One day you're sitting down with the team at breakfast. As is the normal now, Nick leaves early, giving some excuse.
Catherine, Warrick and Greg exchange glances. Brass looks up from his conversation with Grissom to see Nick's back going out the door. He looks at his watch.
"I'd better get going to," he says.
Grissom looks at his watch too.
"Yeah, me too," he adds.
They leave money on the table for their meals, and leave together.
Catherine, Warrick and Greg turn their eyes back to you.
"What?" you ask defensively.
"Sara," Catherine says, "What are you playing at?"
Now you're confused. "What do you mean?" you say.
Her voice is sharp. "I think you know what I'm talking about," she says.
"Yeah," Warrick says, "What's going on with you and Nick?"
"Nothing!" you exclaim, "It's what he's done to me!"
"But what did you do to start it?" Greg asks. "I know Nick," he says, "and this isn't like him at all. He's just a ghost of who he was."
"I didn't do anything, he started it!" you say angrily, realising too late how childish you sound. "Besides," you add, "It's none of your business." You pack up your things, drop some money on the table, and storm out of the diner.
You come to work that evening and hunt out Nick as soon as you get there. You find him in the staff room, drinking coffee.
"What you do you think you're doing, telling the others about everything?" you ask him.
He looks up in surprise.
"Why have you got the others to back you up? You're an adult, you can stand up for yourself!" you say spitefully.
"What are you talking about?" he asks, standing up to face you.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" you say, getting angrier, "They were asking me this morning what I'd done to you. What I'd done to you?" you ask, "It's not what I've done to you, it's what you've done to me!"
"I didn't do anything," he says, acting confused.
"Really?" you challenge him. "Have you blocked out that morning when you tried to kiss me, and I refused? Have you blocked out the morning when you asked me why I refused you, and me not telling you why?"
"Sara," he pleads, "please, calm down."
You shake your head. "Trying to ignore the question?" you ask nastily.
"No, but Sara…" he argues.
"Nick," you exclaim. "Why did you tell them? It's none of their business!"
He looks at me sadly. "I didn't say anything to anyone Sara," he whispers.
You blink. You should have realised that, but you let the anger get the better of you. You see everyone standing outside the staffroom, their mouths open. They see you looking at them, and they all hurry back to work.
Now everyone's avoiding you, instead of just Nick. You're defiant, and still look at everyone in the eye, until they hang their heads or look away. It's nice not being pestered all the time and knowing that wherever you go it'll be quiet, because everyone will leave if you come in. But after a while, it starts to get a bit lonely. You can't bear to admit it at first; you're too full of pride. You start wanting someone to talk to, not about anything serious, just everyday events. You know you're not in the wrong, but for the others to accept you again, you'll have to say that you were, and your pride won't let you do that.
One morning you're staring at a sheet, just a plain white cotton bed sheet, trying to look for anything out of the ordinary.You take off your gloves and rub your eyes. Suddenly you remember it's Wednesday. Wednesday means team breakfast. You look around. Everyone's left already-and nobody's told you to hurry up, that you'll be late again. You pack your stuff up and walk to the diner. When you get there you see them all through the window sitting at a table, laughing, and enjoying themselves. Nick looks the best you've seen him in a while. He looks… well… normal. You go in, and don't bother to order. You're not hungry. You walk up to the table where they're sitting. They look up.
"Oh, hey Sara," Warrick says. "I thought someone reminded you."
You shake your head, and wait for someone to budge along, to make room for you. But no-one does. You sigh, and bring over a chair to squeeze at one end.
"You got any food?" Catherine asks.
"Uh uh," you say, "I'm not hungry."
"Don't get hungry and ask for any of mine later then," she replies curtly, and returns to her converstion with Nick
You lean back into your chair. The talk is less passionate now that you've arrived, less exciting. No one's laughing, no one's having fun. Least of all you. You try to join in some conversations, but no one really responds to you. You sigh, and lean back into your chair. As soon as you think it's polite to do so, you leave. No one will have noticed, you think bitterly to yourself. And if they did, they'll be the happier for it.
You scuff your feet as you trudge your way back to your car. They didn't remind you to come to the team breakfast, whereas a few months ago they were teasing you about being late. They didn't make room for you to sit down, whereas they used to squish up for you. Catherine didn't care you weren't eating, when a few months ago she would have been force-feeding you. After you got there the conversation lost its enthusiasm, but it used to get better after you arrived.
You get into your car and drive home.
The next week is the same. Everyone's still avoiding you. Some have taken to frowning you pass by them. This week you decide to be on time to the team breakfast. But apart from having a seat, everything is exactly the same. Stunted conversation. You leave early. You can't take it anymore.
Each night you go to work, and set about doing your job. You don't let the others distract you and you don't take many breaks- you want to avoid everyone as much as possible. The next Wednesday you see them leaving, laughing and smiling. You sigh, and lean back into your chair. It's got to change, you tell yourself. You can't be like this forever. Alienated by your colleagues, who used to be your friends. Your only friends. You can't be friendless forever. Even Grissom, the man who convinced you to move to Vegas, hasn't said anything. Man, you think, why did I even bother.
