FF: Borderline 9/?

[doubleedog]

Title: Borderline

Author: e-dog

Author’s Notes: Sorry for the delay, again. RL getting in the way. How about a longer chapter to make up for it?

Part Nine

Thoughts

Stir crazy.

You are most definitely stir crazy. Ten days have passed. Ten freakin’ days. You vaguely remember your elementary school days; fellow classmates out for at least a week because of the chicken pox or pneumonia. You are now well over a week in terms of recovery time. Way too long. You want to go back to work.

The problem is, Catherine has you on some kind of house arrest now. You literally lost your lunch yesterday and it scared her. She even took the night off to stay with you (which you both had a nice argument over).

She’s downstairs now, preparing a pullout couch in the den for Paul. It’s where he sleeps since you’ve taken over the guest bed.

Surprisingly, Paul is being rather understanding of your predicament. He’s trying to accommodate you, help out. It’s just another change you see in Paul. You can’t help but wonder if Paul’s transformation, his maturity is just a fluke. You’re wondering how long it’ll be before the Paul you knew resurfaces.

Heh. You always were the cynic.

“Sara?”

You lift your head from your pillow. Well, speak of the devil. You motion with your head, signaling Paul can enter. It’s one of the many things Catherine has been teaching him. To ask permission before entering a room. Naturally, these lessons only really came about after Paul invaded Lindsey’s room one night without knocking. The scream that teenager let loose was one that could be heard around the world. Paul cowered in a corner for about an hour, he was so embarrassed.

“I wanted to talk,” Paul says, slowly walking in. His steps are uncertain, he’s afraid of something.

You sit up now, concerned. “What’s up?”

He sits on the edge of your bed, plays with his socked feet then smiles shyly. “I was reading with Lindsey. She reads these mystery novels and she says I’m good at reading them. It got me thinking. . .I was thinking I could finish school. I never finished.”

Your eyes widen a bit. “Oh, um. School. No, you never finished.”

Paul frowns. “You don’t think it’s a good idea. I knew you wouldn’t. . .”

“Paul, hold on. I didn’t say that,” you smile shyly yourself. “School is an adjustment. You have to consider everything. The environment, the teachers, the students.”

Paul sighs. “Yeah, I know. I thought of that.”

Paul was pulled from school in the tenth grade. He got into way too many fights with the other kids. Most of the kids deserved it, of course. They teased Paul relentlessly, but the school had finally had enough and so had the parents. His record followed him everywhere. No other school wanted him.

Going back to school doesn’t seem like a good idea, but your judgments are clouded with worry and fear.

See, you’ve been learning too. Catherine has been quick to point out when you’re too hard with Paul. She doesn’t yell, she just reminds you. She reminds you that Paul is 31-years-old and quite capable of making decisions for himself.

It’s still hard for you to change, though. You’ve been very protective of your brother all your life, you don’t know any other way. Paul, however, has grown. He is grown and while it may have taken him many more years to get here, he needs what other humans need. He needs you to support him when he makes a decision for himself.

“There are other ways,” you say finally. He looks up at you, a glimmer of hope on his face. “You don’t have to go back to a public school. You can get a tutor, earn your GED that way.”

He repeats, “GED? That means I could get a job?”

“A job too, huh?” you say. First school, now a job. You breathe in deep before replying warily, “Yeah, a job. It’s easier to get a job if you have a GED.”

Paul grins now. He scratches at his beard (which you finally convinced him to at least trim) and you can see the wheels turning around in his mind. He says enthusiastically, “I’m going to tell Catherine.”

He really loves her, you think.

“She’ll be happy to hear it,” you say back, as he stands. He’s a bit wobbly on his feet, he’s so happy.

He looks at you again, “Hey, Sara?”

“Yeah?”

“How much longer do you think you’ll be sick?” Paul asks, his expression never more serious.

“Uh, well,” you laugh. “I don’t think I can give you an estimate, why?”

“I like it here,” he says simply. “I like Catherine here. If you’re sick, she’s around more.”

