Dusk seemed to come early that night. That is all that she could remember. The sun was sinking slowly below the horizon and it had become increasingly cold. She had been walking behind Grissom and Nick, following them down the steep embankment in the middle of the desert. Their scene was apparently in some canyon out in the middle of Nevada and Sara kept stumbling over loose rocks.

"How much further?" Sara called to Brass who was leading them down the rough path.

"Not far!" he called back over his shoulder.

Sara stumbled again, this time loosing her footing completely and landing hard on her ass. Hands out behind her, she made a loud sound of protest as the wind was knocked out of her. She felt the tears burning behind her eyes as Grissom and Nick turned to check on her.

"You okay, Sar?" Nick called.

Grissom took a couple of steps toward her after telling Nick to keep going. Nick hadn't moved, however, as he watched Grissom amble back up the path toward Sara. He saw the confusion flitter across Sara's face but as Grissom actually reached her, Sara's perimeter waned and Nick turned, leaving Grissom alone to help her.

"Are you all right?" Grissom asked, kneeling down in front of her.

Sara frowned, "Nice job of hiding your 'affection', Griss."

His frown matched hers, "You're hurt, Sara, I'm allowed to be concerned."

He picked up her hands, which she had used to break her fall, and turned them palms up. They were scraped and dirty and there was a little bit of blood running down her right wrist. He rubbed at the blood with his thumb.

"We need to clean the dirt off of them," Grissom said, resting her hands, still palms up, on her outstretched legs.

"I think I have some water in my kit," Sara said, shrugging. She brought one of her hands close to her face. She blew on it, wincing slightly as it stung.

Grissom took a hold of her wrist and pulled on it gently, "Stop that."

He uncapped the water bottle, dumping the cool liquid on her palm. He poked at the scratches, trying to get the dirt out of them. He found some Kleenex in her kit and cleaned up the blood.

"Better?"

Sara smiled, "Got any band-aids in there?"

Grissom smiled at her, thinking back on an earlier conversation.

"Sara, you're bleeding," Grissom said suddenly, sitting up on the bed beside her.

He reached out to her, tracing the small oval-shaped cut on her collar bone. He blew gently on the scratches and Sara winced a little.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Sara shrugged, "No big deal."

Grissom watched her face as she tried to turn her head enough to see the mark he'd left on her. He hadn't met to bite so hard, hell, he hardly remembered doing it at all. He couldn't remember anything after that last round, he was too damn exhausted. Sex with Sara was a workout.

Grissom's mind momentarily wandered to the band-aid that he knew rested just beneath the hem of Sara's shirt. He glanced down, knowing exactly were the thin piece of plastic lay, and smiled briefly at the memory of their morning. He finished bandaging Sara's hands before kissing each of them softly.

"There," he said, meeting her gaze, "Do you want me to help you down?"

Sara frowned again, "Keep that up, Griss, and someone's going to know we're sleeping together."

Pushing up off of the ground, Sara laughed at the shocked expression on Grissom's face.