A/N: As always, thank you so, so, so much to everyone who has reviewed!

And another big thank you goes to wobbear for being a very patient beta reader.

Chapter Summary: The course of true love sometimes has to run through a few distractions...


Chapter 8

"All my empty words of love
Can never screen the flash I feel
Or make you understand
Oh, honey, can't you see?
I know it's real, it's got to be
Why not chase it where it goes?"
-" Rose Darling," Steely Dan

Kisses were supposed to be the beginning of a relationship, Sara reflected as she prepared for her shift one evening, not the end.

Well, that was over dramatic – it wasn't as if their relationship had ended, not at all. Grissom had just dropped her off after they'd eaten dinner at Passarella's again – and he'd given her a gentle goodbye kiss before she got out of the car.

But that was it.

She'd lost count of how many kisses she'd received over the past few days, and they never failed to make her a little weak in the knees. She'd been worried he would pull away from her, that their relationship would lose some of its comfort and ease because it had started inching towards romance.

Her worries were probably misplaced – the friendship remained strong, but he seemed content with just kisses and soft caresses. Sara was beginning to wonder if that was as far as he planned to go.

She had thought of moving things forward herself, but she was… well, truthfully, she was scared. She had wanted this for so long, and she felt as if it were still fragile. She was terrified of breaking it, terrified of pushing too hard and watching Grissom retreat into his shell again.

So she didn't push. She would just… wait. Wait… and hope.


She had just arrived at the lab when Grissom told her to get ready to go. He outlined the scene."DB out in the Southern Highlands, possible arson, he was caught in a brush fire."

"Ooh," Sara made a face, "I hate the crispy ones."

Grissom nodded sympathetically. "Meet you at the truck," he said.

Grissom appeared to have used up all of his conversation at the restaurant, but he seemed happy enough as they drove. He had turned on the radio and was humming quietly along with Paul Simon.

Grissom is actually humming, she thought, he has lost his mind. But he's in a good mood…

"Hey, Griss?" she asked, and he glanced over at her. "Yeah?"

"I have a question…"

He glanced at her again, his eyebrows raised.

"Um… I really… oh, I don't…"

Now he looked worried. He turned down the radio.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Never mind." She sighed. She couldn't find the right words. "Is this it?" she asked instead, catching the lights of the fire trucks on the road ahead.

"Looks like it… what is it, Sara?"

"Nothing. Really. Let's get to work." He parked the SUV behind one of the fire trucks, and she yanked the door open before he had a chance to say anything more.


The body was decidedly crispy, and the fire chief who had arrived at the scene before them gave them a quick explanation of what had happened as they began to work.

"Local homeowner called it in early. We got it contained pretty quickly. We were lucky."

Sara snapped a few photos as Grissom looked over the body, "Luckier than he was," he commented. Sara looked over at him as he continued, "Low humidity, dry brush… perfect conditions for maximum damage."

"Firebugs listen to the weather reports just like we do. Only for different reasons," the fire chief added.

"Maybe some moron just threw a cigarette out the car window," Sara commented.

"You're an optimist," the fire chief smirked at her.

"Do you have a point of origin?" Grissom hoped to distract Sara from responding to the fire chief, because he could tell they were rubbing each other the wrong way.

What happened? She'd been in such a good mood at dinner.

"Not yet. Fire spread down the slope…" The fire chief stood, and Grissom joined him, "Probably started along top of the ridge. I'll give you a shout when it's safe to come up." He started up the slope.

"Okay, Mom," Sara called after him.

Grissom looked up at the stars, spread out across the night sky. They were just far enough from the lights of the Strip for the stars to be visible, and they were beautiful. How long had it been since he had really looked at them? "This area was always a good place for stargazing," he said, still looking up at the sky. Sara was crouched by the body, taking photos.

"It's a good make-out spot, too. So I've heard." Sara's voice still carried the serious tone she'd been using with the fire chief.

He looked down at her in surprise, but she didn't raise her head to meet his gaze. Instead, she took another photo.

What does that mean? he wondered. He could take Sara stargazing… or other things… now that was an idea. He looked up at the firemen dousing the flames along the top of the ridge, and he decided to explore a little further. He felt a need to distance himself from Sara –this was work, he had to stay focused.

He moved his flashlight across the burned area, and something caught the corner of his eye. A pair of badly burned feet.

He moved in closer, and discovered the body of a woman lying in the brush. "Sara!" he called, "We've got another body." As if in response to the sound of his voice, the body opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Get the paramedics!" he shouted.


Grissom called Greg to process the victim at the hospital while he remained at the scene with Sara well into the morning. They were both tired by the time they got back to the lab.