“Oh,” you reply, watching Paul skip out of the room to share his school aspirations with Catherine. You shake your head, unable to stop grinning. For a moment, you thought that maybe Paul was concerned for your health. No, he was concerned that he would see less of Catherine.

After a moment of thinking about it, you find that you have the same concern deep within you. When you get better, you’ll have to go home. You, too, will see less of Catherine.

“Yeah, Paul, I like having Catherine here too,” you whisper to yourself.

“Hey, Sara. How’s your arm?”

Your head snaps up in fear. How long had she been standing there? Did she hear what you just said? You force a smile, “Great. I don’t think I’ll need the pain meds tonight.”

“Okay,” Catherine says, shaking the medicine bottle already in hand. She strides in, her gait casual. “Paul tells me he wants to go to school again.”

You nod. “Yeah. He wants a job. I guess he’s looking to be more self sufficient, I dunno. It’s kinda scary.”

“Why?” Catherine asks. “It’s what people do. They get jobs. They fend for themselves.”

“This is Paul,” you tell her. “He’s. . .he’s. . .”

“Different,” Catherine finishes for you. “Yeah, he’s different. He’s also smart, Sara. I was listening to him read to Lindsey and I never saw him so relaxed. He read those words with such ease.”

“Hey, I’m trying to support him, okay? This isn’t easy for me,” you say, chuckling a little bit to showcase your discomfort. “I’ve been making his decisions for him for so long. Kind of a hard habit to break.”

Catherine pats your leg and says, “Well, I’m sure Paul appreciates your newfound faith in him.” She goes to stand, but you grab her hand. She looks back at you and says, “You okay, Sara?”

“Fine, I just wanted to say thanks. For everything,” you say quietly. “I mean, no one has ever connected with Paul like you have. I feel like I owe you something.”

“No thanks are necessary, Sara,” Catherine smiles, her fingers interlacing with yours. Her thumb making small circles on your skin. Her touch makes your eyes flutter closed involuntarily and when you open them again, she’s still smiling. She lets you go and goes to leave.

She pauses in the doorway first, saying, “By the way? I like having you here too.”

She’s gone before you can reply.

---------------------------------

You’re alone today.

You meandered about the house trying to pass the time, but that tuckered you out. There was nothing on tv, so you’ve confined yourself to the bed. You’re alone today.

The entire time you’ve been here, someone else has been here with you . Whether it be Paul or Lindsey or Catherine’s mother, Lily, someone was always here. Well, today you’re alone.

Lindsey’s agricultural club was going on a field trip to a botanical garden. The teacher, who needed to fill seats on the bus anyway, agreed to let Paul be a ‘chaperone’. It was the only way to allow an adult to go. Lily, of course, was the real chaperone.

So, yeah, they’re off having fun with plants. The nerd in you would’ve liked to have gone too. As for Catherine not being around?

Ecklie had called. Catherine went in early, which you’re not entirely happy about. Something having to do with dayshift supervisor needing to tend to a family emergency. You don’t really know the details nor do you care. You just know that the house will be quite empty seeing how everyone’s gone. Most importantly, Catherine is gone.

Like you, Catherine was none too pleased with the situation. She didn’t want to leave you alone.

“I’ll give you a full update on what happens, okay?” she promised you before she was out the door. “Every detail. Every case that passes over my desk.”

“Okay,” you had said. You hope your voice didn’t sound as pathetic as you felt.

Lying on the guest bed, listening to the house creak and moan, you already begin to wonder what cases you’re missing out on. Okay, enough of that. Think about something else. Think about the house.

It’s empty.

Damn it, now you’re bored. When Catherine is here, she refuses to leave your side for more than ten minutes or so. At first it was annoying, but eventually you grew accustomed to her persistent fussing. She talked about everything from Lindsey’s grades in school to why the sky was blue. Now she’s not here and you miss her more than you should and damn it, now you’re alone. It’s quiet.

A thought enters your mind, but really, do you want to go there? More idle minutes pass and you ultimately decide that you’re just bored enough to find out.

You lean over to the nightstand, grab your cellphone and hit ‘1' on your speed dial. He picks up immediately.

