Title: Taking a Shot

Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Characters: Sara Sidle, Catherine Willows, hint of Greg/Sara
Prompt: #61. Chance
Word Count: 905
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The boy had been so engrossed with the case that I thought any word I had said had gone in one ear and out the other.
Author's Notes: Sara's Story. So my second attempt at Sara? Hopefully as good as the first attempt went. (Actually third considering Nick's story has Sara...) Also, this is the only one written in first person.

It took me a while to realize that Catherine had actually asked me that question and it hadn't been in my imagination. "That isn't any of your business, Catherine," I snapped angrily, wondering where she got the nerve to ask such a question.

"Chill, Sara!" The look of surprise on her face probably mirrored the one on mine from hearing her even say the word "chill." Since when did Catherine use words like that? She shook her head slightly before continuing, "It's not like I asked you what your sex life is like. I just asked what the hell you feel towards Sanders. Nothing fucking big that you'd have to snap at me like that."

I glared at her, not wanting to answer. Which I ended up doing by taking a big sip of my mildly warm coffee that had started out as being steaming hot when this conversation began.

She sighed, running her hand through her curly blonde hair, apparently frustrated with this conversation. She rolled her eyes as well, a movement I'm familiar with, before she started to talk again. "Look, Sara, I'd rather stay out of your business, but the boy's been moping for the past couple of days and it's been getting a little tiring."

Wanting to hear more, I asked, "Moping? About what?" I shifted in my chair, watching as Catherine pursed her lips, seemingly wondering whether or not she should tell.

Giving a little nod, which to me indicated that she decided to tell, she answered, "Something about a lost chance with you." She rose an eyebrow, a move that I still wish I could do, waiting for my response.

Immediately, I flushed. I had hoped that Greg hadn't realized that I had asked him out that faitful day he had passed his final proficiency. The boy had been so engrossed with the case that I thought any word I had said had gone in one ear and out the other. Apparently, I had been mistaken. I didn't try again after that, embarassed that I had even done something like that. "I... I..." I stuttered, trying to find my words as best I could. Half weary, I managed to put my thoughts together, "It isn't a lost chance... exactly. I mean, I hadn't meant it in the way it must've sounded but... I kind of did?"

Catherine sighed from across the table, shaking her head in despair, "Sara. I know this is difficult for you. You hate to talk about yourself." I started to protest against the statement, which led to Catherine glaring at me. "You DO. Don't try to deny the obvious. But honestly? If you like the damn boy-man, then just go for it. He's been pining after you for a long time and I'll be damned if he's going to stay moping just because he thinks there's no chance."

I looked at her for a long minute before laughing a little, "Boy-man? Catherine, where do you get your terminology?" She glared again before sighing for probably the tenth time this entire conversation.

"I mean what I say, Sara. He may seem aloof half the time, but he does have feelings for you."

The words shut me up and I looked at her seriously, "I... I know I don't talk about myself all that much, but I do like him... I think," I said, hesitantly.

She rolled her eyes before getting up. "You know what you want, Sara. Do what you'd like. You're a grown girl." She sashayed out the door, another movement I was envious of.

I continued to watch her walk away before turning to the coffee mug in front of me. She did have a point. Only I would know what I wanted. And only I could do what I needed to do. Damn it! I was a grown woman and I didn't need to be afraid of a little crush... Right? What was it about this boy-man, to steal from Catherine, that had me shaking in my boots?

I rolled my eyes as I continued to ponder. Okay, it had nothing to do with Greg. Well, kind of. I just always wonder what the hell he saw in me. I wasn't appealing in any way. Not like Catherine anyway. She could walk into the room and all eyes would follow her. I'd walk into a room and all anyone would see was some tall skinny girl and proceed to go on with their business. But he didn't. He'd really look at me. He'd laugh with me, joke with me, TALK with me. I didn't know exactly what that meant. Did that mean he was interested? Or that he was just like that with everyone? That he could find out how to entertain and interest each and every person in sight.

I sighed as I got up from my chair, making a small decision. Taking a look at the clock there, I hurriedly left the break room after dumping my completely cold cup of coffee and headed purposely for the lockers. Finding the person I wanted, I called out his name, "Hey, Greg!" He turned to look at me curiously, and I gulped back my desire to escape, "Any chance you're free?"