Grissom and Sara checked in and headed to their rooms-which were indeed
right next to each other. As they stood at each other's room doors, both
thought of the nearness of the other, and what a long night it would
be.Grissom cleared his throat. "Well, I'll get freshened up, and meet you
in half an hour to go down to the welcome dinner?" She nodded, swallowing
hard. "Yep, see you in a few." Sara grunted as she lifted her bag. "Oh,
here-I'll carry it in for you." Grissom said, surprising her. "Uh, thanks,"
she stuttered as he slipped it off of her shoulder and onto his own in one
swift movement that left a buzzing of electricity between them from where
his skin had briefly grazed hers. "What did you pack, anyway? It feels like
you filled this thing with casting plaster." Sara placed her hands on her
hips and laughed. "No, not at all! All I packed extra.I just packed a few
notebooks, to take notes, and a couple of tape recorders and some blank
tapes." Grissom knew she'd packed two tape recorders in case one stopped
working-he'd done the same thing. Sara added, "I also wasn't sure what
shoes I'd need for the different activities-so I packed more shoes than I
probably needed." Grissom laughed heartily at this. "What is it with women
and shoes?" Sara smirked and pursed her lips, feigning annoyance and trying
not to laugh. "I could ask you what it is with men and bugs, Dr. Grissom."
She swiped the key card and followed Grissom into her room. "I don't think
I have to explain the scientific value of insects to you, Miss Sidle.
Shoes, on the other hand." he set the bag on her bed with an exaggerated
"OOF!" Sara laughed. "Oh, PLEASE, Grissom. Shoes are important, too, and
you know it. How many cases have we solved with shoe treads and tracks?" He
shook his head, eyes twinkling. "See, to me that just proves that shoes are
associated with bad things, like crime. Criminals like shoes." She guffawed
loudly. "Oh, give me a break!" Keeping an almost-straight face, he went on
teasing. "Insects help SOLVE crimes. Insects, Sara Sidle, are our friends.
Not shoes. Where would man kind be without bugs?" Her grin was huge and
childlike, warming Grissom's heart. He was filled with a longing to touch
her once more. He ignored it, enjoying their playful banter. "No, no, no.
As much good as bugs do, they can also cause a lot of harm. Shoes have
never hurt anyone. Where would mankind be without shoes?" Grissom rolled
his eyes. "OK, I give up. But only because we'll be late if we don't get
ready." Sara looked at the bedside clock in alarm. He grinned fondly at her
worried expression, knowing her affinity for punctuality. "Out, Dr. Bug.
I'll see you in a few." Still smiling, he nodded and headed for his own
room, his heart filled with a lightness that had been missing for far too
long.
Sara unzipped her duffel and pulled out a few necessary toiletries and fresh clothing. Her sore, road-tired body ached for a shower.
As she stood naked in front of the shower, trying to figure out how the unfamiliar hotel faucet worked, she heard the water start in the bathroom next to her. A hard, longing, chill crept up her spine as she realized Grissom must be showering at the same time as she was. 'Dammit, Sara, focus. Remember what you're here for.' She finished her shower quickly, forcing her brain to concentrate on each task of getting ready as it was accomplished-dry, dress, makeup, hair-anything to get her mind of off Grissom.
Grissom's body went still when he felt the change in water pressure. He winced, thinking of her.He placed his hand on the shower wall, knowing that somewhere on the other side of that wall, there was someone he very much wanted in a position he very much wanted her in. He wanted to trade the drops of water caressing his body for Sara's soft, long fingers.He remembered Sara's first case with a decomp in an enclosed space-the "liquid man" as Nicky and the team had lovingly dubbed him. He remembered thinking that even smelling like death she was still adorable, as he passed her in the hallway. He'd been in a hurry for something, and he had wanted to stay with her and help her out, to tell her about his first similar case, but all he'd been able to do was tell her to use lemons to remove the scent from her pores. Images of Sara and himself in a bathtub full of floating lemons, helping her scrub the day away.had haunted him all evening. 'No, Gil. No, no, no.' He told himself firmly, and stepped out of the shower, his legs shaking.
