Author's Notes: Big hugs and kisses and chocolate chip cookies to those of you who are reading this story;)
Jewels
by Kristen Elizabeth
"Greg. Greg! Hey!"
Warrick's voice finally broke through. Greg glanced up from doctoring his coffee. "What?"
"The whistling. Cut it out."
"I was whistling?" He smirked. "I didn't notice."
The look he received could only be described as withering. "What's got you so annoyingly up, anyway?" Warrick asked, unfolding his newspaper. "You get laid?"
Greg coughed, cleared his throat, and flipped his co-worker off while he wasn't looking. "It just so happens that I'm in a good mood. Shoot me."
"So tempting…"
They were both saved by Grissom's entrance. "Taking a break, fellows?" he asked, crossing to the coffee pot.
"I've got stuff in trace," Warrick mused, his eyes still scanning his paper. His pager went off just then. "Hodges needs to learn to hold his damn horses."
Grissom poured himself a cup. "How many pages is that?"
"Two? Three? I lost count." With a sigh, Warrick folded up the paper and stood. "Yeah. I'm going."
His departure left a wake of awkward silence between them. Greg snuck a glance at Grissom. He was calmly sipping his coffee and scanning the headlines.
He cleared his throat. Now or never. "Uh…Grissom?"
"Yes, Greg?"
"There's…um…there's something I want…uh…you know…say. To you."
"Really?"
"I'm sorry," he blurted out.
Grissom looked up. "Sorry for what, Greg?"
He sighed. "C'mon. You know. For what I said. The other day."
Taking a thoughtful sip, Grissom inquired, "And what was that?"
"You know…the thing. The thing about you and…Sara."
"Sara?"
Greg threw up his hands. "See, now you're just torturing me!"
"Consider your apology accepted," his boss said with a smile. "As long as you also extend one to her."
"Already done." He frowned, puzzled. "I guess you two really don't talk about work stuff when you're at home."
Grissom stood up with his cup. "Home?" He gave Greg the smallest of winks as he left the break room.
He sat alone for five, maybe ten minutes, enough time for his mind to wander. He wasn't surprised where his train of thought took him; it seemed like all he had to do was blink and he'd see their face.
Greg crumpled his empty Styrofoam cup in his hand. In only a few hours, the shift would be over.
And Regan would call again. It didn't even occur to him to be worried about how much he was looking forward to it.
"You want to really know someone?" Brass entered the layout room where Sara, Grissom and Greg were going over the case. He plopped a file folder down in front of them. "Follow the money. Or in this case, the lack of money."
Sara reached for the file first. "Maia Mays was broke," she said a moment later. "She had three credit cards, each with a fifteen thousand dollar limit, all maxed out. No savings. And her checking account had a total balance of..." Sara whistled. "Seventy-two dollars and thirty cents."
"Not only was she broke, she was broke with massive debts." Grissom read over Sara's shoulder.
"She wasn't living the life of pauper," Sara mused. "And she was still managing to pay her rent. Where was the money for that coming from?"
Grissom's eyebrows arched slightly. "Another gift from one of her gentlemen callers?"
"Or maybe she was getting money from somewhere else. Loans of a less than legitimate variety? That wouldn't show up on her credit report."
He countered, "Well, sharks generally don't have their borrowers killed, just bruised. If they have her throat slit, they don't ever get their money back."
"Unless they realized that she wouldn't ever be good for it. Then she becomes expendable and…"
"Guys!" Greg formed a 'T' out of his hands. "Time out! There's not a shred of evidence to support any of that."
They exchanged a look, but it was Brass who pointed out, "I bet her sister would know."
He answered without thinking. "They weren't all that close, but I'll ask her." Catching Sara's look, Greg quickly added, "When she comes in for another formal interrogation, of course."
"Of course," Grissom said, a second later. "Well. Keep us informed."
"Yeah." He forced a smile. "You got it, boss."
As soon as Greg got home, he jumped in the shower and washed the shift off. After changing into faded flannel pajama bottoms, he stood in front of his mirror for a few minutes, critiquing himself. The extra hours he put in at the gym here and there were starting to pay off. He flexed a few muscles, pleased at what he saw.
He'd been expecting the phone to ring. But it was a knock on his front door that interrupted him.
When he answered the door, he instantly wished he'd taken the extra five seconds it would have taken to put on a shirt.
"Regan?" Her appearance on his doorstep had officially blown his mind. "You're here. At my apartment."
She'dditched the overcoat, but her shapeless sweater and jeans weren't much of an improvement. He was faintly surprised to discover that it didn't matter what she wore. Her face…that incredible face…was tear-streaked.
"I took a gamble that you were G. Sanders in the phone book." Regan bit her lip so hard he was afraid she'd draw blood. "I know I shouldn't be here. The phone calls are bad enough. But I just…" She stopped and shook her head. "I'm all alone. She's gone…and I lost half of me."
His co-workers could judge him all they liked, but he'd have challenged any of them to turn her away when her pain was so visible it actually hurt to witness it. He couldn't just pat her arm and send her away, not when she was breaking down in front of him.
Greg found himself reaching out, pulling her into an embrace. They stood still for a long time until Regan looked up at him. "I don't want to be alone tonight."
In for a penny, in for a pound. Everyone at the lab had their secrets; this would be his.
Greg led her into the apartment and shut the door behind them.
To Be Continued