DILEMMA

I love GSR, but for my GGR stories, it's WSR

I had plans to continue with this story, just not yet. However, Sane from Denmark said she wanted to know what happened next… and here it is. (Sorry it took me so long, but I've been juggling other stories too. I promise the next two chapters will be posted faster!)

Thank you for reviewing!

Another family reunion?

Greg must have noticed that I wasn't happy about it, because he quickly finished brushing his teeth and mumbled something about packing leftovers.

I stayed in the bathroom, long after I finished brushing my teeth.

Another family reunion.

It wasn't that I didn't like his family; I did. I just didn't understand why they needed to see each other so often. I mean, I rarely saw my cousins, and I didn't miss them.

But then, we Grissoms aren't known for our deep roots. For years, some uncles and aunts provided some family warmth but after they passed away, my mother and I simply met at some restaurant . There was nothing warm about those yearly meetings, though, and soon faxes and e-mails became our only source of communication.

I can't imagine Greg ever being satisfied with that

I was turning off the lights when a new thought came to me: Had Dennis ever been subjected to these family reunions too? And if he was, did he hit it off with mama Asty, the Psychiatrist? I bet he did. Maybe he even got to charm Karen.

The thought didn't cheer me up.

I was thinking how having a relationship seemed to be all hard work, when suddenly I realized there were rewards too: There, in the middle of our 'camping site', Greg had stripped down to his underwear. I hadn't noticed this when we were upstairs, but he was wearing black hip-hugging boxers and a black t-shirt; my favorites.

Aw, he had dressed up (and dressed down) for the occasion…

I was questioning my decision to sleep in separate bags and wondering how to back off without losing face, when I reminded myself of the reason why I had planned it this way: We rarely ever did anything outdoors; this would at least give us the illusion of being miles away from the city.

I thanked him for cleaning up, but didn't say a word about his clothes, or about how good he looked in them. I simply got into my bag. After a moment of hesitation, so did he.

We lay in silence for a while. The air was clean; the crickets were chirping, the fiberglass fountain was in top working condition, and the cockroaches inside were gently buzzing. Yep, it was just like being in the woods…

I glanced at him. He was staring at the sky.

"Are you comfortable?" I asked.

"Mmmh?" He blinked and looked at me, "Yeah."

I turned and put my arm under my pillow. I watched him for a moment.

"You look good under the moon light." I said.

He was speechless and I chuckled; it's not often that I get to surprise him with words or actions, but when I do, I enjoy it immensely.

"Shit, Grissom." He said, recovering at last, "Now you're overdoing the romantic part." He said dismissively. He was pleased though, and it showed. "You know…" he said after a moment, "If you want to have a little fun, I'd be more than willing to get out of this bag. I wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor-"

"No, thanks." I said, scowling, "We'd need a softer ground for that kind of fun."

"Aw, come on-" he snickered, "It's not that bad."

"Not for you," I retorted, "I'm the one who ends with a stiff back while you fall asleep on me-"

"Well, is it my fault that you're so cushiony and cuddly?"

"Good night." I said firmly, and turned my back on him.

"Fine." He retorted, "You know what? I'm going to zip this bag all the way up. Then when you get lonely and cold and need me to warm you up, I won't move a finger. You'll have to work hard to get this bag open, and then-"

I ignored the rant, but I was smiling, thinking of all the things we'd get to do the following day.

In my dream I was walking in the woods.

I recognized the place, even though I hadn't been there in years –since I was a child, in fact. I'd forgotten how beautiful it was, how filled with living creatures -butterflies and scary spiders and all kind of small rodents- and trees. Ah, the trees! They were huge, as tall as sequoias –or maybe they only looked that way because I was small for my age.

I loved those trees. I'd always fantasized that one day I'd climb one of them –just like in a fairy tale - and escape the ogre. Because in my world, the ogre was already on the ground and salvation was up there in the far away branches that seemed to touch the sky.

A shot brought me out of my reverie –a shot and a voice calling my name. Suddenly terrified, I looked around for a place to hide. He was somewhere close.

Grissom>

I stopped. It wasn't the ogre's voice. I sighed in relief. This was a voice I didn't fear-

"Um, Grissom?"