“Sara!” Greg is way too excited to hear from you, you think.

“Hey, Greg,” you reply, your voice sounding a bit hoarse. You cough a little and continue, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing really. I was just grabbing a bite to eat, but food can wait. You wanna talk? We can talk.” He’s rambling and it’s sorta cute. “How are you feeling? Is Cath there? Do you need food? I can bring over some food before shift.”

Now that is an idea.

You tell Greg what you would like to eat and within the hour, he’s parking his car out on the driveway. You instructed him to enter through the garage, which Catherine left open in her rush to get out. A spare key rests under the mat by the door and that’s how he gets in. You can hear him rustling around in the kitchen and you hope he’s not making a mess. He finds his way up the steps, calling out, “Hey, Sara! What room you in?”

“I’m in here!” you call back. Moments later he pops in and grins at you, a couple of brown bags filled with fruits and veggies. He even boasts proudly how he remembered some Ranch dressing for dipping. You think you might be drooling judging by the way he laughs at you. Real food. You’re going to eat some real food. You find the baby carrots and gush, “This is going to be great. Cath has had me on the jello diet.”

“Ouch,” Greg says with a grin. He hands the dressing to you, which you take eagerly. “Well, it’s a good thing you called me then.” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice. Yeah, you’re kinda surprised you called him too.

You both eat in silence for a while, stuffing your faces until your stomachs are satisfied enough to talk. You swallow, then glance up at your friend. “So, is the lab getting by without me?”

“Sara, you say that as if you decided to go on vacation or something,” Greg says, a frown deepening with each word.

“You know what I meant,” you tell him sternly. You don’t like acknowledging that you’re injured. Mostly because you’re embarrassed. You’ve gone days without sleep before. Your diet could be better. You’ve even ignored your health on occasion, but not to the point of grievous viral infections that clog up your lungs. Not to mention, falling through a floor just makes you feel like an idiot.

After a moment’s contemplation, you say, “Greg. Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” he says quickly, leaning forward to hear your request.

You smile. “Be my eyes and ears, okay? I’m going crazy not knowing what’s going on, you know?”

“Sweet, I’ve always wanted to be a spy,” he says. He rubs his hands together mischievously. Okay, now that worries you.

“I’m talking about the cases, Greg, not the latest office gossip,” you clarify. “Cath said she would keep me up to date, but. . .”

“It’s cool, I get it,” Greg says to you. He’s still grinning though, which makes you feel just a bit uneasy. “Still, any gossip and I’m all over it. I’ll call you on the hour every hour, if I have to.”

Now you’re really scared. You shake your head, your voice wavering in suspicion. “Uh, Greg. That’s not really necessary. . .”

“No, it’s cool! I’ll give you all the dirt, as if you were there to witness it yourself,” he insists. You can’t tell if he’s joking anymore. You really, really hope he’s joking.

Time passes slowly now, food disappears and stomachs reach their total capacity. You lean back into the pillows, a happy sigh escaping as you taste the remnants of ranch dressing in your mouth. You open your eyes and see Greg is just as satisfied as he stretches out on the bed next to you. He sees you watching him and grins.

He says, “It’s a big bed.”

You roll your eyes.

“No, really. It’s a big bed for a guest bed,” he says.

You look at it. It’s a queen size, you suspect. Not that you really care. Some people have big beds in their guestrooms. You turn back to him. “Your point?”

He waggles his eyes at you. “Big enough for two people. Two people who clearly have the hots for each other.” He’s speaking to you in a tone that suggests you should already know this.

You cough a little, then ask for clarification, “Are you talking about. . .Catherine? Me and Catherine?”

“Yeah, duh. Who else would I be talking about?” Greg says, looking at you like you have two heads.

“Well, your name comes to mind,” you smile at him sweetly.

“While I would love to crawl under these sheets next to you right now, I know I wouldn’t have a chance against Cath,” Greg teases. His voice is almost sing song as he declares, “She’s got the hots for you!”

