DILEMMA

I've said it before: I love GSR, but when I'm in the mood for GGR, I picture Sara with Warrick.

"We need to talk."

"Ok," I said calmly.

The words filled me with dread, but Greg wouldn't have guessed just by looking at me.

Keeping my emotions in check and presenting a bland façade to the world is an ability of mine that has been useful over the years. It helped me back in college, when I played poker to pay the bills, and it helps me now, when I deal with criminals. I can listen impassively to anything they say, and all they'll ever get from me is a detached, 'So, you dismembered the body and hid it under your bed? Uh, huh. What else?' and I never let them know how I feel about the horrors they tell.

So, that morning I calmly looked at Greg and vowed not to crumble, no matter what he said.

Greg was just the opposite; he was nervous and it showed. He would pick up a fork and then put it down, only to pick it up again. He used the fork to pick up a stray piece of pancake and then looked at it as if it held some important clue.

He was stalling.

"Greg?" I prompted him.

He looked up.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm still not sure how to say this." he admitted. He shifted in his seat. "I've been trying to tell you for days-" He said, "But I've chickened out at the last minute."

"I noticed." I said.

"Did you?" he paused, "You didn't say anything-"

Of course, I didn't. I'd been hoping he'd simply get over whatever was bothering him and return to normal.

"I thought you'd tell me, eventually." I said.

Greg looked at me and smiled sheepishly.

"Relationships are complicated, huh?" he said, "I bet you didn't think it would be like this."

I smiled back but didn't comment. He looked at the fork in his hand and then he spoke again.

"See, the thing is… We have fun, you and me. I don't want to lose that."

Okay, I thought cautiously.

"I mean, last night was really great, Grissom. Not just dinner, but the songs, and-" he smiled when I winced, "Oh, yeah," he added, "I'm not letting you forget that you sang –and danced. Hey, you have a nice voice," he teased, "Why be embarrassed about it?"

We smiled at each other, and then he took a deep breath.

"See? This is what happens every time I try to talk to you," he said, "I open my mouth to speak but before I do, you say something cute or do something cute; and then I start wondering whether I should mess up with this-"

Well, I thought, don't mess up with it, then.

"I had fun last night, Grissom." he said, "I mean, even the rain seemed to fit in your plans." He smiled. "I was in such a high that by the time I was in my sleeping bag, I'd already decided not to say anything." He paused, "But then you took me into your home, and-" He shook his head as if he still couldn't believe it,"And then you gave me your key-"

"Well-"

"And that changes everything, Grissom."

"Greg… It's just a key-" I argued.

"It's more than that," he said, and then he took his key ring from a pocket and put it on the table. He separated the newest addition from the rest, "This key says that you trust me."

"Yeah," I nodded cautiously, "I do."

"Well, I want to deserve that trust." He said firmly, "And that means I have to tell you something I did, even though it's gonna piss you off."

Oh, crap.

"Or maybe it won't;" he said with a frown, "It's hard to tell; I mean, you're kind of unpredictable, sometimes-" he shook his head, "Anyway, this is something that happened way before we got together, but it's precisely what brought us together, if you know what I mean-"

He was starting to babble and my bland façade was starting to crumble.

"Greg," I said impatiently, "Just tell me."

"I will," he assured me, "It's just hard, ok?" he paused as if to put his thoughts in order, "I mean," he added, "I know how much you value your privacy, Grissom. You like to keep your life to yourself and I understand that, but… a year ago I wasn't concerned about all that. At the time I was more concerned about my feelings for you, and- well, I can't keep things to myself, sometimes." He lowered his voice, "I needed someone to talk to, Grissom." He said slowly, "So- I told a friend."

I nodded, mostly to encourage him to continue.

"A good friend." He added, "At first it seemed like this was the last person I should talk to," he said ruefully, "But talking helped. I even got the encouragement I needed to go for it."

A friend, I thought; an encouraging one. In my mind, I started to picture a lightly freckled face, arrogant and handsome; the face of my nemesis, Dennis-the-Psychologist, who must have been playing the role of 'understanding friend' at the time.

"You see," Greg was saying, "I really love this friend and-"

Oh, crap.

"And she cares about me." Greg finished.

I froze.

It wasn't Dennis, then. It was a woman.

Was this good or bad?

"She's protective of me." he said, "She is very-" He paused, "Grissom?" he frowned, "Are you breathing?"

"Uh, huh," I mumbled, even though for a moment I'd forgotten to.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

I was not; the suspense was killing me.

"Can't you just tell me, Greg?"

"Right," He said, "Ok." He nodded, but it took him a while to say more, "So, hum," he hesitated, "I talked to her and ended up telling her that I had a crush on you, and-" he paused, "She froze," he said ruefully, "It must have been the last thing she expected from me, you know? I mean, I was always teasing her and flirting with her-"

Oh, no, I thought. Oh, no, no-

"I flirt with her 'cause she's pretty, you know? She is, but she doesn't know it, if you know what I mean," he said, "And if someone tells her, she just doesn't believe it, so -" he shrugged slightly, "I tease her all the time."

