Title: Bitter Water
Author: frickangel
Summary: From the episode 'Gum Drops'; over a muffin and a cup of coffee, Greg reveals a little tragedy and a little secret to Sara. A tinge of Sandles.
A/N: Just wanted to write a one shot fic. Probably spoilers from 'Gum Drops'. I also humbly apologize for my lame attempt at general knowledge on sailing knots. I made that bit up. Also, this piece is un-beta-ed, meaning it's probably riddled with spelling errors and grammar mistakes. Whoever would like to apply as my permanent beta reader may do so through an email. –Insert Evil Laugh-.
Sorry.
Disclaimer: Wish upon wish that I own them, but alas… 'Tis not true.
-----
There was something odd about walking around the lab with no reason to.
No results from trace to be rushed, no prints running matches through AFIS, no DNA references…
No case.
Everyone else seemed to be pre-occupied with something or someone.
Sara jingled the small plastic container in her hands and scouted the area. Actually, searching for someone would be a more appropriate term and he was nowhere to be found.
Until now.
Quietly, she crept into the break room and spied him bending over a magazine. She could make out the words 'Ford', 'turbo' and 'wheels' from between his fingers as the rest of the page was blocked by what Sara realised was Greg's sleeping figure all over it.
Sitting herself down from across him, she pursed her lips and toyed around with the many possible plans of waking him up.
There was always the good old-fashioned scream-into-his-ear way. But old fashioned can also mean boring as well.
Finally, settling on her best idea, Sara pushed herself away from the table and began her task of operation 'wake-up-Greg'. For this recipe, all it needed was hot water, coffee beans, a percolator, and a CSI's desperate need for java.
Satisfied that every last drop of the roast was squeezed into the glass jug, Sara poured the brew into a Styrofoam cup, placed into on the table, and she waited.
Her lips gently met together, the lip-gloss slightly sticky and softly gluing together as she blew a small breath of wind out; slowly guiding the aroma towards her colleague's way.
Again, she waited.
Her long and silent observation of his dozing form had her wondering if the plan wasn't as effective as she thought it to be. And maybe, just maybe, that tossing the coffee over his head would've been a better choice.
But a hunter must wait for its prey and patience had always been a virtue. Though it was a virtue Sara had yet to master.
Folding her arms under her chin as she rested it on the table, she decided that tonight, she was going to tap into her patience and wait.
There was something about his hair that she found amusing. It wasn't how the blonde colour blended so well with the soft hazelnut brown that turned to the darkest jet-black just so smoothly at the roots. Nor was it how it was constantly changing and switching between spiky to flat or ruffled.
Neither was it how soft it is that she would be so tempted to run her fingers through it whenever she was leaning over his shoulders. It couldn't be how neat and well kept it was even in its disarray.
No.
It was how his hair seems to perfectly fit his smiling face, his voice that tittered between husky and velvet like. And how it was all so perfect with his infectious laugh, his humour, his jokes, his eyes, and the way he stumbled through words.
Perfect for only him.
Like the breaking of dawn, it happened almost so unexpectedly yet so gradual that it hits you before you're prepared.
"Was I asleep?" Greg sleepily arose from his slumber and blinked through squinted eyes at Sara.
Snorting at such an obvious answer, Sara found only the heart to be sarcastic in response, "No, sleeping beauty, aliens abducted you and made you think you fell asleep."
His eyelids drooped again, causing Sara to wonder if he had fallen asleep while sitting upright. "Greg?" she murmured. Her voice softened, hoping that if he had really gone back to la-la land, she wouldn't need to wake him up once more. Then again, it would be a hilarious shot to take of Greg Sanders.
"Joke later," his voice passed through his barely moving lips. "My brain hasn't caught up with my body."
She chuckled and pushed the cup closer.
He pried open an eye to inspect the offering. "Please tell me that's what I think it is?"
"Yep."
The magazine suddenly became non-existent as Greg shoved it one side while he reached out for his elixir and cradled it in his hands, all the while caressing the side of the white foam. "Thank you, Lord," he mumbled and partook of the drink.
Sara wrestled between being amused at his dramatic gratitude or to be overly concerned.
"What time is it?" Greg asked, interrupting Sara in her musings.
"Six."
"A.M.?"
She nodded.
Letting only one hand hold onto his precious brew, Greg wiped his face with his other free hand. "How's Cassie?"
Her mood fell sombre at the mention of the young girl. She had lost her family, everything she had grown up with, everything she had known and everything that she had loved. Officially, Cassie was labelled as an orphan. A term that was all too familiar with Sara. "Considering what she went through, she's doing well."
