Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. Tis a pity.
Summary: Just a short GSR fic. Good times.
In his office before the graveyard shift was to start, Gil Grissom sat at his desk buried in paperwork. He had two cases to close out on and file.
He was hoping to have them finished before the start of shift so he kept his head bent over his desk and did not look up again until he heard voices just outside his office.
Looking up, he saw a lab technician talking with a tall, brunette woman. The brunette is the one who attracted his attention.
Over the years, their simple friendship had become more complicated. She had expressed feelings for him, feelings that he had related, but had been unable and unwilling to reciprocate.
Until now. At least, that is what he was hoping he would be able to discuss with her, the possibility of resolving this. If that was something she still wanted, he had to hope.
"Sara, can I have a word with you?" He had come out from behind his desk and approached the entryway.
When she heard her name called, Sara turned her attention toward the source. She smiled when she saw Grissom walking toward her.
Just then, Catherine walked in and started talking to Grissom about a major arson case that had just been called in. Grissom was only half listening as he watched Nick and Warrick come over, filling Sara in on a murder case they were working.
"Hello? Hello, Grissom, are you listening?" Catherine was calling to him. Grissom looked into the hallway again only to find Sara was walking away from him. He shook his head clear.
"Right. Let's get going." Grissom stated, his only acknowledgement toward Catherine. Tonight was going to be a busy night, but he still had to find a way to talk with Sara.
He turned and walked down the hall, leaving behind a very confused Catherine.
In the break room, Sara, Nick, Warrick, and Sofia were sitting around the table discussing their case.
"Excuse me," a voice interrupted the quiet discussion in the break room. "Is there a… Sara Sidle here?"
At the interruption everyone had looked up to see a man dressed in a short-sleeve, button-down dress shirt and a red baseball cap holding two fine-trim, long-stem red roses in his hands. When he asked for Sara, she immediately felt all eyes turn on her.
For her part, she kept her eyes on the flower guy trying not to look completely embarrassed as she felt her cheeks warm.
"I'm Sara," she replied quietly, raising her hand slightly to indicate who she was.
The delivery guy walked swiftly over to her and handed her the two roses.
"There's also this," he stated revealing an envelope from somewhere.
"Thanks." The flower guy turned and exited the room.
Still feeling her colleagues' eyes on her, Sara turned the small, white envelope over in one hand while holding the two roses in the other.
"Nice," Warrick commented, breaking the silence.
"So who're they from?" Nick asked.
Sara looked up, glancing at Nick, then Warrick, then across the table to Sofia whose mouth was slightly agape, before finally looking down at the envelope again.
Gently, she laid down the roses on the table and opened the envelope. She pulled out a small, folded piece of paper and read to herself:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
So will I be,
If I can't talk with you.
A small smile formed on Sara's lips as she read on:
I know, it's not Shakespeare, but there
are so many things that need to be said,
that I have to say. Please, stop by my
office after shift tonight.
"So…" Nick urged, somewhat impatient, "you gonna tell us who sent the roses?"
Sara recollected her thoughts before looking up to regard Nick.
She shrugged. "He didn't leave his name."
When he got back to the lab near the end of shift, Grissom did not really know what to expect. Would she be there? Or, would she have just disregarded the note and have left already? Maybe she wouldn't know you sent the flowers. Perhaps he should had written: From Grissom.
With nervous anticipation gnawing in the pit of his stomach, Grissom took his time walking through the hallways winding their way to his office.
Cautiously, he approached the room; it was unlit and looked empty.
Standing in the doorway, Grissom took a deep breath and switched on the light and…
Nothing, nobody; she was not there. He walked over behind his desk feeling dejected.
He glanced up at the clock just above his office door. There were still a couple of minutes yet before shift officially ended, he told himself unwilling to give up hope just yet.
He sat down at his desk and opened his top right desk drawer and froze. Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out a single long-stem, red rose with a note attached. The note read:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Timing is everything,
But my heart remains true.
A grin spread across Grissom's face as he continued:
PS, Shakespeare, I'll be there in a few.