Disclaimers: I do not own any of the characters in CSI or the rights to the show itself. However, I would like to thank CBS for letting me take the characters out to play.

I would also like to thank my beta: mbbowman/swismiself. She has put her time and effort into editing this and I greatly appreciate it.

I guess I should let you in on the fact that this is pre-season 6, and although it is GSR it is not pre-existing.

Chapter 4 : Race

The drive to the airport had been tense and relatively silent. While Sara focused on some notes she was making for her seminar, Grissom mentally cursed both Sara's new found popularity with the male species and the unusually heavy traffic volume. A drive that should normally have taking fifteen or twenty minutes ended up taking a full hour, making for a harried check-in and even more stressful trip through security. The proper identification had not helped matters at all; they were still treated the same as the rest of the travelers, and were forced to open all carry-ons for manual inspection. By they time they made it to boarding, they were in full dash mode and genuinely concerned about missing the flight. The only high point was the discovery that they were traveling business class. Neither had bothered with the details during their frenetic check-in, so when the flight attendant shooed them contemptuously towards the front of the plane, both were a little surprised, but pleased at the same time.

Grasping Sara's kit, Grissom shoved it into the overhead compartment along side his entomological kit and slammed the door shut. "If you want you can take the window seat" he offered, his hand absently shifting to the small of her back to nudge her in front of him.

Fiddling with something in her laptop case, she cast a glanced over her shoulder at him and tried desperately to ignore the heat that his touch was dredging from her weary body. She had gone in during swing to finish up notes on the previous night's case, and then worked Mr. Alfonse's case until she absolutely had to pass it off. The car incident had merely made her more worn out, so when she arrived at home the last thing she wanted to do was prepare for a four hour flight. The only reprieve from her exhaustion was the cool invigorating shower she'd had, but all of that energy had been siphoned off at this point, leaving her devoid of much of anything other than the desire for a pillow and something to lean her head on. However, she still had some preparation to do before Sunday's hands-on presentation, and she knew it wouldn't get done once she checked in at the hotel. "It's okay; you take the window seat and get some rest." She picked up the small flight pillow she'd grabbed from the overhead compartment and passed it to him. "I still have some stuff to finish up." She shuffled aside in the small space afforded, and waited as he moved in and took his seat. Her body already missed his touch, while the rational part of her mind told her it was a good thing he'd moved his hand before she pinned him to his seat and made good on one of her many Grissom fantasies.

God! You have it so bad... You are supposed to be over him, REMEMBER…? That little voice inside of her head reminded her. Running a slim hand through her ringlets, Sara slipped into the seat and tucked her laptop under it as she had been instructed to do by the overly cheerful flight attendant, who had introduced herself as Nanette.

The woman had to be on something, the young CSI surmised, rolling her eyes and then casting a slight glance at the man who'd become the bane of her existence over the last 6 years. He was already making good use of the pillow. With it wedged between the end of the seat and the wall, he'd managed to find a comfortable neck position and appeared to have drifted off. Sara studied him a moment, her dark eyes settling on the salt and pepper of his closely cropped beard. Abstractly, she wondered what it would be like to feel the roughness of it against her bare skin. This set off an all too familiar war between her head and her heart which ended, as always, in a stalemate.

You are pathetic…

Fuck off!

Sara was contemplating; firstly, the very real possibility that she was beginning to exhibit clear cut signs of MPD, and secondly, whether such a dissociative mental disorder could be brought on by sheer frustration at the hands of the former object of her affection, when suddenly a dangling navy silk tie bopped her in the nose.

Tilting her head up Sara noted the tie's owner was a very attractive, short haired Brad Pitt look alike who was dressed in an expensive dark business suit and in possession of a pair of adorable green eyes. That is about as far as she got in her speculation, as the thick leather brief case he was trying to cram into an already over stuffed compartment broke free from its handle and crashed down painfully onto her head.

The loud squawk of pain she let out startled the man snoring softly next to her, and he was immediately awakened, her name already rolling off her lips.

"Oh shit… I'm, so sorry." The pseudo Brad fumbled and flustered, at the same time grabbing at the broken briefcase that had landed half on her lap.

Pushing it aside, the willowy brunette clutched her forehead as both men began tugging at her arm in an attempt to pry her hand away from the point of impact.

Brad was still apologizing profusely, as Sara shook them both off. "Stop!" she ordered, and waited for both men to stop fussing.

"Thank you." she told them a jagged sigh escaping her full lips, as she finally pulled her hand away from where the bag had hit her.

"It's bleeding." Grissom threw the accusation at the other man and grabbed a tissue from his pocket. "Here…" He stood up into a forced semi-hunched position and dabbed at the wound slightly.

"Gris… You should be wearing gloves." Sara chided him, wincing slightly as the Kleenex pulled at the injury.

"You forget, I see your semi-annual medical evaluation." he reminded her smugly, his fingers working diligently over the cut. The skin was split for about two inches right at the hair line, and didn't appear to want to stop oozing. "It came across my desk last week, as a matter of fact."

"Cute… Owww… damn…" Slapped his hand away, and jerked her head to the side. "That hurts… what, were you sadist in another life?"

"Who said anything about another life; what's the matter with this one?" he grinned, trying to ease the situation a little. He didn't like to see her hurt, despite the relatively small size of the cut.

Sara scowled at him.

"Excuse me Miss…" Brad was frantically trying to get the attention of the flight attendant who was heavily involved in an animated discussion with another crew member.

