Foretold by SLynn
Summary: A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?
Spoilers: Through 'Gum Drops'
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.
Notes: Slight revision, thanks RivenSky!
"The closer and more confidential our relationship with someone, the less we are entitled to ask about what we are not voluntarily told."
Louis Kronenberger
Chapter 17: Turmoil
A loud thud followed shortly by a muttered curse brought him round.
"Sorry," Sara half-whispered from the closet doorway. "I was trying not to disturb you."
"What time is it?" Greg asked groggily, propping himself up on his elbows and straining to see what she was up to.
"Almost nine," Sara answered, resting against the doorway.
Greg, believing her, checked the clock regardless before turning back to her with a surprised expression on his face.
Sara was fully dressed and looked as if she'd probably been awake for hours.
"I was going to wake you soon," she said sheepishly, "but you really did seem tired."
Greg nodded, rubbing his eyes and admitting it was true. It was the most sleep he'd gotten in weeks.
"What about you?" he asked.
"I slept," Sara answered, finally moving closer and sitting near him at the foot of the bed. "I just don't sleep much. Ever. Old habit."
Greg found himself nodding once more and could think of nothing else to say, not that he didn't have questions to ask.
He had plenty of questions.
Just nothing he could actually summon the courage to voice.
Sara wasn't speaking either, just nervously plucking strings off of the quilt that covered her bed.
"So," Greg finally said, "where are my clothes?"
"Oh," Sara said, jumping to her feet, "I washed them. I hope… I thought… here."
Sara took the neat pile she'd folded from the dresser and held them out to him from a considerable distance.
Greg took them with a weak smile.
"Can I use your shower?" he asked.
"Of course," Sara said again, her voice sounding sunny and false. "It's through there and the towels and everything are in the cabinet."
Greg nodded but didn't move and neither did Sara.
"I'm kind of naked here," Greg finally managed, flushing red and hating himself for it, "do you mind…"
"I'll be out here," Sara said quickly, retreating to the door. "Take your time."
Sara paused as if she had something more to say but decided against it, turning and leaving without another word.
Greg's mind was in turmoil.
Heading straight to the bathroom, he was hoping to collect himself but fairly certain that wasn't going to happen.
He'd never felt more conflicted in his life.
Sure, it was great. He felt great. Better then great, he felt amazing. But there were lots of other things he couldn't help but feel either.
Like guilty; guilty because it felt like he'd not only taken advantage of her, but of the situation.
Sara had obviously been upset, her place had just been robbed, and what does he do? He makes a pass at her.
It wasn't the type of thing he'd normally do and he felt bad.
It lessened it; it made him feel not only guilty, but awful and insecure. Because what if she'd just needed someone and he'd been the one here? What if this didn't mean to her what it did to him?
With that and more, all screaming through his head, Greg finished washing and dressed as slowly as he could, but he couldn't stay in the bathroom forever.
Reluctantly he made his way to her living room.
"I'm done," he called out rather lamely upon finding it empty.
"Okay," Sara returned, coming out of the kitchen. "I've made some pasta for dinner. Are you hungry?"
"Not really," he said, checking his watch. "I've got to change before I go in tonight. It would look a little strange if I… you know… I've already come in once this week wearing the same shirt."
"No," Sara said, looking down and screwing up her face as if she wasn't bothered. "Of course."
"If you want," Greg began hesitantly, "we could go over to my place together and then head to the lab…"
"I'm not on tonight."
"Oh," Greg said, "well, that's… it was a stupid idea anyway."
"It was sweet."
Greg, blushing again, tried to cover it up by turning his head and rubbing his neck.
"I should… I should probably go then," he finally managed.
"Alright," Sara said, walking with him to the door where they both stood unmoving.
"Goodnight," they both said at the same time.
Unsure what to do, Greg leaned in just as Sara turned. Several awkward moves later, he hastily planted a kiss on her cheek before making his way out the door.
The door clicked shut softly behind him, leaving Greg alone in the night.
He stood there for several minutes, unsure of what to do and regretting how he'd acted.
He needed to explain. He needed to know exactly where she stood. He needed this to be alright between them.
So he went back.
Knocking briskly on the door, he still wasn't sure what he'd say just that it had better be good.
Sara, upon opening the door, looked surprised to see him again so soon.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," he said quickly. "I'm sorry about how I acted. I really can't explain it except that maybe I'm in shock."
Sara fixed him with an odd expression, one that clearly said she either didn't believe him or couldn't understand him. He knew the look well; she'd practically perfected it on him.
"Um… let me explain," he stammered. "Have you ever wanted something… no, um. Okay. When I was seven the only thing I wanted for Christmas was this super deluxe chemistry set, but my parents didn't think I was old enough and kept telling me no. So, Christmas comes around and…"
"Wait," Sara interrupted. "Are you comparing me with a chemistry set?"
"Not on purpose," Greg answered, the color draining from his face.
Sara said nothing more, just raised her eyebrows and continued to stare at him.
"Bad analogy," he continued quickly. "Sorry. What I was trying to say is that… I've wanted this to happen for so long and now that it has it doesn't seem real. It just feels like some kind of… you know… that I might just wake up and it will have never happened."
"Greg," she said, finally giving him a small smile.
"Or that I somehow made you…"
"You didn't make me," she cut in, nearly laughing. "I actually… kind of felt like I…"
"Are you kidding?" he asked so enthusiastically she had to laugh.
Greg relaxed, leaning into the doorframe just opposite Sara who mirrored the action. He felt better now, more like himself.
"Is that offer for dinner still open?" he asked with a huge smile.
"Um," she returned, "no."
"No?" Greg questioned, feeling confused once more.
"You don't have time for that," Sara said, smiling wickedly and pulling him to her for a searing kiss.
"You're an hour late," Nick hissed quietly as Greg sunk down in the chair beside him.
"I know," Greg said, looking quickly around the room. "Did anyone notice?"
Nick gave him a look of extreme disbelief before answering, "Of course they did."
"And?"
"And…"
"I'd like to talk to you," Grissom's voice called out from behind, startling them both. "Now."
Greg stood and followed without question. He knew what was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. Grissom was the kind of boss that made you feel bad without yelling or demeaning. The kind of boss you didn't want to disappoint. Greg looked up to him, respected him, and just once wished he wasn't the one always getting these talks.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Greg began as soon as he shut the door.
Grissom, to his complete surprised, simply shrugged his shoulders and dismissed it completely.
"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about," he said. "Pull up a chair."
Greg, not for the first time that night, was confused.
"Detective Harper told you he was sending over the cold case files on those murder victims, right?"
"Yeah."
"I've been reading through them," Grissom continued. "I wasn't here when these took place, so I wanted to familiarize myself with them and I found something interesting."
Greg could see that familiar light shining in Grissom's eyes. He must have found not only found something interesting, but something good.
"When the last victim was found a witness came forward with information."
"An eye witness?"
"No," Grissom said, shaking his head, "a psychic one."
Greg looked at Grissom and shook his head.
"It couldn't be…" Greg said slowly, but already knowing that it was.
But Grissom was already nodding his head as Greg checked the file for himself.
Not surprised, not really at least, Greg found Henry Baker's name on the list of informants.