Author's Notes: Thanks for the feedback; I've really appreciated it;) Hope you're enjoying the story!
Giving Up
by Kristen Elizabeth
"Knock, knock."
Grissom jerked his head up from its resting place on his palm. For the past half hour he'd been staring at the same sentence on Doc Robbins' preliminary report concerning the Jane Doe from the desert, and he realized, as he was startled back to the real world, that he had yet to actually read it.
Without waiting for an invitation, Sophia slid into his office. "Got a minute?"
"Just," he replied, closing up the report. "I'm late for an autopsy."
"I promise not to keep you." She perched herself on the edge of his desk and crossed one long leg over the other. "You'll be happy to know that Greg did very well tonight. He's in the middle of mapping out the scene as we speak."
"Grunt work?"
Sophia smiled sweetly. "There's only one way to learn."
Grissom stood and began gathering up the papers spread out all around him. "As long as you remember what it felt like to be the lowest on the totem pole."
"I was never the lowest on the totem pole, Gil." She considered him for a second. "I somehow doubt you were either."
He shook his head. "I can't remember that far back."
Sophia waved her hand, dismissing the comment. "You talk as though you're old or something."
"Getting older every day." He dug his hands into the pockets of his dark blue jacket. "Was there something you needed, Sophia?"
"Not especially. I just like your office. It's so much more…personal than Conrad's."
"I didn't realize Ecklie was on a first name basis with anyone."
Sophia shrugged. "He's not a complete ogre." Grissom's eyebrow lifted. "All the time," she amended. "Aren't you on a first name basis with the rest of your team?"
"You know that we're not…"
"Not even Sara?"
He released a breath. "The naming of cats is a difficult matter." Sophia frowned. "T.S. Elliot."
"Perhaps. But I call you by your first name. And Sara calls Greg by his first name. Of course, they're dating, so it's understandable."
Grissom cleared his throat. "I don't pay attention to office gossip."
"But it's not gossip." Sophia watched him with a keen eye. "I confirmed it with Sara herself."
"Well…" He picked up his reports and gathered them against his chest like a shield. "Good for them."
Sophia slipped off the edge of the desk. "You're not surprised? I was. I thought the employee fraternization rules were fairly strict."
"They're professionals. And neither one of them is superior to the other." He started for the door. "It's not a problem as far as I'm concerned."
"So, it's only against policy for a supervisor to get romantically involved with anyone beneath him? Or her?" she asked. When he said nothing, Sophia smiled. "My luck, I suppose. A couple of months ago I could have asked you out."
Grissom stared at her for a few long seconds. "Go check on Greg, Sophia." With that, he left.
Sophia folded her arms across her linen suit. "Whatever you say, Gil."
Sara cursed herself all the way to the autopsy room. Her stubbornness would be her undoing. It was the reason she had left her pain pills at her apartment before coming in to work. She had been determined to work with a completely clear mind, but now she knew that pain could make her thoughts just as fuzzy as a drug could.
Her arm ached so badly that she had to bite her lip to distract herself from thinking about it. All she wanted to do was go home, knock herself out, and wake up when her left forearm was back in one piece. Unfortunately, before she could do that, she had a date with Doc Robbins at Jane Doe's autopsy.
She paused outside the metal doors to drape an apron over her neck and to collect herself. If she walked in looking like she felt, Grissom would pick up on it. And then it would be another week of sitting at home watching infomercials and soap operas. Truly hell on earth, and far worse than a few aches and pains. Sara sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly, counting to ten as she went. With her bravado mustered, she pushed open the door.
The scent of decaying flesh hit her like a shockwave, made all the more nauseating by the underlying smell of formaldehyde. She fought back her initial gag reflex and addressed the two men hunched over the body.
"Any ID yet?"
Both of them looked up at her, but only one of them acknowledged her for longer than that brief second. Grissom returned his attention to the body, but Doc Robbins gave her a half-smile of greeting and answered her question with a simple, "I'm afraid not. No tattoos, no scars. I've sent out x-rays of her teeth, but it could be awhile before we hear anything back. For now, she's just Jane."
Sara walked up to the exam table on which the rotting corpse lay in silent repose. "How did Jane die?"
