Privacy by SLynn

Disclaimer: It's all mine, because yeah, this is what I'd do with my free time if I actually owned these characters.

Chapter 5: Call and Answer

Greg was up again before Sara that day. Even though he was off that night, he knew he was going in. His next session was tomorrow morning so he figured he'd just finish some things around the house, maybe unpack the second bedroom, have dinner with Sara before she went in, take a nap and then go in himself around two or three until it was time to go.

It had all started off well until he got another phone call.

"Greg Sanders," he said automatically into his cell.

He hung his head in disbelief. The guy wasn't quitting.

"Listen to me. Call public relations if you want a story. 555-0209."

He said no more, just shut the phone off. Abandoning what he had been doing at the time he headed to his computer. Flipping it on and waiting a few minutes for it to warm up, he opened up his folder on desktop and created a new word document. He labeled it the same way he had the last one, using the number equivalent of the month, date and year all ran together and started to write.

Writing had been Dr. Jennings suggestion. She thought he needed an additional release, something he could do in between therapy sessions. He'd tried longhand, but typing was faster. At first he hadn't even known what to write, but it came out naturally enough now. Sara knew he did it, knew exactly where he kept the files and the naming convention he used, but she'd never read any of it. Greg even said she could if she wanted, but she didn't. Just knowing what he was doing was enough for her.

Sara found him there, head leaning against the monitor, an hour later when she woke up.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He typically only sat down to write if something was wrong.

"It's nothing," he answered, saving the file and closing it. "What do you want for dinner?"

"I'm not that hungry," she answered. It was still early in the afternoon. Too soon for food.

"Well," he said following her out of the room, rubbing her shoulders as he did, "we can talk. We never talk."

Sara smiled at him, sitting down on the couch. Greg sat right next to her, leaning down to rest his head on the back of what he still considered her itchy sofa.

"Okay, talk."

"How was work?"

"You were there Greg."

"That's right," he said with a smile, "Okay, how was your nap?"

"Also there."

"You're not making this easy," he said as he pulled her feet into his lap, playing with her toes.

"Hey, it was your idea," she said, laughing a little at the contact. Laying back now on the couch.

"I'm just trying to promote intimacy of the mind."

"Rubbing my legs like that? No, your not."

Greg smirked at her. Caught. Before he could act on it, Sara's phone came to life across the room.

"It always does that," Greg whined at her.

Sara laughed and got up to get it.

"Sidle," she answered.

Greg grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

"I'm sorry, who is this?" she asked into it now.

Greg was interested now despite not wanting to eavesdrop.

"No," she said sharply. "No. If you call this number again I'm reporting it to the police."

Sara hung up. Greg was already standing, looking at her intently. For a minute neither of them spoke.

"Who was it?" he finally asked, not that he needed too.

She considered telling him it was a crank call or just a wrong number, but didn't. They'd come too far to start lying to each other now.

"Some reporter with the Vegas Sun. He was asking me questions about Dr. Fenton and that."

"Mitch Anderson," Greg offered.

"Yeah," she nodded. "You too?"

"Once last night, once today. He's the guy at the scenes. I don't know what to do about it."

Sara wasn't sure either.

"Well," she began. "We'll start by changing our numbers. If I see Brass tonight I'll mention it, see if…"

"No, don't do that. He's just doing…"

"His job doesn't include harassment. You've told him no. Now I have too."

Greg nodded. He didn't want Brass involved. Brass involved meant police involved. But it didn't take a genius to see that Sara was going to win this one too.

Greg went in like he planned that night, arriving around three. He was glad because it gave him some time alone with the evidence; everyone was usually out on assignment by then.

He stopped in and asked Jacqui how it had gone. She'd made progress, lots of it, they found three sets of prints not belonging to anyone at the party or who had regular access to the house. They were searching now for a hit, but so far no luck.

Greg thanked and moved on to the DNA lab only to find Amy asleep at the microscope.

