Feasibility Study
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT

"I've Got Your Number – Part 3"

July 26, 2005 (Day 95)
Lunar Lounge
5:18 a.m.

When Sara returned to the crime scene at Lady Heather's, she couldn't have felt more comfortable about her relationship with Grissom.

Unfortunately, being a private person, Sara couldn't have felt more uncomfortable about her relationship with Brass and Greg. Not only did they know Grissom frolicked with the dominatrix at the salacious pleasure palace, on top of that they heard her words and saw her get emotional with Lady Heather. Though all of that was bad enough, it wasn't the source of her greatest discomfort. She feared they would now think the lifestyle was a part of her life. After the previous cases at Lady Heather's she heard the jokes Catherine made, she knew Nick's thorough disgust of the place. Now she wondered would she and Grissom be part of those jokes…that disgust?

Although she attempted to fake it, Brass knew Sara was dying on the inside. She couldn't make eye contact and she used the phrases, I'm fine, it's fine and we're fine dozens of times within a half hour. So he decided there was only one way Greg, Sara and him could get beyond the awkwardness. The kind of awkwardness one feels when too much personal information is acquired. They needed to go out together, get hammered and do a little bonding.

So, the traumatized three returned to the lab just before four, and Sara and Greg punched out as instructed. Brass was confident Catherine and Warrick could easily handle what was left of the slow Tuesday shift and since he was the boss and feeling a little powerful, he could do whatever he wanted.

They took a taxi to a place of Jim's choice…the Lunar Lounge. A horribly tacky way off the strip bar with a retro astronaut theme…cheesy Styrofoam planets hung from the ceiling and glow in the dark stars were stuck to the walls. The staff wore cheap space-themed outfits and tossed astronaut lingo around while going about their business. The place was popular with local lushes over-sixty, which made Sara and Greg wonder how Jim knew about the place and why he liked going there.

Huddled in a u-shaped booth for over an hour slamming drinks, they were quickly reaching the saturation point when they could talk freely.

"Jim." Sara picked up her beer. "Are you ever going to tell us how you know this place exists?"

"I found it by accident." Resting his arm on the back of the booth, he lovingly looked at the planet Uranus dangling above him. "I liked all this space crap when I was a kid so it was visually appealing and no one knew me which was personally appealing. If the Jetsons took crack this is where they'd come to buy it."

"Who are the Jetsons?" Greg curiously asked.

"Shut up, Sanders," Brass sneered. "You're making me feel old. That's another reason I come here, I'm always the youngest guy in the place."

"Do you pick up chicks here?" Asked Greg who was the drunkest of the three, although Sara was quickly closing the gap. "'Cause I'm into the Mrs. Robinson thing but dude, seriously…"

"No, I don't pick up chicks here. I come here for the ambiance." Brass raised his glass of scotch. "Besides, I don't pick up chicks anywhere, Greggy. They hit on me. I'm a babe magnet. The notches on my bed post would astound you."

Sara choked on her Amstel Light. "I thought we came here to erase some bad visuals, not create more."

"Another round of shots, Commander!" Jim shouted to the geriatric bartender wearing a faux Apollo 11 space suit.

A few minutes later the bartender dropped off three shot glasses and cheered, "Blast off!"

Having done this four times already, Brass, Sara and Greg each grabbed a glass and enthusiastically replied, "To the moon!"

When they slammed them down, Brass announced, "okay it's time."

"Okay." Sara started laughing. "Normally I wouldn't think this is remotely humorous but sitting in a grungy bar filled with plastic planets and doing shots, I'm dealing."

Jim made the announcement. "Tonight we learned several things. First and foremost we learned that Sara Sidle, when incensed, can give a smack down like no one else can."

"The Sara-Sidle-Smackdown was awesome!" Greg lifted his beer in her honor. "You were intense. The black clothes helped too. Actually you and Lady Heather both had that, I'm not taking any crap kind of look. And because I'm intoxicated from drinking a lot of liquor very quickly on anempty stomach, I'll say this…in hindsight, it's a shame it didn't get a little physical…wrestling and tearing each other's clothes off would have been a nice touch."

Brass gaped at the boy. "What color is the sky in your world, Greg?"

Sara once again choked on her beer. "Yeah, Greg, that helps me feel more comfortable, considering you've been referring to me as your sister for the past two weeks. No wonder you were drooling at the dominion. You're a sick pup."

