The Consequences of Swimming

Rated: M

Summery: What does black panties, Catherine Willows, and a pool, have in common? Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders are about to find out.

A/N: Hello all! Terribly sorry for the wait but I am back with a new chapter! Yeah, yeah yeah, I know I promised a fully present chapter, but I lied. At the very end there is a bit of future, but I plan on the next chapter to be most present and a bit of Sara from the future. I do have quite a bit of a story line left in the future but we are running toward the end of the story line here. We have a bit to go in the present, but the story line runs longer. OH that reminds me, I am going on vacation tommorow, so I don't believe we have internet access so Im terribly sorry BUT i do tend to write alot at the beach (ocean gives me insperation!) so except a new chapter coming up next Sunday!

Disclaimer: Alright! I don't own CSI! There you got it out of me! If I did though, boy wouldn't that season finale went different . . .
Sara wasn't completely sure why it was taking Greg so long to get ready. After all, she was the female, wasn't he supposed to be waiting for her and not the other way around? Then again it was Greg, so she didn't quite understand why she was even surprised by it in the first place.

She had always been a plain girl, and Sara had always believed she had been this way since birth. She had never taken the time that others did, just to put on more makeup than was ever necessary. She had never been much for dressing up either, most of the time she was the most comfortable in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt.

When she did dress up she did it for very important occasions, tonight being one of them. She had taken forever just to decide what outfit to wear; she had decided on eventually on a black halter dress that went to mid-thigh with a pair of black knee high boots to match. Fake leather mind you- she just didn't eat meat, she didn't believe in animal cruelty for clothing either.

"Greg?" She asked, letting her voice carry up the stairs.

No response.

Sara frowned, what was with him? Did he get last minute cold feet? She tapped her feet on the floor, trying to push away the image of hilarity of Greg jumping out his two-story window out of fear of herself. She let a wicked grin through, even though she was getting extremely agitated.

"Greg?" she called again, this time a bit louder. "Are you okay?"

Finally after several minutes, a strained response reached her ears. "Oh yeah. Sorry be down in a minute."

She started to roll her eyes, but when she heard his door click closed she stopped gazing up at the stairs where he should be at any moment. Her stomach started doing flips as she heard his feet pad against the floor, making his way into her view. She tried to look normal, calm and at ease, but as her hands threatened to shake, she let them grip the end of the staircase.

When she saw him it was one of those moment you are tied between taking your date out and being a very proud person with them, or ripping off all there clothes and getting happy the other way. Although Sara would love to take Greg out, and give those watching girls the 'he's mine not yours' look, she would love the latter as well.

She was a bundle of mixed emotions, confusion, want, guilt, and nerves all bunched into one body. One might question how long you would remain sane with that many emotions running through, and Sara had her doubts you would remain that way for long. He gave her a knowing grin, and for the first time in her life she wished she were just like Greg Sanders. He seemed so relaxed, at such ease she felt damned for her momentary case of the nerves.

Smiling back, she made a sour attempt at starting up a conversation, but it was a failed attempt as she began to open her mouth and quickly closed it back. Just in the mortal fear that she would say something to embarrass herself father.

"Doors," she thought to herself, "Lock doors."

"That might be a good idea," he mused.

"Damn! Said that out loud didn't I?"

"Yes, and you did it again."

Sara rolled her eyes, at herself more than anything, as she made sure the backdoors were locked and shut tightly. Grabbing her purse on the kitchen counter, she trudged her way to the front door, mentally counting off the things that needed to be done before leaving. So lost in her own thoughts, she barely noticed that the bouncy blond had gotten in front of her and opened the door for them.

"My lady," he announced bowing as she went through the door.

Sara mumbled a feeble thank you as she made her way to the car, blushing all the way as her mind refused to let the mental images of what Greg would look like in bed alone.

The ride to the nightclub was a very unexciting one. Maybe if this had been her first time riding with Greg, it would have been quite amusing; but the head banging, screaming and dancing not so subtly to the compact disks he constantly changed was quite normal to her now. He soon began his long amount of trivia on the songs and the 'did you knows' of the artists. Sara had learned quite readily that you must nod and 'uh huh' your way through the 'did you knows' or you will find yourself sitting for hours on end to his constant babble to explain it all.