“Catherine does not have ‘the hots’ for me,” you argue back. A tickle in your throat keeps you from saying more and the coughing that follows is inevitable. Greg immediately tones down his teasing. He jumps up from the bed to fetch you some water, now in Greg The Hero mode. You manage to stop coughing and call him back. “No. No, it’s okay. I’m done.”

“You sure?” Greg asks, one foot out the door.

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Just a bit of coughing.”

“Okay,” Greg says. He sits back down next to you, his impish eyes lighting up again. “Look, Sara. I don’t mean to give you a hard time, but have you ever wondered why Catherine offered to let you stay here?”

He never quits, you think.

“She’s my friend,” you respond confidently.

Greg shakes his head, clearly exasperated. “I think it’s more than that.”

“Youthink way too much,” you retort.

Greg now gives you a very curious look. “Sara, why are you fighting this?”

You laugh lightly, “Because what you’re saying is stupid, okay? Besides, Paul suggested to Catherine that I stay here. It only made sense seeing how Lindsey watches Paul for me anyway.”

Greg squints his eyes at you. He doesn’t want to give up on this. “Okay, you win for now. Just one last thing, Sara, then I’ll drop it for good.”

You sigh, “Okay, what?”

His voice is totally deadpan as he says, “Admit it. The thought of you and Catherine is totally hot.”

You waste no time smacking him with your pillow.

Greg snickers relentlessly and you do everything in your power to ignore him, but there are other things you can’t fully deny. Greg is right. He is right and you hate that he’s right.

What you feel for Catherine is definitely more than just friends. You felt the change after you fell through that floor at the crime scene; when Catherine held your hand and begged for you to hold on for her. You felt the change later at the hospital, again with her hand in yours. When she grazed your cheek and asked if you were with her.

Yeah, you were most certainly with her. You wanted nothing more than to be with her at that very moment and with each passing day, that feeling is getting harder and harder to ignore.

You can’t blame medication or pneumonia or any other outside forces for these beautifully strange feelings coursing through you. You wanted desperately to find a connection between you and Catherine. You had settled on Paul being the connector, the driving force that brought you and Catherine together. Well, maybe his sudden predicament was a factor, but not the primary one. What bonds you to Catherine is not any one thing or any one event.

What bonds you to Catherine is you.

“Sara?”

Greg is calling you, but it’s as if you can’t hear him.

Your ribs hurt now. Well, your whole body hurts. Your throat hurts. Your eyes hurt. Everything hurts and you think you might cry, but you don’t. You have turned away from Greg and want nothing more in the world than to be pissed off at him. Pissed that he even mentioned Catherine and the opportunity that can never happen. Except, you feel him lean up alongside you and he wraps his arms around you in an awkward embrace. He whispers in your hair, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what?” you ask softly.

You can hear his smile when he says, “That you fell so hard for her.”

“Greg, please,” you beg.

“I know, I know,” he mumbles against your shoulder. “Little Miss Denial here, trying to convince the world she’s not in lust or in love or whatever this is. I get it. You don’t have to tell me or anyone.”

He’s trying to joke with you and it does make you chuckle briefly, but you’re still sad. You’re sad because Greg is practically your best friend. You don’t share much of your life with him at all and you bet that hurts him. You haven’t been able to share your life with anyone completely.

“Greg, I . . .” you start to say, but he shakes his head.

“You’re tired,” he says simply, but something about the way he says it gives you reason enough to believe that he understands what you want. You’ll have all the time in the world to talk later.

He gently moves you both until you’re in a more comfortable position, your head resting on his shoulder. Your arm draping over his chest, the beat of his heart lethargic and comforting. After a few more moments pass, you can feel him chuckle before the sound even leaves his lips. “You haven’t let me hold you in a long time.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” you mumble into his shirt.

Greg gives you a much more gentle squeeze. “We’ll get her, Sara. Cath will have no choice but to succumb to your obvious charm.”

You can’t help but laugh. He always seems to find a way to make you laugh. He strokes your hair as you close your eyes to rest. Sometimes, Greg is the sweetest man you’ve ever known.

He holds you until he has to leave for work.

---------------------------------

Draw Two.

