A/N: First off, CSI doesn't belong to me. Secondly, I apologize for the long delay. This wasn't betaed, and I don't know how I feel about this chapter. I had the basic plot idea in mind...I just...don't know. If it sucks, that's my fault. Otherwise, read, review, enjoy.
She awoke to darkness. Stifling darkness that hindered her every thought and her every movement. The anger…no, the rage…that she had felt before hadn't diminished at all. She was pissed, and she could almost see the flow of her rage, waves of crimson flowing back and forth in a steady flow. What the fuck was wrong with her? After years of knowing him, of loving him, she should have been able to sense…to know…without a doubt that he would have known.
Her temples began to pulse, echoing the angered beats of her heart. She walked to the kitchen, and grabbed a beer. No need adding more alcohol to her system than was necessary. The sarcasm in her mind was caustic, and acidic, and it cut through any decent thought she may have had towards Grissom. She grimaced. Mentally saying the name left a bad taste on her mind, her tongue, her lips.
She took time into her appearance today. She wore the slightest touch of make-up. Light dabs of blush and shadow to make her look…more appealing. Except today, she wasn't appealing to her boss. Today, she was appealing to her co-worker. There had always been something between them. To her, it felt like deadened static. But he loved her. And that was important. He loved her, and she could grow to love him. But she needed that emotional support. Besides, she thought, he wouldn't be hard to love anyway.
She heads to work relatively early. She doesn't want to be there to catch all the people. Yet she knows there'll still be people there. People who have pulled days and nights to work the one case they're so bent on cracking. She's one of those people. She was. And maybe someday she will be again.
He's in the lab, as usual. There's random equipment scattered, and he has rock music playing in the background. She places her hands on her hips and watches him, amused. He's dancing while testing things, swaying his hips as he places things in the centrifuge. He turns around, sensing the eyes on him. "What can I do for you?"
"Do you have my results?" He shuffles around, before grabbing a sheaf of papers. He hands them to her. She analyzes the graphs. It's a pretense, and she hopes that he doesn't realize this. She's always loved pretenses.
"Sara?" She turns to him, and mumbles. "Want to get breakfast later? Like after shift or something?" He's so nervous and she thinks it's cute. She grins, and accepts his offer. Greg just smiles. He knew…just knew…that one day, the law of large numbers would be on his side. He wasn't a statistician or anything, but at the moment, he was thanking the person who created the law of large numbers.
She tries to avoid him all day. It doesn't really work, as he's her superior, but she keeps up the effort. He assigns her to cases with him, as if somehow working on a case together will repair their relationship. Nothing like a rotting corpse to bring two people together. There's nothing left for him in the shell that he left of her. You can't burn a city, and return to expect a welcome. She says nothing that isn't relevant to the case, and when she must speak to him, it's in a curt, professional tone. She wants him to know that he fucked it up. Badly.
After the case is wrapped up, she's in the lab, and she's talking to Greg. Her demeanor with him is friendlier, nicer, more flirtatious. He says he's excited for later. She agrees with him. He has to finish testing something, so he goes back to work. She leaves. She turns, and he's standing there. She smiles at him, and starts walking. She hopes she's broken his heart as many times as he's broken hers.
She returns home, and she finds her whiskey bottle. She pours the whiskey into a mug she used to reserve for tea. She drinks it quickly, and relishes the burn. There is a grim smile on her face. She's wounded him, and she feels some satisfaction. He deserves it, the fucking bastard. Her mind has been on a rampage lately, and she's mainly been vindictive towards him.
She finds the plant he gave her, and she walks into her kitchen. She pulls the plant from its pot, and shakes the dirt off into a trashcan. She takes the plant, and sets it on her range. She turns the knob and hears the clicking. Blue flame lights beneath the plant. It catches fire. She watches it burn. She watches each individual leaf turn black at the edges before folding in upon itself. She stands and observes. Now the plant's as dead as us. With careful precision, she scrapes all the plant's ashes into a plastic baggie. She tapes it shut. She grabs an index card and quickly scrawls on it. Thanks for the plant. She signs her name beneath it.
She heads into the shower, and turns the water on hot. It's Las Vegas, and there's no need to turn up the head, but she needs to. She's seeking to scald. She needs to feel the sizzle of her flesh, the tingling down to her toes that tells her that she's branded. She's branded a clean woman. All the ties she has will be burned off, and every lie he's ever told her will wash off. It'll melt off of her. And she's comforted by that thought. She needs to wash him off, burn him out of her thoughts.
She steps out of the shower, her skin a noticeable pink. She dresses quickly, and drinks a sip straight from the whiskey bottle before returning it to its rightful place. She meets Greg for breakfast, at the supposed best waffle house in the city, and they have fun. She laughs. At the end of it all, he kisses her.
Grissom returns to his office. There's too much paperwork to file, too many cases to solve. And his relationship with Sara, like his headache, isn't getting any better. As he sits at his desk, he notices a plastic bag. He reads the note, eyes scanning quickly and purposefully. He heaves a sigh, and places the bag in a drawer. He knows what he'll find if he analyzes it. And he can't help but feel that he ruined his only chance of happiness.