Sara slipped into her chair and gathered her hair into a straggly ponytail as she checked the clock. It was 7:00 P.M., which left an hour before her shift ended, but the case she and Sophie had worked had come to a predictable resolution half an hour before. Now, other than organizing things that didn't need to be organized, there was little for her to do until the two teams of men she'd sent out earlier arrived back at the lab.
She leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling and began, in what she hoped was a supervisory manner, to mentally sort through the night's cases. The robbery she'd taken Sophie on had been frustratingly simple; it turned out to have been perpetrated by a neighbor's teenage son. Sophie had enjoyed the successful solve, but Sara had been bored out of her mind, wishing that she'd been less selfless and had taken one of the more challenging cases she'd sent the other CSIs on. Sam, Will, and Walter were still out on their attempted rape case, and she'd heard over the scanner that Mark and Jack were just now on their way back to the lab after dealing with a homicide. Nothing for her to do, she thought again, at least until the rest of her team arrived to give her results from their cases.
The thought that had been circling in the back of her mind all night took advantage of this realization and zoomed its way to the front of her consciousness: Grissom's e-mail. As usual, she wasn't sure how to deal with what he'd told her; the feeling was perhaps even more intense tonight because this time, he'd put the ball in her court in a big way. Well, she decided, the first step in composing an answer was re-reading the question.
. . . but I can promise you that I've learned from the mistake, and next time I offend you (and we both know I will, eventually), I'll give it more thought and try to come up with a woman-friendly way to apologize . . .
She had to laugh when she read this part. How very . . . frank . . . that statement was, considering Grissom's usually aloof manner. The only times she'd ever heard him admit to being wrong or misguided had all been work situations, and here he was confessing that he was sure that he'd piss her off again sooner or later.
. . . I need to make this clear, though – I'm not saying that resolving things is a condition of our e-mailing; it makes me happy just to hear from you, even if you may be cursing at me the whole while. If you want to communicate simply as acquaintances, I'm willing to stay on that level. If you want to communicate as friends, I'm certainly willing to stick to that. If you'd like to, as you put it a few weeks ago, "see what happens" . . . well, then, you'll make me a happy man.
Yep, the ball wasn't just in her court; it was buried three feet deep in her court from the force of his serve. Even though she'd first read the e-mail almost twelve hours ago, she was still fighting the surprise that rose within her upon reading that Grissom had actually said that he'd be interested in a . . . thing . . . with her. The issue now was whether she was interested in one or not.
After years of struggling with her feelings for him, after all the effort she put into hiding them . . . after going so far as to pack up her life and move across the country to get him out of her mind . . . did she want to forget all of that, and try one more time?
She rested her head in her hands and rubbed her temples. Great, now she'd worked her brain into a knot again – time for the aspirin. Reaching for her leather bag, she began digging, only to realize after a few seconds that somehow, with everything that she had stuffed into the bag that morning, she hadn't packed anything that would relieve a headache. "Shit," she muttered, taking a deep breath and biting her lip angrily.
Great. Just great. She had a headache on her first day at this job, she had no drugs to make it feel better, and she still had to deal with Grissom. Was this something no one had told her about being a supervisor? Did headaches come with the territory, and the powers that be just didn't spread that information around?
A beep from the computer brought her mind back to what she had been about to do. She couldn't do anything about the headache or the lack of medicine, so she might as well write back to Grissom and get it over with.
From: Sara ssidle@hotmail.com
Date: Wednesday, August 6th, 2003 7:12 P.M.
To: grissomg@nevadaonline.com
Subject: (no subject)
Grissom,
Hi there. I'm not too sure what to say right now, considering what you wrote me this morning, because you know, this was my first day here and all, and it's been a little weird. So, hmm . . . I'm going to just tell you what's going on by me, and maybe by the time I finish that, I'll have figured out what I'm gonna say about what you asked me.
So, today. Well, before I tell you about today, let me give you a little background. Remember how I told you that the older guys were bullying the youngest CSI here? Well, so I went into work this morning all prepared to be Miss Discipline and make sure they knew that that was *not* acceptable. I walk into the break room – but they call it the Team Room (yep, in caps) here – and there's just this room full of lively people. Walter, the guy who gave me a tour earlier and Sophie, the new girl, I both knew already. But then there's three guys gathered around the conference table and I swear, for a minute I thought I was walking into work in at home because they sounded so much like Nick, Warrick, and Greg. But they're not of course, so then I get up in the front of the room (feeling like I'm giving a lecture or something) and introduce myself and all, and ask them to introduce themselves. So Walter goes first, nothing interesting there.
