DATE

Part two

Spoiler: Spark of Life.

Sorry it took me so long, but this is one of the files I lost during the Great PC Crash of July'05 and I had to write it from scratch.

Note: I revised this chapter on Jan '06.

Grissom's decision to go to Greg's place had not come easily.

At first, he had decided to drive back to the lab. There was paperwork waiting for him, and with it, the chance to put Greg out of his mind. This idea appealed to him, mostly because he didn't think he could do anything for the young man –at least, not until Greg had a chance to cool off.

Grissom could only hope that Greg would be calmer and more willing to talk by the time the night shift started.

With this But traffic was moving slowly, and while he'd used usually used this gave him ample time to think. He usually had plently of

Inevitably, his thoughts turned to Greg and his extreme reaction to the trial's outcome.

Grissom was worried; he could't help but wonder whether Greg could really handle the pressure of being a CSI. Few people could, and that's why Supervisors kept an eye on newbies, ready to intervene in case there was any conflict.

That's what good supervisors did, anyway. Grissom was wondering whether he'd missed the signs where Greg was concerned.

Actually, he had noticed that Greg seemed tired -but then, everybody was. They had been overwhelmed with work since the night shift had lost half its crew.

But that was cop out, and Grissom knew it; he should have known that Greg would be overwhelmed by his new duties; after all, it was one thing to handle DNA samples within the confines of a clean lab, and it was quite another to collect those samples yourself, from a human body –a damaged human body- at a messy crime scene

Grissom should have talked to Greg. The young man would not have come out and said he couldn't handle the job, (people rarely ever acknowledged their weaknesses to Grissom), but at least it would have offered him a chance to talk.

After all,.

To talk...

Grissom shook his head.

How could Greg feel free to talk, when his boss routinely dismissed his attempts at conversation as unwelcome distractions? Hadn't he even asked once, 'Do we pay you by the word, Greg?' Grissom cringed as he realized that he had inadvertently closed the doors early on.

But was it too late to do anything?

Grissom glanced at the red light ahead. He had a choice: Move forward and go to the lab, or turn right and go to Greg's place.

Going to the lab was the safest choice.

Going to Greg's place meant having to wait in case the young was still driving around; and even if Greg was home, he'd probably have company, in which case, Grissom would have to wait too –probably listening as the young man and his partner performed some wild mating ritual.

He didn't want to do any of tha, but when the light turned to green, Grissom unhesitatingly turned right. He owed it to Greg.

Because, no matter what the young man did –drink or have sex- it would not be enough to placate his crisis.

Grissom knew that from experience.

It was with relief that Grissom saw Greg coming down the hallway by himself. His heart sank however, when he noticed the hesitation in Greg's steps.

The young man walked as if each step took an effort from him, and this could only mean that he was drunk -or exhausted after being involved in rough sex. Neither thought was very comforting for Grissom.

As for Greg, he put himself together as soon as he saw his boss sitting on the floor. He stood straighter and walked more purposefully.

"What are you doing here?" he asked expressionlessly.

Grissom rose from the floor before answering.

"I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I'm Ok." Greg said simply.

Grissom winced. Greg's tone was flat, but there was something in Greg's eyes –defiance. He was challenging Grissom to say anything.

Grissom wisely remained silent.

Greg didn't hold Grissom's gaze for long; instead, he busied himself with the task of picking up the right key to open his door. His hands were shaking a little and he had some difficulty inserting the key in the lock, but when he finally did, he didn't immediately turned it in. He didn't want to open the door while his boss was still standing there.

He turned.

"Grissom, I'm fine." He said, using a more friendly tone. "Really."

"Good." Grissom said without moving.

Greg barely held back his impatience; he didn't want Grissom there, but he couldn't very well shut the door on his boss' face, could he? Not after the things he'd said today.

Resignedly, he opened the door and held it open for Grissom.

