***1. I don't own these characters, this show, or CBS (obviously, or
Season 3 would have been very different). 2. I'm not making any cash at
all out of this. 3. Word to all the UtB people (especially
freak_of_nature who was SOOOO nice to beta this for me weeks ago!! Thanks
so much!!)***
Chapter 1:
"It's brutal out there," Nick said, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge as he entered the break room.
"Hot as hell," Warrick agreed, his eyes not straying from the magazine before him.
"It's only May," Sara chided, licking yogurt from her spoon before waggling it like a composer's wand back and forth between them, "You two have no stamina."
"Don't even try to tell me that you like this kind of heat," Nick said, glowering out the window at the white-hot sun climbing in the sky.
Sara shook her head, "It's not a matter of liking, Nick. It's a matter of accepting it. You can't change the weather, so why let it bother you?"
Warrick gave a snort of a laugh, "Talking out of both sides of your mouth, Sara."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
"Supposed to mean?" Nick asked, "You can't tolerate anything. You can't tolerate the drug store being out of your brand of shampoo."
"I have a sensitive scalp," she protested, but her eyes betrayed laughter that was bubbling just beneath her argument.
"Yeah, and God forbid somebody use the wrong cleaner on the lab tables," Warrick said with a shake of his head.
"Oh yeah, that's trouble for a week!" Nick agreed.
"It's government property," she said, her smile now wide, "We have a responsibility to keep things in the best working order possible!"
She lifted her chin in challenge but burst out laughing when she caught Nick using his hand to puppet her speech. She threw her plastic spoon at him.
"Fine, I'm particular with cleaning, but the only weather pattern that nettles me at a crime scene is rain," she said.
Three gazes migrated back to the window. No rain was coming to cool off this day.
"I can't believe we're working mid shift today," Nick whined.
"Ecklie's group had to attend the seminar together," Sara said, pouting at the miserable people in the parking lot. They marched to and fro, fanning their faces with folders and day timers.
"Still a good seven hours until sunset," Warrick sighed.
"Maybe we won't get any cases," Nick said.
"Oh, a case wouldn't be so bad," Sara chimed optimistically drawing a loathsome glance from both of her partners.
"Anybody feel like a hike?" Grissom said, announcing his presence in the break room.
Shit.
Sara opened pretended to be fascinated with the vertical blinds on the window, her mouth to argue, but true to her fears, Nick and Warrick were already united. Both were facing her with wide, teasing smiles.
"Sara was just telling us how much she enjoyed the unseasonable warmth of today's weather," Nick said with a wink.
Grissom blinked twice, not catching the joke; not much caring either. He bobbed his head once and turned, throwing over his shoulder.
"Good. Sara you're with me."
Well, hell.
Sara trailed him through the halls, having difficulty keeping pace.
"So, what's the case?"
Grissom didn't turn around. He slid through the wide corridors like a greased bullet. She lengthened her stride to keep up.
"Ever heard of the Anasazi, Sara?"
Sara nodded, "Of course, famous prehistoric habitants of the southwest. Their ruins at Mesa Verde are in every tour book of the West I've ever seen."
"And it is believed that the Pueblo Indians of our area descended from Anazasi. Have you ever been to the Valley of Fire? It's a park near here," he asked.
Sara blushed slightly and resisted the urge to chew on her thumbnail, "Once."
Her tone gave her away, and she knew it. But what could she say? She had been there with asshole Hank, while his girlfriend probably thought he was teaching orphans CPR? The trip had been hell.
Grissom had stopped and for just a second Sara thought he looked sorry. Was he going to say he was sorry? She sure the hell hoped not, because it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Especially from him. But as soon as she had seen it, it was gone, and he was walking again, talking over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry this trip won't for fun, then."
