Title: Science Versus LIFE
Author: smitha-r
Rating: G
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Grissom, slight Greg/Sara if you stare long enough.
Summary: Greg sees a lot from the comfort of his lab... like the way human interaction is nowhere near as predictable as the chemical reactions he works with.
Notes: Takes place before Greg's a CSI. Unbetaed and random. YAY.

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Extracting DNA is one of the most straightforward processes that Greg knows. He’'s done it so many times that he'’s pretty sure he could do it while sleep-walking. Or at gunpoint. Or after five numbing days of no sleep. It’'s all quite simple. First there’'s the PCR technique; polymerase and nucleotides and all that fun stuff. Then comes the actual extraction process, with the centrifugation, buffer and salt solutions, and the ethanol that’'s been soaking in an ice bath. Et voila! Delicate cotton-candy strands of DNA just waiting to be analyzed.

But out there, in the real world, things are not quite as simple. The rational matched against the irrational, those complex entities commonly known as humans make DNA extraction look like a stroll in the park. He takes solace in the fact that while people can be irrational, the evidence isn'’t. It would make his job a lot harder otherwise.

He thinks, in a moment of quiet whimsical consideration, that it’'s a very good thing that people aren'’t like evidence, straightforward and objective. Where would the fun be in that? Half the entertainment of being with people, talking and laughing and listening, is watching the fireworks explode around you. It’'s a symphony of complexities, nuances playing out in the blink of an eye. It’s amusing and thrilling. But most of all, it’'s beautiful.

Catherine has just left him with a swatch of grey flannel with a blood smear on it. He'’s supposed to be extracting DNA from the blood and comparing it to the suspect’'s DNA profile. But instead he'’s just sitting on his stool, alone in his glass bubble, wasting time staring at complex people in the midst of a complex dance.

He can’'t hear what they'’re saying, but he can imagine what they’'re thinking. They’'re standing in the hallway, in the midst of a private conversation. Sara is leaning into Grissom’'s personal space. She tilts her head fondly and smiles; Greg wonders why that flash of white teeth doesn'’t melt Grissom’'s heart into a puddle of goo. He doesn'’t reciprocate her subtle affections, of course. Instead, he looks down and fishes through the case file he'’s holding and hands her a stack of papers. She smiles again, nods her head, and Grissom is off, wandering away with that particular gait of his, lost in his own world of data and justice. Sara watches him walk away, rooted in place as her smile finally fades away. And Greg knows she’'s wondering how Grissom could be so damn oblivious of people, of her.

This is the only instance when he wishes people could be more like evidence, without emotions and things left unsaid. Fireworks and double entendres are one thing, watching a friend bend over backwards for the approval of an unrequited love is different. Greg doesn'’t understand why Sara does this to herself. Maybe she doesn'’t realize she deserves better. That’'s all he can think about as Sara sighs and walks off in the other direction. It’'s irrational. But in the end, he can do nothing more than hope that Sara finds a way to be happy. Maybe she is happy, being ignored like this. He doesn't presume to know what strange sort of affair makes her happy. Humans, after all, are more complex than people realize.

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