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Sometimes she listened to him and she just wanted to say to him to stop speaking words and start saying things that actually mattered. Words were words and it didn't matter what you said if there wasn't any meaning behind them. She was so tired of hearing him talk and there being no substance to what he said.
Talking about work-related things was one thing; in that case words did have meaning, just not the ones she'd prefer. They carried weight and they could mean the difference between innocence and freedom, between life sentences and the death penalty. But other than that, there was no personal meaning.
And even when it wasn't about a case, he simply said words.
She sighed. Waiting for DNA results to come through was the worst possible time to start thinking about things like this, she realized. It only made her more depressed and more antsy and really start counting down till the end of her shift.
"Valera?"
"Huh? Oh," she said, turning to face Ryan.
"I was asking if you had the results on the Parson case."
She picked up a piece of paper and handed it to him, her latex glove-covered fingers brushing his bare hand. Damn the fact that anytime it happened, anytime he got close to her, she got nervous and felt an increase in the energy in the room. He didn't feel the same way, it was obvious. "Looks like your victim wasn't a blood relative to her father."
He grinned at her and she gave him a wan smile. She started to turn back to her work when she felt his hand on her arm. He took one step closer, then another. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine." She gave him a fake bright smile, like the kind she'd seen Calleigh paste on for suspects she needed to butter up.
He looked at her. "No, you're not."
"Yes, I am." She shrugged his hand off. "I'm fine, Ryan. Honest."
She'd hoped that would get him to go away and leave her with her thoughts, but he just stood there. She had started to open her mouth to tell him to leave so she could get back to the other cases waiting for her when he said, "When's your break?"
She raised an eyebrow just slightly. "I have lunch in a half hour."
"You...want some company? Just to talk," he added hurriedly.
She wanted to tell him all he said were words, but the fact he was making the offer... "Meet me out in the lobby, I guess."
"I'll be there."
---
She half expected him not to be there when she hung up her coat and told the other tech what to do. It had been easier when Natalia was a DNA tech and not a CSI, because she had been good at what she did and, even though she wasn't supposed to, she'd pitch in to run the tests so Valera could take a breather.
"Valera. Valera...Maxine!"
Her head snapped towards Ryan. In the history of them working together there had maybe been a handful of times when he called her by her first name. He grinned at her, that slightly lopsided grin that would make her slightly weak in the knees. She took a moment to take in the tight blue shirt and jeans he was wearing before her eyes flickered up to his face. "Sorry, I was just--"
"Spacing?" She nodded. "Happens to the best of us."
She gave him a grin, something closely resembling the one on his face. "So...lunch?"
"My treat." She began to protest but he held up his hand. "You looked like you could have used a friend earlier. Friends occasionally treat their friends to lunch."
She bit back the reply her heart wanted to say, that she wanted to be more than friends, and she nodded. "Sounds good."
---
He'd picked a nice little place by the beach, a place that took their orders quickly and took their time making the food. She actually hoped she wouldn't be running late. They talked about inconsequential things for a bit and then lapsed into silence, seemingly in waiting mode. Whether it was for their food or for something more than words to be said, she wasn't sure.
"So what was going on this morning?" he asked.
She shrugged slightly. "Just thinking."
"About...?" he prodded slightly.
"Words. How there's so many words being said and there isn't meaning behind them and how I wish people would actually say things with meaning." She stopped, realizing she'd probably said more than she wanted to.
Before she could tell him that it wasn't all that serious or depressing, he shifted his gaze to his glass of water and quietly said, "Yeah, I feel that way myself sometimes."
"Really? Sometimes I think I'm the only one."
"You're not." He reached up and traced the lip of his water glass, and she watched, mesmerized by the simple action repeated over and over. When he stopped, her eyes drifted back up to his face. "You watch me a lot, don't you?"
She was taken aback. "No, I don't, not really..."
"I think that came out wrong," he said, hurriedly snapping his eyes up to look at her. "Things like this always come out wrong. There's times I think I can't hold a decent conversation because I don't know how."
"You were doing fine," she said simply, forgetting for a moment about the question he'd asked.
"What I meant to say, you spend..." He trailed off, appearing to think about what he wanted to say. "Maybe I should start by saying I spend a lot of time watching you. At work, of course," he added quickly. "You're interesting. And I feel like I should look out for you."
"You still feel guilty I almost lost my job, don't you?" she asked gently. She'd put it behind her; it hadn't completely been his fault, that whole mess.
"A bit. But that's not why," he said. He went back to looking at his glass and tracing the lip. He said nothing and she started to wonder if he would. Instinctively, she put her hand on top of his. He stilled and then pulled his hand away. She felt her heart plummet.
And then he put his hand on top of hers. He ran his fingers over her knuckles, watching his movements the whole time. "Ryan?" she asked softly.
"Maybe, sometimes, words are a way of covering things up," he said just as quietly, still watching as his fingers trailed down over hers. "Like things you don't know how to talk about. Things that make you feel vulnerable."
"And you don't want to feel that way," she said, not making it a question.
"No one does."
"If you want to tell me something, or ask me something..." She slipped her hand away as his fingertips brushed over her nails. She lifted her hand up so the heel of it was on the glass. She started to pull it back towards her when she felt his fingers on her palm, making their way upward until they slid in smoothly between her fingers. She lowered her fingers onto the back of his hand as he did the same to hers.
For the first time in what seemed like ages, she looked up and saw a genuine smile on his face, and realized maybe those meaningless words were simply his way of getting her attention, and it wasn't until he had it that he put meaning behind all those meaningless words he'd said.