It was Greg's turn to nod this time as he stifled a yawn. "And why do I feel exhausted while you're so damned perky?"
"Because I'm a professional while you're just a rookie, rookie."
His face mirrored the opposite of Sara's smirking expression as he did a slight roll of his eyes and refocused his attention back to his drink. "It's not fair."
"What isn't?"
"Cassie," he muttered and turned the cup round and round on the table, making a soft rustling noise against it. "She wasn't the one who decided to have a private garden in the basement, she wasn't the one who spilled the beans to be cool in school, and she didn't even know what was going on."
She looked at him and searched. For a moment, Sara doubted Greg, and wondered if he was speaking of Cassie just to make conversation or did he really believe in the world's cruelty? "She's still alive."
"Then why does it feel like she has the short end of the stick instead while her family got the easy way out?"
Eyes locked on his own brown ones, Sara found the answer to her question and took comfort in it. "She's strong, Greg. That girl would never have taken the easy way out." There was something that Sara couldn't place her finger on. It was secret Greg held, that fuelled so much emotion of pain and hurt into his question and into his eyes.
Shaking his head and lifting the cup back to his lips, Sara managed to make out Greg's muffled words, "Then I hope something turns out right for her."
Her own world was too much like Cassie's that it was frightening. Sara knew what will happen to Cassie now. If no close relative was found, she was to be placed into the system, bouncing from home to another and trying to make out the puzzles of her own life.
But that was she and as strange as it may be, Sara was slowly following the track of Greg's words and realised that this conversation wasn't about Cassie or her family. It was about himself.
"Did something unfair happen to you?" Sara concluded that her question was just. There was no way anyone would have said the things he did unless one knew what it was to be treated undeservedly.
Greg held the cup where it was, still touching his lips and it left Sara to wonder if he was drinking it or merely stalling for time. When he did part from the container, she caught the flitting expression of reminiscent and of sadness. It took her completely by surprise, so used was she to his jokes, puns and even jabs at life and love that it did somewhat made her sterile to his less jovial side.
The Styrofoam held the centre of the table once more as Greg pulled the magazine towards him. Slowly, he ironed out the dog-ears of the pages using his fingers and pressing them in the opposite direction. There was reply from him and Sara knew she wasn't going to get any… unless.
"Greg?" She pulled herself closer to the table.
Closer to him.
"The bitter end." His voice small yet clear and strong. "My father used to take me sailing, thought me about knots and the winds." He paused again, only to smooth out the final crumpled edge of a page. "Did you know that when a knot is tied to close to the bitter end, it tends to slip and cause accidents? It only happens if the knot isn't secured properly. It happens often to too many proud sailors and they never make it back to shore. My father taught me that."
"He sounds like a great man." She matched her voice to his volume, for fear of breaking the gentle silence.
"He was a great man. And he was proud." Every single curled page was smooth yet Greg meticulously continued his task, "He never could take his own advice."
She pushed herself back into her chair and bit her lip. Her fingers brushed against the plastic object she had in her lap and it reminded her the reason why she was here. "I err… have something for you." Sara attempted to smile, but it was a very poor attempt at that.
The magazine was finally laid to rest underneath his cooling brew and the jovial Greg was back. "You talked Ecklie into giving me a raise?"
The sudden the change of mood flooded her with relief that freed her from threading across egg shells. "Butt kissing is your forte, Greg not mine."
He frowned and it made her laugh.
Placing the Tupperware on the table, she slid it across to him. "Sheriff Bracket's wife is really quite the baker. I think her baking times are at breakfast and tea." Sara couldn't help but chuckle..
Greg peeled off the top cover and breathed in the fresh muffin aroma. "Apple and cinnamon." He grinned and proceeded to pluck off the top raisins. "Thanks."
Smiling back, Sara played with the loose thread on her cardigan as she watched Greg stuff a chunk of baking goodness into his mouth. It's amazing what home made goods can do to a tragic past.
"Where's Nick?"
"With Cassie," she simply answered and shook her head when Greg offered her the remaining two untouched muffins.
"He's going to be there until she wakes up?"
"I suppose."
"Then shouldn't we keep these for him?" he motioned to the food.
For the second time she shook her head and left her cardigan well alone. "I'm sure Mrs. Brackett made a whole tray for him by now."
"Wait, if Nick's still there… why are you back so early?"
"I figured Nick needed to be alone with her. It was his faith that saved Cassie's life."
He chuckled and dusted crumbs from his fingers, "I'm just surprised it took longer than it did to find Cassie."
There was this cheeky glint of knowingness in his voice that Sara knew instantly. "You're telling me you believed she was alive all this while?"
Greg merely nodded.
