Title: Chills

Author: Liz Williams

Disclaimer: Don't own them even a little bit. Have massive student loans and a huge cactus and Venus fly trap collection, but that's pretty much it if any one wants to sue.

Summary: Getting warmer all the time.

A/N1: This is from a Valentine's Day Challenge, but it's so long ago I forget where it came from, maybe Unbound. According to my notes Mossley was the one who came up with this. The elements are at the end of the fic

A/N2: Okay so life kinda went a little nuts, well a lot nuts. I had the first couple of pages ready long before the due date, then work went nuts. Job ended, so much free time to write fic again. I'm WAY over the word count. This is finished it'll be posted in parts as I get them from my beta reader. All mistakes are mine.

Okay...a Valentine's Day challenge...

A Beautiful Game

It was nice to be working with Grissom again. Sara had thought that after his confession in the interrogation room Grissom would push her even further away, shut her out completely. Yet here they were, together, working together on a case that was a slam-dunk. Sure, Greg was with them, but he was off doing some basic search and processing in the pitcher's mound.

Sara walked up the stairs to the top bench that overlooked first base. Grissom had been up there and seemed to be doing nothing more than staring off into space for the last twenty minutes. Their case was pretty much open- and-shut; the pitcher from the home team had been beaten up after the game in which he had pitched a shutout, eliminating the opposing team from the state championship. The surveillance cameras had caught the five boys who had beaten the pitcher within an inch of his life in the home team's dugout. Gathering and processing the remaining evidence was just a matter of making sure that there was no possible way for the little bastards to get off. That's why Grissom had let Greg come along -- to get some more experience on a straightforward case.

"So, I see you're hard at work," Sara joked as she came to sit next to Grissom on the bleachers. He started, giving her an odd look.

"I used to play baseball when I was a kid," Grissom mused, seemingly unaware he had spoken aloud. "As much as I enjoyed being on the field I preferred to be in the bleachers, above the first base. Watching the whole game and its players."

"Ever the observer." Sara thought it was telling that even as a child Grissom had isolated himself from others.

"Baseball is an amazing game. You can figure out just from looking at the box scores how the game unfolded. What plays tilted the scales for the winners." As he spoke, a wistful look came over his face, and Sara could tell that he wasn't entirely with her any more.

"I never really liked watching baseball, even as a kid. It was too slow for me, but I could play it for hours."

Grissom looked over at her for the first time, imagining a young Sara with pigtails. He turned back to the baseball field, and in his mind's eye the sun was shining and there was Sara stepping up to the plate, swinging her bat to warm up. The pitch, the loud crack as ball and bat connected, Sara running to first, to second, her team mates cheering her on, to third and the crowd going wild. The outfielder finally capturing the ball and throwing it to the third base player, who threw it to the catcher as Sara was heading home. It was a race then between the ball and catcher's mitt and Sara as she dove onto home plate. Everyone holding their breath unsure which player had made the play. The ump calling, 'Safe' and the dugout emptying as her teammates raced out to congratulate her for bringing in the winning run.

"You must have been a good runner," was his only comment. Sara cocked an eyebrow at him, asking without words for him to elaborate. Idly, Grissom wondered if that was one of his traits that she had picked up over the years.

With slow deliberation, Grissom dropped his gaze from hers, running down her body to linger over her long legs. "You have long legs."

The breath caught in Sara's lungs came out in a puff it was so like Grissom to state so matter-a-factly something other men would have used as a come- on or compliment.

If Grissom held true to their other quasi-emotional scenes from the past couple of years, he should have pulled away from her as soon as he left the interrogation room. Instead, they were working together as much as they had when she had first arrived. He was talking to her about things that didn't pertain to their cases. Sara couldn't figure Grissom out; these last personal nuggets coming so soon after his outburst should have made his head implode or something. It confused her.

"I haven't been to a baseball game in years," Sara said, finding it ironic that it was she who was trying to steer the conversation to a more impersonal level this time.

"The first date I went on when I was growing up was to a baseball game."

Sara looked at Grissom in shock. After so long of having him address her only in a professional manner, she wasn't sure how she was supposed to react to the personal conversation they were having. Except that it was a monologue, really, since she had contributed almost nothing of significance.

Sara's silence seemed to bring Grissom back to himself. He looked at her for a moment, the same vague expression of panic on his face that had been there when she threatened to leave and when she asked him out.

"We should head back down to Greg. He should be almost done."

Again, he had switched gears on her, so quickly she was scared she was going to get whiplash. They headed down the stairs to the diamond.

"How's it going, Greggo?" Sara walked over to where Greg was packing up his kit.

"Pretty good. Can I show you what I got back in my lab?" He raised and lowered his eyebrows jokingly. Sara tried to glare at him, but it came out as a smirk. She knew exactly where she stood with Greg; at least some parts of tonight were staying normal.

"Let's head back to CSI." Grissom's tone was gruff as he turned from the younger two CSI's and walked towards his Denali.

"What did I do wrong now?" Greg asked. From his tone, he sounded more resigned than anything else.

"It's not you Greg, it's him. Trust me on that." Sara watched Grissom's retreat.

"You know he's an idiot," Greg mumbled following her gaze. Sara whipped her head around. "It's true." Greg defended himself. "He might be one of the most brilliant scientists Forensics has, but as human being he has no idea how to deal with people or personal feelings."

"That's not entirely true. He's great with victims and suspects, he just sucks at communicating with the people he has to deal with on an ongoing basis." Sara's mind briefly flashed to Grissom monologue to Dr. Lurie. Yeah, strangers were safe. "Come on." They both bent to pick up their silver kits.

