DISCLAIMER – Not mine. Belong to Anthony Zuiker, et al, CBS and Alliance Atlantis.
A/N – Next chapter will be the last. Followed by two epilogues. One Greg/Sara the other Grissom/Sara. Hey, can't help myself. I'm a die hard Grissom/Sara shipper.
Chapter 12
The weeks following her revelation, Greg had kept a hawks eye on her. Making sure that anyone, especially Grissom didn't come down on her for any reason. He was sure that Sara would have been livid had she known he was running interference on everything, but he couldn't resist. He'd never had anything that bad happen to him, but he saw the fallout on a nearly daily basis, even if it occurred more than 20 years after the fact.
For her part, Sara was trying desperately to figure out what her EXACT feelings for Greg were. Yes, she was attracted to him. Once you got past the hair, and the out there personality quirks, he was an incredibly decent, kind and generous person. But there was still the small problem of Gil Grissom and the feelings that she had that simply wouldn't go away.
A chance to sort out her feelings came a few days later.
Having just finished a shower, she'd thrown on her robe and run from the bathroom still wet. Noting the caller from the caller ID, she answered, "Hey Greg. Yes I'm fine. No I haven't been drinking today, yes I had a nice day off."
"Cool!"
She smiled, realising she could actually hear him bouncing in his interminably hyperactive way. "Not really Greggo. I don't know if you've had a chance to put your head out of the lab yet, but it's only 8.30 in the morning and the temps already up over 95. Pretty sure we're gonna hit 115 today."
The smile in his voice was obvious as he said, "Yeah, I know it's gonna be a stinker. Which is why I'm inviting you to come with me to Lake Mead. No jet-ski's, no bikini's – unless of course, you insist…"
Sara uttered a small laugh. "Hey Greg, you know what sleep is right? I mean I know I can't really talk, being the queen of insomnia and all, but you gotta rest sometime."
"I know, and I do. I'll have you know I had a VERY restful 5 hours yesterday before work and it's MY shift off tonight, so I've got plenty of time. Besides, you said you're rested, so, I'll pick you up in half an hour. Wear whatever wet-wear you're comfortable with."
Sara huffed out a breath. Damn he could be persistent. "Okay, but only coz it's gonna be too hot for words today. And I'm not that fond of air-conditioning."
"Cool. Don't forget, anything you're comfortable with. Though I admit that I'm REALLY hoping it'll be a very scant bikini."
"Dream on Greggo. IF, and this is a REALLY, REALLY BIG IF you ever saw me in 'wet wear' that didn't consist of board-shorts and a t-shirt, it would be a VERY conservative ONE-PIECE black bathing suit, over which I can guarantee would still be a t-shirt."
"Aww Sara, you can really get a guys heart beating," he said laughing. "Anyway, I'll be there in half an hour."
Before she was able to protest, there was a click on the other end. Sighing in frustration, but smiling none the less, Sara went to the bedroom.
Opening her wardrobe, she sorted through her clothes, picking out a fifteen year old pair of cut offs and a tye dye t-shirt that she hadn't worn in just as long.
She actually decided to wear a pair of black bathers with small shell patterns underneath. Mostly she wanted to see Greg's reaction when she answered the door wearing the shorts and t-shirt and letting him believe that was going to be it.
Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. Knowing who it was, Sara slipped into her bathrobe before answering the door.
Greg's wide grin dropped as he saw the bathrobe. "Uh, Sara, when I said anything you were comfortable, with, I was still kinda hoping you'd at least try for shorts and a tank-top or something."
Smiling Sara grabbed his head and started combing through his hair.
He pulled back, confused. "What're you doin'?"
Taking off her robe, to reveal the tight shorts and short shirt, she laughed, "Sanders, just making sure you don't have 'gullible' stamped somewhere on your head."
TBC