I opened my eyes and looked around. Greg was frantically trying to sit up.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I think it's going to rain."

"No, it's not." I said dismissively, "It never rains in-" A fat drop fell on my forehead, effectively shutting me up. "Maybe you're right." I said. I sat up and started to unzip my bag, "Maybe we should get inside."

"Hey, would you give me a hand?" he said sheepishly, "This damn zipper got stuck."

"Sure," I said, slowly crawling out of my bag. I saw no reason to hurry; we were only going to get a light shower at most, and then it would stop. I was about to reassure Greg, when the fat drops of water multiplied and turned into a deluge.

I grabbed the zipper on Greg's bag and tugged-

And tugged again, with absolutely no success. He had effectively trapped himself inside.

"What the hell did you do?" I grunted.

"Just hurry up!" he retorted, "I'm getting wet here!"

He was getting wet, but I was getting drenched.

"I'd get this open faster if you'd stop wiggling-" I protested.

"I'm not wiggling!"

Finally, I gave up trying to open the bag and just dragged it towards the house and out of the rain. Greg enjoyed the ride –well sure; it was a game for him but it was hell for my poor back.

"Hey, you're really strong." he said admiringly, and those words effectively erased my bad mood. "What's that?" he asked, cocking his head to a side.

I paused. The gentle buzzing that had lulled us to sleep had turned into an eerie moan.

"It's the cockroaches." I grunted, tugging hard on the zipper again, "The rain must be disturbing them." I pulled with all my strength and yanked the bag open at last.

I fell back on my butt, completely exhausted.

"Thanks." Greg said, calmly getting out of the bag. "Now," he said, offering me a hand, "Could we pretend this was some sort of chastity belt that only my true love could get to open?"

I snorted.

Personally, I was glad it rained. It had given me the perfect excuse to get him inside the house without much ceremony.

I went to get some towels and when I returned, I found him in the same spot I'd left him –in the middle of the kitchen. He had respectfully waited for me.

"So," he said as he dried his hair, "this is your home, huh?"

"I was wondering when you were going to catch on." I teased.

"I had my suspicions." He said, "I mean, you're not the kind of guy who would use a friend's house for a romantic getaway-"

"I guess I could have invented a better story."

"Yes." He nodded, "But on the other hand," he paused, "I don't want you to get better at lying."

I was putting on some dry clothes when I noticed that he was glancing here and there, trying to be inconspicuous about it.

He was curious, understandably so.

I reached for a switch on the wall and turned on every light in the kitchen and the living room. I took a deep breath.

"Go ahead," I said as casually as I could, "Take a look-"

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Just like that?" he paused, "No rules, no warnings about doors that ought to remain closed, no matter how curious I get?"

We shared a smile. This is something that Greg and I have in common –we were raised on a steady diet of fairy tales. When either of us alludes to one of them, the other immediately understands.

It's something we had never shared with anyone.

"Go ahead," I repeated, holding back the urge to follow him. I had to show him that I trusted him.

Predictably, he wasn't interested in the kitchen; he walked straight to the living room.

He took his time examining the bookcases, pausing here and there to read the titles of books and CDs; he studied the few objects of art–mostly wood sculptures- and a couple of butterfly collections displayed on the wall.

All along, he had been muttering a few comments to himself; but when he stooped to examine a row of VCR tapes, he spoke loud enough for me to hear.

"Ah, ha!" he said, "I knew it!"

"What?" I frowned.

"I found your porn stash."

"My what?" I frowned.

"You heard me," he replied.

I finally had an excuse to approach him. He glanced at me over his shoulder.

"Really, Grissom." He said sternly, "I'm shocked." He turned to look at the tapes again, "'Hot Sex in Asia,' " he said, " 'Big and Black', 'Big Suckers'-"

I peered over his shoulder.

"'The Mating Habits of the South Korean Mantis'," I read aloud, "The African Rhinoceros Beetle', 'Bats in America,'" I looked at him, "Is your mind always in the gutter?"

"Luckily for you, yes." He said, his voice sounding husky and seductive.

I looked at him, noticing how dark his jaw looked. I touched it lightly, pacing myself. It felt rough –it felt good.

"Yes," I admitted, "I'm lucky."