Then this great-looking guy named Sam Collins starts talking. Ok well actually, I don't really know if he's great-looking or not, because I stopped checking him out when I got to his hair. All I know is that he's got hair that's way better than mine, and much longer. But he starts talking, and he's maybe a little stiff, but he's friendly and tells me what I wanted to know. I get the feeling that he's a smart guy, but he doesn't really know what to do with it, so instead he kinda goofs off.
And then there was Will Hennessy, who I swear to god is Greg's cosmic twin. The guy's got blue, spiky hair and he needs a big dose of Ritalin. He's also kinda rude, but in an "Oh my god, did I just offend you?" sort of way. You know, the kind of guy where you want to put him in a headlock and give him a great, big noogie. He started asking me things like how could I afford to live in Montclair, and so on, but then another guy, Mark Sellers, spoke up and set him straight.
Ok, let me just tell you how cool this guy Mark is. He's got a degree in Criminal Justice from UPenn and he's a biker on his days off. He definitely has the coolest tattoo ever; it's a scale on his wrist with a double meaning – justice and his zodiac sign. But he seems like maybe the smartest of the bunch, and definitely the most well-mannered (not that it matters much, but it always helps to have someone who knows not to ask a lady her weight!). And, strangely enough considering his biker persona, he's definitely the disciplinarian for the other four guys.
Then there's my favorite. This guy kinda reminds me of you, but I'll get to that in a minute. So his name is Jack DiLuca (or, "technically, Giacomo DiLuca," as he told me) and he's got to be about 6'5" and weigh two hundred pounds or more, but he's the most soft-spoken guy I've ever met, next to you. When I came into the room, he was hiding on a couch in the corner, looking like he'd like to disappear behind Sophie, who's, like, 5 feet tall and 100 pounds. Funny sight, let me tell you!
Ok, well, that wasn't to say I think you're the type to hide in the corner; you're more likely to be the guy in the front of the room watching everything that goes on. But he's the same as you in that he doesn't seem to see a lot of need to speak most of the time. And that even though he's quiet and a little bit antisocial, he's the one who tries to protect Sophie when the other guys pick on her. She seems to be really comfortable with him, too – maybe they'll end up dating (Hmm, is that allowed here? I need to check the regulationss!).
They'd be a cute couple, and you know . . . I really think I see a lot of me in Sophie. Not the pushover-ness (when has anyone ever known me to be a pushover?), but the desire to do things right and well, and to make sure everyone knows that she's just as capable and intelligent as they are. Sounds silly, but I think of myself as taking her "under my wing."
So as a step to that, I took Sophie on the world's easiest B&E tonight. You know, the usual . . . neighbor saw something through the window, broke in . . .
Ok, wait. Now I'm just dawdling. If I let myself keep going you'll get a 16-page e-mail that doesn't even touch on your questions! So, let me take a deep breath like you did before you started . . . there.
Ok, the problem is that I don't have a whole lot to say. I mean, I do, but it's not going to take as many words as my description of today's work, so don't think I'm hiding things from you in this answer or anything like that, because I'm not. I'm just, uh . . . Oh, never mind. Just read it.
Ok so you asked what level I want to communicate with you on. Here's the deal from my end: It's really cool that you finally managed to admit that you want to try something between us, and I'm proud of you for spitting out. The thing is, I'm not too sure what I want now that I'm here and have thought about it.
Don't get me wrong; I still have the crush/whatever you call it on you. It's just that I moved out here, found a new job, and put all this effort into breaking the hold you had (have?) over me, and to tell you the truth it feels good. I'm proud of myself – I have my own life here, new friends, a (questionably) better job . . . and what feels the best is that my emotions are *mine* now. My mood doesn't depend on how someone treats me at work every day, and that's a very good thing. Basically, I'm beginning to act like a normal person again. Granted, a geeky normal person, but a normal person all the same.
So, uh . . . I don't think I'm ready to go for what's behind Door Number 3 yet. I want to establish an existence here, and see what that brings with it, and I agree with you that me coming home right now would be pointless because you'd blow me off. So I'm cool with being just friends for now, but I'm also not going to complain if we maybe get into some discussions that are a little deeper than friends might dig. Hey, maybe I'll get you trained to start acting more like a human to everyone, and not just to me (because face it, you really are starting to sound human, as improbable as it might sound - and don't pretend you're being this nice to the whole team), huh?
Ok so . . . my decision is to stick with communicating as friends – but friends who actually like and trust each other. You show me your secrets, and I'll show you mine (if you ask nicely, that is!), how's that?
Sara