SPOILER WARNING! Refers to Season 3 spoilers.

Disclaimer: I am in no way connected with CBS, the CSI Franchise, or its writers, producers, or directors.

Author's Notes:

1. I have made the assumption that Peyton will be a likeable character. This assumption is based on…absolutely nothing.

2. The ribs are for Christina Dimgwrthien, although I'm not sure she'll like this story.

3. Infinite Reversal is a fictitious movie. This is supposed to be in the future, so I made one up. It does sound pretty bad, though.

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Well, this has been a red-letter day. In one shift I've managed to snap at Danny, make Lindsay mad, make Adam more scared of me than he already was, and completely avoid Mac. To the point of hiding from him.

About the only person I treated decently was Jane. Suddenly I'm starting to feel a lot nicer toward her.

I can't dislike Peyton, as much as I would like to. She's just too nice, which makes me mad. I can even see what Mac sees in her, which makes me madder.

I escape to the roof. The cool air feels good to my flushed skin. I stare down at the street and breathe deeply, trying to calm down, because I have a decision to make. I either have to work with this or find a new job. I can't rationally consider that sort of thing while having a temper fit.

Someone's coming. Can't I have two seconds to myself? I wonder, rebelliously.

"Hey." It's Hawkes.

"Hey," I say shortly, hoping to discourage him, but he comes up beside me and leans his elbows against the railing.

"Mac is an idiot," he announces.

I look at him in surprise, because he never speaks unkindly of anyone. "No, he's not," I say automatically, instinctively defending Mac. You don't have to do that anymore, I remind myself. Let Peyton do it.

"He is when it comes to women."

What is he talking about? Does he mean Peyton? Or did Mac just do something clueless during a case? Wouldn't be the first time.

"He wasn't when it came to Claire," I say sadly. I still miss Claire—her solid good sense, her quirky sense of humor.

"I never got to meet her," Sheldon says, his voice back to its gentle self.

"She was perfect for him. She was so sweet."

He's silent for a moment, as I reflect. Then he says, "Well, he's being an idiot now."

I test him out. "Why? Don't you like Peyton?"

"Of course I like her. What's not to like?"

"Yeah, that's the problem," I mutter under my breath, but he hears me and grins, squeezing my shoulder.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asks.

I shrug. "Nothing. Going home."

"I know a great rib place. Want to come?"

Does he really want to spend time with me after the way I've acted all day? Suddenly I'm ashamed of myself. I've been taking out my problems on everyone else when they had nothing to do with it.

"That sounds great, Sheldon, thanks." It beats going home alone and feeling sorry for myself, anyway.

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The restaurant is busy and cheerful. Our waitress greets Sheldon warmly, obviously glad to see him. After she brings our order, I glance at him in amusement. "She's cute," I observe.

"What? Oh." He grins. "She's nineteen."

"Do you come here a lot?"

"Whenever I want to feel better."

I gaze at him levelly, disregarding the sauce all over my fingers. "I want to apologize for the way I acted today."

"Hey, don't worry about it. We all have off days."

"That's no excuse…you have sauce on your face."

He laughs out loud. "So do you."

It's infectious. I can't help from laughing too as I wipe my face.

"See, nothing like ribs to cheer you up, I always say."

He is such a nice person, I think. Why isn't he married? No wonder the little waitress likes him.

"I feel like seeing a movie," he says. "You up for that?"

"Sure," I agree.

"What do you want to see?"

Most of the time, I secretly love sappy romance movies, but no one knows that. Except Mac, I think at the back of my mind. But somehow I'm not in the mood for sap tonight.

"Something with stuff blowing up," I reply.

He grins broadly. "Just what I would recommend."

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We go to see Infinite Reversal. The theater is almost empty, and with good reason, we discover. It's one of the worst movies I've ever seen. But I enjoy it immensely, because Sheldon possesses a tremendous gift for snark, and keeps me in giggles the whole time. My stomach hurts from laughing so much when we emerge.

We get in a cab and ride a little while in stunned silence—stunned because we can't believe how bad it was. Finally he breaks the silence. "What in the world," he says deliberately.

That sets me off again. "I'm afraid I don't know," I say through my laughter.

"It can't be easy, making something that bad."

"We could have left, you know."

"And miss that masterpiece? It's not often you get to see something of that caliber."

My mind flashes back to an incident with Frankie. I don't even remember what movie it was, but he announced he was leaving and stalked out, leaving me no choice but to follow. And that movie wasn't even half as bad.

No. I don't want to think about Frankie tonight. I turn to Sheldon, wanting to say something, anything, but the cab is pulling up in front of my building. He walks me up the steps to the door, just like Mac always did. Nope. Not thinking about Mac either.

I set my hand on his arm. "Thank you, Sheldon."

"No problem," he answers.

"No, really. You didn't have to blow your whole night trying to make me feel better."

"Did it work?"

"Yes."

"Then it was worth it."

What a sweetie, I think, smiling at him. He reaches out and brushes a lock of hair from my face. "Mac is a total idiot," he says, and goes back to the cab, leaving me staring after him, goosebumps rising on my arms.

I go inside to the elevator and lean against the wall, grinning.

Yes, indeed.

I'm feeling a whole lot better.