Spoilers: YGM and very slight PNN
Archive: www.grissomandsara.com. Anyone else, ask permission and I'll probably say yes.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I do own the plotline you're about to read, but since we all know it'd never make it to the show... then I must not own the show. Damn!
Summary: G/S (some W/C & N/OC) - Grissom wakes up the morning after the team's crazy night of charades...
Chapter 91 - Killing me softly
Catherine took one look at Grissom and pulled him aside before he could walk into the breakroom. "What's wrong?"
He looked surprised. "Nothing's wrong, Cath, why do you ask?"
Leaning against the wall with a disbelieving look on her face, she replied, "Because your face is a shade lighter than it should be, and you were about to walk into the door." She gestured with one hand toward the doorway he had been heading for, displaying that the door was indeed closed and he had been about to hit it.
"Oops," he said sheepishly. "I'm just preoccupied. With work," he added quickly, aware that if Catherine scented relationship troubles she'd leap on them.
"Preoccupied," she repeated with no inflection. "Uh-huh. What's wrong with her?"
"Sara, Grissom. What's wrong with her, or between you, or whatever? We both know that's the only thing that'll make you freak out like this." She grinned, loving the shock on his face. "You think we don't all know that, Gil? Now come on and tell me what's going on." She turned and headed for his office, trusting that he would follow her.
His office door was ajar when they got there, and both Grissom and Catherine were surprised to find Sara sitting in the dark, talking to Fluffy as she always seemed to do when she was troubled. "... dog, so she helped me down..." Startled, Sara looked up, took stock of who was facing her, and quickly returned the spider to its home. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Just hanging out. I have to go now anyway." She gave Catherine a small smile, shot a dirty look at Grissom, and headed out the door.
"What was that all about, Gil?"
Grissom shrugged helplessly. "I don't know! If I knew, do you think I'd be this strung-out?"
"Aha," Catherine said triumphantly, "so you admit that you are strung-out. Come on, just tell me what happened, you know I usually know how to help you." She took a seat across from Grissom and folded her arms in front of her, giving him an expectant look.
Grissom fell back into his chair, half-closing his eyes. "I don't know what happened, like I said. That's the problem!" Realizing that repeating this fact wasn't going to do him any good, he sighed. "I found her asleep in the kitchen this morning," he said, as though it should explain everything.
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "That's it? You found her asleep at the table and it freaked you out this much?" She grinned. "Maybe you were stealing all the blankets or something."
"No, no. I found her asleep on the floor with the dog. When I woke her up, she told me she felt dizzy all of a sudden and had just sat down and must have fallen asleep. She seemed to think it was fine because she was only asleep for a short time."
"Hmm. Dizzy." Catherine chose, in the best Rogerian fashion, to only repeat back what Grissom had said. According to one of the professors she'd had in college, it would make him spit it all out faster.
"Yes, dizzy. And she didn't forget to eat, either. It's just not like Sara to have weak spells or anything, Cath, we all know that. I'm worried that she's getting sick."
Catherine leaned her chair back on two legs, feet planted against the front of the desk. Trying to hide her thoughts, she furrowed her brows. "Sick, huh? Has anything else been wrong with her? I mean, maybe she was just tired; has there been something else that made you suspicious that she was sick."
Grissom shook his head. "No, not really. It's just... an impression I have. I can't explain why, but I still feel it, you know?"
"Well, you two do almost share a brain. Maybe you're getting psychic brainwaves from her immune system."
"Don't be ridiculous, Catherine. This isn't a joke to me." He began to nibble nervously on the cuticle of his right thumb, which told both of them that he was even more upset than he seemed. "I'm just... worried. Maybe she's been sleeping a little more lately," he said slowly, sorting through his memories to find whatever evidence he could. "She's just a little off, is all. You wouldn't notice it unless you're as close to her as I am."
Catherine thought for a moment. "Do you want me to talk to her, woman to woman? She might be more willing to tell me facts about her body than you."
He buried his face in his hands, realizing that he was more worried than he'd thought. "If you think it might help, Cath, go ahead. I don't care who she talks to as long as I know what's going on with her." A pause. "Wait, what do you mean, 'facts about her body'? Do you think you know what's wrong?"
"Of course not, Gil. If I knew, I'd tell you just to get you back to normal - do you even know how terrible you look right now?" She smiled slightly. "I'll try to corner Sara, but as usual, no promises. I still don't think she trusts me completely. She might be more likely to talk to Nick or Warrick than me, even though they're men. Can I tell them what's going on and see if they can find anything out?"
"No," Grissom said, shaking his head. "No, not yet. I don't want the whole lab to be breathing down her neck. She'll figure it out then, and I'll be dead meat."
"Oookay," Catherine agreed in a singsong voice. "But you might have to get them involved eventually if she won't talk to you. Don't get so worried, Gil, it may be nothing. Maybe she really did stand up too fast and everything you're worrying about turns out to be just low blood pressure."
"Maybe, Cath. I certainly hope so; I'm not good with sick people."
"Oh," she said lightly, "I think Sara would be different. I have the feeling that you'd be by her side even if she had Ebola, or even SARS." With this comment and a flippant grin, she stood up and left Grissom in his office to stew.
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