You begrudgingly take two cards off the pile and then add them to your already full deck of cards. Yes. You said deck. You think that it’s quite possible that the entire UNO collection is in your hands right now. Which, by the way, seems ridiculous because Nick keeps pulling all these Draw Twos and Draw Fours from out of his ass. If you have all the cards, how is he still able to smite you with all these penalties?

“Uno,” Paul says.

“Again, bro?” Nick says, amazed. He looks at you, holding a mere two cards. “I think Paul is gonna win again.”

“I’m good,” Paul beams. “It’s the only game we played at the home.”

The home. Paul calls the mental hospital ‘the home’ now. You’re not sure why, but lately, he’s been referring back to it. Remembering it. Funny thing is, he only tells you the memories that made him happy. Like this one. He played UNO for hours with other patients. It was all they had.

You’ve tried asking Paul what it was like at the mental hospital. Asking doesn’t usually get you anywhere, however. He only offers up information when he wants to. He’s still upset you left him there in the first place, you suppose.

Nick relinquishes a card of his own and proclaims, “Uno.”

It’s really a game between Nick and Paul (who each have one card). Of course, with your plethora of cards, you now have the power to manipulate the game a bit. You double up two Skip cards, which brings it back to you.

“Nice, Sara. Nice,” Nick mutters, gripping his last card expectantly. You can tell he wants to win. He hasn’t won yet.

“Yeah, don’t tease,” Paul insists. You think Nick’s competitiveness has brought out a somewhat ugly side to your brother. Paul wants to win just as badly, if not more than Nick.

“Okay, sorry,” you smile at them. You throw down a yellow nine.

“I win!” Paul shouts, dropping down a yellow zero.

“Damn it,” Nick groans. He reveals his card, which was also yellow. He smirks at you, claiming, “You helped him out cuz he’s your brother. You both have been conspiring against me.”

“Nick, c’mon. How was I to know what he had?” you say, pursing your lips together to keep from laughing at him.

“Brother-sister telepathy, I dunno,” Nick jokes.

“I’m the best,” Paul announces, then jumps up from the table. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“I think I want one too, buddy,” Nick rises as well. You watch him follow Paul into the kitchen. You’re quite happy that Nick has accepted the role as older brother. Considering how Paul introduced himself, you’re surprised Nick took to Paul so quickly.

Paul has started forming relationships with your friends, relationships that could blossom into something more lasting, more healing. You want ever so badly for these relationships to last. You want Paul to know what it’s like to have real friends.

“So, how’s the game?” Greg enters the dining room, sitting in an empty chair.

“I totally suck at UNO,” you proclaim somewhat proudly. “Paul isn’t going nuts, if that was your real question.”

“Wasn’t trying to imply that,” Greg laughs uncomfortably. “Although, the way he tackle-hugged Nick when we arrived did alarm me.”

“About you guys stopping by,” you say. “Thanks, but really, Paul and I would’ve been fine on our own.”

“Well, we figured you would be bored to tears seeing how Cath and Linds are outta town with Lily and Sam,” Greg shrugs. “Besides, you’re still sicky and icky. You need a couple of strong men around to look after you.”

“I don’t need anyone,” you insist. “Certainly don’t need you two supposedly strong men. I’m gonna see the doctor in a few days anyway and he’s going to say that I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re fine. You’re always fine,” Greg nods, his tone clearly sarcastic. He then smiles impishly and confesses, “I will admit, though, I only came over because Cath is gone. Thought I’d give myself a feasible chance at asking you out to dinner. You know, with the competition nowhere in sight.”

“Greg, for the last time, Catherine and I are not happening,” you tell him sternly. “It can’t happen.”

“So you admit you want it to happen?”

“Greg,” you growl. “Drop it.”

Nick returns, ending the argument with Greg for now. He sits with some water. “Paul went upstairs. He said he wanted to give me a break from losing.”

You grin. “He’s generous like that.”

“What were you two talking about?” Nick asks curiously.

“Nothing,” you say promptly, shooting Greg a look to keep his mouth shut. He doesn’t take the hint.

