Slightly shorter chapter, just while I set the scene. Next one will be up tomorrow. Thank you to all those who have read and reviewed so far. And for those who are wondering, this will be a relationship story.

I don't suppose I need to tell you who it'll be between ;)

"Please?"

Catherine dropped her shoulders, feeling the last ounce of strength seep out of her.

"I'm sorry Lindsey, you just can't see Sam right now."

The child stuck her bottom lip out petulantly, folding her arms across her chest.

"Why?"

"Because."

A question hung between them, but for once Lindsey didn't push it. Her mother was always in a bad mood – that was nothing knew – but lately she had become despondent whenever Sam's name was mentioned.

It was frustrating and upsetting all at once for the little girl. Spinning on her heel with a discouraged huff, she stomped back to her bedroom without demanding an answer.

Catherine waited until she heard the telltale slam of the bedroom door before she let herself sink onto the couch; dropping her head into her hands.

She was frustrated, but that wasn't any reason to take it out on Lindsey. Ordinarily, when she felt like this, she would call her latest male friend for a release; but to be honest Chris was not the top of her friends list right now. In fact, after his little show of dominance with Sam, he was one of the people she was pissed off with.

Unfortunately, that left her at a loss of what to do with herself tonight.

"Nick said the budget for the promotion was cut."

The statement came from nowhere and was met with nothing in return.

"240 inches. 20 Feet."

Offering Gil the same treatment as he was showing her, Sara ignored his statement and continued.

"He also said you recommended him."

She let go of the tape measure, watching it slide across the floor and snap back into the case in Grissom's hand. After an agonizing moment, he finally met her gaze.

"I did."

Their wordless staring contest ended when she stood up and moved to check the back seat of the limo. After a minute's deliberation, Grissom joined her.

"You said you didn't have a problem with me." She pressed.

"I don't."

Realising that these clipped responses were the most she was going to get, she rolled her eyes. Grissom caught sight of the action and felt a small pang of guilt in his chest.

"I thought that Nick was the best candidate for the position."

"Why?" She tried to keep the judgement out of her voice as she pushed for a proper response. It wasn't Nick she was upset at, after all; even if the Texan hadn't been that graceful about winning.

Grissom considered the question for a few seconds; or fabricated an answer off the top of his head – she couldn't be sure.

"Because he didn't care whether he got the job or not."

Sara put down her torch and lifted her head, a frown playing on her face.

"That's a stupid reason." She pointed out.

It was also a lie, but neither was willing to acknowledge that out loud.

Grissom was still puzzling over the limo, blissfully alone, when Warrick sauntered into the garage with a manila folder in hand.

"You still liking Braun for these murders?"

Gil's head popped out from the car with a cocked eyebrow.

"Yeah, why? Something change?"

Warrick perched on the edge of a stool, gesticulating towards his boss with the file.

"I'm thinking Seth Landers and his pals had a woody for him. I went back to The Rampart and I took some electronic noise measurements. The place is a mess of interference – electronics in old casinos aren't shielded."

Emerging fully, if somewhat awkwardly, from the car, Grissom swiped a hand across his forehead.

"So, you're saying the shoe computers would've worked better in one of the new casinos on the strip?"

"Definitely." Warrick frowned. "A kid as smart as Seth wouldn't make a mistake like that."

"Then it was personal." Grissom nodded slowly, a new theory beginning to write itself in his mind. "Maybe personal?"

Their hushed conversation ended abruptly with the ungainly arrival of Catherine into the DNA lab.

"Where are my results?" She demanded of the young tech, blatantly ignoring Sara's presence in the room.

Greg straightened up, a little perturbed at the rude entrance. Sara, sensing that now was not a good time to be in Catherine's way, politely made her excuses and slipped quickly into the hall.

"Well?" Cath pressed impatiently. Greg retrieved a piece of paper from the printer and offered it mutely to the irate woman.

"Sara was just telling me about the promotion that her and Nick were going for." He explained, dragging the toe of his converse morosely across the tiled floor. "The position got cut."

"Hmm." Cath hummed disinterestedly.

"Grissom recommended Nick for it. She's kinda upset. I mean, she's pleased for Nick but she's disappointed." He began to ramble, feeling the need to fill in the silence. "It does suck though. Get cheated on and lose a promotion in the same week, and we all know why he gave Nick the recommendation..."

"Listen Greg," Cath cut him off with a raised hand, thrusting the results back to him. "I don't really have time for this. What does that mean?"

"Fine." He agreed curtly, snatching the paper back and pretending to iron out the creases. "Your trace was Pig Botulism. Botox. Your vic may have had some work done recently, by a pretty sloppy doctor."

Choosing to ignore the unusually downtrodden response from the friendly lab rat, Catherine grabbed her paperwork back and stalked out of the lab without offering any thanks.

Greg watched her strop off, a streak of insult flashing briefly across his face before his gaze drifted into the almost-empty room opposite.

It was in darkness, but he could just barely make out a sad silhouette, sitting perfectly still on the bench and staring into her lap. He wanted to go over and give her a hug, but he knew her well enough to realise that that would be a mistake.

So instead he just watched, quietly and protectively, from a safe distance.