"You know, if you ever need to talk, or just want to hang out, my lab is your lab." Greg's gaze was open and for once unflirtatious. Sara smiled her thanks.

"You know, Greggo, technically the lab belongs to the city of Las Vegas. They're the ones that pay for everything."

"Well by that logic, the city gets its money from the tax payers of Vegas. I myself happen to be one of those tax-paying residents, ergo the lab is in fact mine." Their banter continued as they approached the parking lot.

There was a clicking a split second before the sprinklers came on.

"Oh shit!" Both Sara and Greg broke into a run, heading towards the vehicles as fast as they could. Greg slipped on the wet grass just a few feet away from the dry zone. He lay stunned for a second until a jet of freezing cold water drenched him.

Soaked now, Greg stood once again picked up his kit and walked the last few feet to safety.

"Well, that was bracing," Greg joked. He was just glad that he already had all the evidence in the back of Grissom's Denali.

"Sara, Greg, are you two alright?" Grissom asked, walking up to them. From the front seat of his Denali, Grissom had watched the pair, wondering what they had spent so long on the pitcher's mound talking about. Sara had smiled at Greg. She used to smile at him. A mix of jealousy and sadness had battled within his chest as he watched them. He had opted to stare at the dashboard gauges rather than see Sara smile at the younger man again. She would probably catch a ride back to the lab with Greg now.

Maybe it was too late.

Before he could settle into a good brood he had heard Sara's curse. Startled he looked up. Seeing that neither were in real danger, he smirked to himself with satisfaction at being dry and in the car. Greg's fall had wiped the smile from his lips and he quickly exited the SUV.

"Yeah, we're fine. Wet, cold, but fine." A shiver shook Sara's body before she had finished speaking.

"Let's head back to the lab so you two can have a hot shower and change clothes." Greg was much wetter then Sara, with a puddle forming at his feet.

"And a hot cup of coffee," Greg added, as he walked to the back of his car to put his kit away.

"Hey, Greg, can I catch a ride back to the lab with you?" Sara saw Grissom freeze, his face becoming blank. "I don't want to ruin the Denali's leather seat." Though she kept her voice slightly raised for Greg to hear, she looked Grissom directly in the eye. Grissom nodded, for once accepting her explanation at face value.

Their gazes stayed locked, each trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Not so long ago they would have been able to make an accurate guess, or at least known whether the look was personal or involved the case at hand. The air between them grew thick as another shiver racked Sara's body, though whether it was from the damp cold or what she had seen in Grissom's eyes was a crapshoot.

As if in a dream Grissom raised his hand, with no idea what he was going to do with it. He watched, fascinated, as it came up to Sara's shoulder.

The slamming of the trunk broke the spell and they jumped apart guiltily. "Sure Sara, ruin the interior of my baby." It took a moment for the two CSI's to realize that only seconds had passed since Sara had asked Greg for a lift.

"I'd hardly be proud of the interior of your car, Greg," Grissom deadpanned. He chose to look at the younger man, desperately trying to recover his equilibrium from whatever had almost happened.

"Hey, not all of us make the big CSI administrator bucks, boss-man."

Though he was smirking, Grissom could see that Greg's lips had started to turn a little blue. And he was still dripping.

"Get in the car Greg. I'll see you two back at CSI."

Greg's hand shook with cold as he fumbled the passenger door open, but he grinned and bowed toward Sara.

"Your chariot awaits, my lady."

"Umm, Gris?" Sara looked down, unsure how to word what she was trying to say. "I, ah, kinda don't have a change of clothes in my locker. I forgot to bring in a new change of clothes tonight. After last night's dumpster dive I had to shower for--" Sara stopped abruptly realizing that she was over- talking. Again. "I'll need to go home to get something dry."

"I can--"Whatever Greg was about to say was cut off by Grissom.

"Get in the car, Greg. Head back, take a shower, get dry clothes and your cup of coffee. I'll take Sara to her place. If we're not back by the time you're done, start logging in the evidence we've gathered. When you're done that please start processing any DNA evidence."

"Gris, you don't have to drive me home and wait around for me." Sara wished her protest was stronger. She meant it to be, but she was so cold. Another shudder racked her body. And another. The shivering didn't stop this time. "I-I d-don't want t-to ruin your interior."

"Sara you're freezing, get in the car." He held his breath waiting to see where she would go. Then added, "Please."

It was the please that tipped the scales, Sara tried to tell herself as she turned away from Greg's car. She didn't want Gris to feel guilty over her health. And there was the please. She mentally snorted at that lie; sure that was the reason. They walked to the Denali, the squishing of her shoes and chattering teeth the only noise between them. As they reached the passenger-side door, Grissom grasped Sara's arm gently, stopping her from opening the door. Sara watched in fascination as he took off his windbreaker and wrapped her up in it.

"We need to get you warmed up. This will help a bit until the interior of the car heats up." As he spoke, Grissom gently rubbed Sara's arms. Reluctantly, Grissom reached around Sara and opened the passenger door, his body a whisper away from hers. Sara nodded mutely, unable to reply beyond that small movement.

The drive to her apartment passed in silence that echoed with the layers of the camaraderie and ease of years past, the anger and distrust of resent months, and a new layer that neither could yet give name to.

TBC... Here's the challenge

1. Can't be in a traditional romantic locale (ie, no restaurants, not at the lake, no dancing, etc.)

2. It's not a date - it has to take place in a work-related scene.

3. They have to share something personal.

4. Uhm. It has to be G/S? That should be obvious!

5. Greg has to get totally drenched with ice-cold water some how. (I'm in a torture Greg mood!)

6. 5000 words or less