“Actually, I was going to inform Sara of the latest office gossip,” Greg says devilishly. He then gives you a pointed stare. “Like your case for instance.”

“Do tell,” you mumble unenthusiastically.

Greg forges on, “You know Termite House. You were there. . .obviously.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Greg has started to affectionately call your case “Termite House”, for obvious reasons. It was a house full of termites. He has, however, begun to talk about it like some otherworldly story. As if you falling through the floor was some out-of-body experience. He forgets to refer to your case with sensitivity and the moniker “Termite House” does grate your nerves a bit.

Greg coughs, knowing he should probably refrain from using the moniker in your presence.

He continues, “Anyway, a total bust. The owner, Mrs. Wright. She’s dead, but she was shot with a .22. (That’ll make sense in a minute.) The bullet you found in the wall? We can’t find the gun, but we know it’s from a .22. See? The same kind of bullet found in Mrs. Wright’s body is the same bullet in the wall. There are still no leads as to who soaked the whole house in water and even Grissom is having a hard time figuring out how that many termites populated the entire house so quickly. . .Oh! And Catherine and Grissom went. . .”

Greg pauses, looks at Nick and says, “This is an A and B conversation, Nicky.”

“Shut-up,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. “If you wanted to tell Sara that Cath and Grissom had drinks after shift, then go right ahead. I already know all about it.”

You feel your chest tighten. Usually, you would focus on work, but mention of Catherine has quickly erased any memory of what Greg just said about your case. Weakly, you repeat, “They had drinks together?”

Greg nods, confirming his story. “I know a buddy at the bar they went to. He says they talked for about an hour. Grissom ordered wine for her.”

“Red or white?” Nick asks.

“What does it matter?” Greg asks, giving Nick a funny look.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Nick smiles to himself. “Red or white, they say, is good for your colon. I was just curious.”

“You watching Discover Channel again, Nicky?” you ask playfully.

“60 minutes, actually,” Nick jokes back. “In all seriousness, though, I tend to buy a lady red wine on a date. White wine for a casual affair. Something about the color red screams romance.”

You roll your eyes. Nick was always the romantic out of all of you.

“Well, they drank red, but I don’t think it means anything,” Greg comments, as if trying to reassure you that Cath would never go for Grissom and she would totally date you instead. “Back in the day, they used to get drinks all the time. Maybe they’re just rekindling an old tradition.”

“I don’t care if they have drinks, Greg,” you say. “Grissom and Catherine are practically best friends. Best friends have drinks.”

“Okay, so that wasn’t juicy enough for you,” Greg deduces. “Have I told you how Hodges is definitely in love with Henry?”

Nick snorts, “Hodges is not gay, Greg.”

“I’m telling you. Hodges and Henry. Double H,” Greg says, holding up a hand as if he’s swearing in at court. “In love.”

“He’s not gay,” Nick insists.

“So you’re saying Henry is gay?” Greg asks, raising an eyebrow at Nick.

“I didn’t say that either,” Nick protests. “I just said Hodges is not gay.”

“But you didn’t say Henry wasn’t,” Greg points out.

Okay. You’ve had enough.

“Guys, I really don’t care,” you say, this time glaring at Greg. “I don’t care who likes who, who had drinks with who, who is gay or not. Enough.”

Greg pouts a little. “Fine. Party pooper.”

In this brief moment of silence, your thoughts dwell on both Catherine and Grissom (even though you just proclaimed how much you didn’t care about them nor what they did together). You wonder why Greg would even mention their little outing, unless it had something to do with you. He has been teasing you about ‘being in love’ with Catherine and he might be trying to make you jealous or something. Jealous that Catherine had drinks with a man you used to be in love with.

Actually, that’s kinda of cruel of Greg, when one really thinks about it. To tease you about that.

Wait. Hold the phone. You have to back up for a second. Back to something Nick said.

You look at Nick, curious. “You know all about what, exactly?”

Nick stills suddenly, as if you just caught him doing something wrong. He stammers, “What?”

“Earlier. When Greg mentioned Cath and Gris having drinks. You told him that you knew all about it. You know all about what?”