The welcome dinner was interesting enough. They where given several handouts and an itinerary of the weekend's activities. The president of the USFSS gave a brief welcome address, and gave an overview of the weekend's presentations-including Grissom's, which required Grissom to stand up and make his presence known in a room full of people. He looked uncomfortable, which surprised Sara. The Grissom she knew was always so confident. He had looked at her as he stood and nodded to his fellow scientists, seeming almost to want to draw strength from her. She had beamed at him encouragingly, clapping loudly. He'd given her a warm smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and her heart melt. The highlight of the evening for Sara, however, happened during the meal. She had noticed with dread when they'd arrived that the meal of the evening served by the convention center's restaurant to the conventioneers was either a T-bone steak or lemon chicken. 'I'll just have to ignore it and enjoy the side-dishes,' she told herself glumly. But later on, when the servers brought around the dinners, the waiter placed a lemon chicken in front of Grissom, and looked at the table number, then looking at her asked, "You're the analysts from Las Vegas's lab, right?" Puzzled, Sara nodded. "Good, just wanted to confirm I got the right table." The waiter then placed a grilled vegetable and pasta dish in front of Sara. She smiled. "This is great! How'd they know?" Grissom looked up from his baked potato and said, "Oh, the event coordinators called yesterday to confirm we where coming. They asked if we had any special needs or food preferences, if we wanted steak or chicken at the welcome dinner, and I told them my CSI was a vegetarian." He said it like it was nothing. Sara's mouth started to drop open. "You remembered?...Thank you, Grissom." Shrugging, "Sure," he said around a mouthful of chicken. She smiled and shook her head as she began to eat. 'Will wonders never cease,.' she thought. Perhaps it would be an even more interesting weekend that she'd originally thought.
Grissom's heart swelled with pride beneath the surface, unbelievably happy that he'd made her happy. She looked lovely across the table, hair curled loosely around her face, wearing a pale short-sleeved sweater and a slim black skirt with a slit on one side that had made him crazy the moment he'd seen it, walking behind her from their side-by-side rooms. Light sandals and a necklace made of elephant hair cord with a small replica of a monarch butterfly hanging from it completed her outfit. "I like your necklace," he said, looking at it intently. She smiled mischievously. "Of course. It's a bug." He laughed. "Sara, someone very wise once told me you shouldn't reduce everything about a person down to a single quirk." She blushed, remembering that day. "Please tell me that when you think about me, you think about more than just bugs." There was a smile playing on his lips, but her heart tugged at the meaning behind his words. "Griss, I"-she was cut short by the booming voice of the president announcing that the after-dinner 'meet and greet' would be in a different room number than had been posted on the itinerary. Annoyed, Grissom and Sara both scribbled the change down in place of the original room on their itineraries. Sara watched the muscles in Grissom's arm flex as he wrote. He was wearing a short-sleeved blue shirt that complemented his eyes. God, she could think of so many things about Grissom that didn't involve bugs right now.Giving her head a characteristic shake, she said "Anyway. What was I saying?" Grissom dapped at his mouth with his napkin once more before folding it and placing it on his dirty plate. "It's alright. We'd better get to the 'meet and greet'." She laughed at the way he said it, with sarcasm, in an almost Jerry Lewis-type voice. He hadn't joked around like that in so long. "Really," she sighed in agreement. The last thing she wanted right then was to be surrounded by people she didn't know, and didn't particularly want to know. The only person in Colorado she cared about was in front of her.
