Author's Note:

Although this fic is the third installment in my "And They All Fell Down" series, this story may be enjoyed separately. To read the previous stories go to "Unexpected" and "Evidence of Life."

Takes place shortly after the events of episode 521 "Committed," circa early May 2005.

Avoidance Interrupted

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you've been avoiding me for the last few days."

The complete absence of Gil Grissom's almost-legendary contentious tone startled Sara from out of her deep absorption in the evidence laid out in front of her. This inexplicable departure from the widely accepted and expected norm captured her attention far more than if Grissom had shouted her name over the lab's PA system.

After a moment's puzzled pause, she hazarded a hurried glance up from the notes she was in the process of compiling, only to find the only person she ever actively avoided at work -- apart from the lab's assistant director -- standing in the doorway and peering at her with an air of consternation that was barely contained within the barest hint of bemusement.

"Of course," he continued, as if he had already anticipated her lack of greeting or reply, "If you had gone home when I had Catherine tell you to, you might have succeeded. But that was..." He to consult his wrist watch, before he continued, "More than twelve hours ago."

"I just had a few things to finish up," she lied. It was a lame excuse and she knew it and she knew he knew it, too, which was probably why she hastily averted her gaze. At the moment, the grizzly photos of the mangled corpse of a mob boss that she had spread all over the workroom's light table, were a whole lot less disconcerting than the concern she had glimpsed in Grissom's eyes.

He, however, did not seem the least detoured from what he had come to say by the quality -- or lack there of -- of her casual explanation. Instead, he moved from his place at the door to the one at her side before she even realized he had vacated his original position.

"Sara, look," he began. "I know we all pull a lot of time around here. But you pulled doubles on Tuesday and Wednesday, and are now pushing almost five hours past the tail end of a triple."

He leaned in closer to her. Anyone passing would have assumed that he was merely taking a closer look at the evidence on the table, but the soft and almost personal timbre in his voice belied the action as more private rather than professional. "You need to go home."

"I will," she said, her eyes still glued on the tip of her pen that hovered over her open lab book.

Grissom would not be deterred. "When?" He inquired firmly.

"Soon," she replied automatically.

"Now."

His rarely used, but almost fiercely dictatorial tone was unmistakeable, a fact there was no way Sara could deny.

She met his gaze in effort to further punctuate the protest she was about to wage, but before she could get the words out, their discussion was effectively suspended by an almost breathlessly excited cry of -

"Grissom -- Sara --"

Greg Sanders, former DNA tech now turned field-rated CSI, bounded through the open door with all the animation of kid at Christmas. He looked every bit as youthful with his rakish grin and his artfully -- and intentionally -- disheveled half-dark/half-blonde hair. His clothes were his own unique brand of office casual -- a colorful shirt paired with a dark blazer.

"Good Morning to you, too, Greg," Grissom said, trying to smile despite the measure of annoyance he was feeling at the interruption. But manners were manners and he had to set a good example, like it or not. He need not have bothered as Greg merely plowed on -

"Nick and Warrick just wrapped up the DeLancy case and wanted to know if you wanted to join us for a little celebratory breakfast."

"They got the son-in-law to confess?" Grissom asked, his irritation turning first to surprise and then satisfaction at the turn of events that finally sent an unscrupulous accountant to jail for defrauding his father-in-law's company out of hundreds of millions of dollars.

"Yep," Greg replied with a grin. "Once they got the secretary to roll over on her boss, it was smooth sailing from there."

Grissom shook his head in appreciation. "Makes sense that a man who would cheat in his marriage would cheat in business, too."

Greg smiled ruefully. "But the whole bopping the secretary thing seems a little cliched, don't you think?"

"Something only becomes cliched, Greg, when it happens so frequently to become predictable," Grissom explained. "Despite all of our technological advances, human behavior really hasn't evolved much socially in the last 200 millennia."

"Are you saying that homo sapiens as a species are incapable of change?" Sara interjected, not bothering to disguise the slight measure of confrontation implicit in her words.

Grissom seemed to consider her question carefully and was about to formulate his reply, when Greg interceded with a not entirely convincingly flippant --

"All I know is I am incapable of holding a philosophical discussion about anything at this time of the morning without a hearty helping of bacon and eggs in my stomach," the young man said with an uneasy laugh. "So what do you guys say?"

Sara began to protest that she still had work to finish up, when Grissom cut across her and said, "We'd both be delighted. Wouldn't we, Sara?"

The amiable smirk on his face caused the death glare Sara shot at Grissom to soften slightly and after a deep breath, Sara replied somewhat woodenly, "Of course."

"Great," Greg nodded, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet as he always did when particularly pleased.

Still giving her that smug little smile that Sara wished she knew a way to rid him of at the moment, Grissom left her side, pausing beside the rookie CSI to suggest in the casual way he always used to accomplish his (at this moment Sara regarded as particularly nefarious) ends, "Greg, why don't you help Sara pick up here and you two can go together. I've got to finish up a few things, so tell the guys I'll be there in twenty or so."

Greg submitted blithely. His only reply was to ask, "You want us to order your usual?"

"If you could."

"No problem."

"Great." Grissom paused at the door, "Oh and Greg..."

"Yeah?"

"You drive."

"You got it, Boss," he said with a delighted grin that Sara's sour look as she carefully shuffled her papers back into the case file still did little to assuage.