DILEMMA

Part two: Greg's plan

I did a little rewriting on December'05, but didn't make any major changes.

It's slash and it's R due to language…

How did he know?

I ignored the question and focused on the TV screen: Mike Massey was about to perform his famed 'boot shot'. I'd come back to my place just in time to watch the Trick Shot Magic finals, but my attention kept wandering. Inevitably, I kept thinking of Greg and the things that I'd let happen.

How did he know?

How did he know that I...? That I was...?

I couldn't even say the word.

Gay. There.

It's not that being labeled as gay or straight worried me -frankly, I've rarely cared about people's opinion of me. But I'd invested years in creating a life that I liked, and I didn't want anything to interfere with it, not even feelings –especially, feelings. Mine was a quiet life, ordered and simple, and I wanted it to remain that way. I had my life figured out...

Until Greg came home and ruined everything.

Nothing serious had happened, fortunately, but I still couldn't believe how disastrously I'd behaved. The truth was that if Greg had asked me to join him, I would have followed him into the darkened hallway. What did that say about me? Was I really this desperate, this weak?

And how the hell did Greg know?

Questions, questions...

But after a while, denial started to creep in and I began to see things under a new light: Greg had been drunk, in the first place; his memory of the night's events might be a little hazy. And even if he remembered, he would not dare mention it, would he?

He'd made a pass at the boss after all. He'd probably be too embarrassed to talk about it, or afraid that I might be angry.

That last thought made me smile. Maybe that's what I should do -act as if I were angry with him, just to torture him a little... But no, I couldn't do that. The kid was bound to feel bad enough, even without my help.

So, in the end I decided that denial was the best recourse: I'd just pretend that nothing had happened. It would make things easier for both of us.

The thought comforted me, and I was able to focus on the pool competition again.

I put Greg out of my thoughts until I went to brush my teeth.

I'd casually glanced at myself in the mirror and then I'd picked up my toothbrush and the toothpaste. I stared at both objects and then I put them down. I looked up again and looked at me again.

I tilted my head and examined my face from several angles, but try as I might, I just couldn't understand what Greg had seen in me.

People had found me attractive before, but very few had ever crossed the invisible shield I kept around me. And Greg had done more than crossing a line. That kiss...

I smiled faintly. I never thought I'd get kissed by someone like Greg. I could pretend all I wanted at the lab, but the fact was, it happened and I'd liked it. At least, I could admit it to myself.

It was just another experience, another memory that I'd stash in a corner of my mind, along with other personal stuff that I rarely reviewed.

I picked up the toothbrush again, but after a moment's hesitation I put it back in the holder. I decided not to wash up. It sounds stupid, but I didn't want to erase the evidence left by his kiss. There was nothing visible to the eye, but I knew there was something there -a little alcohol, a multitude of flavors from the cocktails he'd drunk...

My mouth tasted awful –just as if I'd eaten something rotten- but I didn't care. I just wanted to hold on to proof that I'd been kissed. Was I being sentimental? Perhaps. But I was entitled. It HAD been a nice kiss after all, and very few nice things happened in my life.

The next shift started with a bombshell: Catherine's new boyfriend had been arrested for possession, and Ecklie's team was handling the investigation. Ecklie was investigating the man's recent visitors, including Catherine.

I patiently listened to her angry outburst, welcoming it as a distraction to my own problems.

"Are you even listening?" she exclaimed, "You have the look of someone who's miles from here!"

"I'm listening, Catherine." I nodded. "Go on. Tell me again how unfair this is"

She rolled her eyes.

"You're not taking this seriously."

"Catherine, look at it this way." I said patiently, "Are you really surprised that he's being charged?"

I'd always thought the guy was a bit sleazy, but it was obvious that Catherine didn't see it that way. She opened her mouth for what seemed like an angry retort, but my phone rang just in time.

It was Brass, calling about a double murder at a retirement home. I was glad to have a chance to leave my office until I realized that since it was Warrick's night off, Greg would be joining Nick and me.