Later that evening, Sara slipped one foot out of a sandal to rub the other aching foot with. She wondered how she'd gotten roped into this conversation. She was stranded amid a group that consisted of two CSI's and a forensic pathologist from New York, who was in the midst of an animated retelling of the last murder he'd autopsied right before he'd left for the conference. Which would have been interesting if it hadn't been a very long day, and if they hadn't just been served chocolate cake. The story had started because the color of the frosting reminded the pathologist of the dirt he'd found in what remained of his victim's head. Only the doctor didn't seem to realize that this wasn't' the most appetizing subject, even for a group of CSI's, around chocolate cake. He shoveled a forkful in his mouth as he continued to describe the fatal head wound. "So, yeah, it was the weirdest thing I'd ever seen. Basically his whole left side was gone- eye, cerebellum, hair, everything. The whole damn kit and caboodle." He paused, either for dramatic effect, to swallow his cake, or both. "I had no idea what the hell kind of accident or weapon had caused that damn thing, so I..." Sara tuned him out as the crowd in front of her parted and she spotted Grissom across the room. He was engaged in a debate with the USSFS president, but he looked as worn-out as she felt. He was a sight for sore eyes. Sara has lost track of him soon as they'd arrived at the meet-and- greet. "Excuse me," she mumbled, setting down her untouched piece of cake on the banquet table and slipping away from the group. She made her way towards her supervisor. Grissom spotted her coming and smiled gratefully. "John, this is one of my team, Sara Sidle. Sara, John Fuller." He placed a hand on the small of her back, sending chills up her spine. Noticing her slight shiver, "Are you cold?" he asked, concerned, as if the president wasn't even there. "No, no, I'm fine." She smiled at Grissom, feeling disbelief at his actions, then remembered where she was and put out her hand to the tall man in front of her. Fuller took it with both hands, making a prick of territorial anger flare in Grissom's chest. Grissom squeezed his finger tips further into Sara's back, protectively. She felt the increase in pressure and instantly felt heady with desire, finding it nearly impossible to focus on the person speaking to her. "What?..." she asked, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. "I said, haven't I met you before? I'm sure I have.Wait, have you ever worked in Boston?" "Huh?...Oh, yeah, yeah. No, I mean. Well, I went to Harvard." She squinted her eyes slightly. "Have we met before?" He nodded. "I believe so. I worked in Boston. Before I headed the Society." He added as way of explanation. "Oh," She said, not really caring. Grissom's hand was still on her back; nothing else mattered. It felt like it had been ages since he'd touched her. She used to be accustomed to his hand on her arm, her shoulder.it was heaven to feel him again, and affected her like it never had before. She realized Mr. Fuller was still speaking. "Wait, a minute-my son went to Harvard-that's it! You dated my son once, didn't you? Ken Fuller?" 'Oh, god.' Sara's heart sunk to her shoes. Ken Fuller. The man who introduced her to the infamous Mile High Club. The relationship had been a basic waste of time; in hindsight, Sara could see that she'd only gotten involved with the guy because she was itching for new experiences-namely sexual-and was bored with her life at the time. But they'd had nothing in common, other than both enjoying science. Ken was hoping to go to medical school, and Sara, at that point in time, had no idea what she wanted. Sara broke it off with Ken not too long after the fateful plane trip (which Ken had dragged her on-she had no interest in going to the beach for Spring Break; it wasn't her 'scene', but it was all Ken could talk about. And in order to look decent among his circle of friends, he needed a girlfriend with him. So Sara, who would have been more than happy to have spent Spring Break catching up on her reading and physics projects, found herself in Miami.) Soon after that, Grissom had come into her life, and turned everything around. She felt Grissom stiffen next to her. "Oh, yes-Ken. Yeah, we went out once or twice." She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "That feels like such a long time ago.How is he, now?" "Great! Married, twins on the way. He's practicing plastic surgery in Los Angeles." Sara bit her tongue to keep from laughing. "Oh, great. Good for him," Knowing that if she stayed at the gathering any longer she'd go ballistic, she turned to Grissom. "Say, Griss, I'm going to head out for the evening. You want to join me?" Grissom nodded. "Sure. We'll talk to you tomorrow, John," He couldn't hide the relief in his voice. They left a bewildered John Fuller behind them. It crossed Sara and Grissom's minds that it probably appeared to the society president that they where a couple going up to a shared room for the evening, but neither cared. As Grissom ushered Sara out of the room, she couldn't help but burst out laughing. "A plastic surgeon in California! He had all these aspirations about doing something to help the greater good. I don't see how carving Sharon Stone a new nose accomplishes that." Grissom smiled, relieved to hear her talking about her ex in a less-than flattering way. "Yes, it doesn't sound like the most.prestigious medical specialty for someone with high aspirations, when you put it that way." Sara sighed contentedly. "I'm so happy to be out of there." Grissom nodded emphatically. "God, so am I." He let out a sigh of relief. In unison, Sara and Grissom both said aloud, "I hate these types of things." They laughed a little, and then walked in comfortable silence through the large convention hall. "It'll be weird to sleep at night. You know? Even after driving all day, it's going to take me forever to fall asleep. I shouldn't have had so much coffee back there. Now I'm all keyed up." Grissom looked at her sideways and nodded thoughtfully. "Would you like to take a walk around the hotel or something? I'm not that tired, either; maybe it'll relax us a little." He asked, tenativley. His offer caught her by surprise, but she wasn't about to turn it down. "Sure; that sounds like a good idea." They headed to their rooms to get their wind breakers, then headed outside.