It couldn't be any worse than the last. Her trip to the Valley with Hank had been awkward at best. First there was a battle for a radio station. She wanted something gritty and soulful. He wanted a broadcast from a teenage dance party. They stopped for lunch, and bickered over the merits of each fast food restaurant. Eventually, both food and music were abandoned and they took turns boring each other to tears, him with endless stories of his past hiking experiences with the boys, her with a monologue of the effects of the desert conditions on evidence. She'd never understand why she had been so sure it would work. So sure he would be the one to make her move on.
"Sara?" he asked, pulling her from her dark reverie.
"I'll drive," she said, suddenly realizing that they were in the parking lot. She must have moved here on autopilot. She flushed as if he could read her thoughts.
"Tell me what you know," she said as they climbed into the Tahoe.
"I know a lot of things," he said matter-of-factly and she smiled.
"I mean about the case," she clarified.
There it was, that familiar Grissom brand of brilliance that so often lent itself to blindness. Sometimes it was a funny kind of blind. Sometimes it cut her heart in half.
"A ranger found a dead body about a mile in a remote part of a canyon.
"A hiker?" she asked.
"I don't think so. Apparently he's only wearing a loincloth and moccasins."
"Tarzan in Nevada," she mused.
"Only he didn't make it to the next vine," Grissom said.
"A fall," Sara said.
"Or a push. That's why we're going."
She nodded and braved a genuine grin, meeting his eyes briefly. It was like a circuit of electricity coursing between them and then snapping apart. Why wouldn't that go away? She knew he had moved on. Hell, she had too. At least she had tried. It's impossible to escape a prison that you love. She took a breath, feeling pained by the thoughts and aware of the sudden silence.
Until recently, their conversations were fluid and natural. They had been since the day they met in San Francisco. But now it was strange. He must have known. He must have discovered it during the trial. She had always thought he knew before that. Sometimes she even let herself believe that he felt something too. Her fingers pressed into the steering wheel. The silence was driving her to thoughts she didn't want to entertain.
"Oh, I have something I think you might like to listen to," she said abruptly.
"Are you sure about that?" he asked skeptically while she rummaged in her visor CD holder.
Sara scanned through the songs, "I don't know. I guess we'll have to wait and see."
Chapter 1:
"It's brutal out there," Nick said, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge as he entered the break room.
"Hot as hell," Warrick agreed, his eyes not straying from the magazine before him.
"It's only May," Sara chided, licking yogurt from her spoon before waggling it like a composer's wand back and forth between them, "You two have no stamina."
"Don't even try to tell me that you like this kind of heat," Nick said, glowering out the window at the white-hot sun climbing in the sky.
Sara shook her head, "It's not a matter of liking, Nick. It's a matter of accepting it. You can't change the weather, so why let it bother you?"
Warrick gave a snort of a laugh, "Talking out of both sides of your mouth, Sara."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
"Supposed to mean?" Nick asked, "You can't tolerate anything. You can't tolerate the drug store being out of your brand of shampoo."
"I have a sensitive scalp," she protested, but her eyes betrayed laughter that was bubbling just beneath her argument.
"Yeah, and God forbid somebody use the wrong cleaner on the lab tables," Warrick said with a shake of his head.
"Oh yeah, that's trouble for a week!" Nick agreed.
"It's government property," she said, her smile now wide, "We have a responsibility to keep things in the best working order possible!"
She lifted her chin in challenge but burst out laughing when she caught Nick using his hand to puppet her speech. She threw her plastic spoon at him.
"Fine, I'm particular with cleaning, but the only weather pattern that nettles me at a crime scene is rain," she said.
Three gazes migrated back to the window. No rain was coming to cool off this day.
"I can't believe we're working mid shift today," Nick whined.
"Ecklie's group had to attend the seminar together," Sara said, pouting at the miserable people in the parking lot. They marched to and fro, fanning their faces with folders and day timers.
"Still a good seven hours until sunset," Warrick sighed.
"Maybe we won't get any cases," Nick said.