Grissom entered the apartment but didn't take more than a couple of steps inside; he didn't want to intrude into his colleague's privacy more than he had to.

And it was obvious that Greg wasn't in a sociable mood. The young man simply closed the door and leant against it, forcing them to stand in the middle of a shadowy vestibule.

"So..." Greg said, "Why are you here?"

"I was worried." Grissom said. "I thought we could talk."

Greg snorted skeptically.

"You're not good at talking, Grissom."

"Well, I'm not good at fucking, either." Grissom replied calmly.

Greg flushed.

It was a good thing that he hadn't turned on the lights; he didn't think he could look at Grissom in the eye just then. It wasn't just the fact that Grissom never swore; the shock came from hearing him repeat a word that Greg would have never uttered in Grissom's presence-

Except that he had.

Greg couldn't believe he had gone this far.

"Shit," he said breathlessly. "I can't believe I said that."

And he seemed so stunned by his own behavior that Grissom spontaneously reached out to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder. But the gesture was short-lived; just as he was about to touch Greg, he realized what he was doing and held back. He awkwardly let his arm drop and used words instead of touch to comfort Greg.

"Hey, it's ok-" he said.

"It's not ok-" Greg said stubbornly. "Jesus, Grissom; I can't believe I said that." he took a deep breath, "I'm sorry; I didn't-"

"Hey, I understand." Grissom interrupted. He wasn't the sort of person to hold a grudge and he wasn't there to extract an apology from Greg, either.

"I was just-" Greg said and then he shook his head, since words didn't seem enough.

"You were angry." Grissom supplied. "You worked hard on that case and you expected the jury to validate your efforts; when they didn't-"

"-I took it out on you." Greg finished. "And now, instead of being pissed off, you are trying to validate my feelings." That was worse.

Greg took a deep breath; the anger that had held him together for the last couple of hours was crumbling away, leaving him bereft. He suddenly felt as if he were crumbling too; he had never felt like this before and he didn't know how to handle it.

He couldn't bear to have Grissom seeing him like this, so he tried to put himself together.

"Grissom," He said solemnly, "I'm sorry." He looked up. "Really, I am. I let my emotions take over, and-"

"Greg-"

"Not that it's an excuse," he said quickly, "But the truth is… This had never happened to me before, you know?" he said, and he waited until Grissom acknowledged it. "All I can say is that it won't happen again," he finished.

"I know it won't," Grissom said reassuringly. Those words spelled relief to Greg, but just when he thought his boss was finished, Grissom added, "Do you think we could sit somewhere and talk?"

That was precisely what Greg did not want to do.

"Hey, boss," he said, "Look, I know you probably have a lot to say about what happened today, but-" He took a deep breath, "Couldn't we talk later? I'm beat, you know." He lowered his voice to plead, "Please."

"I can't leave until we talk." Grissom said patiently, "I just want to make sure that you're-"

"I'm ok." Greg interrupted more curtly than he intended, "I was angry and I said a lot of stupid things that I regret," he admitted, "But you don't have to worry." He said, pointedly moving away from the door. "I'm fine now."

Grissom studied him. Greg didn't look fine; his demeanor spoke of exhaustion -emotional and physical- and this made Grissom wonder what Greg had done in the last two hours. Whatever it was, it had left a mark on him. And since the young man wasn't drunk, there was only one possibility left-

"It helped, then." Grissom said before he could help himself.

Greg looked up questioningly. "Helped?"

"Whatever you did after you left the Courthouse," Grissom replied, "It helped you."

"Oh, that." Greg said vaguely, "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I screamed-" he added with a shrug.

Grissom winced. He really didn't want to hear the details.

"By the way," Greg added, "Sammy says he's retiring next month"

"Sammy?" Grissom frowned.

"Yeah. The guy at the park." He explained. Grissom didn't seem to understand, so he added, "The guy in charge of the Deadly Plunge, remember him?"

"You went to the park?" Grissom frowned.