I leant forward to kiss him, but he put a hand flat on my chest.

"Would you have let me in if it hadn't rained?"

He was looking at me in the eye, and I decided to be as honest as I could.

"It was my intention all along," I said, and then I added, "I even bought new sheets."

"Really?" he smiled, "What kind?"

"Linen." I said, "Egyptian linen." I added smugly, enjoying the effect that my words had on him.

"Wow." He whispered. He grabbed the front of my shirt, "What the hell are we doing here, then?"

Later, while we lay close together under the covers, I started planning the day ahead. We were free until early in the evening, so we had time to do things leisurely. First, there was breakfast to take care of, and then a tour of the premises –including a visit to the cockroach nursery, if he felt he could stomach it. Then, there was lunch, or maybe a movie, or whatever we felt like doing.

And last but not least, there was a key that I wanted to give to him but still didn't know how. There had to be a romantic way to do this, and I fell asleep trying to find it.

The next morning, I got up early to cook breakfast.

I was amazed at how good my pancakes looked; they had never looked so perfectly round and golden. Gratified by this success, I started working on the omelets and by the time he finally got up, I'd already poured the beaten egg mixture in the pan.

"Wow, you're cooking omelets?" he smiled widely, "I hadn't had those since I was a kid!"

"What would you like me to put in yours?" I asked, "Left-over sausage? Cheese? Mushrooms?"

"Surprise me." He smiled.

"Okay. Pour me a cup of coffee, will you?"

He took a couple of ceramic cups and put them on the counter. While he was occupied, I took the key I had in my pocket and put it in the omelet before folding it expertly.

Boy, was he going to be surprised by this filling!

Later, we heaped pancakes and omelets on two plates and sat down. We were about to dig in when my cell phone rang.

"You're on call?" Greg asked.

"No." I hesitated, "But I told Warrick to call if there was a break in the Henderson case." I regretfully rose from my seat. "This better be good." I muttered to myself.

"Hey, I'm hungry," Greg called out after me, "Do you mind if I start?"

"Help yourself." I said distractedly, and picked up the phone.

Yes, it was Warrick and yes, there had been a break in the case, but no, I didn't care. Still, I tried to pay attention. I was about to tell him how to proceed, when suddenly there was a hair-raising howl behind me.

"OW!"

I turned. Greg had pushed his chair back and now he was covering his mouth with both hands.

"What?" I asked, taking a couple of steps to him.

"MY TEETH!" he moaned and spat a mouthful of food back on the plate.

The key.

Oh, shit. I'd forgotten to warn him about the key in the omelet, and the poor guy had bitten into it.

I threw the phone on the couch and ran to help.

"Ow, man," he moaned, "what the hell did you put in the filling?"

"Nothing!" I said, quickly taking the plate and emptying its contents in the garbage disposal. "Are you hurt?"

He glared at me but didn't answer. He was covering his mouth with both hands again.

"Let me see," I said solicitously, but he quickly held up a hand to keep me from getting any closer.

"No!" He said sternly. With his other hand he gingerly touched his front teeth. He winced. "It'h broken."

Oh, shit.

"It's going to be ok." I said calmly. "A dentist will take care of it."

"Do you know anything about dentithtry, Grithom?" he retorted, keeping a hand over his mouth so I didn't see. "On living human beingth, that ith?"

"Greg, it's not a big deal," I said reassuringly, although by the way he was mispronouncing words, it seemed that it was, "It'll be ok, you'll see. Dentists perform miracles nowadays. Come on, let me see."

He reluctantly dropped his hands and opened his mouth.

"How doeth it look?" he asked anxiously.

I stared at the gap on Greg's formerly perfect smile.

"Ith it bad?" he asked anxiously.

"Well, no." I said, lying blatantly, "I mean, yes. A little piece fell off."

"A little-"

"Well," he amended, "it's not so little, actually, but-"

"Oh, shit!" Greg bolted from his chair or at least tried to; I caught him and pushed him back on the chair. No way was I letting him go near a mirror.

"It'll be ok." I said, trying to placate him.

"That'th what you've been thaying, but-" suddenly, something attracted his attention. "Hum. Grithom?" he hesitated, pointing at something in the living room, "Who're you talking to?"

