Sara Sidle (
lvpd_sidle) wrote2007-09-17 07:41 am
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otherways September 16, 2004
Everything was the same as she had left it.
There was a message on her answering service from Gibbs, reminding her not to come into work for the remainder of the week. There was also a friendly suggestion that she speak to one of the trauma counselors at the lab, but it was given with the expectation that she would refuse.
She glanced at the door, but it was silent.
Might as well stay busy. Who knows if.... she cut the thought off, changed into comfortable clothes, and began cleaning her kitchen.
There was a message on her answering service from Gibbs, reminding her not to come into work for the remainder of the week. There was also a friendly suggestion that she speak to one of the trauma counselors at the lab, but it was given with the expectation that she would refuse.
She glanced at the door, but it was silent.
Might as well stay busy. Who knows if.... she cut the thought off, changed into comfortable clothes, and began cleaning her kitchen.
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That might be something of an exaggeration.
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"Been runnin' 'bout a day now for work. Finished up th' job, made for th' airport, caught th' first flight out, gave th' cabbie this address, an' here I am."
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A man comes thundering up the stairs, bellowing. "San Francisco PD! Back away from her before I smash you through a wall!"
Gibbs has always had something of a dramatic flair. He shoves Murphy against a wall, an arm under his throat.
He is rather surprised when Sara shoves him away, looking furious. "Gibbs, what the fucking hell is your problem?"
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Murphy is too tired and too stressed to take this well.
"This how ya welcome all th' tourists, then? Or am I just luckier than most?"
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"As if I would have opened the door if that were the case. Did it occur to you to call?"
A sheepish silence.
"Didn't think so." She takes Murphy by the arm, linking their fingers together. "Murphy, the wannabe hero is my supervisor, Gibbs. And Gibbs, this is my fiance."
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Gibbs has the grace to look embarrassed before the rest of Sara's statement processes. "Fiance? Since when? Why haven't we heard of him?"
Sara rolls her eyes. "What you don't know about my life would surprise you."
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Followed by a short laugh at Sara's comment.
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"Please excuse Gibbs; normally, he doesn't given Smecker a run for his money in the oblivious jackass department," Sara says sourly. "Yes, fiance. As in the man I will marry. I do have something resembling a social life, you know."
"Well shit," Gibbs sighs, glaring at her earlier comment. "How're we supposed to know if you don't tell us?"
"And have a repeat of the tabloid incident?"
There's affection in there. Somewhere.
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He shrugs.
"Not m'fault work got a bit hectic."
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"--I'm not. I've been sure for a while. Thanks for your concern, Gibbs. I'll see you in a week."
"Right." Pause. "Sorry about what happened earlier--I'm protective of my team."
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He turns towards Sara. "An' what's he goin' on about, then?"
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"And I think that's my cue to leave." Gibbs heads back down the stairs, a last comment floating up. "Can't say I envy you the choice of ladies!"
"Oh fuck off!"
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Barely.
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Of course, plans for revenge are shelved for a proper greeting.
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Germ-phobic fiance, stage right.
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"Sorry." Sheepish grin as he speaks.
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By the time Sara returns, there is a naked (but clean) detective lying on her bed, legs hanging over the side.
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It's a little bit of work for her to tug the blanket out from under him and cover him back up, but she manages.
A few minutes later, she joins him under the covers, and sighs.
Home.