"Sorry." He groveled. "If it makes you feel any better, I won't remember I said that tomorrow. So can you forgive me now because if you forgive me tomorrow I won't remember what I did wrong and it won't mean anything? Also, I definitely don't want to sleep with Lady Heather anymore because now that I know Grissom slept with her it would be like sleeping with my dad's sloppy seconds and that squicks me out big."

"Shut up." Brass smacked Greg upside the head. "Since Greg tossed it out though…let's deal with it, Sara. We know, that you know, that we know, that Grissom slept with Lady Heather in her pleasure dome. There, it's out there and really it's no big deal. It's not like you and Grissom were together at the time. Realistically, who the hell hasn't woken up next to someone and wondered how the hell did this happen?"

Greg nodded. "Been there."

Sara concurred. "Done that."

Of course Greg was intrigued. "When did you do that, Sara? It wasn't anyone at the lab, was it? It wasn't that guy who worked in DNA days for a while, was it? Because if you chose that DNA dog over me…"

"No!" She snorted. "In college."

Brass grinned. "See…we're fine. We're laughing."

"We are." Sara slurred. "It's not going to be awkward." Then she panicked. "Unless of course you guys make it awkward, because you already give me a lot of crap about Grissom…not that I mind the jokes about me, because it makes me feel like part of the family, but I don't think I can handle jokes about her."

"Not a problem. Dominatrix jokes are off-limits." Brass threw his arm around Greg in a semi-chokehold. "You're never going to joke about this with her, are you Greggy?"

"No sir." He replied while struggling for a breath.

"See…nothing to worry about."

"There is one more thing." Sara felt compelled to clarify the burning thing on her mind. "You guys know Grissom's not into…and I'm not into…I mean you don't think we're running around the house with masks, whips and chains, do you?"

Greg reminded Brass. "She was real adamant about not letting us see the bedroom when we were there for brunch."

"Ugh!" Sara dropped her head in her hands. "You guys already thought we were freaks before this and now…"

"Fear not." Brass kindly assured her. "We know you're normal freaks."

Greg nodded. "Absolutely."

"Really?" Finally she relaxed. "Thanks guys." Smiling, she did feel much better. "You know what's funny? I can't spend five minutes with her without losing it, but when Grissom and I went to San Francisco we met up with my ex-boyfriend and his wife. I made Grissom have drinks with them because I wanted to prove I was in a great relationship and so over the ex-bastard."

"What?" Brass gawked at her. "You never make a guy have drinks with a guy who has intimate knowledge of your woman." He rolled his eyes. "Grissom did that for you?"

"Yeah."

Brass chortled, "My god, you really have him whipped."

Greg, desperately trying not to laugh, shook uncontrollably.

"I thought you said, no dominatrix jokes!" Sara punched him in the shoulder. "You just broke your own rule!"

Brass casually replied, "I guess that makes me naughty."

Finally Greg lost control and collapsed in a fit of laughter in the booth.

"Sara Sidle! It is you!" Roxie Delacroix, Sara's former neighbor, sauntered over wearing a purple leather jumpsuit, puffing on a Kools and clutching a tumbler of gin. "And Jim…long time no see, baby."

"Hey, Roxie." Brass clinked his glass to hers.

"You two know each other?" Sara grinned.

Clutching the table, Greg pulled himself up. "Oh!" He shrieked when he saw the flamboyant ex-hooker. "What spaceship did you fly in on?"

"Why?" Blowing smoke in the boy's face she growled. "You want to blast off with me?"

Brass and Sara clung to each other as they laughed. Finally Sara whispered, "If Greg sleeps with her I'll feel much better about Grissom and Lady Heather."

Leaving the flummoxed boy alone, Roxie turned to Sara. "Tell me…how is Mr. Grissom because I miss seeing him around the apartment. He needs to come spend a little time on my couch again." Grissom had a lengthy discussion about Mark Twain's works with Roxie when Sara was re-decorating her kitchen. "I miss that man."

"Here we go again." Greg rolled his eyes. "Grissom slept with her too?"

"Ha!" Roxie riotously laughed. "He wishes." Pointing to a man across the room, Roxie announced. "I'm afraid I have to go kids. The night is young and my space stud awaits. Nice seeing ya."

Checking the time, Brass said, "This place shuts down at six, so how about we grab a taxi and get the hell out of here."

"Okay dokie." Sara attempted to stand but promptly fell back into the booth giggling uncontrollably. "I really can't hold my liquor anymore."

The guys laughed at her floundering.

"Seriously!" Gasping for air, she made a second attempt to right herself. "When I was in San Francisco with Grissom I got so drunk I did a strip tease in our limo and before I knew it I made five hundred bucks!" Then she proudly added. "Well…a chunk of the cash was for services rendered."