"Yep." Greg smiled wanly.

"You went there after-"

"After I left the parking lot." He nodded, "I rode the Great Puker along with a bunch of screaming kids." He scowled, "Twice. And I almost puked, by the way." He added ruefully. "The second time I felt as if my guts-"

"You were alone-" Grissom interrupted, and then he stopped.

"Yeah. The last time we rode the plunge, it really helped me, so-"

"Greg?" Grissom interrupted, "Do me a favor," he said sternly, "Don't use the ride again."

"Why?" Greg frowned. "I thought you would approve-"

"I don't." Grissom replied curtly. "I don't want you to make a habit of it, ok? If you ever find yourself in the same situation, I want you to find someone to talk to- someone from the lab, a friend or even a priest -"

"I tried to talk to you," Greg retorted, his anger flaring up again, "Remember?"

"You didn't say you wanted to talk." Grissom said softly.

It was the perfect reply and it effectively put a stop to Greg's anger.

"Yeah, well-" Greg muttered, just because he needed to say something, but he was defeated and he knew it.

Resigned to his fate, Greg didn't resist anymore; he quietly walked into the next room. If Grissom wanted to talk, then they would talk.

By the time Grissom entered the living room, Greg had already opened the blinds and was tidying up the room. It was a half-hearted effort, though; he picked up magazines and some discarded clothes that covered the only couch and then dumped them in a corner.

Grissom discreetly looked away, and his attention was drawn towards the bookcase at the far end of the room; it was crammed with books and magazines, and open boxes of cereal. Grissom wanted to browse, but he didn't move from his corner. First he needed some sign from Greg that his curiosity was welcome.

Idly, Grissom glanced at the rest of the room; there were pictures on the wall and colorful cushions surrounding a coffee table. It was the table that drew his attention next; it looked like it had been made out of some fine wood, but it was hard to tell since it was practically buried under textbooks, empty containers of Chinese food, pizza boxes, and a couple of bowls that bore hardened remains of corn flakes.

Normally, Grissom wouldn't have spared more than a discreet glance at a colleague's home, but this time he was taking in every detail, as if it contained some important clue.

In fact, he hoped it did; he needed help to understand Greg's recent behavior.

Part of Grissom's problem was that Greg had never been in trouble before. Frankly, it would have been easier for him to deal with Nick or Warrick; Grissom's relationship with Nick was colored by father-son undertones while Warrick considered him a mentor. No matter what, they would always accept anything Grissom said, just because he said so.

But with Greg, the boundaries were somehow blurred; yes, Grissom was still the boss, but Greg had always treated him like an equal. Greg had always teased him and challenged him.

Greg had made passes at him.

Still waiting for inspiration to strike, Grissom glanced at Greg. The young man was standing by the window, looking at something outside. He had taken off his jacket, but he still had his tie on, and his white shirt was rumpled and sweat-stained.

He looked like he couldn't wait to take a shower and go to sleep.

Grissom took pity on him; the sooner they talked, the sooner Greg would be free to get some rest.

"Hey, Greg?" he called out gently, "Can we talk?"

Greg reluctantly turned away from the window.

Grissom cleared a corner of the coffee table and sat there. He left the couch to Greg, who plopped down and then put his feet on the coffee table, on the corner opposite his boss'.

Unable to look at Grissom, he stared at his feet.

"What a day, huh?" he muttered after a moment.

"Yeah."

"You must think I'm a wimp-" he said expressionlessly, "-someone who can't take a little pressure-"

"No." Grissom said calmly.

A simple 'no' from Grissom sometimes meant more than a full speech. Still, Greg stared at his boss as if to gauge his sincerity. Grissom only stared back.

Reluctantly, Greg spoke again.

