Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: Wow! The last chapter of Part 2! I'm so excited and so nervous! Lol, sooo, tell me what you think
Chapter 32: The Call
Gil never called me in the morning. On the rare occasions that he left the lab on time, I was busy getting ready for work, and even if I talked to him on the commute, I'd managed to take enough side roads to cut my commute down to a half hour. It wasn't really worth it.
So when it came at seven a.m., it surprised me, to say the least. I had just gotten out of the shower and was tapping my foot to the radio still playing in my bathroom on the tile floor of my kitchen, slicing a banana into my cereal. I was irritated at the ringing, setting my fruit on the counter and hurrying back to the bedroom to catch it before it went to voicemail—I was certain it was work, and I really didn't want to come in early. With my commute, to get anywhere within the next hour I'd have to skip breakfast and blow drying my hair.
I caught it and opened it frantically; hoping I'd caught it in time. I hadn't looked to see who was calling.
"Sidle." I say, expecting to hear the voice of my boss, always too familiar.
"Sara." It comes on a sigh, and is not a question but a statement, almost in relief, and in the most beautiful voice I had ever known. I smile widely, even though it's strange to be hearing from him so early.
"Gil. Hi. You off work?"
He lets out a shaky breath. "No, I… I'm about to pull a double, and… listen, I… I know I don't have… any right to ask for any favors…"
"Ask me anything." I say, too eager, and then I immediately regret it. His hesitant tone and clear relief that I had answered had thrown me off—I'd forgotten to act like I didn't want him. I clear my throat. "I mean… you've done your fair share of things for me…"
There. That was better. I owed him. That was why he could ask me anything.
"You know I told you we had a new girl starting, last night?"
I nod, and then speak, realizing he can't see me. "Yeah?"
"She… she was shot, at a scene… they, uh… They don't think she's going to make it."
I sit down on the edge of my bed. "Oh, Gil, I… I'm so sorry."
There's a brief moment of silence, and then he clears his throat.
"What, uh… what I wanted… to ask is… Warrick Brown, one of my CSIs, was… supposed to be shadowing her. He left her at the scene with an officer, before… before it happened. …Jim has been reassigned to homicide and I… I guess, am heading up the unit. For now. Uh… I really don't want IA involved but there needs to be an investigation into where Warrick was and… why he left… and I need it to be someone I can trust—"
"Of course I'll do it." I rush out, because he's babbling. He doesn't usually—I'm the one who over-talks and he's the one whose silence leaves my head spinning.
He lets out a deep sigh of relief. "I'm not sure how long it'll take, but… I can get you a flight in a little over two hours, if… that's okay."
I nod again. "Yeah, of… of course. I need to… call my supervisor and… clear it with him."
"I'll call him. He'll probably respond better if I ask him if I can use his CSI first, before just taking you…"
I swallow hard. "Right… Okay, um… well, call me back when you know… when you talk to him… I'll start packing. Two hours, you said?"
"It takes off at 9:20. I'll… I'll let you know."
"Okay. Thanks, Gil."
"I'll… see you soon, Sara."
He hangs up, and my hand is trembling as I turn my own phone off.
I'm going to Vegas… I'm going to see Gil again. He… he needed a competent CSI he could trust, and he thought of me. I breathe in deeply to calm myself. True, he was in the midst of a tragedy… the last thing he would be thinking about would be me, and forgiving me… he still just expected me to be a friend. But still, the fact that he trusted me… was asking me to come to Vegas again…
I packed faster than I probably ever had in my life. I received a call about twenty minutes later—Gil now owed my lab several insect timeline consultations, but I had been cleared to help as long as I was needed. He gave me the address to the crime lab, and we hung up again—he seemed distracted, but then, I was certain he had a lot on his plate.
I called my boss to be certain—he teased me about not being stolen away to another lab, and I laugh at his bad joke, just grateful that he's being so gracious about it. I don't tell him that I would go to the Vegas lab in a heartbeat, but that I'm not wanted there, long term.
I finish packing everything I can think of needing, double-check my kit, and rush out the door—I still have the commute ahead of me. It was the longest drive of my life, and the longest wait in security of my life, and the longest plane ride of my life… and as I peered out my window at the rough, rocky, mountainous terrain surrounding the city of sin, the city of lights… I was filled with anxious anticipation, a thrilling nervousness, and deep trepidation.
I needed to remind myself that I was here in a professional sense. And that we were friends. Only friends. Nothing more. He hadn't called me there to be his lover. I was investigating his CSI. As the plane slowly began its descent, I closed my eyes again, taking in measured breaths, focusing on the false confidence I had relied on my entire life to get me through any event in which I felt I could not be my honest self.
Going into Vegas, into a top lab in the country, investigating a person that Gil had chosen to work at his lab when he hadn't picked me—for whatever the reason—was intimidating enough… add to it that Gil would be suffering and hardly needed me pining over him, our careful friendship hanging precariously in the balance, as well as his opinion of me professionally—he had never truly seen me work as a CSI, and I was as anxious for his approval in that regard as in every other—and it was pretty clear why I needed to seem stronger than I was.
I plastered a smile on my face, pulling sunglasses to block out the Vegas sunlight, and moved off the plane with a self-assurance I did not feel, collecting my baggage and grabbing a taxi almost immediately. I gave the address to the Crime Lab, and spent the drive continuing my measured breathing. My whole façade would go to hell if I passed out from lack of oxygen.
My hands were shaking as I moved into the Crime Lab, but I stilled them by concentrating on little movements—I pushed my sunglasses into my hair, straightened my tank top over my pants—until I reached the desk.
"Hi, my name is Sara Sidle, from the San Francisco Crime Lab. I'm looking for Gil Grissom."
The woman smiled. "Oh, yes, Sara Sidle… I have something for you…" My eyes narrowed, but she didn't notice as she was digging through papers on her desk. "Oh, here we go. Grissom said to tell you he's at a scene… here's the address," she passed me a slip of paper as well as an LVCL badge, "but that you can meet him there if you arrived before he got back…"
I glance at the address and back at the woman who had referred to him by his last name. How strange. "How long ago did he leave?"
She looks at a clock over my head and shrugged. "Less than an hour, I'd say…"
I breathe in deeply and force a smile. "Okay, thank you."
I turn to leave and am immediately encased in a hug. I stiffen and back away, because I have no idea who has their hands on me, but as his face comes into focus, I break into a smile and my eyes light up. "Greg! Hey, how are you?"
He grins, and I can't help but hug him again as he answers--I had really missed him.
"I'm doin' good… I heard the boss man called you in from Frisco… the team isn't exactly happy about it."
I nod, at what I'm not sure. "Well, I can't really do much about that…" At least I had some warning… At least Gil wasn't here to see Greg and I's reunion..."Listen, Greg, I gotta get to a scene, but before I leave town, we'll get lunch or something, yeah?"
He grins. "Yeah, of course. You better get going; Grissom gets grumpy when you make him wait…"
I smile, but my eyes narrow again. Greg had called him by his last name too… Did everyone call him that? Or did they call him Gil? …Dr. Grissom? It was like Greg to shorten a title from Dr. So-and-so to just So-and-so… but would the receptionist do that?
I manage to hail another taxi and, sighing, slide inside again, my luggage still in tow. I gave the address on the slip I'd been given and leaned back into the seat. Now I was going to have to track him down at a crime scene…