Nick stays quiet, looking guilty. Your eyes widen because what you have suspected must be true. Nick knows all about. . . it? You glare at Greg (for what has to be the umpteenth time today), and he suddenly looks like a little child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

You ask as calmly as possible, “What did you tell Nick?” You pause, then decide to try a different tactic before Greg even has time to respond. You turn to Nick and ask, “What did Greg tell you?”

Nick chuckles uneasily. “Tell me? Sara, he didn’t really tell me anything about. . ..”

“Nick, shut-up!” Greg hisses, before looking at you. “Sara, it was an accident. . .”

“You told Nick,” you say flatly. Shutting your eyes, you mumble to yourself in complete humiliation. “You told Nick? I can’t believe this. . .”

“Sara,” Greg pleads with you. When you look at him, all fire in your eyes, the younger man seems to freeze in place. He tries to smile at you, in way of an apology, and then the fire behind your eyes grows.

Nick decides to cut in, to defend Greg. “I wasn’t going to say anything about you and Cath, Sara. Greg is the one with the big mouth. . .”

“There is no ‘me and Cath’!” you bark, finally your simmering anger explodes.

“There is no Cath and I,” Greg corrects your grammar.

“You. . .you little punk!” you growl at the former lab techie. He begins to sink lower in his seat. “I can’t believe you told Nick that. . .that. . .”

“Now, Sara. He didn’t exactly tell me anything,” Nick steps in again. “It was an accident and it’s not like I care or anything. I mean, I always thought you had a thing for Grissom, but whatever. Whatever makes you happy.”

“Whatever makes me happy?” you repeat. “What would make me happy is to see Greg’s head on a silver platter!”

“Sara, really?” Greg mumbles. “You want to kill me?”

You make a very threatening gesture with your cast covered arm (which actually looks downright silly, not frightening) and promise, “Greg, I’ll kill you if the whole lab thinks that Catherine and I. . . .”

“It’s just Nick, I swear,” Greg says urgently, now backing up in his chair to get further away from you. “Besides, Nick only found out because Warrick and I were talking about you gals in the locker room. . .”

“WHAT???” you shout. You really shouldn’t be shouting, but to say you’re pissed is an understatement. Warrick of all people should know how you like to keep your private life private.Talking about you and Cath in the locker room? With Greg???First you’ll kill Greg. Then Warrick. Your hit list is starting to grow.

“First off, the idea of Catherine and I is a moot point. It’s not happening,” you say vehemently. “Secondly, why the hell were you and Warrick discussing that in the locker room at work? This is how rumors get spread around. . .”

“Rumors?” Greg scoffs. “Sara, honey, sweetie pie, darling. This is more than rumor, alright? This is just an observation made by three of your closest friends, okay? We see the way you look at Catherine and frankly, she’s been looking back. We’re not blind.”

Your gaze shifts between Greg and Nick and back again. Your lips quiver, as you process what Greg just said. You try to stay calm and say, “What do you mean Catherine’s been looking back?”

“Well, I’ll admit, until Greg brought it up, I didn’t notice,” Nick says, his face softening as he speaks. “But he’s right. You and Catherine have changed around each other.”

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter. “I can’t believe you two think. . .Greg, I swear if this gets around the lab, I’ll. . .I’ll. . .”

You try to threaten some more, but your words are gibberish. The truth is, you’re not sure what to say. You’re flustered. Completely and utterly flustered.

No, that’s not it. You’re caught. Caught red-handed, that’s what it is. If they have suspected you are falling for Catherine, that you havefallen for Catherine then Catherine. . .probably knows too. You stop stammering and lean back in your chair. Catherine probably knows too?

You feel all warmth drain from your entire body. You stare ahead, shock washing over you. What if Catherine knows? Hell, she has to know. She must know. She’s a CSI, for Pete’s sake! If Nick and Greg and Warrick noticed, then she noticed. Looking back on past events, you can’t claim to have been subtle in your romantic musings. You can recall each time Catherine caught you staring at her or each time she heard you say something you didn’t want to say aloud. She must know.