"I don't know what's wrong with me." Greg said at last. He glanced at the window again, as if the answers were out there. "The trial- I don't know why it hit me so hard." He said quietly. "It's not like I didn't know things could be tough for the prosecution-"

"Greg..." Grissom interrupted, "Maybe this isn't about the trial." He said softly, "Maybe something else has been bothering you, and the trial only hastened its manifestation." He paused, "This has been a difficult year," he said cautiously, "You assumed your new responsibilities in the worst of circumstances-"

"You don't think I'm doing a good job?" he interrupted.

"That's not what I said." Grissom said calmly, "On the contrary. You worked on several cases under little supervision and you did great. But I think I failed as a Supervisor." He admitted, "I should have been available to you, I wasn't, so-" he paused, "If you want to talk... I'm here to listen." He said, "I'm here as a supervisor, but also as a friend, Greg."

Greg waited for Grissom to continue, but the older man simply stared back.

Under that gaze –so effective on guilty perps- Greg found himself saying something he had intended to keep to himself.

"I keep thinking of her."

Grissom was momentarily taken aback. If Greg's problems were of a romantic nature, then he was the last person who could help.

"Who?" he frowned.

"Tara Matthews."

It took Grissom a couple of seconds to recognize the name.

"The woman who survived the fire-"

Greg nodded reluctantly.

"It was a difficult case." Grissom said cautiously.

"Her face keeps popping up in my head," Greg said quietly. Now that he had finally mentioned her, he couldn't hold back anymore. "It happens everywhere," he added, "Sometimes, when I'm talking to a friend or when I'm trying to get some sleep, there she is," he said, "I see her face –the eyes movig under the burth eyelids... And it's not just the images, you know? I remember the smell of her the burnt skin, and the sound of her fingers breaking like twigs-"

Grissom was speechless; he never suspected that a single case could affect Greg like this.

"And I know what you're going to say." Greg added, "That 'once a case is closed, we've got to move on.' "

"No." Grissom said quietly. "That's not what I was going to say." In other circumstances, yes; but this was a special situation and he wanted to handle it as such. He chose his next words with care. "I was going to say that some cases remain with us even after we've solved them." He paused to let those words sink in.

"It's inevitable, I suppose." He continued, "I mean, it's difficult to think of closure when it's the victim who gets a life sentence."

"Yeah," Greg nodded.

"And yet-" Grissom said, "Once we've done our job, there's nothing else for us to do for them Greg. We must let others take over; people who are more capable than us -medical personnel, therapists, family members-"

They were silent for a moment.

"I know you're right," Greg said at last, "But it's frustrating. We should be able to do more."

Grissom remained silent, in case Greg wanted to say more. Meanwhile, he took a look around; from this spot he could see the pictures on the wall more clearly. They were all group shots, and Greg was in all of them. He was smiling in each picture. The same smile, Grissom noticed, thoughtfully.

"This case has affected your life," Grissom said, "Do you want to talk about that?

"It's nothing," he started, but under Grissom's attentive gaze, he added, "It's turned into a nuisance, that's all."

"Tell me."

"Well... It's just a matter of proportion, I guess." he said, "I mean, it's hard to concentrate on a friend's conversation when there are more urgent things to think about, right? I mean, how can I talk about books or movies, when Tara's body's rejecting her skin grafts?" He looked at Grissom, as if he really expected him to answer.

Grissom didn't comment.

"It gets silly, sometimes." Greg said in a lighter tone, "For instance, last week my best friends invited me over for dinner; I didn't want to come, but they begged and pleaded, so I said yes-" he paused, "Then, when I went to their place I found out they were having a barbecue –a barbecue, can you imagine? Believe me, Grissom," he said with a bitter chuckle, "It's hard to be the soul of the party when the main course is charred meat."

Greg's mirth wasn't sincere and Grissom knew it.

"What about your friends?" he asked, "What do they say?"

"They don't understand why I'm not the 'soul of the party' anymore," He shrugged. "And I'm not going to tell them." He added.

"Why?"

Greg gave him a look of incredulity.

