Title: Process of Elimination
Rating: PG-13 (overly cautious)
Pairings: Sara/Grissom
Spoilers: Set between the end of S4 and beginning of S5, so no direct references to cases in S5, but any character development (i.e. Nesting Dolls) is fair game for innuendo.
Requested: For the GeekFiction Fic-a-thon:
Any rating GSR, possibly CWR, humor
Three things I would love to see in my fic:
1. Sara actually laughing (tittering, giggle, belly laugh, you got it)
2. Happy ending (I like to think it is)
3. Pre-Vegas flashbacks (check)
Three things I do NOT want in my fic:
1. Sofia (Annoying chick with blond hair and ambiguous accent? Not here.)
2. Grissom with anyone but Sara (There's other members on the night shift?)
3. Character deaths (Here they are, kings of the world, immortals…umm)
Disclaimer: Clearly these characters aren't mine, otherwise they would pronounce "Nevada" correctly.
Summary: "As they each went to their separate rooms, she had never been so aware of distance as that night when only two doors and an act of bravery kept them apart."
Ecklie looked like he was constipated. Which meant that he was irritated about something but wasn't allowed to express his ire. Or maybe the man just needed more fiber. Either way, Grissom reflected, it did not bode well that Ecklie's constipated face was making a beeline for him.
"Gil." Ecklie nodded curtly, gesturing towards Grissom's office. "A moment, please."
Grissom's concern went up a notch – Ecklie was being courteous? Had someone died? Or been hurt? His heart succumbed to a moment of arrhythmia before his brain managed to re-exert control. One of his team would have called him if something had gone wrong. So he inclined his head and tapped his fingers on his clipboard but otherwise restrained his curiosity as he led Ecklie into his office.
His office always managed to act like a second skin, soothing over the hurts of the job and wrapping him in science and truth. His trepidations eased as he slid into his chair, the clipboard becoming the latest layer in the archeological dig that was his desk. Ecklie cleared his throat and regarded the atriums and books, his hands lightly clasped behind his back.
Constipation would account for the way he walks, Grissom mused. Be that as it may, Ecklie's stalling wasn't telling Grissom anything other than whatever brought Ecklie here, it didn't involve the well being of any of his CSIs.
"Is there something I can do for you Conrad, or are you just here for the view?" Grissom opened his arms to encompass the office and himself, smirking slightly. When Ecklie merely turned and sat down, Grissom began to wonder if the problem wasn't with Ecklie himself. Could he be sick?, came the sudden thought. Close on its heels followed, Does he want to confide in me?
Grissom squirmed in his seat at the thought of Ecklie coming to talk to him. Doesn't the state health plan cover counselors for all staff? Just as Grissom was about to start running down a list of diseases Ecklie might have, he was saved by a moue of distaste that crossed Ecklie's face before he opened his mouth to speak.
"It would appear that our Governor has chosen to recognize our lab for its achievements. Being second only to the FBI is no small thing after all. Not –" Ecklie waited a beat, "that we couldn't stand some improvement. I'd like to think that my role here as both a shift supervisor and administrator has helped the lab achieve this standing…."
Grissom held in a derisive snort. Barely. He must've made some noise because Ecklie raised an eyebrow and said "Bless you" before continuing.
"My personal opinions aside…"
Hah!
"…the Governor has decided that two CSIs should be in Carson City for the Fourth of July Celebrations where he intends to present a plaque honoring the lab."
Ecklie paused and his face scrunched up further, his eyes rolling before grinding out the words that set Grissom's mind spinning. "They want you and Sidle. The county will cover transportation, accommodations, and meals – provided with proper receipts and forms of course."
"Of course," Grissom murmured. "But what, no per diem?" It was a feeble joke at best, a pathetic waste of the English language at worst. But then, there's not an appropriate quote for having the county set you up with a woman; let alone the woman of your dreams that you ignore while awake.
Ecklie apparently decided that Grissom's effort fell squarely under the waste category and didn't bother to spare any words addressing it.
"I've an itinerary for you, provided by the Governor's office. I'll leave it to you to arrange the necessary travel details and to notify CSI Sidle. I also expect that you'll arrange matters here so I won't have to come in while you're gone to straighten things out. Right?" His odorous task complete, Ecklie stood up abruptly and strode to the doorway, pausing a moment to say, "I'd get a move on Gil. You've only got a week to get everything together."
Ecklie left and Grissom sighed. A week? All the hotels would be booked up – not to mention everything that needed done at the lab and getting his and Sara's shifts covered. Despite all that, there was an undeniable quiver of excitement suffusing his body. A weekend alone with Sara – a time when he could be concerned and maybe begin to repair their tattered friendship. If it wasn't already too late.
He'd never hated words until that phrase entered his life. He had used words to get his way, he recalled snatches of conversations – "Sara I have so many unanswered whys" and "I don't know what to do about this" resounding as if he had just uttered the words. It would appear that "too" and "late" are taking revenge. He rolled his eyes at his foolish wordplay and saw Sara coming in for her shift.
"Sara," he called out, not really expecting her to hear him. He had just begun to stand up when her head swiveled around at the sound of his voice. Offering a tentative smile, she reached the entrance to Grissom's office and leant up against the doorframe.
"What's up Grissom?"
"Come in for a minute, take a seat." He took off his glasses and nibbled on them absently, wondering what her reaction would be. He would let her response guide his plans, he resolved. She looked braced to hear the worst and he realized she thought this had to do with the drinking incident. The word "incident" was too innocuous to hold all the things he felt at receiving that phone call: anger, hurt, worry, responsibility – as her supervisor and deep within him the belief that he drove her to it – despair, resolve.
How quickly his anger had fallen away from him as he saw her hunched shoulders, her bowed head. His resolve had only lasted long enough to take her clammy hand in his, although he had not let it go until he walked her to her door. Now all he had was worry and responsibility, shouldering aside the hurt and despair as selfish. As so many of his actions had been lately. Maybe this time his resolve would last longer than clasping hands.
Sara cleared her throat gently and brushed a segment of chestnut hair away from her eyes and behind her ear. He spared a moment more to wonder at the kind of man who'd rather lose himself in thoughts of a woman rather than the reality.
"Sorry, I was just trying to coordinate this weekend."
Sara gave him a blank look before asking, "Big Fourth of July plans? Having a bar-b-que at your house?" An eyebrow rose up in mocking challenge and he was glad to see it; she'd been somber for so long.
"Actually, we have plans. That is, if you didn't already have something in mind for the weekend."
Sara's mouth dropped open and shut quickly with an audible click of her teeth. I'm not explaining this very well. Grissom put his glasses back on and said, "Let me try this again. The Governor of Nevada is recognizing the lab's achievements and has chosen us as the best representatives to go to Carson City this weekend. Apparently, we're receiving a plaque on the lab's behalf. So, did you?"
Sara blinked. "Did I what?"
"Have plans for this weekend?"
"Oh, no. I can go."
"Great, great. I'll get things settled for us then."
