Disclaimer: I don't own.
A/N: I wasn't sure about this chapter. I came back to it several times, thinking about changing the way things happened, but...
This is really the only way I could see it happening. :)
Let me know what you think! It's longer than my usual chapters, so that should make you happy!
Chapter 22: Malone v. Grissom
Frank's was close enough to walk to, so rather than piling into vehicles, we walked over, me on the phone with Michael most of the way, giving him and Dan directions to our diner. It was a seat-yourself kind of place and we slid three tables together, seating ourselves around it. Catherine took a seat next to me—which was unlike her—and the guys sat down beside her, leaving three open spaces—beside me, across from me, and across from Catherine… for the remaining members of our party.
Our usual waitress was over in minutes, grinning, coffee pot and a tray full of mugs already ready. "Bigger table than normal…" She said, placing mugs in front of each of us and hovering by the three vacancies. "Should I leave extras here?"
"That'd be great," I said, and she smiled, laying them down along with the steaming pot.
"I'll give you guys a minute—if you want to order before your other members show, just give me a holler." She winked at the guys who all leaned forward, grinning eagerly back, inspiring no little amount of eye rolling from Catherine and myself. She might not be my best friend in Vegas, but we were united as women—it was a matter of principal.
I heard Michael's laugh before I saw him—I turned immediately, causing my team's heads to follow my gaze, and I felt myself smiling brightly at the sight of him. I might be upset that Grissom wasn't coming, but I was still happy to see Michael—and happy for him to meet my friends. It felt like two pieces of my life were coming together… the way it had felt when Kelly had met Grissom for the first time.
"Sara." He beams, bending down to kiss my cheek—an action which both surprises me and makes me blush. I stand up, hugging him again and then turning to Dan, intending to extend a hand to shake—instead, he puts an arm around me and dips me low, kissing me full on the lips. I'm too surprised to move, at first, and put my hands to his chest to remove him, but by then it's over, the smell of vodka lingering in the air—and my entire team is looking at me in shock. Michael, as well, seems a little off put by his friend's actions.
Dan grins. "I never got to do that when you were dating this old man. I just thought, what the hell, last chance I'll probably get…"
I laugh, because really, what else can I do? "Is… he still drunk?" I ask Michael uncertainly, who rolls his eyes.
"I doubt he'll be sober in the next twelve hours. …I'm really sorry about that, Sara."
I blush again. "Yeah, I—"
"I hope I'm not too late." Grissom's voice comes from behind me, making me tense. I turned to look at him in surprise. "Grissom… You came."
He smiles, although it looks a little forced. "Well, of course… You're paying for breakfast, right?" He grins playfully, stepping between me and Michael and Dan and pulling out the seat beside me that all the others had left open for Michael. He smiled at the rest of the team and reached for the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup as if his actions were the most normal in the world.
It took me a minute to get my bearings, and then I glanced between Michael and my team. "I'm sorry, uh…Michael Malone and Dan Walsh. These are my friends… Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Nick Stokes, and Greg Sanders."
Everyone—including Grissom, strangely enough, greeted each other warmly and with a slight frown, Michael took the seat beside Grissom and Dan sat beside Greg. At the very least, he was still across from me. I frowned, thinking that this had gotten off to a rather awkward start—and wondering how to get everything back to normal—when our waitress returned. "Looks like everyone's here. I left coffee cups for you gentleman, but can I get you anything else?"
"Orange juice, please." Michael requested. Dan looked up at her questioningly.
"Does this place serve alcohol?"
Before the waitress could say yes—it's Vegas, after all—Michael overrode him. "He's already been cut off at about three bars tonight. Coffee would be good for him."
She smiled. "Sounds good. I'll be right back with your orange juice."
She walked away, and Nick—ever a knight in shining armor—sought to help me kill the awkward silence. "So, Michael… all we've heard about you is that you're an old friend of Sara's, from her Harvard days. Warrick and I've got a little bet going… Did you and Sara… were you ever…" He hesitated, wanting to ask his question nicely. And it clearly wasn't whether we'd dated, but whether we'd slept together… because he was struggling.
Greg helped him out. "He wants to know if you ever hit that."
I choked on my coffee, Michael's eyebrows rose, and Grissom cringed. Everyone else at the table laughed. Michael was a gentleman too. "I, uh… I don't really think…"
"Oh, he totally hit that." Dan provided. I felt my face flush even brighter while the table—myself, Grissom, and Michael excluded—burst into further laughter and Warrick passed a hundred dollar bill to Nick. Michael glanced at me uncertainly, but then our waitress was back, placing his glass in front of him.