They were already at the crime scene when I got there. Greg and me barely exchanged glances while Brass filled us in: Two men had been shot in their sleep, apparently by someone who lived in the premises.

"Isn't this depressing?" commented Nick, "Even Grandpas are killing each other"

"Passion doesn't diminish with age" Replied Brass ironically "It's disturbing and encouraging at the same time"

"Our killer could be one of the caretakers" I commented.

We spent the next couple of hours processing the evidence in the bedroom.

I kept glancing at Greg; he was brushing one of the victim's hair and collecting the residue in a square of paper. He was a bit pale, and I doubted it was due to a hangover. Too late, I'd remembered that he'd always been close to his grandfather, so examining the body of an old man might be more than he could handle.

"Greg?" I said, handing him a couple of bags, "Could you take these samples back to the lab?"

"I haven't finished this" he said, and then he looked up. "I'm ok, Grissom," he said good-naturedly, as if he understood my concern.

Well, well. Greg was stronger than I thought. It was yet another thing to like about him.

Towards dawn we met at the conference room to discuss this and other pending cases. The night had been hard on all of us. It wasn't just the cases and the absence of Warrick that had made it difficult. Hodges had made a blunder in one of Sara's cases and the DA was going to dismiss it; Jacqui was on vacation and her substitute was giving us excuses, not results, and Catherine could not come back to work until Ecklie cleared her.

After a couple of hours Nick sighed.

"Why don't we get some breakfast? I can't think straight when I'm starving. What about you, Grissom?"

I frowned. For a brief moment I thought Nick was asking if I could literally think straight, and I involuntarily glanced at Greg. He didn't look up.

"I'm not hungry." I said at last.

"Well, I need some coffee at least." Sara said, "Couldn't we go down the deli and take a bite? We could come back in an hour-" She glanced at me.

"Fine," I said, "Go."

"You coming, Greggo?" asked Nick.

"Uh, not today, Nick," he said, "I need to talk to Grissom," He added, and then he looked expectantly at me.

Oh, no.

Nick must have thought there was some kind of trouble between us, because he glanced curiously at me and then at Greg.

I was trying to come up with some excuse, when Greg added, "I thought we could go over the Tagging and Labeling of Evidence list, Grissom. I don't know if I have it down."

I couldn't say 'no' to that, of course.

"Sure, Greg," I said.

Greg waited until our coworkers left the room. Meanwhile, we glanced at each other from opposite ends of the table.

All I could think of was that twenty-four hours ago I had let this kid kiss the hell out of me. What was he going to say now? But when he opened his mouth, he said something completely unexpected.

"The purpose of tagging and labeling items from a crime scene is to help us identify those items later." He recited quite seriously "It adds credibility when we're at court. All evidence collected at the crime scene should be tagged, but if some item cannot be tagged, it should be labeled or marked." He looked at me expectantly.

I was relieved; apparently, Greg wanted to pretend nothing had happened, too.

"Very well, Greg." I nodded, "What information should go on the label?"

"Description of item," he started, using his fingers to help himself, "Police case number or identifier, date, location of collection, collectors name and identifier, brand name-"

I smiled encouragingly. It pleased me to see that he was willing to learn.

"All right, Greg. Now tell me about the importance of the Chain of Custody"

"It helps us establish who had contact with the evidence, the date and time the evidence was handled, how it was handled, and whatever change has been made in it."

"All right." I said, "Wait here. I'll go get some labels." I went to my office and got labels and several unrelated items that he could use to practice.

When I returned to the conference room, Greg was looking at his watch and counting backwards.

"…And five, four, three, two, one." He looked up and smiled "We're officially off shift now, so it's safe to talk."

And here I thought I was safe. The damn kid had tricked me!

I dreaded what was coming, but I didn't let it show. I sat and used my best poker face.

Greg took a seat next to mine. He picked up a label and then put it back. It looked like he had lost a little of his self-confidence.

