Title: That Special Spark, chapter 3
Time: "Iced", refers back to "4x4"
Greg and Sara were working a case together, investigating the suspicious deaths of two UNLV students who apparently had died from carbon dioxide poisoning. As they processed the room, Sara sensed that Greg was anxious about something.
"You okay there, Greg? You seem awful quiet," Sara said.
"Naw, I'm fine, I was just thinking about something," Greg answered.
"Thought I smelled smoke," Sara joked.
"Funny. Hey, you know a few weeks ago when we were in the hazmat showers together?" Greg started.
"Yeah, but we talked about this already. You said you didn't see anything, and I said I saw everything," Sara replied.
"Yeah, I know you saw everything," Greg retorted.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sara asked.
"Because I peeked," Greg muttered.
"You WHAT? You told me you didn't see anything!" Sara shouted.
"I didn't see...much. I saw that you have a tattoo on your ankle, and I saw that you were staring at me," Greg retorted.
"I was not staring," Sara rebuffed, turning her back on Greg.
"You were too staring," Greg challenged.
"Okay, maybe just a little," Sara confessed. Greg smiled and blushed slightly. He drew closer to her and whispered in her ear.
"So...did you like what you saw?"
Sara turned towards him and smiled. "Not bad. Could use a little more muscle, though."
"C'mon, you should have seen the big guns I was flexing in Musclehead's mirror before they dragged us out of the house," Greg retorted.
"I did. Like I said, not bad. Needs a little work, though," Sara said, trying to move past him to inspect another area of the room.
"Nothing gets by you, does it?" Greg asked, bending over to pick something off the floor.
"Well, I'm trying to get by you, but your rear end is in the way," Sara answered, patting him playfully on his rear jeans pocket. Greg shot upright.
"You just spanked me," Greg said in mock shock.
"And you liked it, too," Sara laughed, her back turned towards him..
"That's harassment," Greg said moving towards her.
"You deserved it," Sara smiled. Greg stole behind her, threw his arms around her waist and scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around.
"How's that for muscle?" He said, kissing her on the cheek as he set her down.
"Greg! We're in the middle of a crime scene. What do you think you're doing?" Sara exclaimed.
"Holding the woman I love," Greg answered, burying his face in her strawberry-scented hair and kissing the back of her head.
"Greg, seriously, we've got work to do," Sara protested, breaking free of his embrace. He stood stunned for a moment, and she regretted pushing him away so firmly.
"I thought you felt the same about me. After the arson case and you bringing me breakfast and...letting me sleep in your arms. I thought there was something there, I'm sorry," Greg muttered, defeated. He turned back to what he was inspecting on the floor.
"Greg," Sara started, reaching to touch his hair. "It's not that there isn't something there, there is. I'm just not sure what it is yet. It's complicated. I care for you a great deal, I do, but..."
"I get it Sara, it's okay, really," Greg interrupted. Sara stooped down next to him and cupped his chin, turning his face so his eyes met hers.
"I don't think you do, Greg," Sara said firmly.
"It's Grissom, isn't it?" Greg asked.
"Grissom...how..."
"I've known since the Tom Haviland case when Wescott grilled you on the stand about letting your personal relationships interfere with your work," Greg answered, standing up and moving away from Sara.
"But that was ages ago, and besides I was seeing Hank then," Sara protested.
"Yeah, he was a real prize, too," Greg snapped.
"Hey! I'll thank you not to criticize my taste in men," Sara shouted.
"Well maybe if you'd open your eyes and see that someone who truly loves you is standing right here, instead of trying to earn it from those who couldn't care less, or don't know how," Greg stammered, tears coming to his eyes. He didn't want her to see him cry, so he turned his back to her and wiped his sleeve across his eyes.
Greg's words struck Sara to the bone. He saw right through her. He saw how she denied the true love lying before her on a silver platter and chose to fight instead for a lesser love she could never attain. He knew her so completely, understood her so perfectly, and yet still loved her so much. But what about Grissom? Surely he had feelings for her too. Not as easy to read, but she knew something was there. She couldn't ignore that.
"Greg," she whispered, rising and walking over to him, touching the back of his shoulder. "I'm sorry I've hurt you. I just need some time."
He turned to face her, his brown eyes filled with sadness and tears. "Take all the time you need," he said. "Whatever your decision, I'll just have to accept it." He quickly packed up his kit and went out to the car. Sara stood stunned in the center of the room, feeling like the light of her life had just been snuffed out forever.