"Alright—Have you had enough time to look over those menus?"
"Yes." I said, emphatically, desperate to change the subject, and the table laughed again, much to the waitress' bemusement.
When the other side of the table was ordering, Catherine leaned over to me and whispered conspiratorially—though loud enough for Grissom to hear—"Wow, Sara, he's gorgeous. I never would have pictured you liking buff guys. …Was he this sexy when you two… you know?"
…Come to think of it, I had you know-ed with five men in my twenty-eight years… and three of them were sitting at this table. …Why exactly had I thought this would be a good idea? I was clearly crazy. …At least Greg seemed like he had no intention of volunteering the information that he, too, had 'hit that.' I didn't need to worry about Grissom—he probably told himself that it had never happened.
I blushed. "He… What? I… No, he… he looks just the same as he used to, Catherine." I said, just trying to shush her. Clearly, this was why she'd sat by me… she wanted to girl talk about the men I'd introduced her to. I had to fight the urge to give her an incredulous look and ask her 'Really?'
Our waitress swept away, and this time Catherine decided to save me. "Michael…" She batted her eyelashes. …Maybe she wasn't saving me intentionally. "You'll have to excuse the guys. Sara just… doesn't talk all that much about… anything before she moved to Vegas. So you come along and… well," she gave him a flirty smile. "We're curious."
That had to be the single most seductive 'curious' I had ever heard. It was like she was telling him exactly what she was curious about, and how much she would enjoy discovering her answers. I grit my teeth. Not that I wanted Michael… I mean, not really, although it was hard to be around him without remembering our more intimate moments… but that didn't mean he was up for grabs. That was girl code. Catherine should know that.
…Come to think of it, Catherine was the kind of girl who wouldn't necessarily care.
Michael seemed a little more at ease with this explanation, anyway. He even chuckled. "Yeah… Sara's never been big on giving out personal information. …I suppose I could help you guys out a little…" He said this slyly, with a glance in my direction, and I blushed, knowing that he was now playing their game. I groaned, and he laughed out loud. "…Do you want to know how she came on to me?"
"Hell yes!" said the guys, although I'm fairly certain I drowned them out.
"I did not come on to you!" I said, indignantly, hoping to put a stop to all of this, but Nick and Warrick were practically rolling on the floor with their laughter. Michael offered me a smirk, though his eyes were serious—they searched mine, and finding that I was not mad, even if I was thoroughly embarrassed, the smirk grew.
"…Really? I'm pretty sure an eighteen year old girl, in a bikini, rolling onto her side and informing the thirty year old stranger beside her that 'Adult and consensual…drinking… began at eighteen,' would be considered coming on to me."
All heads snapped to me—Grissom's included—and I felt my face on fire. "No, I… You had asked me if I was too young to get a drink! I… didn't want to be dismissed just because I was young…"
Dan rolled his eyes. "Like anyone could dismiss Sara in a bikini…"
Ah, and there it was. The peals of laughter again. Grissom and Catherine were the exceptions—Grissom was frowning, and Catherine looked a little put out that she was not the woman receiving the most attention at the moment. …We were on better terms, now, than we had been at first… but she still felt competitive. And now it wasn't just for Grissom's attention or recognition for the quality of work in the lab—this must be the first time she had viewed me as a threat physically. She didn't like not being the most beautiful woman to the men in her life.
Warrick's voice broke though the commotion at the table. "So… has Sara changed, since then? What was eighteen year old Sidle like?"
Michael chuckled, glancing at me. "…Mostly the same, I think. Dedicated, driven… stubborn as all hell, beautiful…" His eyes told me the words he'd left out. Secretive. Haunted. Dysfunctional. The only thing that might have changed is that I appeared, in this moment, to be more social than I used to be—and it was probably a moment that was less than representative of my actual day-to-day.
I cleared my throat. "Contrary to popular belief, I invited everyone to breakfast not to relive every embarrassing thing I've ever done, but so that Michael and Dan could glean some advice from Vegas natives about where the best places to party are. They're having a guys weekend."
"The palace." Greg spoke up, winking at Catherine. "Most flexible strippers in town…" Everyone laughed at that, Catherine with a hair toss that said even if it had embarrassed her, she liked the attention, and Grissom with a cough to cover his amusement. I stepped on his foot and smirked, and the smile he gave me in return was genuine… despite the disingenuousness of his other actions since entering the restaurant.
When I glanced back at the table, I noticed Michael's eyes moving between the pair of us and I blushed again. Warrick leaned back in his chair. "I can let you know where you've got the best odds at blackjack."
