THURSDAY

Sara entered the break room just as Greg was about to take a sip of his coffee. She closed the door and leant on it.

"All right," she said, "Start talking."

Greg put down his cup and smiled.

"You've got me alone in a room and all you want to do is talk?" he teased.

"Warrick says you're not running with us."

Greg's smile died. He looked down.

"I wanted to tell everyone," he said, "But you were busy, so-"

"So?" she insisted.

He looked up.

"So I told Warrick alone."

"And?" she insisted.

"And that's it." He said. "I'm not running with you; I'm running with the guys from Washington -"

"But why? I thought you were happy with our team."

"I was," he said, "I was, Sara. I just..." he shrugged evasively.

"Yes?" she insisted. She crossed her arms and stared at him until he squirmed.

"I just want to win." He muttered reluctantly.

"Excuse me?" Sara said, tilting her head as if she hadn't heard correctly, "You want to win? Isn't that what everyone wants?"

"Not really," Greg said. "I mean, you guys don't need to win. You just want to make a good run." He frowned, "Maybe it's Grissom's influence." He mumbled, almost to himself.

"Grissom's influence?" she asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well..." he hesitated. "Let's just say that his pep talks aren't that inspiring." He said, "I mean, they all end up with how winning isn't really that important." He scowled.

Sara smiled faintly.

"He just sees things from a different perspective," she said

"Or from a different planet." Greg muttered to himself.

"He's right, you know." she said, "It's just a race, after all."

"It's just a race, unless you've got a chance to win," Greg replied, "And I have a chance to win."

"But why did winning become so important, all of a sudden?" she asked, and then she looked suspiciously at him, "Did you wager a year's salary like some of the cops did?"

"No!" he replied indignantly.

"Then what is it? Did you enter some sort of bet or..." she looked closely at him, "You're not gambling, are you?" she paused, "Greg?"

"Sara, it's not what you think -" he said.

"Well, I hope so." she retorted, "Gambling could get you in a lot of trouble, you know that. Just ask Warrick if you don't believe me -"

"Whoa, Sara!" he said, raising both hands in a pacifying gesture, "I'm not gambling, ok?"

He smiled reassuringly, but he could see that Sara was still not convinced. Sara seemed to have a completely wrong idea of the reasons behind his decision not to run with the CSI team and, while Greg didn't want her to think the worse of him, he didn't want to explain either.

After all, his own reasons were not exactly noble; they were petty –petty and childish.

"Greg?" Sara said, tilting her head, "Are you going to tell me?"

He sighed. She was not going to let go until he told her.

"Fine," he said resignedly, "I'm gonna tell you, but please, let's keep it between us, ok?"

She pulled a chair and sat close to him.

"Ok," she said.

"I mean it, Sara." He insisted. "This is kind of embarrassing and I'd rather nobody knew."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"'Cause you're my friend." He said matter-of-factly.

And so, Greg told her everything. First, he told her about Professor Vauchss, and how the old man had requested his help.

"I didn't want to disappoint him," he said, "The old guy was very supportive when I was in college." He added, "This is a chance for me to do something for him. I mean, he really lives for these races, Sara."

"So, you're doing this for your old teacher?" Sara asked, wondering why Greg would be embarrassed by this.

"Well, hum, no." Greg faltered, "He's only a part of it." He admitted, and then he told her about Chip Barnes, the one person who had turned his high school years into a nightmare. He told her about the practical jokes, the ridiculing, and the fights that Greg never won.

He told her how Chip would put a hand on Greg's head and pin him down, while Greg flailed his arms around, trying to punch back.

"I never hit him." Greg said, "I was too small and, frankly, I lacked the cunning."

"And now this guy is coming to town." Sara said thoughtfully.

"Yeah." He nodded. He looked at her, "I know how this sounds, Sara," he added, "I know we're adults now, and I know I should take the high road and not let Chip bother me, but…" he shook his head, "I can't."

Sara smiled gently but didn't say anything.

"You know," he said after a moment, "When I was a kid I used to fantasize that I was able to pummel him down," he said, and then he paused, remembering those dreams. "I could do that now, but I can't, right?" he smiled faintly, "All I can do is win the race."

"So that's why you'll be running with the Washington guys." She said. "I heard they're good." She added.

He looked up, wondering if she resented him. She gazed back expressionlessly.

"Look. Anyone can replace me, you know that. But Professor Vauchss doesn't know anybody else -" he said, "And he was really helpful when I was in College. This is a chance for me to do something for him, and-"

"… and for yourself, too," she interrupted. "Be honest," she said, "You just want to be able to yell nyah, nyah, nyah, to this guy."

"No, I really want to help -" he started, but she was not buying it, and he knew it. "Oh, all right." He sighed, "It's true. But come on. Put yourself in my place. Didn't you ever wish you could go back in time just for a chance to tell off the people who made your life hell at school?"

Sara opened her mouth to categorically deny this, but she stopped. She seemed lost in thought for a moment.

Greg looked closely at her.

"Well?" he prompted.

She seemed reluctant to answer.

"Greg," she said at last, "If I had a chance to tell off the cheerleader-type girls who tormented me all those years ago… Yeah," she admitted, "I'd take it."

Greg smiled.

"So, am I forgiven?"

She nodded.

"You are."

"You don't think it's stupid, then?"

"I do." She said gently. "But I understand." She rose from her seat and walked to the door. Just as she was about to leave, she turned and said, "But I'm warning you," she said, "If you try to pull this off again, I'll personally whip your ass, ok?"

He smiled winningly.

"Is that an offer?"

Greg smiled to himself. Sara had let him off the hook pretty easily. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then he shook his head. He needed to hurry; he had barely an hour to go back home and get ready for work.

But thinking of Sara inevitably made him think of the events that had taken place on Friday. What would she say if he told her of his conversation with Professor Vauchss? Would she let him off the hook again? Or would she try to make up his mind for him?

TBC