I froze. In my haste to help Greg, I'd simply thrown my cell on the couch. Warrick must have heard everything.

Crap.

"Who ith it?" Greg whispered.

"It's Warrick!" I hissed.

I took a deep breath and reached for the phone as if it was a bomb about to go off.

I could hear Warrick's laughter even before I picked it up.

"Hello." I said.

"HA, HA, HA, HA!"

"Warrick?" I said, using my 'I'm the boss' tone, "You through?"

He was practically hiccupping, but he finally got himself under control.

"Hey, Griss? What's up? Is Greg all right? Or should I say, ith Greg all right? Bwah, ha, ha!"

Oh, he was enjoying himself.

"Warrick, look." I started, "I… I…"

"Hey, man." He said gently, "You don't have to worry. Your secret's safe with me." When I didn't speak, he insisted, "Really, Griss. It's not like I didn't have my suspicions."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, come on. I've been covering up for you about twice a month, and every time you're off, Greg has conveniently had the night off too! What are the odds on that?" he snorted, "And I know about odds, believe me."

He was right, for God's sake.

"Actually, it was Sara who put two and two together." He added.

"What?" I cringed. It was one thing to have Warrick know about this, but when it came to Sara…"She knows?"

"Hey, she's a great CSI. She had to notice, Grissom."

Oh, crap, crap-

"I didn't want her to know."

"Well, don't worry." Warrick said reassuringly, "She won't tell, ok? Meanwhile, youbetter ask the Tooth Fairy to help you, 'cause it doesn't sound like Sanders is going to forgive your ass! BWAH, HA, HA, HA-"

I hung up.

Meanwhile, Greg had taken the chance to look at himself in the polished surface of a pan.

"I look like I thtopped a bullet with my teeth," he said in astonishment, and I had to agree; there was a perfect circle between his upper front teeth.

"Greg, I'm so sorry-" I said, "Listen, I'm going to get you an appointment with my-"

But the phone rang again.

"What!" I barked.

"Don't you ever say good morning, Gil?"

I couldn't believe this.

"Eckley?" I frowned, "Why are you calling me here?"

"As Assistant Director I can call you whenever I want, Gil." He retorted, "I need you to come to the lab as soon as possible."

"Why?" I asked, while following Greg with my eyes. He was looking around for something. "What do you want?"

"There's a break in the case."

"What case?" I asked, but I was more interested in Greg's movements. He had found his own cell phone and was calling someone. I put my hand on the mouthpiece on my phone and whispered, "What are you doing?"

"I'm calling my dentitht."

"Isn't it a bit early to do that?"

"Oh, she'll take my call, all right."

"How can you be so sure?"

"She loveth my teeth, that'th why." he retorted morosely, but then he softened his tone, "She'th a good friend." He explained, "She'th altho Dennith' thithter, tho-"

What?

"WHAT!" I dropped the phone on the couch, "She's Dennis' sister?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, "Hey, I better call Dennith and have him call her-"

"No."

"No, what?"

"You can't call him." I said firmly.

"What? Why not?"

"Because-" I hesitated, "Because if you tell him what happened, he's going to think I can't take care of you, and then-"

"Take care of me?" he repeated indignantly, "Take care of me?" he was more pissed off now, "What am I, thome little kid lotht in the woodth? Hey, I've been living on my own thince I wath eighteen! I've never needed anybody to-" he tilted his head, "Who are you talking to now?" he asked, pointing at the cell phone that I'd forgotten on the couch.

I froze.

"Oh, no." I muttered.

"Who ith it?" Greg whispered.

"Eckley." I hissed.

"Ellie?"

"No, not Ellie!"

I gingerly picked up the phone.

"Conrad?"

"HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!" Oh, he was enjoying this. "I have to hand it to you, Gil. This is a surprise! Ha, ha! Wait 'till I tell everyone at the lab- HA, WAIT 'TIL I TELL EVERYONE AT THE DIRECTORS' MEETING! Ha, ha, ha!"

"Oh, no." I muttered. "Oh, no, no, no."

TBC

I'll be posting the next chapter on Friday!

And please be on the lookout for a new chapter on A little something around the middle!