"Oh, a case wouldn't be so bad," Sara chimed optimistically drawing a loathsome glance from both of her partners.
"Anybody feel like a hike?" Grissom said, announcing his presence in the break room.
Shit.
Sara opened pretended to be fascinated with the vertical blinds on the window, her mouth to argue, but true to her fears, Nick and Warrick were already united. Both were facing her with wide, teasing smiles.
"Sara was just telling us how much she enjoyed the unseasonable warmth of today's weather," Nick said with a wink.
Grissom blinked twice, not catching the joke; not much caring either. He bobbed his head once and turned, throwing over his shoulder.
"Good. Sara you're with me."
Well, hell.
Sara trailed him through the halls, having difficulty keeping pace.
"So, what's the case?"
Grissom didn't turn around. He slid through the wide corridors like a greased bullet. She lengthened her stride to keep up.
"Ever heard of the Anasazi, Sara?"
Sara nodded, "Of course, famous prehistoric habitants of the southwest. Their ruins at Mesa Verde are in every tour book of the West I've ever seen."
"And it is believed that the Pueblo Indians of our area descended from Anazasi. Have you ever been to the Valley of Fire? It's a park near here," he asked.
Sara blushed slightly and resisted the urge to chew on her thumbnail, "Once."
Her tone gave her away, and she knew it. But what could she say? She had been there with asshole Hank, while his girlfriend probably thought he was teaching orphans CPR? The trip had been hell.
Grissom had stopped and for just a second Sara thought he looked sorry. Was he going to say he was sorry? She sure the hell hoped not, because it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Especially from him. But as soon as she had seen it, it was gone, and he was walking again, talking over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry this trip won't for fun, then."
It couldn't be any worse than the last. Her trip to the Valley with Hank had been awkward at best. First there was a battle for a radio station. She wanted something gritty and soulful. He wanted a broadcast from a teenage dance party. They stopped for lunch, and bickered over the merits of each fast food restaurant. Eventually, both food and music were abandoned and they took turns boring each other to tears, him with endless stories of his past hiking experiences with the boys, her with a monologue of the effects of the desert conditions on evidence. She'd never understand why she had been so sure it would work. So sure he would be the one to make her move on.
"Sara?" he asked, pulling her from her dark reverie.
"I'll drive," she said, suddenly realizing that they were in the parking lot. She must have moved here on autopilot. She flushed as if he could read her thoughts.
"Tell me what you know," she said as they climbed into the Tahoe.
"I know a lot of things," he said matter-of-factly and she smiled.
"I mean about the case," she clarified.
There it was, that familiar Grissom brand of brilliance that so often lent itself to blindness. Sometimes it was a funny kind of blind. Sometimes it cut her heart in half.
"A ranger found a dead body about a mile in a remote part of a canyon.
"A hiker?" she asked.
"I don't think so. Apparently he's only wearing a loincloth and moccasins."
"Tarzan in Nevada," she mused.
"Only he didn't make it to the next vine," Grissom said.
"A fall," Sara said.
"Or a push. That's why we're going."
She nodded and braved a genuine grin, meeting his eyes briefly. It was like a circuit of electricity coursing between them and then snapping apart. Why wouldn't that go away? She knew he had moved on. Hell, she had too. At least she had tried. It's impossible to escape a prison that you love. She took a breath, feeling pained by the thoughts and aware of the sudden silence.
Until recently, their conversations were fluid and natural. They had been since the day they met in San Francisco. But now it was strange. He must have known. He must have discovered it during the trial. She had always thought he knew before that. Sometimes she even let herself believe that he felt something too. Her fingers pressed into the steering wheel. The silence was driving her to thoughts she didn't want to entertain.
"Oh, I have something I think you might like to listen to," she said abruptly.
"Are you sure about that?" he asked skeptically while she rummaged in her visor CD holder.
Sara scanned through the songs, "I don't know. I guess we'll have to wait and see."