"Hum. Grissom," he started, "About last night, I'd… like to apologize. I mean, you were probably trying to get some sleep and I just barged into your place-" he looked up, "Or were you reading?"

"I was watching television."

"Oh," he paused, "Great. I mean," he said, "At least I didn't wake you up. I was worried about that. You usually get so little sleep and there I was, interrupting you." He paused, "That wasn't very cool of me, right? But, hum, anyway-"

"Greg," I interrupted, "You don't have to apologize, ok?"

"I don't?" he frowned.

I shook my head.

"I only hope you don't do this often." I said, "Get drunk, I mean." I amended quickly.

"Oh, no," he smiled, "I don't do that, Grissom, really. I usually have a couple of drinks and leave it at that. I go out mostly for the dancing." He looked at me curiously, "Hey, do you dance?"

I scoffed.

"You jest."

"Well, it's just that if you did, then things would be easier."

"What things?"

"The things that I wanted to talk to you about." He said matter-of-factly. "Maybe I should begin by telling you that if I hadn't been drunk, I wouldn't have kissed you-"

Ouch.

"All right." I said expressionlessly.

"I mean, I wanted to." He added, "I really did. But not yet. My plan was to be your friend first. I thought I'd start by taking you out to a movie, or to a conference-" he paused, "Dancing did seem out of the question, but you never know, right?" He smiled.

I didn't smile back.

He cleared his throat again.

"Anyway," he continued, "My plan was for you to get so used to me that when I told you what I wanted, you wouldn't freak out." He smiled faintly. "But something happened last night. I was surrounded by friends, but all I could think of was you and how I'd rather be talking to you. I kept thinking that you were probably alone, and…" he looked up, "I've always wondered if you might need me, you know? If you might need a friend-"

"Greg, you are a friend-"

"Yeah? Well, I'm glad you think so, but it's more than that.… I mean, I've always wondered about you and me, and how we sometimes flirt- We do flirt, Grissom," he smiled, "Don't look at me as if I'm out of my mind!"

"Anyway," he added, "Last night I was such a bore that my friends finally left. I had a drink to distract myself but it made things worse. I started feeling sorry for myself; I had another drink, and then another, and… and I ruined things, right?" he looked expectantly at me.

As always, he had overtalked to cover up for his nervousness.

I felt sorry for him.

"Greg, I think you're very confused." I said cautiously, "I really don't want to talk about this… plan of yours," I said calmly "But I can tell you one thing: There's nothing wrong with a kiss."

He gaped.

"You really think so?" he asked after a moment. "Wow" he gasped, "Here I was about to give you a speech on how a relationship would do you good, and it turns out that you've already agreed!"

"I have not!" I said quickly, "All I meant is that you don't have to apologize for this! You were drunk and you didn't know what you were doing -I understand that."

He looked at me thoughtfully.

"Grissom, I'm not going to blame my behavior on a couple of drinks. I mean, sometimes people get drunk and then they claim they didn't know what they were doing, but I do. I remember everything I said and everything I did. I remember everything you did, too."

"I didn't do anything." I frowned.

"No, but I felt you." He said, and then he lowered his voice. "When I got you in my arms, there was a reaction, down there." He said, glancing down at me.

What could I say to that?

"Jeeze, Grissom," he scoffed, "You're blushing."

"I'm not-"

"You're not a prude, are you?" he frowned, "I mean, it's ok if you are, but-"

"I'm not a prude," I replied.

"I'll simply take it slowly, and-"

"Greg," I interrupted, "Listen," I said, and then I spoke solemnly, "We need to forget what happened, all right?"

"Why?"

"Because I say so." I replied curtly. I'd tried to be kind to him, but I could see it was a mistake, "We're coworkers, Greg." I said in a slightly patronizing tone, "I'm your boss. This would be inappropriate at best. At worst, it could affect our work. And…" I paused, "I'm much older than you, too."

He didn't seem much concerned by my little speech.