"Because it's not the sort of thing one can casually mention, Grissom" he said in a slightly patronizing tone, "Talking about burnt people would kill anybody's good mood."

"You don't have to give them details of the case, Greg. But talking to your friends might be a good idea."

Greg shook his head impatiently.

"You're not listening." He said. "Look. People expect some things from their friends, ok? Mine don't expect serious talk from me, Grissom. People come to me with their problems, not the other way around. I've always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy -or at least, I used to be." Greg added almost to himself.

He glanced at Grissom. "Even Sofia told me the other day, 'You were a fun kind of guy. Don't lose that.'" He shook his head, "Well, maybe I'm not that kind of guy anymore."

"I don't believe that." Grissom said gently. He leant forward. "Greg, listen." He said and paused until he got Greg's full attention. "This was a difficult case and it affected you because you're a good man; you felt compassion." he said pointedly, "That's the kind of guy you are. Don't lose that."

Greg let these words sink in.

He took a deep breath and then he slowly exhaled.

"How do you manage, Grissom?" he asked after a while, "I mean, you've done this for so long-"

"This isn't about me, Greg." Grissom said gently but firmly. He paused and then he added deliberately, "This is about you and the way you will handle your job from now on. The cases will not get any easier," he said gently, "So, maybe this is the right moment for you to decide whether you want to deal with them."

Greg gave him a look of incredulity.

"Are you saying that I should quit?"

"No." He said calmly, "No, Greg; all I'm saying is -you have to accept your limitations. You can't save people as a CSI, but you can help find the ones who hurt them –and you can do that from the lab or out there in the field. Find out what you're good at –whatever you believe that is- and stick to it."

Greg scoffed bitterly.

"So, you want me to go back to the lab."

"It's your decision."

"And you wouldn't care one way or the other, right?"

"No," Grissom said softly. "Not as long as you stay in my shift."

Greg looked closely at Grissom, wondering if there was some hidden meaning in those words. Grissom looked away.

"You should talk to your friends," he said gently, "Give them a chance to help."

"The few I have left." Greg muttered, almost to himself. "I haven't been much fun lately-"

"Talk to them." Grissom insisted. "I'm sure they'll understand. Hey," he added with a lighter tone, "I'm sure the only thing they'll never forgive is your bad taste."

Greg looked up at him.

"Bad taste?"

"Yeah," he smiled, "I mean, you made a pass at me, remember?"

This was Grissom's way of showing that he didn't hold any grudges, and Greg understood. He smiled awkwardly.

"Hey, don't put yourself down." He said, in the same tone, "Bad taste or not, you rejected me, remember? What does that say about me?"

Those words made Grissom pause. No, not just the words; it was actually Greg's good-natured smile that made him stop and realize something about the young man… and about himself too.

But talking about it was not going to be easy.

He cleared his throat.

"I've just realized that I owe you an apology."

"You?" Greg frowned, "Why? You didn't go over the line; I did."

"But I should have handled it better," Grissom said quietly. "All you wanted was help in handling a difficult situation, and I should have known that. I failed you." Grissom said, and then he added slowly, "That was unfair of me, because all these years, you've helped me."

Greg's frown deepened. "I helped you?"

"Yes." He said. What he wanted to say wasn't easy, but this was the right moment to say it, "You've made things bearable at the lab, Greg." He stated, "I'm not talking just about your work, which has always been outstanding; I'm talking about how you always find something funny or erudite to say, even in the middle of a crisis. You've made things easier."

Greg was stunned. He had never expected to be praised like this by his boss.

"I guess I expected you to remain upbeat, no matter what." Grissom admitted, "I never thought you'd need my help."

Greg looked down.

"I didn't make it easy for you either." He said sheepishly, "I mean, I didn't exactly ask for help, either. What I said must have shocked you."

"Well... yeah," Grissom said, and then he smiled self-deprecatingly, "I'm not used to being seen as an object of desire, you know."

Greg scoffed.