"Bruising around her throat…"
Grissom cut him off. "Sara, why aren't you in scrubs?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Standard procedure for an autopsy, especially on a decomp. You've done this a hundred times, Sara." He fixed a hard look on her from over the rim of his glasses. "So, I repeat. Why aren't you in scrubs?"
Sara's face burned with equal parts of anger and shame. Being reprimanded was embarrassing enough, but to have a witness to her dressing down was excruciating. "I…I couldn't tie one on…with just one arm," she informed him through clenched teeth. "I put on an apron."
"An apron does nothing to stop contamination. Until you can follow proper procedures, you can stay out of the autopsy room."
"Gil, it's not necessary to…" the elderly ME started to defend her.
"No, it's fine." Sara lifted her chin. "I said that my injury wouldn't be a problem, and apparently it's become one. Grissom's obviously got this covered without me." She lifted the plastic apron from around her neck and flung it at her boss. "I have a pubic hair running through CODIS. Excuse me."
Doc Robbins sighed as Sara stalked out of the room. "That could have been avoided. The odds of contamination were quite slim."
Grissom balled up the apron and set it aside. "I wasn't willing to take the risk."
"Oh, I know." The older man adjusted his plastic face mask. "You've made that quite clear."
"Procedures are set out for a reason."
"I wasn't talking about…" He sighed again. "Never mind. Let's continue."
"By all means," Grissom shot back.
"The bruising around the neck would seem to indicate strangulation, but she didn't die from asphyxia. My best guess so far, she died of exposure." He paused. "The desert can be a cruel place. Whoever left her out there all alone knew that. Probably counted on it. Why commit murder directly when you can let the elements do it indirectly? Just leave her in the middle of nowhere and eventually the cold, the loneliness, the lack of human contact will do away with her, without any blood on the perpetrator's hands. More malicious, I think, than taking a gun to…"
Grissom ripped off his glasses. "If you want to say something to me, just say it."
"Why, Gil. Are you feeling guilty for something? All I'm doing is telling you what happened to our Jane Doe."
"Of course." Regaining his lost composure, he nodded. "Of course."
"Shift doesn't start for another nine hours," Warrick Brown muttered to himself, pausing at the door to the employee locker room. "And I'm here. I swear I used to have a life."
Being that it was nearly dawn, he was surprised that the room was deserted. As far as he could tell from his initial examination, no one from the graveyard shift was preparing to leave work, and for that, he was a bit disappointed. He almost never saw Sara or Greg anymore. In fact, it had taken a car accident to get them all together in the same room. Staff changes were one thing, but destroying friendships was something only Ecklie could do.
He opened his locker, shucked off his leather jacket and was about to hang it up in favor of the lab coat he'd need in order to work in the DNA lab when he heard a muffled sob from somewhere behind him. Frowning, Warrick glanced over his shoulder.
"Who's there?" He closed up his locker and walked around the bank of lockers towards the shower stalls. What he saw shocked him. And for Warrick who had seen it all twice, that was saying something. "Sara?"
She was tucked into the far corner of one stall, her body curled up as much as possible with her cast and sling. As he approached, she quickly wiped her face free of any moisture, but her bloodshot eyes gave her away. She'd been crying.
"What are you doing here?"
"Work," Warrick replied. "Are you okay, Sara?"
"I'm fine." She flashed him a forced smile. "It's just been…a long night."
"Must have been. If it had Sara Sidle crying in the locker room."
She swallowed, her smile fading. "Can we just forget about this? Please?"
He changed the subject without answering. "How are you doing? Healing okay? Your arm…"
"Is fine," Sara finished up. "Give me a couple more days, and it'll be like the accident never happened. And if I could prod my insurance company into action, things would be just great."
"Okay." After watching her struggle to get up, he held out his hand for her; she stared at it as though it might bite her at any moment. "Sara, for god's sake, let someone help you once."
Giving in, Sara reached up with her good arm and tentatively placed her hand in his. He guided her up until she was standing. "Thanks, Warrick."
"You're welcome. Now, you gonna tell me what's really got you upset?"
"Trust me. It's not worth going into. Suffice it to say, next time you go into the autopsy room, make sure you're wearing scrubs."
