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: Hey everyone! So sorry I haven't updated in a bit. I had aimed to update this weekend, but I had a family reunion and my aunt and cousin stayed with us so no time to update! Hope you like it, only 1 or two chapters left! Review please!
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 . . .When Catherine Willows arrived home, she had a few things bearing down on her mind. With Lindsey in the back seat, arguing about what made a good musical artiest with her seventy-year-old grandmother, it would seem hard to concentrate on so many things at once. But Catherine managed it, since the things on her mind was so important. She imagined her house was burnt down to the ground by now, not that she didn't trust Sara, she just really didn't trust the overly excited ex lab rat that much in her home.
And yet, that wasn't the only thing on her mind, the next even worried her more than the house. She had hoped, that she would find her beside table a bit let empty of 'personal' items when she returned, but if it didn't, either things went really bad or Sara was going down the road of pregnancy.
She was very surprised to find her home in good of shape, as it was when she left it. And even more still, Greg and Sara were in one piece. What she hoped was, when Sara went home, she wasn't taking an extra piece with her.
"So you all had a good break?" she asked smiling.
Greg looked over at Sara, and Catherine felt a not wad up in her chest as Sara gave him the look back. That look she knew very well, the look that clearly stated, I have had sex all day, and even if my legs ache like hell I want to have another go.
So much for the 'not taking an extra piece with her' theory.
When Jordan awoke, he thought surely he was dead. A white light surrounded him, yet he felt immense pain. It felt as if a large rod was jammed down his throat so tightly he couldn't breath on his own, he lived on. When he opened his eyes, the shapes and figures were blurred. A rush of color ran toward him, its voice blurred, loud and disfigured screaming into his throbbing head. His body was stiff, like three trains and hit him in succession, and he wondered if they really did. For a moment, he couldn't remember what had happened, for a moment he didn't even realize who he was. Then it all hit him, like a city bus. For a moment he wondered whether he had died, and that all the whiteness and pain was an introductory to wherever he had gone. And theoretically he should have been, but he knew he wasn't.
And with a stabbing pain in his leg, he let out a blood-curling scream and felt himself being back into the darkness, with only one person on his mind. Although is side passenger was on his mind, it wasn't the first and most troublesome worry, no not even the poor person who he hit.
"Diane." He croaked before the blackness took him
The next few days proved to be awkward ones for Catherine Willows. It was dreadfully obvious to her, that Sara and Greg had no clue she knew, and completely pointed out that they didn't wish anyone did either. Whether it was fear for what others would think, or the need for a bit of privacy, although she didn't understand, she respected their choice of privacy. She promised Greg and Sara secretively that she wouldn't tell a soul.
That proved to be a difficult promise.
Others seemed to be just as interested in knowing if their had been a development in their relationship as she had been. Even Bob, who had usually kept his head out of the rumors and daily gossip of the lab, chased Catherine down in the hall to try to get her to spill on Greg and Sara. Everyone seemed to think that she held their secret, and they had every right to think so.
But avoiding the stalking lab rats was nothing compared to the pressure Grissom, Nick, and Warrick gave her. They were just as convinced as the lab techs and seemed even more determined to squeeze the information out of her. By the end of her first day back, she needed another vacation and felt as if she would blow any moment.
But nothing compared to the pressured feelings she got while around Greg and Sara. They, of all people, seemed not to notice the hushed whispers dieing down into complete silence as they passed. They didn't even try to turn their heads to catch the lab workers staring transfixed at them. They seemed, actually, not to notice anything at all.
Although they didn't show it publicly in explicit manners, the look in their eyes let loose all the secrets of their lust. Surprisingly, their attitude as well. Greg had a new spring in his step and back to his old antics. He had more than once been asked who got the bad luck to lay him over break, and yet he never answered the question. Instead he smirked, glancing secretly into Sara's direction.
Sara too seemed to be a new person. As well as actually trying to show pride in her appearance, she seemed like a much easier person to be with. Greg has seemed to rub off on her.
All Catherine wished, not that they would leave her alone, not even that Bobby would stop chasing her, she wished that he hadn't given her something either. Not for anyone's sake but their own. Inter- work relationships were frowned upon and Ecklie looked for any reason to get Sara out of the lab for good.
After Jenny's death, Sara had hoped to be able to let her granddaughter cry on her shoulder and let her feel what it felt like to loose the ones you love openly and honestly. But it seemed hardly to go that way at all, in fact she seemed to hardly morn the loss of her best friend. Instead she paced the hospital floor beside the boy's bed, muttering about a little girl and wondering if he was really hungry. She seemed more panicked about his condition than her own, or even her friend's death. Sara didn't much understand it, but she knew better than to question it.
She sat at the desk once more, the lightly illuminating the room. The gentle drops of rain hit the worn windows, but the woman hardly seemed to notice. Instead her own fresh tear drops slid down her soft cheeks and patted onto the worn floor. This time, their was no document up, no gentle tapping of keys. Only fresh tears and the flashing of the screen as it faded in and out from black.
Photos- photos of life, photos of marriage, photos of children and photos of a beautiful life that she had been so blessed once to know.
Now she had no one, not really. Nick had moved to Texas with Wendy after Grissom died, hardly being able to bear his absence in the lab. Warrick had stuck it out until the day he had his stroke and was forced into his retirement. Catherine died soon after Grissom did, unable to stand the grief of Grissom and her mother dieing so close together. Lindsey had grown up to be an actress and took Hollywood by storm, but never forgot to return home and visit the people who once was the 'sick lovebirds' who prevented her from watching Tyra.
But none was any worse on her than Greg's death. It had been their thirtieth anniversary and he had been a mere fifty years old. He had taken her to a restaurant called Mon Amour and half way through the second course he had been called in on urgent business since he was now supervisor of dayshift, the only CSI left from their old team at the lab. She had already taken a part time retirement now, much by the force of the lab than her own consent.
The next time she saw him he was in a plastic bag.On the way to the scene to men had jutted out and ran right into his side, sending him into a tree where the car rolled six times, throwing him out of the car where his body hit the ground in such an impact it stopped his heart.
The memories were too much to bear, they tore her heart open. Without him, she had never been truly whole. Since his death she hasn't been, and twenty years without him didn't seem really worth it after all.
Before Sara knew it she had hobbled out of her small apartment and was in her car, driving to where she wasn't really sure. She really didn't know where she was going, but her body knew perfectly well. Soon she found herself parked in the large parking lot and walking, cane forgotten at home like most of the times, and headed toward the reception desk were it the line wasn't to bad after all.
"One ticket to New York please."
"Roundtrip?"
"No," she started, "I don't think I will be coming back.