Actually, he was grinning.

"You didn't say the magic words," he said.

"What magic words?"

"'I don't like you, Greg' ." He replied, looking very pleased with himself. "I mean, you weren't exactly grossed out by me, Grissom." He said knowingly, "On the contrary." He paused. "I'm not surprised, you know? There's something about you that made me believe you'd be open to the possibilities... You know what Freud said, right? That the only unnatural sex would be-"

"To have none at all,'" I finished. "That's very convincing on paper, but not in real life, Greg. And I think you're just confusing hero-worship with attraction."

"I don't think so." He frowned, "I admire you, sure, but I'm not blind to your flaws. You have plenty, you know. It's actually part of your charm."

I looked down at the tags and papers on the table.

"Greg... I don't know what you see in me, but-"

"What I see is a man who'd look better if he let his hair curl or if he lost a few pounds…" He said with more honesty than I expected. Then he added, "Someone who would feel better if he let someone into his life-"

I didn't look up.

"I can be discreet," he said more confidently, "In case you're worried. I mean," he added, "How long do you think I've felt like this? It's been more than two years and you never knew."

I cleared my throat.

"Greg…" I started, "I haven't done this in a long time-"

"Oh, that's ok." He interrupted, "I can be patient."

"That's not what I meant," I said patiently, "What I'm trying to say is that I haven't done this because I don't want to. I live quietly and I like it that way. I'm not going to change my life just because you're curious."

"I don't want you to change your life." He replied "I want to complement it"

That sounded nice. He seemed to have all the right answers, and it was starting to bother me. I was also starting to wonder whether I should take advantage of this chance… a once-in-a-lifetime chance…

Waaaait a minute. I immediately stopped that line of thought.

"Greg, there's something you've got to understand about me." I said deliberately, "I'd never risk my job for a quick fuck."

He reacted as if I had punched him, but he recovered quickly.

"Oh, Grissom, Grissom," he said, shaking his head, "It would never be quick with me; it would be slow and good." He wiggled an eyebrow, "Ever heard of Tantric sex?"

I snorted. I couldn't help but admire Greg's cockiness. My reaction seemed to please him; he had disarmed me and he knew it very well.

"Are you gonna me a chance?" he asked.

"Greg…" I paused, trying to find the right words, "I can only think of reasons not to do this…"

"And I can only think of reasons to do it" he replied.

We looked at each other.

"Come on," he said quietly, "Give me a chance. Let's..." he hesitated, "Let's do something together. Let's go out -"

"No." I said firmly

"…for lunch." He finished. "Anywhere you want" he added.

Lunch sounded safe enough.

"Or we could go to the new Barnes & Noble," he added.

"Well…" That was safe too.

"What about a baseball game on Sunday?"

I hesitated. That sounded good, actually. Damn it, he seemed to know me very well.

"I guess we could go." I mumbled, "To lunch," I added. We could only spare about forty-five minutes.

"What about a visit to a Museum?" he said.

"All right."

"Sleep with me?" he ventured carelessly, but I held back my answer this time. "Is that a 'no'?" he smirked.

"Greg…" I gave him a warning look, and he laughed.

"All right, Grissom. Lunch it is. And I'll have baseball tickets for next Sunday."

"It's sold out" I said, happy to thwart his plans.

"What if I can get the tickets?" he challenged, "Will you come with me?"

'Hell, no' a part of my brain reacted at last.

'Oh, come on,' countered the other part, "How dangerous can a game be? '

"Ok," I said.

Greg smiled.

"Great," he said, "I'm gonna make a couple of calls and-"

"Later," I said, all business again, "Now, let's go over the importance of the chain of custody again."

TBC

Note: Catherine's unnamed boyfriend here is the club owner that Nicholas Lea played in a couple of episodes. I wasn't surprised when she caught him cheating.

The procedures mentioned by Greg were taken from Proper Tagging and Labeling of Evidence for Later Identification by Mike Byrd