Brass and Greg stood staring at her.

"Oh god!" She clutched the table with one hand and her spinning head with the other. "Did I just say that out loud!"

"Oh yeah," Greg confirmed while looking at Sara in a whole new light. "I uh…don't think you have to worry about us giving you crap about Lady Heather."

Brass grabbed Sara's hand and yanked her out of the booth. "Come on, Boom-Boom, let's get you home."

"I was kidding!" She groveled. "You know I was kidding, right!"

Sidle-Grissom House
8:17 a.m.

Sara's cell phone ringing on the living room coffee table eventually caught Brass's attention. "Okay okay." From his position on the couch and without opening his eyes, he pawed for the source of the annoying noise. When he finally had the phone in his hand, he answered with a bark. "What!"

"Sorry wrong number."

"Wait." Jim thought he recognized the voice on the end of the line. "Gil?"

"Jim?"

"Yeah." Opening his eyes he remembered where he was and whose phone it was.

"Why are you answering Sara's phone?" He grumbled. "Another practical joke?"

"No." Trying to wake up, Brass vigorously rubbed his face. "I'm answering it because Sara's asleep in the bedroom and Sanders is passed out in the bathroom so I'm the only capable one in the house."

"Excuse me?"

"Relax." He enjoyed the panic in his pal's voice especially after cleaning up the Lady Heather debacle. "We didn't have a three-way if that's what you're thinking."

"Thanks for the reassurance, but actually the thought never entered my mind." There was a pause and then he asked. "But what exactly is going on?"

"See if you can figure it out. Here's your clue." Slowly he sat up. "If you owned a sports car, then I wouldn't be sleeping off a bender on your couch because of what happened in the field last night."

"You're not as good at this as Sanders." Grissom huffed. "I need a little more."

"How about this." Brass threw his feet up on the coffee table. "Where's the last place you'd ever send Sara to process a case? It starts with D and rhymes with opinion?"

"Please tell me you're joking."

"No can do." He heard angsty breathing through the phone. "I didn't know she knew. If I did, I never would have taken her there. She still doesn't know that I knew before she knew. Oh and Sanders was there too, which was unfortunate for so many reasons, but mainly because Sara got to watch him playing your part…the panting puppy nipping at Lady Heather's boots."

"Is Sara okay? Because the last time they met, it didn't go very well. She was hell bent on making Sara uncomfortable."

Brass chuckled at the rising anxiety in Grissom's voice. "Yeah, I think it went a little worse this time. When I walked in the room, Lady Heather had just finished giving Sara the blow by blow of how you spent your time there." He let him suffer in silence for a minute and then said, "But Sara put the lady in her place, so there's nothing to worry about."

"Really?" Surprise dominated his voice. "What did she do?"

"Got in her face." He laughed. "I don't remember exactly what she said but here's the gist in my own words…I don't care if you had him twice in every corner of the room. He's mine now and I know he's not going anywhere, so back off, bitch." Brass fondly recalled the moment. "If you don't believe me, just ask Sanders. He got a real rise out of watching the confrontation. Not that I blame him, because chicks getting territorial is right below chicks getting it on…but I digress."

"I should have handled this with Lady Heather before it got this far."

"Really?" Brass was thoroughly amused by the response. "Considering how well you confront personal issues in a timely manner, it shocks me that you didn't. Cough cough…hospital in Tahoe. Anyway, you don't have to worry, because Sara handled it for you. That's one special woman you've got there." He felt obligated to give him his monthly reminder. "You're one lucky SOB. You know you don't deserve her, right?"

"Yes, but it's always good to hear it from you every month."

"My pleasure." Standing up he walked over to the kitchen.

"So if everything is fine, why are you all drunk? And why are you and Greg at my house?"

"Well…" Brass opened the fridge and surveyed the situation. "Sara was a little embarrassed that we witnessed the confrontation and became privy to your twisted sex life. To remedy the situation, I suggested we get plastered. You know, so she could relax and be harassed about the incident until she could joke about it and it was no longer uncomfortable."

"Did it work?" He asked optimistically.

"Definitely." Brass continued to forage. "Oh and in other news, Greg assured Sara he no longer wants to sleep with Lady Heather because it would be like having Daddy's sloppy seconds. Which would also mean he's stopped lusting after Sara."

"Can you see me cringing through the phone?"

"No, but I sense it." Brass grabbed a carton of OJ. "Where would I find a drinking glass in your kitchen? I need to jump start my blood sugar."