"You can take off," he said to Sara as they began unloading the SUV at the lab, "I can finish."

"No, I'll help you," Sara replied, and together they headed into the layout room and began working on the process of logging the evidence. "Are you sure it was such a good idea to send Greg to the hospital?" Sara asked as they worked.

"It will be good experience for him – why?"

"Don't you remember? Lab explosion? The burns on his back?"

Grissom groaned. "I remember now," he said, "I'll check on him later."

Sara gave him a half smile, and they worked in silence for a few more minutes.

"Sara? What was it you wanted to ask me earlier?"

"Oh… never mind." Sara sighed as she reached for the burned out lighter she'd found at the scene.

"Sara," he lowered his voice a few notches, "Please."

"It's not something we should talk about here, okay?"

"Oh." he nodded. "Breakfast?"

"It's already noon, Grissom." Sara wasn't looking at him, but she was smiling.

"All right, a late breakfast."

"The faster we log, the faster we can go eat," Sara said. "So hurry up, I'm hungry."

They met at the diner, but just as Grissom was about to return to Sara's question, they were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Well hey, look who's here!" Nick had a wide smile on his face as he slid into the booth beside Sara. "Long time no see, you guys," Nick continued, "Long night?"

"We were processing an arson scene," Grissom said, trying not to show Nick his disappointment. He was happy to see Nick – it was a rare occurrence since Ecklie had split up his team – but he was also wondering why he picked the diner for his lunch with Sara. Next time, we are going to go someplace not frequented by cops and CSIs.

"Heading in early, Nick?" Sara asked.

"Yeah, middle of a hot one," he said, signaling the waitress, "a family found dead in their house – possible murder-suicide."

"We were working a DB at the arson scene." Sara finished a bite of her sandwich before she continued, "And then we thought we found another body, but she turned out to be alive."

"Really?" Nick sounded incredulous. Nick and Sara began discussing their cases, and the rest of lunch passed quickly – too quickly. Before Grissom knew it, they were leaving the diner.

"I guess we should try to get a few hours of sleep." Sara waved goodbye to Nick as he drove away. "I'll see you at the lab later?"

"Yeah," Grissom nodded, sadly.

"What?" Sara asked.

"We didn't get a chance to talk," he said, and Sara shook her head. "It wasn't that important, really."

"Are you sure?"

Sara thought for a moment. "I'm sure. Besides, we'll have time to talk later. Don't worry." Sara climbed into her car and gave him a goodbye smile as she drove away.

She's right, he thought, we'll have time later.


For the next several days, however, time for anything but work and sleep escaped them as they worked doubles to wrap up the Matthews case. The morning after they finally had their confession, Grissom decided he had to see Sara – he would make time, no matter what.

He found Sara working on her final report in the layout room, her head bent over her paperwork, one strand of hair falling rather adorably into her face, and he had to smile before interrupting her.

"You almost done?" Sara jumped.

"Geez, Grissom!" Sara exclaimed "You should warn a person before you do that."

"I'm sorry. Are you almost done?"

"Yeah, I am, actually," she replied, glancing over her report. "I just need to cross some t's and dot some i's here…"

He glanced around to make sure they were alone, then lowered his voice. "Would you like to come over for breakfast?"

Sara's eyes widened in surprise. "You're asking me over?"

Grissom shrugged. "I think I owe you, don't I? You made breakfast for me, and we've never been to my place before…"

"I've been to your place before," Sara reminded him, "but not since… well, not recently."

"Why don't we change that?" He asked, "And we'll have a chance to talk."

"All right." Sara smiled and nodded.

"I'll meet you there in about an hour?"

"I'll be ready."


Sara was surprised by how nervous she was as she knocked at the door to Grissom's townhouse. They'd spent so much time together over the past few months, but it had all been at her place. As she stood waiting, she appreciated for the first time how hard it must have been for Grissom to leave his own comfort zone for so many nights to come to her.

He opened the door wearing an apron, and he smiled widely at her as he ushered her inside. "Perfect timing," he said, "I just finished the last batch."

"What did you make?" Sara asked as he returned to the kitchen.

"Pancakes," he called over his shoulder in answer. "I thought we should try something different."

"I love pancakes." Sara pulled up a stool at his counter, and he turned to her, his eyes twinkling.

"I know you do. I do pay attention to what you order at the diner, you know."

"Oh, really?" Sara raised an eyebrow.

"Well," he amended, "I do since you reminded me I should pay attention."

Sara blushed, remembering. "Yeah, I really flew off the handle that day, didn't I?"