The two walked slowly, like a couple who'd been together for years, footsteps in tandem, their matching blue CSI jackets flapped against the wind as they talked. Sara told him about the pathologist with the cake- colored dirty head wound; Grissom told her similar conversations he'd overheard during the cake. "That is one of the better parts of these conventions, comparing notes and stories with other scientists. Oh, did I tell you, this weekend counts as 18 credits for your continuing education, so by spending the weekend here, you're getting out of a bunch of lectures and other wonderful times." Grissom smiled down at her. "Really? Wow, that's great! I mean, I'll probably go to the lectures anyway, but it's great to get so many credits racked up at once. That'll look great on my record." She beamed ear to ear at the prospect. Grissom watched her. She was so adorable, so full of life. His life revolved around the dead; but, as Catherine had said, he truly did feel like a living, breathing, thriving person when Sara Sidle was around.
They came to the end of the sidewalk. "You want to go across the street, explore a little?" he asked. "Absolutely." They waited for the 'walk' sign. Sara looked up at him and started to tell him something-but to his dismay, he couldn't hear anything. 'No, not now!' he willed his ears desperately. Sara's head was turned away from him at just the wrong angle, and he couldn't read her lips. How he hated those bleak moments when the word went eerily silent.Hoping Sara wouldn't notice, he began to walk across the street, looking down, willing the moment to pass.
Sara watched him, puzzled, and started to walk after him. She was startled by an ambulance that tore around the corner-headed straight for Grissom. "What the hell.GRISSOM!" she called out to him. But he was looking down, like someone lost, and didn't appear to be at all aware of the siren blaring or Sara's voice. "Gil!" she cried again, her heart pounding. "God, no."
Grissom saw the lights and looked up, frozen in shock. The damn thing was coming right at him. His ear popped him back into a hearing reality, and he was aware of Sara screaming his name behind. He turned around, horrified to see she was coming towards him, in the path of the vehicle. Everything was moving too fast. "No, don't!"-he yelled...
Sara unzipped her duffel and pulled out a few necessary toiletries and fresh clothing. Her sore, road-tired body ached for a shower.
As she stood naked in front of the shower, trying to figure out how the unfamiliar hotel faucet worked, she heard the water start in the bathroom next to her. A hard, longing, chill crept up her spine as she realized Grissom must be showering at the same time as she was. 'Dammit, Sara, focus. Remember what you're here for.' She finished her shower quickly, forcing her brain to concentrate on each task of getting ready as it was accomplished-dry, dress, makeup, hair-anything to get her mind of off Grissom.
Grissom's body went still when he felt the change in water pressure. He winced, thinking of her.He placed his hand on the shower wall, knowing that somewhere on the other side of that wall, there was someone he very much wanted in a position he very much wanted her in. He wanted to trade the drops of water caressing his body for Sara's soft, long fingers.He remembered Sara's first case with a decomp in an enclosed space-the "liquid man" as Nicky and the team had lovingly dubbed him. He remembered thinking that even smelling like death she was still adorable, as he passed her in the hallway. He'd been in a hurry for something, and he had wanted to stay with her and help her out, to tell her about his first similar case, but all he'd been able to do was tell her to use lemons to remove the scent from her pores. Images of Sara and himself in a bathtub full of floating lemons, helping her scrub the day away.had haunted him all evening. 'No, Gil. No, no, no.' He told himself firmly, and stepped out of the shower, his legs shaking.
The welcome dinner was interesting enough. They where given several handouts and an itinerary of the weekend's activities. The president of the USFSS gave a brief welcome address, and gave an overview of the weekend's presentations-including Grissom's, which required Grissom to stand up and make his presence known in a room full of people. He looked uncomfortable, which surprised Sara. The Grissom she knew was always so confident. He had looked at her as he stood and nodded to his fellow scientists, seeming almost to want to draw strength from her. She had beamed at him encouragingly, clapping loudly. He'd given her a warm smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and her heart melt. The highlight of the evening for Sara, however, happened during the meal. She had noticed with dread when they'd arrived that the meal of the evening served by the convention center's restaurant to the conventioneers was either a T-bone steak or lemon chicken. 'I'll just have to ignore it and enjoy the side-dishes,' she told herself glumly. But later on, when the servers brought around the dinners, the waiter placed a lemon chicken in front of Grissom, and looked at the table number, then looking at her asked, "You're the analysts from Las Vegas's lab, right?" Puzzled, Sara nodded. "Good, just wanted to confirm I got the right table." The waiter then placed a grilled vegetable and pasta dish in front of Sara. She smiled. "This is great! How'd they know?" Grissom looked up from his baked potato and said, "Oh, the event coordinators called yesterday to confirm we where coming. They asked if we had any special needs or food preferences, if we wanted steak or chicken at the welcome dinner, and I told them my CSI was a vegetarian." He said it like it was nothing. Sara's mouth started to drop open. "You remembered?...Thank you, Grissom." Shrugging, "Sure," he said around a mouthful of chicken. She smiled and shook her head as she began to eat. 'Will wonders never cease,.' she thought. Perhaps it would be an even more interesting weekend that she'd originally thought.