"Why didn't you say something?" Sara was beginning to feel like an idiot for doubting Nick now, even more so after learning that Greg had believed him too. She wondered if Warrick had been on the same boat as Nick and Greg all this while. If he was, she was going to be a very, very unhappy person.
"Because Nick needs to do this on his own." He raised his arms up as if trying to tell her simply; 'Duh'.
She arched an eyebrow at him. "What?"
"Because I know how much he needed to find something that he can have hope in."
Remaining silent, Sara merely blinked once and left Greg to fill the silence for her. She was weary of being the one asking all the questions.
Behind her, the door clicked open revealing another tired eyed lab worker who Sara recognised but not name. He smiled at them, waved, and proceeded to retrieve a soda out of the fridge instead of bothering with pouring himself a cup of coffee. Sara watched with slight interest at his shuffling around and finally concluded with his exit.
Terence.
That was his name.
"When you go through something like Nick did, you start doubting the things you believed in, and the things you love." He shrugged and took another gulp down. Sara figured he was towards the end of the drink by now. "I guess, him believing in Cassie still being alive was his assurance that his job was worth every ordeal."
Drip and drip.
Sara frowned as she realised dear ol' Terence hadn't turned the tap tightly and now, it was dripping away with the drops making dull thuds against the metal sink. "You seem to know too much, Greg."
As much as she hated to admit it, Sara was scared of Greg's sudden knowledge of Nick's psyche. It frightened her that there was more to him that meets the eye, she was frightened of the deeper Greg.
His eyes fell downcast once more, taking in a deep breath 'til he at last met her gaze. "I do."
The fear gripped from within.
"Why?" the question was whispered so tenderly as if everything were too fragile and would break if she spoke above it.
It wasn't until he had pulled himself closer to her, face only inches from hers as both their bodies leaned on top of the table, elbows supporting their seated weight that which held up their chins.
"I was searching for my own sign. My own reason to keep myself here."
A slow movie played in her mind. The kind that was noiseless and moved either too slow or too fast. The kind you tend to doubt if it was even real.
But it was there, the force of the explosion, the emergency fire extinguishers, the glass, the fire, the smoke, and the smell of chemicals mixed in the air with charred flesh. He lay on floor, with only enough energy to look up once before lying still… and unmoving.
Then the audio caught up with the movie like a mute button released and all she could hear was her own unheard voice calling out his name, over and over again. If only she had the nerve to cry out then. Maybe now, she would not be in fear of this revelation.
But- there was enough running. It was time, to face her fears and call out his name.
"Greg?"
He sat silent.
She continued.
"Did you find your reason? The reason to stay behind even after the accident?"
Water dripped on into the sink; one drop at a time.
"I did."
"What was it?"
Their voices were no more whispers, but soundless words that could be caught by each other.
Pushing the chair away, Greg stood up and straightened his shirt. He made his way to the percolator and for a moment, Sara assumed he was getting another serving of her coffee. It seemed like he was; only somehow, he hesitated and threw the cup into the trash.
The drips had ceased as Greg twisted the knob shut, halting the wastage. Turning behind, he stepped up next to her and looked at her gently. "I hope," he dug his hands into his jeans and pulled out a white paper envelope, "that you're into gold stars now."
He squatted next her seat, positioning himself a level lower than her and smiled. Her fingers were tenderly pried apart for the envelope as he pressed it into her palm.
"Sara,"
She remained focus on his boyish face and the hair of his which was always neat and well kept even in its disarray. The hair where the blonde colour blended so well with the soft hazelnut brown that turned to the darkest jet-black just so smoothly at the roots. The hair that was constantly changing and switching between spiky to flat or ruffled.
The hair that seem to perfectly fit his smiling face, his voice that tittered between husky and velvet like. And how it was all so perfect with his infectious laugh, his humour, his jokes, his eyes, and the way he stumbled through words.
And how she stared at him in fear.
"Sara…" he repeated the name once more, "I did find my reason for staying and believing in my work."
He squeezed her hand, lifted himself back to a stand only to bend over slightly, and plant a light kiss on her cheek. "For that, I thank you."
And he left.
The shadow of his touch haunted her until she dragged herself back to reality and to smoothen out the envelope he left her.
Her fingers traced the opening flap and lifted it up, there was nothing but a simple piece of paper plainly decorated with two gold star stickers that were stuck to it. The glitter caught the little light off the fluorescent beams and shone in its twinkling innocence.
She smiled and understood.
Folding the envelope back, she breathed a smile and let out a little laugh.
For you see, her fear had ebbed away.
--- END ---
Thanks for reading.
-Cheers
Jo
frickangel (at) hybridshadows (dot) com