"Not at all," He set a plate and a glass of orange juice in front of her, "I think you had every right to be unhappy with me." He set out syrup and butter, and then sat on the stool next to her.

"I'm not unhappy with you now." Sara gave him a smile.

"You sure?"

"What?"

"You… sounded a little off the other morning," he reminded her. "We haven't had a chance to talk since, and…"

"Oh, that…" Sara remembered. "You know…" She looked over at Grissom, and decided to throw caution to the wind – after he finished his mouthful of pancake.

She leaned over to him and gave him a kiss on the lips, which he returned in his usual gentle fashion. Without breaking contact, Sara slid off of her stool and took him into her arms, deepening the kiss. He seemed to freeze briefly, but then he reached over and pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her. Her hands slid up into his curls as he began kissing her neck.

"Oh," Sara moaned, "that, that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, to tell you that you should do that…"

He murmured something in agreement, then returned his attentions to her neck. His fingers slipped tentatively under her shirt, and she shivered at the touch of his hands on her skin. She bent her head to capture his lips again, and he pulled her closer, kissing her enthusiastically until she pulled away to catch her breath.

"Why haven't you done that before?" Sara asked, her voice shaky.

"Because I didn't think I'd be able to stop if I did," he admitted, sounding as breathless as she did.

"Who said you should stop?"

He cupped her chin in his hand and began kissing her again. He slid off of his stool and pressed her back against the kitchen counter, moving his lips down her neck and towards her collar, and in response Sara began tugging at his shirt, trying to pull it from his belt so she could touch his skin. She reached her other arm out to brace herself against the counter – and promptly knocked over her glass of juice, which spilled across the countertop and rolled to the floor, breaking both the glass and the mood.

"I – Oh, I'm sorry…

"It's okay," Grissom said, "Let me clean that up."

Sara stepped out of the way, careful of the broken glass, and watched as Grissom swept up the pieces and threw them away. "I am so sorry," she repeated, and he shook his head.

"I guess we got a little carried away," His face was red, his curls were tousled, and his shirt tail was hanging out on one side. Sara bit her lip. She could still taste him on her lips, feel his hands on her skin, and she wondered if she looked as undone as he did.

"Carried away?" she asked. He nodded, and Sara felt her heart sink.

"Next time we do that," he continued, "we need to make sure there are no obstacles."

"I thought…" she hesitated, "I thought maybe… maybe you'd think I was being too pushy."

He looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "No, not at all…" He took a few moments, then looked back up at her. "Sara," he sighed, "I have no idea what I'm doing here."

Fear curled in Sara's stomach. "You don't?"

"No," he shook his head again, "I have no idea how fast to move here… but…"

"What?" Sara desperately wished he would get to the point.

"This is too important, Sara," he said seriously, "I want everything to be…"

"What?" She asked again.

"Perfect," He looked down at the floor.

"Oh…" Sara breathed a sigh of relief, "Grissom, I don't need perfect."

"What do you need?" He asked, his voice low.

"You." Sara shrugged, and his eyes softened with relief. After a long moment, he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a glass, refilling it with juice.

"We should… finish our breakfast." He set the glass in front of her.


Once she had a full stomach, Sara realized that she was exhausted, and Grissom gave her a bemused smile when he caught her trying to hide a yawn.

"Tired?"

Sara looked embarrassed. "Yeah," she admitted, "this always happens. It's better if I don't stop moving, because if I do, I crash. Plus, I always get sleepy after a big meal."

"That wasn't a big meal."

"It was for me."

"You don't eat enough. You need to eat more. And sleep more."

"I'm fine," Sara rolled her eyes at him as he finished loading the dishwasher. "I'm not even that tired."

"Sure you're not," he teased. Sara made a face at him and walked over to his bookshelf, trying to wake herself up. Grissom sat on his couch and leaned his head back as he watched her.

"Sit down," he said after a few minutes, "you're making me nervous."

Sara narrowed her eyes at him as she walked over. "I should get going…" she said, as she sat down and yawned again.

"No, you shouldn't, because then I'll have to stay up and work the scene of your accident when you fall asleep at the wheel."

Sara gave him another look. "Okay," she agreed, "I'll just sit here for a few minutes and get some of my energy back."

"Good idea." Grissom picked up his newspaper and glanced through the headlines for a few minutes,. "Hey, take a look at…" He looked over at Sara, intending to show her the article, but found her fast asleep, her head leaning to one side.

Good, he thought, she needs her sleep. He had every intention of leaving her to her nap, but he was too tired. He decided he would just close his eyes for a second before getting up…


—Ring, Ring.

Someone turn that thing off, Sara thought, I don't want to get up yet.

—Ring, Ring.