Some things actually interested her though, and it was a pity that she had to skip over the information that caught her eye. But Sara did want to get a few drinks and dances in tonight, not standing around listening to Greg ramble for hours- even if she had admitted to herself on several occasions that it was slightly adorable to watch.

The lights of the busy streets of Las Vegas soon came into view as they left the large array of suburbs behind them. Sara soon began to wonder as they began to pass many of the more popular casinos, if Warrick and some of the other boys were out on the town. And if they were, would they recognize Sara and Greg- or what was worse that the two coworkers were on an actual date? She liked Greg, a lot, she had admitted that much to herself, but coping with the constant teasing she would be sure to endure and the 'I told you so' or 'Greg always gets the girls- even the impossible ones' would be too much to bear. She would have to listen to it for weeks, she wasn't as oblivious as she seemed. She knew that the entire lab- the CSI"s, Sofia, and Jim included- had a bet going on for years on how long it would take Greg to snatch the 'only girl he ever loved'.

And she didn't like that fact the best. That was one of the main reasons she had denied it for so long.

Greg's phone began to buzz beside them. After the first few rings, it became clear he wasn't planning on answering the call. A few moments later whoever he was avoiding began to call again, and it seemed for a moment he was going to answer the call, but quickly sat back down the phone and decided against it.

"Are you going to answer that? Is it the lab?" she asked.

"No, no just . . . just my Grandmother. Worries to death."

"Why would your Grandmother be worrying about you? She lives in New York."

"She- she- she calls me every night."

Sara nodded and resumed watching out the window. She knew for a fact his Grandmother hadn't called Greg for months. She knew- she was with him for the most part of her slightly dull life. She tried to push down the feeling of dread, the creeping suspicions in her mind. A girl perhaps? A girlfriend perhaps? Or his friends giving him advice so they can win the pot of money at the lab?

Somehow, on the next ring, she would bet her entire fortune- if she had one- on the latter.

How the hell does she do it? How does she remain so calm and collected while he was going into fits? Then again, she might not consider this a date, or even worse; she might not even like him. How he would hate it if he tired to dance with her and she mentioned about them being 'amazing friends' or the 'I wouldn't change our relationship for anything'. And not just because Nick was going to chop his balls off if he didn't 'get' her by the end of the week- it was the simple matter his heart couldn't bare it.

The phone rang for the fourth time when he finally decided he had enough. Turning it off quickly, he slipped the phone in his pocket, silently praying that the lab wouldn't try to get a hold of him. It didn't matter if he was on vacation, or even available to be on call, if you were needed, you were supposed to be there. If you weren't your job was on the line. Hence never turning off the phone except in dire emergencies. This, to Greg, was a dire emergency, but somehow he thought Gil or Ecklie would disagree on that little detail.

He saw the club in the distance and he quickly began to wonder how in the world they were to get in. The line of desperate people seemed to stretch from miles on end. Some of the more important and beautiful people though, seemed to pass the line and was let into the club without a second to wait. He pulled in slowly, where a long line of teenagers in black suits began to offer and bang on his window to park his car for him. Not wanting to find it totaled and the miles ran up a few hours later, he decided it would be best to park it himself.

He soon realized this was a mistake.

Vale Parking Only was the first bunch of spots where it seemed; he might be the only one to not park the car with the hired teenagers. He was forced to park back behind the other spots, where other spots had been available. He might have been able to pull it off, and he almost attempted it, then he read the sign where numbers is required to gain access to the cars or the become property of the club.

"Sorry about having to park so far away but-"

"I never let them park my car, I completely understand," she agreed as they began their way to the entrance.

Sara stood close to him; her hand so close to his own he itched to take it, but fear held him back. What about if she didn't want to? He surely would just embarrass himself. But suddenly she did something that made his heart do a nervous flip- she did it for him.

Her palm was warm as it pressed against his own, their fingers intertwining as he began to unconsciously make small circles on the backside of her hand. She looked over at him and smiled shyly, moving closer to him so their sides pressed together in a comfortable and soothing warmth. A proximity that clearly told the men who began to notice her as they moved forward, that she was already taken. He liked that- he liked that a lot.

"Sara- Sara the, the line started back their," Greg whispered nervously as they began to pass the people in line.

"I know," she started, "But we aren't going to the back of the line are we?"

