Betrayal
"Sara, what is that?"
She looked down to the spot where Catherine was pointing, and closed her eyes, swearing inwardly. "That? Oh, that's... uh..."
But Catherine had already grabbed Sara's left hand and pulled back her latex glove, exposing a thin band of gold around her finger. "Oh my god, is that what I think it is?" she shrieked loudly.
"Keep your voice down," Sara begged, glancing around nervously. The crime scene was still fresh, and there were half a dozen cops still lingering around while Grissom and Greg processed the dead body in the bedroom.
"Did you really get married?" Catherine's eyes bugged out. "What, was there a memo sent out that I didn't read? Why is everybody getting married all of a sudden?"
Sara pulled her glove back down self-consciously. "I actually haven't told anyone yet, Cath. I don't-" She stopped talking abruptly when Grissom walked into the room, and shoved her ringed hand into her kit, pretending to look for something.
"Hey," he said, his brows furrowing as he approached. "I heard yelling. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," Catherine replied, shaking her head in wonder. "Except that apparently Warrick and Sara have both gotten married, and neither of them told any of us until I spotted their rings." Her eyes widened in horror. "Wait... you're not married to Warrick, are you?"
"No," Sara muttered in exasperation. "Please, just leave it alone." She didn't dare look at Grissom, afraid of what he'd say.
"Honestly, I cannot believe this," Catherine said, reeling. "Sara's married, and I'm not." Realizing her faux pas, she added, "Uh... no offense."
"Look, can we-" The moment Sara looked up, she regretted it. Grissom was staring at her with his mouth open, shock and betrayal written all over his features. "Can we talk about this later?" she entreated softly, feeling her cheeks flush. "We need to process the scene."
"Fine by me," he muttered. "Cath, come help me and Greg with the body. Sara..." He didn't look at her. "When you're done here, work the perimeter."
She stared at the floor, biting her lip as they walked out of the living room.
"Unreal," Catherine said, still trying to process the idea that Sara was married.
"I lifted two hairs off his shirt," Greg called. "Both blond. What's unreal?"
Catherine crouched down next to him, staring at the body. "Sara got married."
"She what? Please tell me you're kidding. You are, right?"
"I take it she didn't tell you either."
"This is insane," he said, struggling to breathe. "I didn't even know she was dating anyone. We've got to grill her after shift... find out all the details."
Grissom wasn't moving, and when Catherine looked over at him, his face was turning purple, his jaw working furiously.
"Gil?"
"I can't believe she'd do this," he said softly, and her heart ached for him.
"Hey, Greg's about done here, and Sara's still processing the living room. Let's work the perimeter together, okay?"
He nodded numbly, and she led him out the front door. They moved down the front porch, sweeping their flashlights in wide arcs in front of them.
"It was bound to happen sometime," Catherine sighed. "They're young, they're attractive... and they're both good people. Doesn't make it any easier, though."
Grissom didn't say anything, just leaned down to inspect a candy bar wrapper.
"But I understand how you're feeling," she continued. "The possibility that was always there... the hope that you two could one day have something more... it's gone now, and that's rough. Especially for people like us. We're not spring chickens anymore, you and me. Our options are limited to begin with."
"Hey, Cath..." He cleared his throat. "If we could not talk about Sara and her marriage, that'd be great. I know you're trying to help, but you're not."
She nodded shortly. "Sorry."
"It's okay."
Under one window, Grissom found a deep shoe impression, and proceeded to make a cast of it. Greg wandered out, announcing that he was finished.
"I need to get these hairs and fibers to Trace," he said. "So I'm going to head back to the lab. Anyone want a ride?"
"Sure," Catherine said, straightening up. "Just let me grab my kit."
Grissom poked the plaster. "This is going to need some more time to set. I'll catch up with you guys later."
They loaded Greg's backseat and drove off. Only after the cast had completely firmed did Grissom realize he would now have to drive home with Sara.
He groaned, gathering his equipment and stacking it into the back of his Denali. Maybe he could sneak out before she noticed, and she'd have to get a ride back with one of the police officers.
"Hey."
Or maybe not.
He turned to see Sara standing by the passenger door, one eyebrow raised. "You were going to leave without me, weren't you."
It wasn't a question, so he didn't bother answering. Instead, he climbed into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition as she buckled her seatbelt. They drove for several minutes in silence. Sara stared out her window, cursing her Anglo-Saxon heritage as a blush crept over her cheeks.
"Say something," she said finally. "Please."
"What would you like me to say?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road. "Congratulations?"
"If you're hoping for an apology, forget it," she snapped, startling them both. "I waited for you for years, Grissom, until I ended up a thirty-five year old workaholic with poor social skills. But somehow, in spite of that, I actually managed to fall in love and get married. And for the first time that I can remember, I'm happy."
He swallowed hard.
"So," she continued, fuming, "if one of my friends finds out that I'm married, I want to share it with them. I want to be able to tell them about my silly shotgun wedding at an all-night chapel, and how the minister kept calling me Sandra so I pretended my name was Sandra just to be polite. I want to tell them that within five years I'm hoping to have a couple of kids, and I want them both to have the kind of life my parents couldn't give me. And I want to be able to tell my friends all of that without worrying that you'll be sulking in the background."
Grissom glanced over at her, taking in her trembling lips and bright eyes, and sighed heavily. "You're right. I'm sorry."
She sniffled a little, her head against the glass.
"It's just that... this is hard for me," he admitted thickly. "When I walked into the room and Catherine said-"
"I know," she whispered.
He pulled the car into the lab's parking lot, finding a space near the entrance. Sara started to open her door, but he stilled her, reaching for her left hand.
"What are you-" She stopped talking when he started to stroke the band on her ring finger.
"I really am sorry," he mumbled. "And I think you should go in there right now and tell everyone."
Tears of relief glinted in her eyes. "Really?"
"Really."
She squeezed his hand in response. "Thank you, Grissom."
He pulled back, shame-faced, and reached a hand under his collar, extracting a thin chain with a gold ring dangling from it. "I guess I should put mine on too," he said, taking a deep breath before slipping the ring onto his finger.
"For good?"
"For good," he murmured in response, kissing her shoulder gently. "I know it was hard to keep this a secret for so long."
"I really just forgot to take it off," she said softly. "I didn't wear it on purpose or anything."
"Hey, you remembered every day for two months. I can cut you some slack for one little slip-up. And besides, you're right, it's something we should share with our friends. It wasn't fair for me to ask you to hide it from everyone until I was ready. I should've been ready the moment we walked down the aisle."
Sara grinned, stroking his cheek. "Let's go in and tell everyone."
"Okay."
"And Grissom?"
"Yes?"
She pretended to pout. "This is the part where you tell me I make you happy too."
He leaned forward and kissed her softly. "Oh, you do, Sandra, you do."