Disclaimer: I don't own Grissom or Sara; Furman University or toes. From this point on any persons that resemble anyone is strictly coincidental.


Toes were weird.

Aside from the obvious use of maintaining balance, enabling humans to walk upright, what good were they really?

Sara poked her feet out of the bubbles and wiggled her toes once more.

Yep.

No doubt about it.

Toes were definitely weird.


"Do you think I have pretty feet?"

He looked up from the book he was reading and eyed her over his glasses. "Huh?"

"My feet. Do you think they're pretty?"

"Baby, I love everything about you." He glanced back down thinking the matter decided.

The grunt heard a second later let him know that it had not yet been settled.

"Griss…" she sat down on the bed next to the chair where he was seated. "I'm serious."

A look of utter bewilderment crossed his face. Discarding the book he moved to sit beside her on the bed.

"Honestly? I don't really think about your feet very often. Not in particular anyway. But I love them because they are a part of you and I love you."

He knelt beside her and picked up her left foot, causing her to have o lean back on the bed. He gazed for a moment with his scientist's eye. She watched his eyes move back and forth across her skin-examining every angle and taking in every detail.

She was glad she'd decided to take a bath tonight. Otherwise he mightn't be so keen to be so close to her feet at the moment.

He traced her instep with his index finger, then gently examined each toe before switching to the other foot.

She hadn't expected him to be so thorough. Then again, she reconsidered, she should have expected as much. It was his way to be as detailed and exacting as possible.

He had finished his visual exploration and was now suckling each toe in turn.

This she had definitely not expected—though she had to admit—sometimes he did have trouble finding words…

Ok, she decided.

Toes: not so bad.


He had to admit-Furman's campus was quite beautiful.

Upon entrance through iron wrought gates, one was greeted by a large fountain. There were trees everywhere. The lake was home to several swans, ducks, and other birds.

To Sara's delight there was a rose garden that seemed to be the popular place for wedding photos (though this was true of several areas around the small campus).

Sara's friend of a friend twice removed was actually a psychology professor—the eldest member of the acting faculty.

A crusty old man by the name of Brewer, he had hunched shoulders, large glasses, a comb-over of about ten hairs that were painfully dyed black, who seemed to have an affinity for turtlenecks and called everyone by their last name—which suited Grissom just fine.

They were able to meet with the heads of several departments as well as the president and it seemed the little university was well on its way to having a very fine Forensic Analysis Department.

The next couple of days went so smoothly that things with the university were wrapped up four days earlier than planned.

Sara was packing their things in joyful anticipation of their newly lengthened vacation when their plans were changed once again.

A girl had been found dead in lower South Carolina and had been an alumnus of Furman. Police in Charleston were having trouble finding any leads and once again the university was making an offer they couldn't see refusing. So instead of heading to the mountains, Grissom and Sara found themselves headed for the beach near Mount Pleasant, South Carolina.


A/N: This is where the story I originally started out to write starts. It'll probably be less fluff (though some cause I need it) and more crime oriented. PLEASE REVIEW. It's my birthday; I need some reviews to make me feel better. ;o) Thanks to those of you who have read this far!