Disclaimer: The characters of CSI:LV belong to their creators, not me. I'm just borrowing them so they can have more ... fun ... than they do on the show. At least, unless they prove me wrong. That would be very cool.

Spoilers: through Season 4.

Song Lyrics: Gravity's Job by Mali Woods

Codicil: This is my very first fanfic. I now regret every single review I've ever posted to anyone. What was I thinking? Writing is much harder than I thought. And yeah, I've modified the environment (her apartment/his townhouse) - to fit my story.

"It's gravity's job to pull me down, not yours."

Sara hummed the chorus in the empty locker room as she tied her running shoes, tucking the too-long laces in so they wouldn't unravel. It had been a while since she had gone out for a run, a long while, but she figured she could do a couple miles fairly easily before coming back to the lab and heading home.

It was one of the little things Sara hadn't realized she had just stopped doing for herself until it all came crashing down one embarrassing long day and Grissom had to pick her up at the police station. Getting pulled over while intoxicated had not been one of the highlights of her life. Especially since Grissom, her former mentor and now-boss and unrequited love had to be called in to pick her up. Good God, unrequited love Sara? She thought to herself. That sounds like a romance novel. Brushing aside the mortification, ignoring the faint burn in her cheeks Sara got up from the bench and stretched her lithe form high to the ceiling.

Nobody else is going to care for you if you don't, she lectured herself, picturing her PEAP counselor clucking her teeth in dismay at the negative comment. Taking a deep breath, determined that she would not think of him, she slammed her locker shut and headed out into the warming Vegas morning.

Gil Grissom had been five minutes away from his townhouse when he remembered he hadn't signed Catherine's leave-of-absence form she had been reminding him to fill out for the past month. Nagging, he thought defiantly. He sighed as he turned his Tahoe around and headed back to the lab. It's for Lindsey's Girl Scout Troop, after all. He and Catherine Willows had known each other many years, and Grissom accepted his status as honorary uncle to Lindsey as one of those things that just happened over the course of their relationship. Grissom looked over at the pile of green cookie boxes on the passenger seat next to him. Well, there are some definite perks to being an uncle.

Grissom smiled to himself as he parked the Tahoe near the back door of the Lab. He knew the mayor was giving a press conference, practically guaranteeing that the Crime Lab's Assistant Director Conrad Ecklie would schmoozing his way around the politicians of Las Vegas.

His suspicions correct, the lab was running as was the norm, everyone performing their duties at ease. Grissom quickly signed Catherine's form and slipped it into the Admin box. He stepped out the back door and had unlocked the Tahoe when he heard a resounding thump on the car next to him and jerked around to see what it was.

Grissom was surprised to see Sara leaning against the car in the next stall away from him, hissing as her hand touched the already hot metal. She was breathing heavily, her tank top darkened with sweat.

"Are you okay?" Grissom brows furrowed as he took in the frown on Sara's face.

Sara startled, then brushed the damp strands of hair away from her sunglass-covered eyes. Just great, she thought. "Yeah, I'm okay." She took a step forward, then winced in pain as her foot protested vehemently. "Shit!"

"Sara!" Grissom rushed over, and unthinkingly shot out a hand in support at her waist.

"I didn't sprain my ankle," she stammered out, flustered by his proximity, "I misjudged the height of the curb coming back and kicked it pretty hard." Boy, that even sounded lame. "I'll be fine."

"Well, let's get you inside and take a look at it." Grissom didn't relinquish his hold on her, so Sara lifted her hand tentatively to Grissom's shoulder while they maneuvered around the car. Glancing up, Grissom rapidly calculated that going up the stairs was going to be problematic. He looked over to Sara, and she met his eyes, apparently reaching the same conclusion.

"Look Sara," he began, "why don't.."

"Grissom," she interrupted knowing what he was going to say, "it's okay, I'll wait here. My locker combination is 8667 and everything should be in my bag."

"Keys in there too?", he asked.

"Yeah, thanks." Sara sighed, then balanced herself at the railing.

In the locker room, Grissom reached in and grabbed Sara's bag as well as her spare set of clothing all of them kept. As he removed her clothes, Grissom realized how intimate it felt to be handling her things. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that she needed his help. Nevertheless, a pool of warmth started inside of him at the thought that she was allowing him to help her.

Okay, Gil, get it together. She's waiting. Grissom grasped her things, then headed out after securing her locker.

Sara adjusted herself as well as she could outside, trying to look nonchalant. How stupid is this?, she thought, rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses at herself. I feel like an idiot. In front of Grissom. Again. Wincing at the pain of that thought and at the pain around her foot, she consoled herself. At least tomorrow's my day off ...

Sara looked up at Grissom as he headed down with her things, knowing he was going to suggest going to the hospital.

"Sara," he started tentatively, "you should.."

She interrupted him again, "I've sprained my ankle before, Griss, and this doesn't feel anything like that." She smiled self-consciously, "I think it's just a bad stubbed toe."

Grissom peered at her closely, and amazingly took her at her word. "Okay, Sara." Then he surprised her. "Why don't I take you home? You're vehicle's a Standard, and I don't think you can drive with your foot in that condition." He held his breath, knowing that if she didn't agree, they would be in an argument. Unfortunately, when they talked about anything outside of work there was probably an 80 percent chance of miscommunication or misinterpretation and things would get worse than they already were.

To his surprise Sara sighed and nodded in agreement. "Thanks."

Grissom tucked her things under his arm then helped her hobble to his SUV, all the while illicitly savoring the sight and feel of her skin bared by her tank top. Sara had looked embarrassed but let him help her into the passenger seat after pushing the boxes of Thin Mints aside. As he started the engine, Sara opened her bag , put on a cotton t-shirt against the chill of the AC, then pulled out a water bottle out and drank thirstily.

Her warm, concentrated scent pleasantly wafted over to him and he tried to discretely get in as much of it as possible. She smelled healthy and clean, even after her exertion from her run. He pulled away from those dangerous thoughts, well aware that if he kept his mind on that track there was going to be an obvious reaction that neither of them would feel comfortable about.

Small talk with her terrified him, so he concentrated on traffic. The only thing he asked was directions to her home and the requisite "Are you doing okay?" He switched on the radio station after her affirmation, and classical music filled the SUV.

They pulled into her driveway, oddly filled with a plethora of heavy duty maintenance vehicles. For the second time that day, Sara felt her stomach plummet. "Oh shit."

"Do you know what's going on?" Grissom inquired, looking around at the activity buzzing around them. Sara didn't reply. He looked over at her and she had her elbow propped up on the window sill, forehead resting in her palm.

"They're working on the elevators today. General maintenance." Sara lifted her head without looking at Grissom. "I live on the third floor."

Grissom raised his eyebrows, his mind racing over the possibilities. Just when Sara was about to say the hell with it and get out of the car, Grissom spoke. "Why don't we just go over to my place." He didn't look at her either.

"Okay."

With her words, Grissom reversed the Tahoe and headed towards his townhouse, pulse pounding in his ears. He wouldn't allow himself to think of anything except driving.

TBC