Where's the snooze button on this thing?

—Ring, Ring.

Oh, wait. That's not my alarm. That's my cell phone.

Sara opened her eyes and tried to reach for the phone, which she usually kept on her nightstand.

But where was her nightstand?

—Ring, Ring.

"Whose is that?" Grissom's voice startled Sara. At some point as she slept she had curled up with her head resting against his side. She sat up as quickly as she could, embarrassed.

"Mine, I think." She finally spotted her jacket hanging on the back of a chair, and she stumbled over and fished the phone out of her pocket, by which time it had stopped ringing. She glanced at the display and redialed the number.

"Yeah, you called? But I just… everyone? Really? All right, I'll meet him there. Yeah, okay. Bye."

"What was that?" Grissom asked, stretching the kinks out of his muscles.

"That was the day shift supervisor… there's a 419 call and everyone on both days and swing is on a case. Greg and I were next on the call list," Sara interrupted herself by yawning, "I have to go.. After I change and take a shower, that is."

"You just got off shift…" here Grissom had to check his watch, "five hours ago. You shouldn't even be on call yet."

Sara shrugged, "I know. But there's no one else, everyone's busy.."

He sighed. "You'd better go," He walked her to the door and gave her a goodbye kiss.

"I'll see you later," she said, and he nodded.

As he shut the door behind her he sighed again.

Maybe next time they'd have a few more hours.

Maybe next time they wouldn't fall asleep.


Grissom ended up coming in early that evening in response to a hit and run accident near a taco stand. Officer Metcalf felt it necessary to grab a taco for himself and tell everyone in hearing range that it was "the best taco I ever had."

"I'm happy for you both," Grissom muttered as he approached Brass.

"What, did you piss off Ecklie again?" Brass asked, "This is a hit and run, I was expecting Greg Sanders."

And I would have sent him, too, if he wasn't off working on a case with Sara. Lucky Greg.

"We're slammed. Everybody's on a case," Grissom explained, and Brass nodded. Grissom looked over at the mangled "victim" of their hit and run. "Is this a Fiero?"

"Yeah, the old Fiero," Brass said. "Kind of makes you nostalgic for a Members Only jacket. Anyway, the Hummer was going the wrong way on a one way street. The guy in the Fiero, lucky to be alive. Nobody saw the driver get out."

"People who drive 100,000 dollar vehicles don't usually run away from them," Grissom commented as they walked around the cars.

"Well, you obviously haven't met any paroled rappers," Brass countered. Grissom shined his flashlight on the tire treads leading up to the accident scene. "Tread mark shapes indicate acceleration. Pedal to the metal. Maybe a getaway?"

"Or maybe a joyride." Brass walked him around to the door of the Hummer. "There's a red smear on the door. Somebody's got blood on their hands."

Grissom leaned into the truck, shining his light on the vehicle's airbag, which was covered with an oily stain. "Well, at least we know one thing about the driver," he said over his shoulder to Brass, "He's had a face lift."

Brass rolled his eyes and gave a small chuckle. "You're a barrel of laughs. "I'm going to go run the car's registration. You have fun." He strolled off, leaving Grissom to process the two cars as well as the surrounding scene.


Grissom left his trace evidence with Hodges and was walking through the lab's hallway, going over his shift's assignment list on the clipboard, when he overheard Greg's voice.

"Sara," Greg sounded nervous, "I just want you to know, when we were in the shower, I didn't 'see' anything."

Greg? Sara? Shower?

"Really?" Sara said nonchalantly. "Gosh, I saw everything."

Everything?

What were Greg and Sara doing in a shower together?

How did Greg manage to take a shower with my girlfriend before I did?

Wait, what did I just call her?

"Mr. Grissom?" Judy called from the desk, "PD just called. Apparently the Humvee from your hit and run was carjacked earlier tonight."

He nodded briefly, then looked after Greg and Sara, who had disappeared into the layout room.

He had to the bottom of this, as soon as he could.

He found Sara about an hour later. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, except for two wayward strands that were curling loose around her face, and she was wearing her lab coveralls. He realized that he couldn't tell if she was wearing anything under the coveralls, which was distracting, arousing and somewhat disturbing all at once.

"What was that all about?" When Sara gave him a puzzled look, he added, "You, Greg, shower…"

"Oh!" The light dawned. "You would not believe this case." She walked into the locker room with Grissom close behind. opening her locker, she began digging for something.

"Greg and I spent all day at this bodybuilder's house?" she explained, pulling some clothing, "While we're processing the scene, hazmat shows up and yanks us both out of the house."