Nick grinned. "I know every buffet in town with three dollar steak and lobster deals."
Dan and Michael turned to look between Catherine, Grissom, and I, as if waiting for our additions to what we might educate them about in Las Vegas. Catherine did another hair toss. "The club scene. Although… I don't do foam parties of any kind."
Most of us laughed, although Michael looked frightened to discover what a 'foam party' might be… and Dan looked positively eager. The gazes fell between myself and Grissom, who looked entirely unfazed by the pressure of so many eyes. I cleared my throat. "I've done some research on the beach life around Lake Mead… if you guys were staying longer, maybe we could go wind-surfing. As of yet, I haven't made the trip, but…" I shrugged, realizing my sentence really didn't need an end. Michael smiled, no doubt remembering my love of the beach.
"It's too bad we didn't run into each other sooner. …We could have gone sailing." I smiled, remembering all the time we'd spent on his little boat, having picnics out in Boston Harbor, drinking wine and watching the stars, making love on top of his leather jacket and under the tiny blanket he brought for the picnic. I felt myself blushing, and Michael's knowing smile, and Grissom's unfaltering gaze on my face.
He cleared his throat, drawing Michael's eyes away from mine. "I can tell all the places somebody's been killed. For example… the Bellagio. I assume you're staying there, yes? It was just build this year—already we've had about seven bodies taken from there. One old man had a heart attack, a teenager had an allergic reaction and couldn't find his epinephrine pen, a woman choked in a restaurant, and another woman killed her husband on the 16th floor when she returned from a show sooner than expected and found him with a hooker. …She still paid the hooker though. A little boy drowned in the fountains, a woman was smothered by her boyfriend on the 21st floor after she won the jackpot, and another woman put a corkscrew through the neck of her husband when she realized he'd gambled away everything they owned. They had four children at home…"
There was absolute silence at the table. And then our waitress came up, passing out plates and chattering happily, teasing Nick about his massive breakfast and giggling when he made a comment about beautiful waitresses tempting him into spending too much money. She left, and people began eating—Greg talking to Dan about what, exactly, a foam party entailed, Catherine, Warrick, Nick, and Michael discussing what Michael and Dan had done so far, and Grissom and I sitting and eating rather quietly.
I had wanted Grissom to meet the man who had been my savior in so many ways. The man who had given me my faith back, in men, after Tyler. The man who made it possible for me to love him as fiercely as I had. …I understood being jealous of someone who was actually a threat, but… he knew for a fact that even when I'd been with Michael, I hadn't loved him the way he loved me… and certainly not the way Grissom and I had loved each other. It didn't even compare, and he knew that.
…So why couldn't he put his testosterone aside and do this for me? Had I not dropped everything to come investigate when he needed me? Had I not given up my job to move to Vegas, even knowing that it meant there was even more keeping us apart than before? Hadn't I done just about everything he asked of me, ever?
Eventually, I was drawn back into the conversation we were all finishing our meals and the guys were prodding Michael for more information about me. I managed to head off just about all of his stories, with the exception of the birthday present Kelly had given me when I turned nineteen. No matter how many times I changed the subject, interrupted, and threatened bodily harm to the story teller and his avid listeners alike, it kept coming back up. Finally, I grit my teeth.
"Michael Thomas Malone, if you tell them a single thing that was in that box, I promise to tell Dan everything you told me I could never tell him."
Dan looked over in surprise, his eyelids heavy. "…What?"
Michael smiled, but kept his lips sealed from that point on, despite the goading from the guys that it couldn't be that bad and the indignant protests from Dan about what he'd been keeping from him. The check came, and though I had had fun… I was never happier to see a breakfast end. "Now, is this separate or all together?"
"Together. I'll take it." I said, and she passed it to me, though it had hardly entered my fingers before Michael had pulled it away.
"Really. I haven't seen you in years, and it was amazing to meet the people you care about. Let me."
Grissom extended his hand, and I nearly groaned out loud in frustration. Were we really going to do this again? "You're guests here. Sara's one of mine. I'll take the check." And though his words implied that I was one of many… one among Catherine and Greg and Nick and Warrick… it was clear that this wasn't his meaning. Or, not his overt meaning. The men weren't fighting over the check, they were fighting over me.
Warrick leaned forward. "Maybe I'll just ask Melinda for separate checks instead…"
I huffed, snatching the slip of paper back and pulled out my check card. "I'm paying. Everyone came out for me, and I appreciate it. …Thank you." I added, less briskly, glancing around the table to make it clear that I was including everyone, and I received pleasantries back from everyone except Grissom, though I'm sure its absence was only notable to me. I passed it to the waitress, Melinda, as soon as she came near the table and she gave me a knowing smile.
