csi, episode tag, ficlet, greg sanders, greg/sara, sara sidle
CSI: Four Times Greg Found Sara, and One Time He Didn't [PG-13]Title: Four Times Greg Found Sara, and One Time He Didn't
Spoilers: up until 8.07 Goodbye & Good Luck
Author's Notes/Summary: My first attempt at a 'five times' fic variation, and my first attempt at fixing the last two seasons from a Sara/Greg shipper point of view.
He heard her laugh. It didn't have that same distant quality as the one he often heard in his dreams when he would see her in a mist, a glimpse of her hair or her hand reaching out to him. No, this sounded very real.
Greg raised his head to find himself staring into the eyes of Sara Sidle as she took the seat opposite to him on the shuddering subway car that raced through the tunnels beneath New York City.
Neither one spoke, only watched one another warily. The young man at Sara's side slid into the available seat next to her and slung a casual arm around her, unconsciously staking his claim. He leaned into her, nuzzled her neck and whispered something into her ear, but she was oblivious to the man's attentions. Greg was all she saw.
Sara did her best to pull her attention back to her date, but she found she could not. Her gaze hungrily raked over his features, his large brown eyes, his hair, his long fingers, and back to his mouth. She felt her mouth go dry with thirst for him; for all that she had walked away from. It had been so long, it was almost like home.
The train stopped and Greg stood without saying a word. He gave a curt nod to her and got off when the doors whooshed open.
He didn't look back, not even when he heard the man shout her name. Not even when he heard the train rumble loudly as it made its way once again. Not even when he heard her call out to him.
"Damn it, Greg. Just look at me."
He couldn't though. He couldn't allow himself to see her again, not after she left the way she did.
When he felt her hand on his sleeve, he shrugged her off, and did his best to continue up the steps to the street. If she hadn't grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him against the wall, he probably would have walked all the way back to his hotel room and never seen her again.
As it was, she wasted no time. Her hands held his shoulders against the cold wall of the stairwell, her hips pressed into his, and she kissed him. It was as chaste as he could manage as heat rushed through his body in reaction to her proximity.
Gaining his wits, he pushed her back and swiped a sleeve across his lips, like a petulant child. "No, Sara. You don't get to do that. You don't get to just kiss me."
She lowered her gaze, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have …" She turned to walk away, but this time it was he who reached out to her.
He stood at the doorway, unsure if he should knock or turn away and never return. His fist hovered in the air. He was unable to move, the rain fell with heavy fat drops, his jacket soaked through. He couldn't stay in this rain much longer, and with a heavy sigh, Greg swung his hand downward and gave two curt knocks on the door.
"Just a moment," came her voice, muted by the heavy door that separated them. He could hear shuffling and floorboards creaking as she made her way across the room. For a moment, Greg was certain he wasn't going to be able to carry through with it, for a moment, he felt his legs moving away from the door, wanting to run. But then she opened the door and her ready smile faltered. "Greg."
"Sara." It was all he could manage, all that he was capable of saying after all this time. Neither one spoke for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Greg forced a cough and asked, "Can I come in?"
Sara shook her head and replied, "Of course. Come in." She gestured for him to close the door behind him; the immediate warmth of the room seemed to seep into his chilled bones.