Grissom was going over requisition forms when he heard the knock.
Sara was leaning against his doorframe too casually, smiling her 'I'm really totally calm about this' smile.
Uh-oh.
"Hey! Do you have a minute?"
"Of course. Take a seat." She shut the office door behind her.
She sauntered in, still faking confidence. He wondered if she knew how transparent she was at times like these. He wondered what bombshell she was planning on dropping this time.
"I got the results back on the arson case. Accelerant was propane."
"Did you run a check on recent purchases by the shop owner?"
"Greg's doing that now. I, uh, need to talk to my supervisor. That's you. So I need to talk to you." Grissom's heart was racing now.
He waited.
Sara seemed to be searching for words. Finally, she took a deep breath and plunged right to the point, as he had known she would.
"I'm pregnant."
Grissom went numb.
A burning pain began in his gut, as though she had punched him in the stomach.
What?
Sara was still talking, he realized, but Grissom couldn't hear a word. Her announcement had deafened him quite as effectively as otosclerosis ever had.
His mind just kept repeating her words over and over.
Sara was pregnant. It wasn't his.
For the first time in several weeks, he foundhimself remembering the afternoon he had seen them together.
It had been weeks since Grissom had stopped at this diner. It was a dive, of course, but it was one of his favorites. The omelettes were incredible. He took a seat at the counter and waited for the waitress to notice him.
Suddenly he heard her. Sara. Laughing out loud. He hadn't heard her laugh like that in years, but he would recognize it anywhere. It was the most beautiful sound in the world. He turned to see where she was sitting.
She had her back to him, but it was definitely her. She was gesturing and talking to a man Grissom did not recognize. He felt his heart grow cold. The man was young, probably Sara's age. Grissom found himself measuring him as if he were a suspect. Height: probably about 6'2", but he was seated so that could be off. Caucasian. Brown and blue. Clean-shaven. Small scar through his right eyebrow. Solid build, probably lifted weights, but puffy, as though he had recently gained some weight. Good looking, but not movie star quality. No rings.
The waitress came then to take his order. He told her something, and it must have made sense because she moved away without comment.
Maybe it wasn't Sara after all. Debbie Marlin had looked like her. This could be another Debbie. Not Sara. Sara wouldn't be out with another man, because… because he was finally ready for her. He'd stood up for her to Ecklie, put his job on the line. He was just waiting until the right moment to make his move.
She was supposed to be waiting too. She always waited, no matter what noises she made about moving on.
Their order was up. The waitress brought it to them. The same waitress. She smiled at them as she lowered the plates. Sara turned her head towards her, and his fantasy was crushed. This was no look-alike. It was Sara Sidle.
Sara had a side of bacon. Sara was a vegetarian. Without saying a word, she neatly slid the bacon onto the man's plate. At the same time, he handed her his pickle. It was perfectly choreographed, perfectly habitual. She passed him the ketchup, and they still had not spoken.
This was not a first date. They had a routine, a perfect little domestic routine for diners. They didn't even need to discuss it.
The man got up. He asked a question at the counter, and the waitress handed him a salt shaker. Grissom was barely aware of it, because Sara had turned to the side again to watch him. She didn't even see Grissom sitting 10 feet away. He saw her, though, and he saw the look in her eyes. Fascinated by his every move. Like a bird hypnotized by a snake. Like a girl in love.
The man returned to the table, and leaned across to kiss her on the cheek. He said something, and Sara laughed out loud again. It was the most terrible sound in the world.
He couldn't watch anymore. He was boiling with rage and betrayal. He turned to the counter to cancel his order, and realized that it had arrived. His hand was gripping his knife. He hadn't noticed.
Grissom threw down the knife and some money, and left the restaurant. He hadn't been back.
In the moment, in his office, Sara's mouth was still moving. He didn't watch her lips. He was trying to picture Sara with a child, and finding it all too easy. He could see her singing to it, bouncing it a little, and handing it to him. To Grissom, not this… imposter.
"Grissom?"
He blinked. Sara was looking at him nervously. Obviously, she expected some reply. His throat was dry.
"Did you hear what I said?"
He nodded.
She sighed, and spoke again, obviously repeating herself. "I'm telling you this now because I need to make a couple of changes to the way I work. I need to be really careful with chemicals from now on, and as my supervisor I need you to help me with that.
"I don't want to tell anyone else yet. It's still early, and it's bad luck to tell people too soon."
She waited. She looked at him, searching for something in his expression. He didn't know if she'd found it, but she pushed her chair back and prepared to leave.
Say something. You have to say something. Stop staring at her like an idiot.
Sara paused in the doorway, and then she was gone.
"Congratulations," he said.