I waited for her to return with my card and a slip to sign, but the others were rising, exhausted and ready for bed.
"Well, Sara, thank you for breakfast, it was great. Next time's on me." Nick patted my shoulder and moved over to offer his hand to the two men. "It was great to meet you guys. I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip." They shook and Greg stood up, nodding and smiling to both men and ruffling my hair on his way out following Nick.
His voice carried back to us, "Does that mean you'll pay for my breakfast next time too?"
Nick laughed. "Not a chance, Greg. You make more than me, remember?"
Warrick was the next to rise—"It's been said, but this really was fun. The next time you guys are in town we should all meet for drinks… maybe Sara will let you give us more information if she's properly intoxicated." He grinned, Dan and Michael laughed, and Warrick turned to us. "Thanks, Sar'. See you guys tonight…"
"Night War'" both Catherine and Grissom called. And then Catherine was up.
"I'm sure Eddie will be calling to have me take Lindsey back early… he usually does. I'd better get some sleep before then. Michael, Dan…" She shook their hands, and I swear she passed Michael a number in the shake. Seriously, who did this woman think she was? "Sara, Griss." She said, nodding to each of us before making her way out as well.
I bit my bottom lip. This had gotten awkward. Michael and Dan were waiting for Grissom to leave so that I could talk to them before we parted, but Grissom sat firmly in place, drinking his coffee. I sighed, realizing he wasn't moving, and turned to Michael and Dan.
"I'm sorry if… the team was a little overwhelming. I… didn't expect them to want so much… information." I blushed, and both Bostonians grinned.
"No—it was a lot of fun. I can see why you love them. …Thank you, for doing this."
I smiled. "Of course. …I… wanted you guys to meet. It feels like… connecting two pieces of my life."
Dan didn't know that my life was fragmented, and that connecting pieces made me feel more whole. The other two men, I am certain, sensed as much—but they didn't say anything. Michael glanced at Grissom, and then back at me. "Listen, Sara... I've been thinking about doing a seminar at UNLV next summer. I… just got the invitation so I… haven't really figured it out yet, but… knowing you're here, I'd… really like to do it. …Reconnect. But… if you wanted this to just, you know, be a onetime thing… catch up and then go back to… not talking… I would understand that."
I blushed again, glancing uncertainly down at the table, because I desperately wanted to look at Grissom and I knew I couldn't. "I… No, I'd… really like to see you again too. …Rekindle a friendship." I put the tiniest bit of emphasis on the final word, but his eyes told me he understood what I was telling him. I didn't want to be romantically involved next summer, if he were in town.
"Great. …I… Well, I guess I can let you get home… get some sleep. You've been working all night." I stood, and as I did, Melinda returned my card and the slip to sign. I took them, setting them on the table and hugging Michael tightly.
"I… I'm gonna miss you." I said, and was surprised at how true it was—I hadn't seen him in years, but I would miss him. A lot.
His voice was gruff when he responded. "I'm going to miss you too, Sara. I really, really am."
I pulled back a little, smiling softly at him. "You have my number, now. …We'll keep in touch."
"Yes. We will," he said, his eyes revealing a depth of emotion I couldn't decipher. "…Is Of Mice and Men still your favorite?"
I smirked. "One of them."
He chuckled, and pulled back entirely. "It's good to know that some things never change."
I turned to Dan, who held his arms out for a hug. I took a step back, offering him a hand instead, and he pretended to be hurt before taking my hand and pulling me into a genuine hug. "It really was good to see you, Sar'. Take care of yourself."
I laughed. "Don't strain yourself at those strip clubs…"
He winked. "Strain myself? I'm in the best shape of my life!"
I laughed as they walked out, Michael turning back to smile and wave before he moved through the door, disappearing into the already hot air of a Vegas morning.
I sighed, sitting down to sign the bill and collect my card and quite possibly have it out with Grissom. The way he was acting, who could tell? I pulled a pen from my purse and wrote in gratuity and tip, signed my name, and replaced the card and pen. Grissom said nothing. I huffed, giving in and looking at him. His gaze was fixed on me. "…Was all of that necessary?"
He raised an eyebrow and got to his feet, pulling out his wallet. "I came." He dropped a ten dollar bill to the table. "For a table this large, you should leave more than fifteen percent gratuity. …Thanks for breakfast, Sara."
And he turned and left, leaving me clutching my signature and apparently inadequate tip.
