A/N: Takes place directly after "Grave Danger."

Summary: My thoughts on how Grissom and Sara might have started their relationship...

Disclaimer: CSI belongs to CBS and no one else... I'm just renting the characters :-)

Note: This is my first fanfic EVAR! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated...

Mercifully, the rest of the evening goes by quickly. Nick is taken to the hospital with his parents and there is a kind of unspoken agreement between the other CSIs to give them a day together before the visiting starts. And before they get his account of his ordeal.

Gil walks out of Ecklie's office feeling very much a successful manager for once. He can't believe he got what he wanted, but there was no way Ecklie could refuse after what happened that night. Silently triumphing at the return of his team, Gil goes into his office. Paperwork, mountains of paperwork about tonight's case, awaits him. For once, he dives into it, wanting to put this entire miserable night behind him, behind them all.

The rest of the CSIs finish up in the lab and slowly filter out. First Catherine goes, making a bit of small talk with him before she does. She unconsciously mentions Lindsey and Gil knows immediately that she, like all of them, is seriously considering her life priorities right now. "I mean, shit," she says. "Nicky almost died. Makes you really think about how much time we have here."

"Before we shuffle off this mortal coil…" Grissom offers his Shakespeare quote automatically. Catherine smiles, indulging him, then mumbles her goodbyes and leaves. Warrick takes off about an hour afterward, but he just gives a forced smile and waves instead of coming into Gil's office, which is unusual for him. Nick's life-or-death situation probably hit him the hardest—it was no secret how close those two were. Are. Most likely, he'll be stopping by the hospital in violation of their little pact. Gil can't blame him.

Gil's almost done with his reports when he sees Sara walking towards the elevators. Her normal somewhat hasty gait has been replaced with a kind of languid pace. She seems to be in a daze and walks into the open elevator doors without even looking back at him. Gil's mental radar goes haywire—it usually does whenever anything unexpected happens. As a creature of habit, Gil expects the people around him to be predictable in their actions, and they usually don't disappoint.

So when Sara leaves the lab without so much as a "'Night, Gris," he knows there's a serious problem. Serious enough that he practically jumps out of his desk to follow her.

It always seems that elevators are slowest when you're in a hurry. But the precious few seconds-that-seem-like-hours allow him to take stock of Sara's actions that night. He hardly had any time to interact with her, and never got a chance to gauge how the terrible events affected her. She'd been through a lot the last couple of months, that was certain. Hell, it'd been a rough year for all of them.

He realizes that Sara hasn't been reaching out to him or anyone else like she used to. Somehow, she's become more reserved, more introverted than ever. And, being an introvert himself, he hadn't really noticed. Once again cursing his poor managerial skills, Gil snaps into the elevator and pushes the garage level button several times for good measure. He's agitated now, wondering if she's okay, and surprised at his own rising panic at the state of her well-being.

How long had it been since they talked? Really talked? They used to be friends, but then she propositioned him and he'd refused. Not that he didn't want to take her up on her dinner offer, to see what happened next. But Sara was always a challenge to him. He had his life, his routines, and she blithely offered to break all that up. For a man like him, so rooted in his habits and rituals, that idea paralyzed him.

But he had always secretly wanted it. He had wanted her most of all. What held him back? He tries to remember as he enters the garage, scanning the parking places for familiar cars. Whatever it was that kept him from taking that step with her is long forgotten now. He quickens his pace when he realizes that almost all the cars are gone. Brass went to the hospital and Catherine and Warrick are long gone. Had Sara driven off already? Would she go straight home?

He stops short when he sees her at her car door. But his heartbeat more than compensates for his stillness. Effortlessly slipping into CSI mode, he analyzes the situation before he approaches. Her head bent, she is still in the motion of opening her car door, her hand weakly grasping the door handle. Is she stopping to think about something, he wonders? Did she forget something in the lab? As he nears her, he sees that her shoulders are shaking. She's crying, he realizes. Not just crying, sobbing—miserable and uncomforted.

Before he realizes what he's doing, Gil's got his hand on her shoulder. She turns around slowly, as though she already knows it's him. Her brown eyes are wet and her tears streak her face. She presses her lips together for a moment, her expression unreadable.

For a split second he thinks she's going to be glib as usual, tell him she's fine when clearly she's not. She'll try to escape the confrontation, her own social awkwardness putting distance between them. She tries to speak, but she can't. So she looks at him with those large searching eyes. He told her a long time ago, in his typically roundabout way, that she was beautiful. And now he knows how true that statement was. Her vulnerability tonight makes her breathtaking and, after all they've been through tonight, he will not avoid her.

More to come soon...