Warrick ran his hand over the top of his head. "Straight over."
"Don't worry about it." Sara started for her locker and he followed, stopping in front of his own. As he donned his coat, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. Halfway through the simple task of taking out her purse, she stopped. "Warrick…what would you say if I told you I had a date with Greg?"
"Greg?" He coughed to cover up the sudden urge to laugh. "Seriously? Greg? The dude who actually admitted to dressing up as a Power Ranger?"
"He said it was Halloween."
"He was a senior in college."
Sara's lips twisted into a rueful grin. "Yes, that Greg. What would you say?"
"The Sara I know wouldn't care what I had to say." Warrick paused. "But if she's asking for my advice, rather than my opinion…"
"I'm not! I'm just…"
He held up his hand. "Sara, c'mon. I've been here for the past five years. And unlike some people, I'm not blind."
A moment passed. "What's your advice?"
"Treat his heart like you'd want yours treated."
Sara threw him a sideways glance. "Wow. That was so…Hallmark of you."
"Hey, that gem comes straight from Grammy Brown." Warrick closed up his locker. "I've yet to find a piece of her advice that hasn't proven useful."
"I'm sure." She draped her bag across her good shoulder. "You don't think it's wrong somehow? Me going out with Greg?"
"I think it's more wrong for a beautiful woman to stay home on Saturday nights, eating take-out and flipping through catalogs."
Sara nodded curtly. "And if I see a beautiful woman doing that, I'll put a stop to it." Before he could come up with a retort, she reached out and touched his arm in a quick gesture of thanks. "I'm heading out. Should Catherine hear a word of this, I will deny everything. Just so you know."
"Got it," he called to her retreating back. "Hey, Sara." She turned at the door. "Whatever got to you, don't let it keep you down. You're tougher than that."
Dipping her head slightly, she left the locker room…and ran straight into Grissom.
Sara instinctively backed up against the door, shutting it with the force of her body. "Sorry." She took a breath. "I should have looked first."
"It's all right." Grissom noted her bag. "You're leaving? It's not six yet."
"Are you going to write me up for fifteen minutes?" Sara lifted her eyes to meet his blue ones, challenging him.
"Of course not." He sighed and rubbed his temple. "Sara, I know you're upset about earlier. I probably should have…"
"I found a hair on our vic's skirt," she blurted out. "Ran it through CODIS. One hit, an unknown from a desert dump job two years ago. It was Sophia's case."
"Good job. Now will you let me apolo…"
"So I'm thinking, it might be a good idea if you switched us around. I'll supervise Greg, and you can team up with Sophia. If it's a serial, she'll know the most about the first victim."
He stared at her. "You want to be taken off our case?"
"I'm sure Sophia won't mind the switch. She wasn't exactly thrilled about playing teacher to him."
"But you've got no problem with it yourself?" Grissom asked. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
Sara's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
"You are dating Greg. Aren't you?"
The question lingered long after he'd posed it. Sara searched Grissom's familiar face for any signs of emotion. Anger, jealousy, encouragement…there was nothing there. He was a blank slate. He could have been for it, it could have been against it. There was no way to know.
"Yes," she finally replied. "I am."
"Second chance at life?"
"Something like that."
He looked up at the ceiling for the briefest of moments. "Good luck. I hope it works out."
They stood still for another endless minute, as though neither one of them wanted to walk away first. After what seemed like a lifetime, Sara shook her head with weary acceptance. "Something ought to…right?" She pushed off the door and backed away from him. "I've got to be worth the risk to someone."
She half-hoped to hear his footsteps following her, but when Sara burst out of the lab into the new light of dawn, she was alone. She'd taken a cab to work, she realized immediately, and would need to call for another one to take her home. "Damnit!!"
"Sara!" Greg jogged out of the building just then like a savior in a blue lab coat. "Need a ride?"
She turned, fighting back hot tears. "Yeah. A ride and some breakfast to go with my Perocet."
He gave her his guileless grin. "Sure thing. Just let me grab my stuff. Don't go anywhere."
"I'm not," Sara whispered when he was gone. "That's sort of my problem."
To Be Continued