treat, remember?" She pulled a twenty from her pocket and put it on top of the bill. "Besides, I'll bet those race roaches of yours are spoiled. Gotta save your money for the divas, Grissom." The waitress came to collect and Sara smile up at her. The smile remained when she looked back at Grissom. "This was fun."
"I needed a break," he admitted. "The walls were beginning to close in."
"I don't know how you do it. Sometimes just the dailies for a case are enough to make me cross-eyed." She sipped the last of her coffee and reached for her jacket. "Ready?"
"Not the right question," he grumbled.
She smirked. "Fair enough. But those papers won't sign and initial themselves. Be a team player, Gris."
She followed him outside and stopped when they arrived at his car. Hers was parked a little further down. "So," she half-sighed. "Work for you and bed for me. Thanks for coming out; I know you're swamped." She shrugged. "It was nice, though. We haven't done the breakfast thing for a while." Her eyes didn't quite meet his own.
"Maybe next time you can explain how you hurt your foot." She had no problem looking at him now. Grissom wondered if it was her injury or the hint of another meal together.
"...It was a roller coaster," she admitted.
"I wasn't aware they could bite."
His attempt at humor didn't brighten her face. "You ride them when you need to. Warrick said you took him on one, once." Her eyes sought his, trying to make him understand. "I figured that if it worked for you, maybe it would work for me. It seemed like the kind of thing that we would have in common."
"Is there something I can do?"
"No. It's nothing, really." She was using that word so often. "I just... I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about the warehouse and I was seeing his face everywhere and I just needed to fix it."
Grissom ignored the tight feeling in his chest. "Did it work?"
"I never got the chance to find out." She flashed a self-deprecating grin. "I tripped going up the steps to buy a ticket. Cut my foot back open and decided that a doctor made more sense at the moment."
Well, that explained her determination to drive everywhere lately. She was trying to cover up the fact that she shouldn't even be on her feet.
"Sara, if you need to talk—"
"I'm fine," she insisted, smiling. That was another word he kept hearing from her. Except, he was certain that she was. Hiding something like this wasn't her most brilliant move, but she was handling her attack in her own way.
"I don't want the others to know."
"You kept an injury from me, Sara. You're not in a position to be making demands."
"I can get Greg to stay quiet." Grissom doubted anything could keep Greg quiet, but he kept that opinion to himself. "Everyone's been great but I don't want more subtle attempts to tiptoe around me." She took a step closer. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't think I could handle work. It's just a cut. And I'll be more careful."
"Alright," he conceded with a nod. "If you say you're okay to work, then I'm going to take your word for it. And if you can keep Greg calm then more power to you." She laughed as she walked away.
He pulled up behind her in the line of cars waiting to cross traffic. He could see her mouth moving as she sang along with the radio. Grissom thought of her habit of singing in the lab and smiled at the quirk. Breakfast had left him feeling good.
She drove off, waving goodbye before turning at the next intersection, leaving him in the midst of morning rush hour. At least he wouldn't be seeing his desk again for a while.
Waiting for the light to turn green, he thought back to the meal they had just shared. Grissom hadn't realized just how much he missed their time together. And Sara had handled things like a pro, never letting the conversation become too personal or uncomfortable. Their talk was simple and controlled. She hadn't shown a desire for anything more. Another sign of her growing independence.
Another sign of her detachment from him.
He frowned. He suddenly felt tired. She hadn't made an effort and that was a good thing. It bothered him that he didn't feel convinced. Choices had been made and there was nothing else to be done.
And what if she had pressed him during breakfast? What could he possibly say that would make things better, or at least sound different than his usual attempt to maintain order in the face of her requests.
He tried to imagine the conversation in his head. "It's not you, it's me. Literally. When the thought of risking what inadvertently became my entire life causes a panic attack, caution is understandable. And since inaction is so much easier...well, there you go. But if it helps, I could only ever picture myself with you."
Grissom sighed. He was good at logic. He knew the timing would never be right. He also knew that even though they were going about things the same as always, the atmosphere just felt different. She was prepared to work past that. He... Well, he didn't know what the hell he was doing anymore.
Annoyance grew to anger. Grissom was angry with himself, for still wanting what would never happen. One day, at this rate, he would slip and she would know everything. And then he wouldn't even have the friendship they had just started to repair. He didn't want to lose her.
She wasn't vital. He wouldn't let it get that far. But she kept the air circulating in his world.