-no, no-

I didn't want to hear this.

"Not that she ever took me seriously." He added, "I guess she saw right through me." He mused, "One day she sat me down and asked me to be honest. I couldn't lie to her, so-"

I gulped.

"You told Sara." I said.

Greg held my gaze.

"Yes."

I glanced longingly at the hallway that led to my bedroom. I couldn't help wishing I was still asleep, having one of my oh-so-funny nightmares. When I looked back, I realized he was waiting for me to say something.

With an effort, I held on to my bland façade.

"You shouldn't have done that." I said calmly.

"She isn't going to tell -"

"That's not the point."

"She's ok with this, Grissom."

I looked down.

"Are you angry?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm not." I said eventually, "I'm only wondering how this is going to change things at the lab-"

"Nothing's going to change." he said quickly, "I mean, nothing has changed so far -"

But the truth is, I wasn't really concerned about the lab. I was thinking of Sara. There was a time when I had considered the possibility of being with her, only to pull away again and again –until she gave up on me, probably convinced that I just wasn't interested in romance. And now she knew that wasn't the case.

Greg was right; Sara was the last person he should have talked to about us.

"There's something else," He said.

Something else? With a sinking feeling, I looked up and waited for him to continue.

"Do you remember what Sara said last week about having lunch at La Lumière?" he asked.

"She said she had made the reservations…" I hesitated, "And something about turning a table for two into a table for four-"

"Exactly," he nodded, "She was inviting us, Grissom."

"She was?" I frowned, "Why would she do that?"

"We're her friends."

"But this is a romantic occasion; they should be alone-" I paused when I realized something, "Warrick knows about you and me." I said.

"Yeah," he nodded.

Amazing. Suddenly, my nightmares were coming true.

Wait a minute-

"Does Eckley know?" I asked abruptly.

"No!" Greg said immediately, "Do you think I'm that stupid? I only told Sara, and she's not going to tell anybody. Except Warrick, that is."

I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment.

"She really wants us to go." He said.

"Why?"

"It's her first St. Valentine's lunch, Grissom; the poor girl must be freaking out. Maybe she just needs our support." He paused, "Maybe she needs your blessing."

I looked at him.

"She doesn't need my blessing." I argued, "I made it clear I didn't have a problem with their relationship."

Greg snorted.

"Actually, all you did was warn her against working cases together." He said dryly. "I think she needs to talk-"

I winced. I didn't need to talk.

He noticed my expression.

"Shit. You're pissed off-" he said.

"I'm not." I said calmly. I wasn't exactly pissed off; I simply felt I'd been ambushed… And he hadn't even used the word 'Baby' to warn me.

I didn't want to deal with this. I took a deep breath and looked around. The sun was pouring in, lending a delicate golden glow to every surface in the kitchen. Even the mess on the counter looked picture-perfect. Too perfect, in fact. Maybe I was still asleep and dreaming?

Well, if I was, then this was about the right moment to wake up... but nothing happened.

Maybe pinching myself could help...?

Ouch.

I winced and he noticed.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing." I mumbled, "Just testing something."

He gave me another of his 'you're weird' looks, and this time I responded with my own, 'look who's talking' look.

He smiled faintly, but after a moment his smile faded.

"Are you ashamed?" he asked quietly.

The question took me by surprise.

"Ashamed?"

"Yeah. You know, of being with a guy-"

"No." I said honestly, "I just-" I hesitated, "I'd never had so many people aware of my private life before."

He looked at me.

"But that's only part of it, right?" he said slowly, "I mean, you said yes to me only after Sara started dating Warrick." He paused, "And Sara started dating Warrick only after I told her I was serious about you." He looked at me, "It looks like there was something between you two."

I nodded reluctantly.

"So," he said, looking down, "What happened?"

You happened, I was going to say, but that was only partly true. Even before Greg forced me to look at myself and accept who I was, I'd already realized that I couldn't love Sara.

"Nothing ever happened," I said, "I'm not the kind of man she needs –and not just for the obvious reasons." I said, "There were times when I thought I could try –and times when I wanted to try- but," I shrugged, trying to find the right words, "I couldn't. There are things I'd never do, not even for her. I never wanted to have kids, and-"

Greg snorted.

"I don't think Sara wants to have kids either."

"She may think so now, but once she opens up to Warrick, she might change her mind." I paused, "I would never change my mind."

"Uh, huh," he nodded thoughtfully, "So-" he said after a moment, "You simply assumed I didn't want to become a father?"

I gaped.

I couldn't believe this; Greg actually looked hurt.

"You…" I mumbled, "You want to-"

"Well," he shrugged, "There's something called adoption, you know."

"Yes, but-" I hesitated, "Well," I mumbled, "If you… I mean, if you really-"

He burst into laughter.

"Aw, man," he said, "Are you trying to say that you could change your mind?"

I was not! I opened my mouth to deny this, but didn't say anything in the end. My so-called bland façade was lying all around me, pulverized by emotions I hadn't been able to hold back.

But Greg –oh, he was enjoying himself immensely.

