The camera flash seemed to drive more nails in his head, making Grissom wince. He paused, turning to face the darkness of the desert, finding a brief respite from the glare of the floodlights, lighting the isolated crime scene.
A few yards ahead of him, he caught the reflective material of Sara's vest as she studied the ground in front of her, intensely. Her lithe form, cast in shadow, as she stepped further into the darkness.
As he watched, something caught her interest, and she crouched down for a better look, placing a marker, and taking several photos, the flash even at this distance, making Grissom wince.
He half repressed the irritated sigh, as he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, between finger and thumb.
This migraine had been getting steadily worse over the last two hours, and was proving to be the mother and father of all migraines. And it was starting to interfere with his concentration.
He glanced in Sara's direction once more, by now swallowed by the blackness beyond the floodlights, and able to follow her progress only by the movement of her flashlight.
He watched her progress for a few seconds more, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards briefly. If he allowed himself to, he could easily watch her all day…he shook his head slightly, even that small motion paining his head, before forcing himself to continue his own search.
He continued to head towards Sara in an anticlockwise spiral. Eventually they would meet in the middle, making sure they missed nothing. Grissom's nose throbbed in time with his heartbeat, as if threatening to explode, and nausea broiled in his stomach.
A torn piece of bloodied fabric caught his attention, and he stopped, the flash of the camera once more setting off explosions in head.
His vision blurred, as the pain intensified, and as the nausea rose, he just managed to stumble to a shrub on his left. Damn!
From his peripheral vision, he saw Mitch running towards him, and Grissom held up a hand, that stopped the officer in his tracks.
"I'm fine!" muttered Grissom.
Sara was heading back towards Grissom, smiling slightly, as Mitch looked worriedly at the stricken CSI Supervisor.
"I got it!" Sara assured him as she made her way to Grissom, as he stepped back around the shrub, his tanned skin managing to look pale even under the artificial lighting.
Sara watched him, careful to keep her concern under control. "Wanna take a walk with me?" she asked, reaching into a pocket on her vest, and handing Grissom, the bottle of water. "Think you might find it interesting. " As she finished talking, she tilted her head in Mitch's direction, hoping that Grissom would take the hint.
He took the water gratefully, and took a sip as he glanced in Mitch's direction. Sara turned, glancing over her shoulder back at Grissom, and after a second or two hesitation followed after her, taking another drink before capping the bottle.
Sara led him to an outcrop of rock, stopping only when they were hidden completely behind it. She reached into another vest pocket.
"Maybe these will help," she smiled, allowing her concern to show.
Grissom looked down at the spare painkillers, before slowly reaching for them, their fingers touching as he took them.
"Thanks," he said, as he gratefully popped two into his mouth, followed by a large swig of water.
Although hidden by the outcrop, Sara glanced around quickly, as a precaution that they were truly unobserved.
She closed the space between them, her lips briefly caressing his.
He looked startled as she pulled away, and for a second, panic crossed his face as his eyes darted this way and that.
Sara chuckled. "It's pretty secluded." She reached out this time caressing his cheek.
The blinding migraine seemed to ease at her touch, and Grissom closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her palm.
"Feel better," she whispered, before moving her hand away, and stepping back, all business once again.
The instant her touch left him, the migraine seemed to dig deeper into his brain, and he grimaced.
Sara started to walk away, but Grissom's voice stopped her. "Sara…."
She turned, her flashlight cast off to one side to prevent her from dazzling him. The backwash of light was enough to still illuminate his face.
He stared at her intensely, his eyes slowly looked her over from head to toe…and back up again, the smouldering look in his eyes, making her shiver pleasantly. She'd seen that look before, just before they'd made love for the first time.
On anyone else, it would have looked predatory, dangerous even. But on Grissom…that look said more than mere words could.
When he remained silent she offered him a gap-toothed grin. "You're welcome!"
Back at the lab, Grissom was in the layout room, trying to fit the puzzle together, while he waited for the results on the evidence he had collected.
Outwardly, he appeared as engrossed as always in his work. Instead he was distracted by the memory of Sara kissing him, albeit briefly, at the crime scene. He should be furious with her, and yet he wasn't.
From ballistics he heard, Bobby shout, "Firing two!" And two quick pops – and the fireworks that exploded in his head, momentarily made Grissom think he'd been shot.
With a gasp he pinched the bridge of his nose, he's eyes screwed shut against the glare of the suddenly too bright lights. Dizziness and nausea swept over him, and he had to steady himself against the bench.
Knowing he couldn't stay in the lab much longer, and retreating to his office wasn't an option, he gathered the photos and other evidence together leaving the office and securing them away.
Sara was heading back from Trace, when Grissom caught sight of her, and without questioning his own motives, he grabbed her arm, steering them both to the car park. "We need to head back to the crime scene."
Sara watched him from the corner of her eye, wondering nervously, if he should be driving at all in his condition.
"Where are we going?" Sara asked, slightly alarmed when she realised that they weren't actually heading towards the crime scene.
Grissom didn't answer as he stared intensely ahead of him, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel tightly, as though trying to physically hold the pain at bay with his bare hands.
He pulled over after roughly five miles, and Sara started to get out to the Denali, when she felt Grissom's fingers grab her wrist, and pulled her back inside.
She turned to ask what was wrong, and he reached for her as though he was drowning. His lips devouring hers as though he was starving.
Sara didn't question his motives, as she was swept along in the tide of the emotions and feelings the unexpected make-out session was invoking.
Finally they came up for air, Grissom, his migraine finally gone, rested his head gently against her forehead, his eyes closed.
Sara chuckled, her breath tickling his face. "Feel better now?" she quipped.
"Much," he breathed, he's eyes still closed.