"Stop moving… or the blood will drip onto your dress." Grissom pulled out his best; I'm the boss, don't mess with me… voice - the one he generally used with Greg and Nick - and lightly grasped the pretty brunette by the chin. Then placing the tissue over the cut, he nudged her head upwards so he could get a good look at her face. Concerned blue eyes met brown as he freely stroked the delicate flesh along her jawbone with his thumb. "You're going to have a goose egg." He told her plainly. "And I think you might need stitches."

Her normally pouted mouth was twisted in pain. "I'm okay" she assured him, and then turned to Brad who'd finally managed to get the flight attendant's attention, and was now holding a first aid kit in his hand. "Really, I'm fine." she assured the still anxious man.

"I'm so sorry." He apologized yet again a dropped the kit on his chair. Opening it, a quizzical look crossed his handsome face.

The man clearly wasn't a doctor, Sara deducted, as she watched him dig around inside the kit. He appeared uncertain as to which of its contents he should utilize. She was going to start telling him what he should grab when he appeared to have decided.

Shucking aside some of the larger items, he spotted some antiseptic wipes and pulled them out along with a pair of rubber gloves. Opening the package he withdrew one of them and held the gloves and the wipe out to Grissom.

"Thank you…" the graveshift supervisor stated pointedly, before waving off the gloves and taking the proffered antiseptic. "This is going to sting a little." Grissom warned her as he tenderly turned her head back to him and pulled back the tissue. It was a sticky bloody mess, and really did look like it might need suturing. The location of it wasn't good, because any kind of bandage would adhere itself to her hair. "Sara, you really may need…"

"I don't need stitches. I hate hospitals, and I'm not going."

"I think your husband is right, Miss. You may need to get that sewn up." Nanette the scarily happy flight attendant had finally managed to tear herself away from her conversation, and obviously felt it was necessary to put in her own two cents worth.

Irritated at the fuss, and the flight attendant's insinuation, Sara suddenly stood up and pulled away from Grissom. Seizing the sticky wad of tissue from the surprised entomologist, she stuck it back on her forehead, gestured for Brad to get out of her way and waited while he complied.

In his haste, he practically fell into the lap of the man sitting behind him, drawing a curse from the balding and angry businessman.

Sara would have laughed if her head didn't hurt so much. Instead she moved out into the aisle, reached over, and popped the lid shut on the first aid kit. Then grasping it by the handle, she leveled the attendant with a false and excessively sweet grin. "Thank you for your help." She said through clenched teeth. Then turning to the two men she nodded at them. "I'll take care of this myself." she informed everyone, before shoving her way past the woman.

"Miss, we're almost ready for take off. Why don't you just sit down and let your husband take care of it." Nanette reached for the young CSI, who simply stepped out of her reach.

"He's not my husband." She announced forcefully, a thread of tension clearly present in her voice. "He's my supervisor and I'm going to the bathroom."

"Miss please just sit down, the seat belt sign is on. You will delay take off."

"There'll be an even longer delay if I hemorrhage to death here…" With that Sara turned and headed into the bathroom.

By the time she exited the tiny cubicle, she'd managed to clean up the blood and slap on some liquid bandage to stop any further blood flow. It wasn't pretty, but it was a damn sight better than what she'd seen when she first looked in the mirror. At this point everyone was belted into their seats, so she hastily made her way back to her own, unconsciously noting that business class was almost empty as she passed through the cabin. With the exception of her, a semi-dozing Grissom, and the pseudo Brad who had his nose stuck in a magazine, there was the business man he'd pancaked earlier and an Asian woman who already appeared to be sleeping on the other side of first class.

Nanette was in the midst of checking on the business man and cast a glance Sara's way as she slid into her seat and buckled up. It was a serious attempt to stave off another conversation with the excessively happy woman, who immediately turned her way.

Still annoyed, the tired brunette held up a hand and shook her head, indicating that she didn't want to talk. "I have my seat belt on…" She told the woman, a warning heavily laced through her words.

It may have been the strain in her voice brought him out of his reverie, but Sara immediately felt a warm thick hand on her arm.

"Let me see…" Grissom said softly, while the fingers of his free hand moved carefully along her hairline. Agrimace painted his face as he took in the purplish gash that decorated her forehead. "I'm really sorry." he told her, trying to discern whatever was going on in the young woman's head. As always, she was a closed book to him.

"Why are you sorry?" Confusion marred her face, and she turned away not wanting her eyes to betray the effect his touch was having on her. "You didn't do anything."

"I guess that's been the problem all along hasn't it?" His words were so casual that it took her a moment to gather their meaning. By the time she turned to look at him, he had his eyes closed again and was resting against the travel pillow.

Rolling her own dark orbs, she simply shook her head and then sunk into the thick leather chair. She was not going to let him do this to her again; it was a dance she was all too familiar with. He would extend a thread of hope. She would by into it, and end up caught in the game again. It was frustrating, infuriating, and undeniably painful. And the sad thing was – she was almost certain that he didn't even know he was doing it.

Reaching into her purse, she retrieved her Nano and popped one ear bud in before flicking it on. Nanette had begun to go over the emergency survival procedures so Sara used the music floating through one ear to block the woman out, her eyes closing against the momentary panic as the plane began to roll away from the gate.

Grissom must have felt her tense beneath his palm, because the minute she clawed at the armrest, he removed his hand from on top of her slim arm and threaded his finger through hers.

TBC