"Cabinet above the sink, right hand side."

"Got it." Turning around he took the glass and the OJ to the island, where he noticed a variety of books. "Well now…" He smirked. "I think I just found out another one of your secrets."

"Great. What?"

"I found some reading material in the kitchen." While opening the OJ he checked out the titles, every one of them contained the words conception, pregnancy or baby.

"Imagine that? Books in my house. We have a library, Jim."

"A library huh? Well, I must be staring at part of the Biology section, specifically, the pregnancy section." While pouring a glass of juice, the realization hit him and his tone suddenly turned serious. "Must have made the attack in the desert even more terrifying for her. Now I know why you reacted so strongly even when I told you she was going to be fine." Sadly he said, "I realize she wouldn't have been drinking today if she was still pregnant. I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Jim, I appreciate your concern, but she wasn't pregnant."

"Oh." Relieved, his assumption was incorrect, Brass returned to prying. "So did the near-death experience in the desert jump start her biological clock? Because she's got a lot of books here and it looks like she's been studying." Still buzzing from the binge, Brass realized he was a littler slower on the uptake than normal. "Oh…unless she has all this stuff out because you're out of town and you don't know about this. In which case, I feel like an ass."

"I know she's looking into it." He said stoically.

While polishing off his juice, he assessed Grissom's statement. "That sounded less than enthusiastic and rather one-sided. You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

"How surprising." Brass grabbed the OJ and headed back to the fridge. "I'm gonna tell you something and for once, I'm not yanking your chain."

Opening the fridge, he returned the juice, and then leaned against the door. "You know my history with Ellie. As bad as it's been, it's been worth it and I'm not even her biological father. What I'm saying is…being a father can be wonderful, it can be a nightmare and it can be a lot of things in between. For what's its worth, I think you'd be an excellent father and certainly a hell of a lot better at it than I've ever been or could be."

As expected, Brass didn't get a response from Grissom. "Okay, I'm hanging up now, because we both know you're not going to comment on what I just said, and I've got to pee like a racehorse. Enjoy hanging with the bug freaks. Bye."

12:27 p.m.

Freshly showered and dressed in a pair of grey lounge pants and a white tank shirt, Sara headed for the kitchen. Desperate to down some Advil, she needed to eat something to coat her stomach.

Upon reaching the fridge she saw a note taped on the door. After pulling it off, she brushed the hair out of her bloodshot eyes and proceeded to read it.

Hey Boom Boom (do you even remember why I'm calling you that? If not, ask Greg, because I'm sure it's permanently burned in his brain),

I thought you should know the following:

Spoke with the bug man this morning (he called looking for phone sex, but you were asleep and I wasn't interested). Instead, I filled him in on the details of our adventure at the Dominion. He was very concerned about you (shocking). I told him about the Sara-Sidle-Smackdown and how you told the dominatrix you really don't give a rat's ass whose ass Grissom had in the past, because it's all about the future now. Of course, I reminded the man he doesn't deserve you, (as I promised I would do at least once a month, every month, for the rest of his life as punishment for leaving you behind in Tahoe).

Speaking of the future, I noticed your pile of baby books in the kitchen and mentioned it to him while on the phone. He didn't want to talk about it (shocking) so I felt compelled to give him my two cents (shocking) which I hope (I'm actually being sincere here) helps your cause, because the world could use another generation of Sara Sidle. As far as another generation of Grissom, I'm not sure the world is ready, but I guess it's a package deal, huh?

Lastly, I thought you should be aware that Greg passed out on your bathroom floor, and I believe that is vomit on his clothes. It might be in his hair too, but who the hell knows, because his hair is always messed up. Good luck with him. Think of it as good mommy practice but don't let Greg know that's what you're doing because he may get Oedipal (is that how you spell that?).

Your biggest fan

Sara's whole face was spread into a smile by the time she was done reading the note. Family, she realized, doesn't have to be biological.

Glancing over at the island, she saw her spread of baby books. What did Brass tell Grissom, she wondered.

Checking the clock, she realized it was after Grissom's lunch break so she couldn't call. She'd have to wait for him.

When she looked up, she saw Greg walking toward her like a zombie. "Hey, Boom Boom."

"Okay, what's with the Boom Boom thing?" She laughingly asked. "And do you realize you have puke on your clothes?" Apparently, Greg was playing the part of the family embarrassment.

"Is that what smells?" He ran his fingers through his hair, which was standing up on the left and complementing the rug print etched in his cheek. "Mind if I grab a shower?" He started unbuttoning his crusty shirt.

