Disclaimer: Not only do I not own CSI, but in this chapter, I also don't own Ghost (the movie) or (as usual) Of Mice and Men.

A/N: :) I have the next chapter about half finished, so I'm doing good so far! If you've never read Of Mice and Men--Lennie is one of the main characters who is mentally handicapped and therefore completely innocent and pure, but also unable to protect himself from some of the mistakes he unwittingly makes. I figured not everyone has read it, and I didn't want to spoil the story, but if you want to know the ending, you can PM me and I'll explain why it's 'unhealthy' for her to think that way.

Anyway, let me know what you think! :)


Chapter 14: Insomnia

The dreams were touch and go, for a while… when they came, they were bad, and I'd be up for days at a time. When they left, I took a moment to be desperately relieved, and collapsed in exhaustion. It was not a good system, although I was learning that I could function on less sleep than I ever thought possible—an impressive discovery from someone who had always suffered from nightmares. Working the night shift did mean that you worked more hours and slept less often than anyone else in the lab… You were chronically sleep deprived on a good day.

I started trying to coax the guys into breakfasts almost every morning after shift, because if I forced myself to stay awake and eat large portions, my body usually allowed me dreamless sleep. …Usually. The problem was the Nick and Greg, between them, had the biggest mouths in the entire eff-ing world, and Warrick could not be depended upon to help me silence them when needed.

Greg started it. He was perversely intrigued by the knowledge that Catherine had been an exotic dancer before she became a CSI. Apparently, this was news in the lab… but it hadn't been news to me. Gi—Grissom had told me, a long time ago. …It was always hard, not to think of his as 'Gil' when I thought of how we used to be. But he was steadfastly Grissom in the present, at least.

"I just… can't stop thinking about it. She worked at the palace… do you know how little they wear?"

Warrick had chuckled indulgently. "They're strippers, Greg. None of them wear very much."

Greg rolled his eyes—clearly they didn't understand. "But… this is Catherine!"

Nick interjected. "I heard Grissom was pretty mad at her for not passing the case off to you." He was speaking to Warrick, who shrugged reluctantly. It wasn't really in his nature to gossip.

"He wasn't that mad. You know he lets Catherine get away with just about anything."

I cringed. Of course he did.

"Yeah, that's probably why Eddie was always jealous of Griss." Nick nods, knowingly, and though my head snaps up, I can't bring myself to ask.

Luckily, Greg is under no such temporary paralysis. "Wait, Catherine's ex-husband was jealous of… Grissom?"

Both Warrick and Nick chuckled, the Texas indulgently answering his young friend. "Yeah, well, you know… they worked together for a long time… Grissom probably hasn't gotten laid in years… Catherine's hot. It doesn't take an extreme stretch of the imagination."

Warrick shook his head. "No, but it takes a complete disregard for evidence, of which there is none. The only time they see each other outside of work is when Grissom has taken Lindsey while she and Eddie were fighting. Heck, even I've done that a time or two…"

Greg jumped in. "Yeah, but they're close. Like, at work they seem like they hardly know each other, but if you catch them talking one-on-one, they're totally in sync."

"Yeah, but Grissom wouldn't cheat." Warrick said, with just a hair too much emphasis. Nick glanced at him, picking up on it, while Greg didn't seem to notice. But then, he could have been where I was—stuck on the word "cheat" and exactly what that could mean.

"Cheat?!" Greg exclaimed. Ah, there it was. He sounded nearly as alarmed as I felt. Surely, Grissom didn't have a girl friend… I mean, I knew that… that we weren't together. I just… I didn't think he would be with anyone else, either.

Nick nodded. "Yeah, I was telling Warrick. He looks like he's got it bad for that forensic artist who came in to help on our case. If he and Catherine were together… hell, even if they were just sleeping together… he'd never act that way. It's just not… Grissom."

Warrick nodded decisively, as if that ended the conversation completely. Greg just looked surprised, an 'Oh' expression stuck on his face. But I couldn't drop it. I had the presence of mind to take a deep breath and calm myself before speaking, because I didn't want to give away the reason for my questions… but I had to know.

"No way. Grissom wouldn't cheat because Grissom doesn't… date. I mean, does he really seem like the kind of guy to meet someone and fall for them? He's too… thoughtful. Meticulous. He'd have to double and triple check if there was evidence of an attraction…"

I was over-talking. They all laughed, although Nick looked a little too knowing. I didn't meet his eyes when he spoke up, to answer me. "Well, I don't know… word around the lab is that she had him wrist-deep in plaster, Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore style."

Warrick chuckled. " Ghost. Great movie. It's was my sure-thing."

I nearly choked on the water I had been drinking in an attempt to steady myself. "You—Your what?!"

All the men chuckled and Greg swung his arm over my shoulder. "You know… second or third date, have her come over… you cook her favorite meal, put in a sappy love movie… if she planned to spend the night when she came over, you don't see past the pottery scene… if not, well, by the end…"

My eyes widened. "That's horrible! So, you… what, just… steal the romance from a chick flick so you don't have to put in the effort? Does it replace foreplay, or just having to speak to her and get to know her?"

Greg laughed outright. "Well, it could be both, depending on the girl…"

I pushed his arm roughly off me and angrily speared a piece of my omelet with my fork. They laughed again, but Warrick played peacemaker. "Sara, I… I really didn't mean it that way. It was a sure way to get a girl I already knew feeling romantic. Believe me, I never skip on foreplay."

He winked, albeit playfully, and I blushed, despite myself, bringing a laugh from the group again. Apparently I was the breakfast entertainment. Ugh.

Nick shifted in his seat, lifting his own fork again to resume eating, a smirk on his lips. "Anyway, plaster sex aside," Oh, and there I was, choking again. "She left him her number so—Are… are you okay, Sar'?"

"Fine…" I croaked out, reaching desperately for my water glass. They all laughed again. Just great.

I didn't sleep that night… or several nights, after. Most of my waking hours were spent driving out visions of Grissom and Catherine or Grissom and Teri Miller, I had learned her name was. I hadn't seen her, but I knew she was blonde. I just knew it. Seeing as I couldn't banish the pair of them—and, thanks to a certain breakfast conversation, all three of them together—from my mind when I was aware… I knew better than to even try to sleep.

I read the copy of Of Mice and Men that Grissom had given me, cover to cover, several times. …Sometimes it helped, and sometimes I wondered if I wasn't a little like Lennie. Maybe I didn't need someone to make up for my intellectual downfalls, but emotionally I was certainly crippled. …Maybe I would be better off if I wasn't allowed to blindly destroy my own life, over and over again.

That would be when I'd put the book away and turn on the police scanner instead. It was healthier not to think like that.