"Oh, man, I wish you could look at yourself right now." He chuckled. "Hey," he added, reaching for my hand and patting it reassuringly, "Relax." he said tenderly, "I don't intend to become a dad any time soon. I mean, come on!" he smirked, "Taking care of you is a full-time job."

Oh. Good. That meant I could start to breathe again.

"You look relieved." He noticed.

"You have no idea;" I said breathlessly. Then I glared, "Don't do that again, ok? My heart won't take it one of these days."

"Don't worry," he said, "I'll always take care of your heart."

I held on to his hand for quite a while. I needed the reassurance.

"Grissom," he said and he paused until I looked up, "I'd really like to go to La Lumière."

"Greg-"

"Look," he interrupted, "Sara is my friend, and I'd like to be there for her." He said quietly. "You should be there, too." he added. He rubbed my hand with his thumb. "And if you feel the need to apologize to her…" he said pointedly, "Then this is your chance." He paused, "Just think it over, Ok?"

"Do I have a choice?" I asked dryly.

"Sure, you do." He said, giving my hand a final squeeze.

He rose from his seat and began to pile up the dirty dishes.

"Don't bother," I said, "I'll take care of them later."

"Nah, I'll do it." he said good-naturedly.

"But I was hoping you'd help me feed my cockroaches-"

"Hell, no," he winced, "Those are your kids. You take care of them."

"Wimp." I muttered and he snorted.

"Hey, I'm not a wimp," he said, "But I made this mess and I have to fix it. As for your pets-" He put both hands on the table and leant forward, "Next time you invite me over, I'll change their diapers and feed them." He quipped, "I promise."

I smiled. I liked the fact that he was talking about a next time.

Resigned to the fact that he was not going to help, I went outside. I fed my pets and cleaned up their cages and for an hour my attention was completely focused on them. Once I finished my chores, however, it was time to face my new dilemma. A new decision was expected of me and I still didn't know what to do. The idea of facing Sara disturbed me. It didn't matter that she had known all about Greg and me for a year -I hadn't been aware of this, and I wished Greg hadn't told me.

I sighed. It was at times like this that I questioned the wisdom of entering a relationship. It pissed me off to feel vulnerable, insecure, and –why not admit it?- foolish. I mean, I'm a smart man; all my life I've relied on knowledge and science to get ahead and I've done pretty good. Cases may baffle me at first, but I know what to do to find the answers.

But when relationships and feelings baffle me, there is not one book I can turn to.It's frustrating.

I still hadn't decided what to do when I went back inside the house.

Greg had done a great clean up job in the kitchen. He was still there, putting the pans back in the cupboards and muttering something to himself.

I smiled as I watched him. It suddenly occurred to me that, baffled or not, I'd been having fun since we started this relationship.

I walked until I was standing just behind him.

"Hey," I greeted huskily.

"How the hell do you manage to get these inside?" he asked impatiently, "I can't make them fit-"

"That's ok." I said, "Leave them and I'll-"

"No way," he interrupted, "I said I'd return everything to its place, and that's what I'm gonna do!"

He was determined, and I knew better than to interrupt him.

I needed a shower, anyway.

But when I returned to the kitchen ten minutes later and found him in the same position I'd let him before, I knew it was time to intervene. I brought the box of chocolates he gave me and waved it in front of his eyes to entice him away.

Response: A distracted, "Thanks, but I've got to finish this." And he turned his attention back to the cupboard and the photo he'd taken with his cell phone.

I playfully kissed his stubbly cheek.

Response: An exasperated "Do you mind?" followed by a mutter, "I don't get it. For some reason I can't make all the pans fit. I must be doing something wrong, but-" and he forgot all about me.

Crestfallen, I returned to my room to get dressed.

I was about to take off my bathrobe when I looked at the unmade bed.

And I smiled.

I walked out of my room and stood in the hallway.

"Hey, Sanders?" I called out, "You finished there?"

"Not yet!"

"Well, what are you going to do about the mess in the bed?" I asked sternly.

"What mess?" he asked incredulously.

"Come down and see for yourself!"

He immediately abandoned his task in the kitchen –just as I knew he would- and by the way he stomped down the hallway, I could tell he was in a combative mood.

"What is it?" he asked as he entered the bedroom, "Well?" he asked as he looked at the bed, "It's unmade -big deal! There's no mess in here-"

"Well," I interrupted calmly, "Shouldn't we making up one?"

Greg winced and for a few seconds he only stood there, with his mouth open, hesitating between one word and the next. But whatever words he had planned to say, they died away. He closed his mouth with a snap, and then he rolled his eyes.

"You tricked me." He said, smiling reluctantly.

I nodded.

"I love you." I said, and I took a step closer. "Shall I count the ways?"

He snorted.

"Nah," he said, "Just show me."

TBC

Next: a conversation in bed and a decision to make about lunch… and maybe, the return of evil Dennis.

(OMG! If I continue like this, by the time I finish this Valentine's Day tale it'll be Halloween and time for Grissom to start sacrificing virgin moths!)