"Hazmat?" Grissom couldn't conceal his surprise as Sara began undoing her coveralls – he noted with some relief that she was wearing a tank top underneath as she continued unbuttoning.

"Yeah," Sara continued, "Doc Robbins discovered a mold infection as he was doing the autopsy, so he called hazmat as a precaution. So they pulled Greg and me into a decontamination tent, and they hosed us down. It turns out, though, the infection's only dangerous if you have a compromised immune system, which our vic did." Sara ducked behind her locker door to finish changing. Grissom resisted the temptation to peek around the door, but he found it hard to begin speaking again.

"They had you in the shower? Together?" He could hear his voice cracking. Smooth, Grissom, he thought, you sound like a fourteen year old. Of course, with Sara changing only a few feet away, he felt a little like a fourteen year old.

"Yeah," Sara pulled her shirt on over her head and closed her locker door. "Why?"

"And you… saw… everything?"

Sara nodded, giving him an embarrassed shrug. "Does that bother you?" she asked.

"Um, no, no, I'm sure… it was extenuating circumstances… I'm glad it wasn't anything serious… um…" Grissom stumbled over his words, and Sara bit back a smile.

"Grissom," Sara interrupted, lowering her voice, "are you… jealous?"

"No, no, of course not, I just… don't know if that's appropriate…" He trailed off. The amused look Sara was giving him had him wishing he hadn't said anything. Sara was trying very hard not to laugh. "I've been working all day on only three hours of sleep, so I'm going to go home and take a nap now," She said, "Tomorrow Greg and I get to go back to the guy's house, we have to find the source of the mold."

Grissom stepped out of the way to let her past. Sara stopped, though, and turned to look at him. "You have no reason to be jealous of Greg." She said gently, and he nodded, not daring to speak."I'll see you later," She gave him a smile as she left.


The next day, Greg and Sara called him into the layout room to discuss their findings in the case of their dead bodybuilder. Sara filled him in on the bullet they found, lodged in the wall next to a leaking water pipe.

"Bullet pushed blood and tissue through the wall, and water from the pipe leak fed the mold growth," she explained.

"It took a while, but the mold released spores, which spread through the house AC, and right up into muscle-head's nose," Greg added. "We ran the phone numbers from the vic's planner, everybody checked out, except for a woman named Tiffany."

"No last name?" Grissom asked.

"Well, Tiffany is actually a street name for Angela Wheeler, known prostitute. Her family reported her missing last month." Greg pointed to an ad they'd found for Tiffany, which included her photo. Grissom glanced at it before looking again at a photo of their victim – he had to admit, the term "muscle-head" fit him well.

"Well, anyone who appears this narcissistic may prefer paying for hookers rather than wasting his love on a girlfriend."

"And, as we know, in addition to immune suppression, heart and liver disease, steroid abuse can also cause shrunken testicles, impotence and aggression – 'roid rage. So, if the DNA from the tissue on the bullet matches Tiffany…"

"You have a sample?" Grissom asked, finishing Sara's thought.

"A DNA reference sample was collected from her apartment in the initial investigation. Mia's on it." Greg said, and Grissom couldn't help but be impressed at their efficiency – even though he was still a little peeved at Greg.

"Very good."

"This is just like that Edgar Allen Poe story where the victim's heart under the floorboards betrays the murder." Greg added, sounding excited.

"'The Tell-Tale Heart.'" Grissom specified, and Greg nodded in agreement. "I thought you didn't like reading the classics."

"I do when they're about dismembered bodies."

Grissom looked over at Sara, who shook her head.


He wanted to call Sara after he left that night, to tell her all about the idiot who had tried to carjack the Hummer, but he didn't want to risk waking her. His phone rang just as he was about to crawl into bed, however, and when he saw who it was , he had to answer.

"I thought you'd already be asleep," he said, "You left before I did."

"Yeah… I was trying to fall asleep," Sara paused, "But I wanted to say good night."

"Oh." He lay back on his bed. "Well, good night, Sara."

"You're not… really jealous of Greg, are you?"

He thought for a moment. "Well, in a way, I guess I am."

"Why?"

"Because…" He paused, working up the courage to say what he really felt. "He got to share a shower with you before I did." He held his breath waiting for Sara's response.

"Well," Sara said once she'd recovered from her surprise, "we'll have to do something about that."

"We will," he agreed.

"Um… good night, Grissom." Sara's voice was sleepy and sweet, and he could just see her smiling, even over the phone.

"Good night, Sara, I'll see you tomorrow."

I'll see Sara tomorrow, he thought drowsily, and I'm going to make sure to assign Sanders to decomp duty for the next several months.

He smiled to himself as he drifted off to sleep.