Note: Gosh, doesn't time fly when you're forgetting to write?It's been over a year since I added anything to this story, and I assumed that when I went back and looked at it, I'd hate it and criticise my own writing style, but I actually rather enjoyed it, so I don't have to rewrite it! I shall, however, try and carry on and hope I haven't forgotten how to write. Thank you to those people who commented…13 months ago!
Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody but I'll borrow characters and make them dance to my own tune. I'll give them back afterwards though.
III
Once Nick had established that Catherine and Warrick were not going to confess, Catherine had resumed control of the night shift with her normal degree of vigour. It was a quiet night; Greg and Nick were out on an assault at the Bellagio while Warrick and the temporary boss had taken a B&E at a jewellery store.
"What do you reckon they're doing?" Warrick handed Catherine a bindle as she spoke. Focussed on the scene, the woman gave him a blank look for a moment as she dropped a piece of broken glass into the plastic bag.
"Who?" Warrick rolled his eyes at her and she blushed. "Oh." She crouched down to examine a crack in the floor, photographed it and used tweezers to work something free of the wood, holding it up to the light. Warrick joined her. "I should imagine they're either yellin' at each other, staring at each other in silence, or…" she smirked and Warrick widened his eyes at the implication. She waved the tweezers. "What do you make of this?"
III
"I packed my bag and in it I put…a sponge, some pants, gum, a gun, handcuffs, luminol, non-oxinol 9, soap, a toothbrush, a wallet, Forensics Monthly, racing roaches aaaand…a bottle of wine." Sara raised the empty bottle at Grissom and smirked before placing it carefully back in the basket. They sat facing each other at opposite ends of the hole, facing each other and giggling a lot more than usual. Sara was delighted; she'd never imagined Grissom to be the type that giggled when tipsy, and she found it adorable.
"I packed my bag and in it I put a sponge, some pants, a gun, some gum – "
"HA! I win!" Sara cut him off. Grissom looked baffled.
"What did I do wrong?"
"You got your gum and gun round the wrong way," she smirked again. "Not something you'd want to do at a scene… 'LVPD! Turn around and put your hands up or I'll spit gum on your shoes!'" Both normally serious criminalists dissolved into a fit of unseemly giggles, sliding down the wall onto the mattress. Gradually they joined hands and pulled each other back into a sitting position, coming face to face. Grissom reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his expression suddenly serious.
"I'm sorry…" Sad blue eyes stared into deep browns, and Sara reached up to cover his hand with her own as it cupped her cheek. "I've been…terrible to you lately." She nodded slightly, but her eyes questioned him. "I don't even know why! There was Hank, I guess, and…" Sara jerked away from him
"Hank was nothing! He was always nothing! You just…assumed! I even told you otherwise and you didn't believe me!" Her head dropped and she picked at the mattress. "Grissom…how can we ever be…anything, if you don't trust me?"
Grissom swallowed and sat back. He hadn't meant to hurt her, and he trusted her more than anybody he had ever known, except possibly his mother. Pondering this for a moment, he decided it would probably do both of them more good if he vocalised that. "Sara…my father walked out on my mother and me when I was five." Her head shot up and she squinted at him suspiciously in the candlelight. "At that age, you trust your parents absolutely, and to have one of them leave and never want to see you again is one of the worst betrayals you can suffer. Since then, other than my mother I never trusted anyone." A tear slipped down her cheek, and he shuffled clumsily forward to brush it away. "Until I met you."
III
"Well, that was easy." Greg climbed into the Tahoe and slammed the door as Nick got in the driver's side. "Why did they even bother calling us out?" Their assault case and been so cut and dried that there had been no need to actually do any work, and after half an hour at the Bellagio they were on their way back to the lab.
"Procedure I guess," the senior CSI sighed as he fastened his seatbelt. "The county expects that every CSI shall do his duty…"
"Or her," amended Greg seriously.
"Or her," Nick agreed. He put the car into gear and they drove off slowly. It really was a quiet night; not only was there a suspicious lack of crimes being reported but the streets were nearly empty. Nick half expected a gang of criminals to pop up from behind a fire hydrant yelling "Surprise!" and attempt to take himself and the younger CSI captive. He dismissed that thought with a wry grin and a shake of the head, and chose to ponder the bizarre disappearance of his two colleagues. "Hey, Greggo? Mind if we swing by Sara's on the way back to the lab, check I'm not making an ass of myelf?