"Sara they wont let us in."

"Why do you say that Greggo?"

"We, we aren't anyone special."

"You don't have to be."

"Yes you do Sara."

"No Greggo, you don't have to be of a special status, when you are a cop," she whispered sly as she showed him her badge, before slipping it into his pocket, as she didn't bring a purse.

The guard at the front was a tall, beefy man at least twice Greg's height and four times his size. His bald, white head and large black goatee mustache matched with an array of what supposedly were prison tattoos gave him a terrifying demeanor. He held the little blue velvet rope, which when passed led through the large silver doors, which glowed under the sign that read Fantasy Night Club and Casino in blue neon lights.

"Where do you think your going hotshot?" he asked as they approached the rope.

"In the club, where else?" Sara asked.

"You go to the back of the line."

"But you just let in those girls-"

"I don't make the rules. Lady back of the line."

"I didn't want to have to come to this," she started sadly. Slipping her free hand into his pocket, she picked up her badge, flipping it open and showing it to the large man.

"Can you move the rope please?" she asked pleasantly.

The guard made no reply in words- but his actions spoke loudly. As quick as possible the rope became unhooked and he nodded vigorously toward the couple as they began to pass. He was visibly shaken at the idea of denying 'America's Finest' as he continued to nod as they passed through the large silver doors.

Sara picked up the phone, but the dial tone had gone out. Glancing out the window, the storm was beginning to pick up and her nerves were put in hyper drive. The poles must have been knocked down. Which meant they were no need to even check for signal on her cell, it was useless in this storm. Driving would be near impossible and she didn't even know who had been in an accident or what kind. Whoever it was, she wasn't even sure if they were alive.

She rung her hand nervously, pacing quickly with a slightly hobble as her cane was left forgotten propped against the wall. She bit her lip, looking out the window every few moments and brushing back a stray wisp of white hair absentmindedly.

The darkness began to grow even more menacingly as hail began to storm down with the rain, with drops as big to rival golf balls. She tried to shield herself from the falling tuffs of rain and ice but the sudden blots of lightning accompanied by a great cry of thunder terrified all her wits to end. A great rush of wind swooped down at her, shaking her to her core. She hugged her jacket around herself tighter as she fought her way toward something- anything that would allow her to come inside before the storm was over. If she didn't she didn't know what would happen to her. She shouldn't have stayed out so long, she shouldn't have waited crying pitifully over rejection.

She shouldn't have even come.

In the distance, she saw two lights shine through the sheet of blinding rain. A car began to swerve and race down the road. Moving over more in the grass, she wasn't sure if the car was going to hold on the road. Her fears were confirmed as the car began to run toward the ditch. She let out a great scream and began to fight her way out of the path of the car and toward the great oak tree. Hoping if she could climb it, she would be out of harms way.

She was too late as the lights began to shine nearer. The driver had pressed on the gas ever harder, heading straight toward her.

Jenny felt the panic rising in her throat as all the lights went off in the dorm. With all the phone lines dead, all towers unable to connect with mobile phones, and virtually impossible for her to get out in this weather, she was at an impasse. Diane could be hurt- or even worse. Grabbing her jacket quickly she headed out of her room and down the flight of stairs quite unsure of where she was going.

The rain fought against her and the wind seemed destined to blow her off course just as she left the building. A great bolt hissed and cracked as it lit across the sky and Jenny quickly made her way upwards toward the top of the hill. She had no idea where she was going, but her feet seemed to have a mind of her own. After what she was sure would have been a much easier walk in nice, dry weather, she found herself standing in front of an older bleak home. An old four door car sat almost rocking because of the wind speed in the drive and the roof above the porch groaned slightly. Taking in a deep breath, she knocked on the door slowly.

She suddenly knew she should always trust her feet.

"Is Diane here?"

"She isn't with you?" Jordan asked worriedly.

"No! I thought she would be with you!"

"No, come on lets find her," he said pausing to mummer something to a woman peaking her head out of a door inside. Grabbing his keys she quickly sat herself passenger side and found herself fighting the storm with a man she truly loathed.

"Where to?" he asked.

"In this weather? You don't think she would have went out do you?"

"Just head toward the library I know."

The wheels suddenly gave a great leech and began to hiss across the the wet pavement.