"That's because you've never heard what the interns say about -" Greg stopped when he noticed Grissom's bewildered expression. "Uh, forget that." He added quickly. He needed to be careful; he didn't want to say anything that might require him to apologize yet again. Things were getting back to normal between them, and that's how he wanted them to remain.

And there was only one way to ensure that. He took a deep breath.

"Hey," he said brightly, "You know something? I'm feeling better."

Grissom's eyebrows rose. He didn't expect things to turn out well so fast.

"Are you?" he asked.

"Sure," he nodded good-naturedly, "You were right; talking helped."

"Well…" Grissom hesitated, "If you're sure-"

"Yeah." Greg nodded, "I mean, there are things I need to come to terms with," He admitted, "But I'm going to be fine," He said reassuringly.

Grissom was hesitant, but Greg's smile was the clinch; it made him look ok, and that was enough. After all, Grissom didn't know what else to do for his colleague.

Grissom rose from his seat.

"Well…" He mumbled, "If you ever need to talk-"

It was a half-hearted offer and Greg knew it.

"I'll be fine, Grissom; don't worry." he said gently. He didn't rise to walk his boss to the door; he leant back on the couch and closed his eyes. Just as Grissom was turning away, he muttered, "I just wish I could get some sleep -"

Grissom turned.

"You haven't?"

"No." Greg said softly, "Let's just say Tara has been appearing too often in my dreams. She has a knack for intruding at the worst moments, you know? " He paused and then he muttered almost to himself, "Talk about being a romance killer-"

Grissom looked at him in silence.

Finally, he had the full scope of Greg's troubles.

He could almost picture it -Greg and a friend in bed, in the middle of something, (and Grissom almost laughed at his own prudishness. Why couldn't he even think of the word? Sex. There.)

Greg and a friend, having sex until a memory of Tara Matthews intruded and ruined the moment; Greg would probably be unable to perform, the friend would demand an explanation, and Greg would refuse to give one-

A romance killer, indeed.

Grissom looked closely at Greg and for the first time noticed things -the dark shadows under his eyes, the bitten fingernails, and the way his clothes hung on him, as if he had lost a lot of weight.

Grissom felt sorry for Greg. Being the happy-go-lucky guy everybody relied on had taken its toll.

It made him wish there was something he could do for the young man. And suddenly, he realized there was.

"I can help you."

"Mmmh?" Greg looked at him.

"I can help you relax." Grissom said.

Greg frowned at first, and then his eyes opened wide.

"W-what?" he hesitated.

"I'm going to help you relax," Grissom said, more assuredly now. He glanced around, "But there's too much light in here-"

Greg watched in bewilderment as Grissom walked across the room to close the blinds; the older man kept glancing back at Greg, as if he were gauging the amount of light that should be allowed to enter. Finally satisfied, Grissom started to remove both his cell phone and his pager from his belt.

Greg gaped. Grissom wasn't taking off his clothes, was he?

"Grissom, what are you-"

"We'll need some quiet," Grissom said as sole explanation. He returned to the center of the room and put his cell phone, his pager, and his car keys among the debris on the coffee table. "Give me your cell phone." he ordered.

Mechanically, Greg patted his pockets.

"I think I left it in my car." He muttered.

"Good." Grissom said approvingly. "We don't want any interruptions. Do you have any keys or change in your pockets?" he asked.

Greg was confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Anything that might make a noise when you move," Grissom said impatiently as he patted his own pockets, "We'll need some quiet here."

Greg found some change and he dutifully handed it to Grissom. Grissom unceremoniously let the coins drop in one of the dirty breakfast bowls.

"Take off your shoes, now." Grissom instructed. "Oh, and the tie, too."

Greg paused for a moment. If this was Grissom's idea of foreplay, then the older man needed some pointers, but Greg was not going to be the one to suggest them. He silently complied and took off both his shoes and his tie and dropped them on the floor.

"Hum, Grissom? What is this all about?"