"Chen," he said loudly causing her to jump.

"That's not funny," she said rubbing her head on the spot she bumped it.

"You need to tell Nicky to have some control and let you sleep during the day. At least a little."

"I only wish," was Amy's response. "It's horrible. My sister showed up early. She talked non-stop all day. I didn't get any sleep."

"Yeah, that's tough," Greg said evenly, "How's the results coming?"

Amy glared at him for a moment over his lack of sincerity.

"I was just getting to that," she said turning to look back under the scope. "Finally got something to work with. Why are you in tonight anyways? Aren't you off?"

"Always, but that's beside the point. Had nothing to do. I'm tired of unpacking and this case needed solving."

"Greg Sanders to the rescue," she mumbled still looking at the sample, "swooping in to save the day. Just how much coffee have you had tonight?" She could only guess by his hyper-alertness.

"I'll never tell. Can I look?"

"No. Give me a second."

Greg bounced on his feet. He knew she had something he just wanted to see it for himself.

"Okay," she said stepping back with a small smile on her face.

Greg looked for himself.

"What is that?" he asked out loud as he continued to stare.

"Come on Greg," Amy smirked, "you haven't been out of the lab that long."

"Yeah," he mumbled, "but I'm a chemist this looks organic."

"It's all organic."

Greg looked up from the scope finally, smiling now with her.

"Blowfish. Fugu right?" he asked.

"Tetrodotoxin," she answered, nodding her head.

"They didn't have sushi on the menu."

"Didn't have to be on the menu to get into their systems."

Greg smiled at her and picked up a white board pen.

"What?" she asked.

"Want to race?"

"What are you playing at Sanders?" she asked as he walked to the clear board across the room.

"I'm not playing," he answered as he drew an H and connected it with a line to an O, "I just think that I can draw the chemical model faster then you can."

"Well if you're going to cheat you can," she said taking up her pen and joining him at the board.

Both of them where to busy thinking it out and writing rapidly on the board to notice they now had company.

"Wow this is sad," Warrick said from the doorway.

Greg and Amy stopped laughing and writing. Greg had been trying to throw her off by randomly calling out elements while she wrote. Now they turned to him.

"I always wondered what you lab rats did when we all went out on assignment. I thought it would be more interesting."

"Blame caffeine boy," Amy said abandoning her project and returning to her desk.

"She's just mad because I won."

"You didn't label the positive or the negative," Amy pointed out before turning back to Warrick, "What do you got for me tonight?"

"Nothing yet, came to see how the Warner case looked."

"What do you think we were doing?" Greg asked with mock sarcasm.

"Screwing around," Warrick answered in a matching tone.

"No," Greg said pointing to the board, "Amy found the poison."

"Am I supposed to know what that is?" he asked the two of them.

"Well, not Greg's obviously. His is drawn wrong. Mine is clearly tetrodotoxin a naturally occurring poison found in blowfish as well as some octopus. Extremely deadly. Can kill a grown man with less then a pin drop in twenty minutes."

Warrick smiled at her, obviously pleased.

"I'll pass the word on," he said before going.

Greg took another look at Amy. Her eyes were red and a little swollen.

"Why don't you go take a break?" he offered, "I'll watch the lab. Just catch some sleep where you can, come back in a few hours. No one will know."

"Are you kidding me?" she asked indignantly, "You can't even draw a readable chem model. I'm not leaving my lab in your hands."

"Oh, it's your lab now is it?" he asked, with equal mock indignation.

"Yes, it is," she said standing and trying, although in no way succeeding, to forcibly remove him from the space. "Now out."

"Seriously," he offered again, once he'd stopped laughing. "Amy you look tired."

"I know, but if I sleep now I'll never get up. I can fight through it. Just find me some work to do."

"Alright, I'll see you later."

Greg left the lab in a good mood. At least they had one answer. He took off to find Warrick again, ready once more to help on the case.