Nick raises an eyebrow. “Sara? You alright? You don’t look so good.”

“She’s fine, Nicky,” Greg grins triumphantly. “That right there, is a look of terror, of self-realization. Isn’t that right, Sara?”

“Shut-up,” you manage to squeak out.

Greg looks at Nick, then at you. Nick looks at you as you look back at him. Nick cracks a smile, which forces you to do so as well. You’re smiling. You shouldn’t be smiling.

Everyone knows about your crush on Catherine now. Everyone. Catherine doesn’t know that everyone else knows about your crush on her, but everyone knows about it. You shouldn’t be smiling.

“Sara, it’s not what you think,” Nick says. He’s noticed your silence and has opted to explain. “It was an accident. Bad timing and all. Greg wasn’t going to tell me, not without your say-so.”

“Warrick approached me. He asked me if I thought something was going on with you two,” Greg explains. “I tried to play it cool, like I didn’t understand what he was talking about. Only, he and Catherine have always been close and he just knew something was up. He knew that Catherine was acting different at work. He said the change happened right after you took up residence in her guest bed.”

“Then I walked in,” Nick jumps in. “I don’t know what possessed me to hide, but I did. Warrick and Greg were trying to talk all quiet and I thought maybe, they were planning something. I wanted to know what, so when I got closer to listen in, that’s when Greg blurted out you were in love with Catherine.”

You feel your eyes simmering in anger again as you look at Greg. You twitch a little as you repeat through clenched teeth, “You said I was in love with Catherine.”

Your perturbed statement sounds more like a question and your ire is building up again. It would be one thing if you said you were in love with Catherine, but frankly, you can’t say for sure that you’re in love with anyone. Attracted to Catherine, lusting after Catherine, sure. Love is not a word you throw around or use lightly, so hearing Greg toss it about the locker room at work only makes your skin crawl in irritation.

“I wouldn’t say I blurted it out,” Greg laughs nervously, eyeing you warily. “I just admitted to Warrick that I thought maybe something was up too, that’s all. That maybe you and Cath were dancing around a thing.”

You roll your eyes and involuntarily correct him. “There is no ‘me and Cath’. There is no thing.”

“Whatever,” Greg sighs.

Nick sighs. “Look, Sara. We didn’t come here to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Or to embarrass you,” Greg says.

You snort in disbelief.

“And I have no problem with you liking Cath or whoever, okay?” Nick continues. “I want you to be happy.”

“Or to mortify you,” Greg adds some more.

“Okay, Greg,” you say insistently. He never knows when to shut-up.

An uncomfortable silence follows, mostly because you want to be angry. It’s just, you can never really be angry with Greg for too long and he only means well. They both mean well. They just want to see you happy. You sigh and admit, “I am mortified.”

“So, is that an official confession?” Greg says, waggling his eyebrows. “We aren’t just seeing things? You do find Catherine attractive, at least?”

You rub your eyes tiredly. The cat’s out of the bag now, right? Why keep denying what Greg has so dutifully uncovered? Not to mention, both Nick and Warrick had their suspicions from the start and thanks to super sleuth Greg Sanders, both Nick and Warrick believe you’re in love with Catherine too. So maybe it’s time you stopped denying it.

You want to be more than Catherine’s friend. Maybe you always have and maybe it’s time to admit that to yourself wholeheartedly. You want to be more than Catherine’s friend. You want more. Your stomach is beginning to churn.

You slowly rise from your seat, both Nick and Greg watch you without speaking. You tell them, “I, uh, feel a little sick. I think I should lie down for a while.”

“Yeah, do that,” Nick agrees. “It’s been a long day.”

“And I’m not really mad at you guys,” you say with a loud sigh. “I’m not mad at you, okay?”

“Okay,” Greg says.

You go to walk away, but pause by Greg for a moment. You lean down to his ear and whisper conspiratorially, “You never really asked if I found Catherine attractive, you know.”

You stand straight again, looking down at him. He grins back up at you. “I’m asking now. Do you?”

You just smile at him.

It’s all you can really do, to be honest. All you can do is smile.

To be continued. . .