She rolled her eyes. "Only the master shower works, which means I'm going to have to let you in my bedroom."

"Cool." He grinned. "I'll get to see where you keep the whips and the masks."

Ignoring his attempt at humor, she walked by him. "Follow me, puke boy." Sighing, she led him down the hall. "I suppose you want something to change into, huh?"

"Yours or Grissom's clothes?"

"Which would freak you out less?"

"Uh…I'm not really sure."

Laughing, she replied, "Me either."

When they reached the bedroom door, she paused. "Remember…no snooping."

"What would I find?" He wiggled his brows.

"When I catch you? My boot print on your ass from kicking you to the curb." Then she realized he'd probably like that. "Let's go."

When she opened the door, Greg stepped inside. "Well, this is a total disappointment. It's just a nicely decorated normal bedroom."

"Sorry to disappoint you." Smiling, she crossed the room, walked into the bath suite, and flicked on the lights. "I'll grab a t-shirt for you and leave it on the bed." Opening the linen closet, she snatched a couple of towels and tossed them on the counter. "Remember, we live in a desert, so don't waste water."

"That's code for get out of my bedroom as soon as possible." Removing his shirt, he laughed. "Would you mind throwing this shirt away?"

"Gladly. I've always hated this shirt." Using two fingers to hold it, she headed out of the room.

Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center
1:58 p.m. MST/12:58 p.m. PST

Finished with his presentation, Grissom headed for the lobby to call Sara. After the conversation with Brass this morning, he couldn't wait to talk with her. Certain she would be home recovering, he called the house phone instead of her cell.

"Still concerned?" Sara answered the phone with verve.

It was a relief to hear perkiness in her voice. "Jim told me I shouldn't be. Should I? I'm sorry about what happened, Sara."

"No, you shouldn't be concerned or sorry. Really, it's so insignificant I don't want to waste any of what little break time you have talking about it. How did your presentation go?"

Relaxing in an overstuffed arm chair, he breathed a sigh of relief. "It went great."

"I just remembered, I never asked you…how was the blowfly pie?"

"It blew." When he heard her laughter, he knew things were really okay. "Where are you?"

"The garage."

"What are you doing in there?"

"Believe it or not, I'm throwing away a grocery bag containing Greg's vomit-crusted shirt."

It wasn't exactly a pleasantry he was hoping to hear during the conversation. "And what is Greg wearing?"

Her laughter rang through the phone. "Are you sure those guys in Walgreens didn't give you ideas about Greg?"

He wished he could see her smile. "I meant now that Greg's shirt is in our trash."

"Well…you're going to hate this but, right now he's in our shower and I had to give him one of your t-shirts to wear."

Teasing, he said, "I've only been gone for two days and you're replacing me with a younger, stranger man?"

"Impossible. You're irreplaceable."

Considering the horrible night she had, he found her words even more meaningful. "I can't wait to see you tomorrow night."

"Luckily, I have the night off." She playfully reminded him. "And in case you were wondering, now I'm in the living room lying down on the couch, wearing lounge pants and a tight tank shirt."

Noticing a crowd gathering in the area, he stood up and headed outside. "Make sure you thank your boss for giving you the night off."

"Don't worry, I plan on showing him my gratitude all…night…long."

Her voice had a sexy rasp he found irresistible and now he was pretty certain she was still a little drunk. Since he was feeling a little lonely he gladly played along. "I'm sure your boss will be very appreciative."

"I'm thinking of wearing something special for the occasion," She purred, "because he's a special guy."

"I bet he'd like that." Suddenly he was thankful the cool breeze outside was counteracting the heat she was projecting.

In a pouty voice, she announced, "But I'm so frustrated."

Glancing over his shoulder he made sure he was alone. "Why are you frustrated?"

"I can't decide between two pieces of naughty lingerie. Since you're a man, you probably have an idea what the boss would like to see me wear. Not that I'll have it on for very long," she giggled wildly. "You see the boss has a hard time controlling himself around me when I'm wearing lingerie, or red dresses, or nothing at all. But back to my question…should I go for the lasciviously lacy La Perla or the sinfully sheer…

Disappointed she stopped talking, he asked, "Sara, can you hear me?"

"Yeah, but…unfortunately Greg heard me. So right now I have to go die of embarrassment."

"And I need to take a walk around the block again." He chuckled into the phone. "I'll call you on my next break. Bye, Honey."

"Hope the walk helps. Bye."

Next Episode: I've Got Your Number – Part 4

Teaser: Timing is everything