"Just trust me," Grissom said simply. "Now, lie down."

Greg paused.

"Is this some kind of joke, Grissom? Or payback for what I said to you?"

Grissom didn't know what Greg was talking about, and didn't particularly care. Now that he'd found something to do, he wanted to go through with it.

"Just lie down, Greg. Here," he added, picking up a cushion and putting it in a corner of the couch, "This is your pillow."

Greg looked at the cushion and then at Grissom. He may have fantasized about his boss now and then, and even made that half-baked pass at him earlier that day; but now that he was facing the possibility that something might actually happen, well… he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.

As for Grissom, he looked just like he did when there was some exciting experiment he wanted to perform –eager and impatient.

Nobody resisted Grissom when he was like that.

Greg lay down on the couch and waited for Grissom to make the next move.

What the older man did was to sit down on the coffee table again.

"Now," He said, "I'm going to ask you to close your eyes and focus on my voice-"

"Ok," Greg said slowly.

"-and do everything I ask you to."

Greg nodded. So far, so good. This actually sounded like some fantasies he'd had before. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms and waited.

"Don't cross your arms," Grissom said, "Let them lie by your sides. Now, listen carefully. For the next minutes, you will put aside today's events, ok? You will only think of a place you feel safe in." He paused, "Are you there?"

Greg opened his eyes and looked incredulously at him.

"Are you trying to hypnotize me?"

Grissom was actually amused at the suggestion.

"I'm not." He said, "Look, this is just an old relaxation technique, ok? All you have to do is take a deep breath... and then slowly let the air out..." And he did it exactly that; then he paused and waited for Greg to follow his example.

Greg shook his head; he didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. What he did know was that he didn't want to do any freaking relaxation exercise. He opened his mouth to say so, but Grissom looked so eager… and he was the boss, after all.

"Are you serious?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes." He said. "Come on, it'll help, you'll see. Just close your eyes, breath along with me- "

Greg obeyed. After all the things that he'd done to his boss, following his instructions seemed like a small penance. But when he heard Grissom say, "I want you to focus on your body now; first, think of your toes-" Greg opened his eyes.

"What do I have to do that for?" he asked.

"You need to focus on a part of your body," Grissom explained, "We'll start with your toes. Just put some tension on them, and slowly count to ten; then let them relax. It'll help, you'll see."

"Could you at least look the other way?"

"What?" Grissom frowned.

"You heard me. I can't relax while you're looking at me."

Grissom's eyebrows rose.

"Are you always this fussy, Greg?"

"Yeah, well, I just want some privacy, you know."

"Fine." Grissom said with some exasperation. He didn't simply turn his back on Greg; instead, he picked up a cushion and wedged it between the couch and the coffee table. He sat on it and leant his back against the couch.

"There," he said, "I'm not looking at you. Happy?"

"Well, yeah."

Greg followed Grissom's instructions from then on. He tensed up a set of muscles, counted to ten along with Grissom, and then relaxed. After repeating that exercise several times, they moved to the arches of his feet... then to the ankles... and so on.

Grissom's voice was soothing and Greg found himself falling under the spell; by the time they started working on his fingers, Greg was so relaxed that he couldn't count aloud anymore. A moment later, he fell asleep.

Grissom knew just by the change in Greg's breathing, but he glanced over his shoulder just to make sure. He smiled, glad that he'd accomplished something.

There was only one problem; he couldn't leave –if he moved, he might make a noise and wake Greg up. But he couldn't stay either; Greg would not appreciate having him there while he slept.

After a moment, Grissom decided to wait an hour at least, and then he would leave. Hopefully, Greg would not notice.

Meanwhile, there was nothing for him to do but try to make himself comfortable. Resting for a couple of minutes was a good idea; he was feeling pretty relaxed, more than he had been in a long time.

Grissom leant back on the couch and closed his eyes.

And immediately fell asleep.

TBC