Grissom's heart swelled with pride beneath the surface, unbelievably happy that he'd made her happy. She looked lovely across the table, hair curled loosely around her face, wearing a pale short-sleeved sweater and a slim black skirt with a slit on one side that had made him crazy the moment he'd seen it, walking behind her from their side-by-side rooms. Light sandals and a necklace made of elephant hair cord with a small replica of a monarch butterfly hanging from it completed her outfit. "I like your necklace," he said, looking at it intently. She smiled mischievously. "Of course. It's a bug." He laughed. "Sara, someone very wise once told me you shouldn't reduce everything about a person down to a single quirk." She blushed, remembering that day. "Please tell me that when you think about me, you think about more than just bugs." There was a smile playing on his lips, but her heart tugged at the meaning behind his words. "Griss, I"-she was cut short by the booming voice of the president announcing that the after-dinner 'meet and greet' would be in a different room number than had been posted on the itinerary. Annoyed, Grissom and Sara both scribbled the change down in place of the original room on their itineraries. Sara watched the muscles in Grissom's arm flex as he wrote. He was wearing a short-sleeved blue shirt that complemented his eyes. God, she could think of so many things about Grissom that didn't involve bugs right now.Giving her head a characteristic shake, she said "Anyway. What was I saying?" Grissom dapped at his mouth with his napkin once more before folding it and placing it on his dirty plate. "It's alright. We'd better get to the 'meet and greet'." She laughed at the way he said it, with sarcasm, in an almost Jerry Lewis-type voice. He hadn't joked around like that in so long. "Really," she sighed in agreement. The last thing she wanted right then was to be surrounded by people she didn't know, and didn't particularly want to know. The only person in Colorado she cared about was in front of her.
Later that evening, Sara slipped one foot out of a sandal to rub the other aching foot with. She wondered how she'd gotten roped into this conversation. She was stranded amid a group that consisted of two CSI's and a forensic pathologist from New York, who was in the midst of an animated retelling of the last murder he'd autopsied right before he'd left for the conference. Which would have been interesting if it hadn't been a very long day, and if they hadn't just been served chocolate cake. The story had started because the color of the frosting reminded the pathologist of the dirt he'd found in what remained of his victim's head. Only the doctor didn't seem to realize that this wasn't' the most appetizing subject, even for a group of CSI's, around chocolate cake. He shoveled a forkful in his mouth as he continued to describe the fatal head wound. "So, yeah, it was the weirdest thing I'd ever seen. Basically his whole left side was gone- eye, cerebellum, hair, everything. The whole damn kit and caboodle." He paused, either for dramatic effect, to swallow his cake, or both. "I had no idea what the hell kind of accident or weapon had caused that damn thing, so I..." Sara tuned him out as the crowd in front of her parted and she spotted Grissom across the room. He was engaged in a debate with the USSFS president, but he looked as worn-out as she felt. He was a sight for sore eyes. Sara has lost track of him soon as they'd arrived at the meet-and- greet. "Excuse me," she mumbled, setting down her untouched piece of cake on the banquet table and slipping away from the group. She made her way towards her supervisor. Grissom spotted her coming and smiled gratefully. "John, this is one of my team, Sara Sidle. Sara, John Fuller." He placed a hand on the small of her back, sending chills up her spine. Noticing her slight shiver, "Are you cold?" he asked, concerned, as if the president wasn't even there. "No, no, I'm fine." She smiled at Grissom, feeling disbelief at his actions, then remembered where she was and put out her hand to the tall man in front of her. Fuller took it with both hands, making a prick of territorial anger flare in Grissom's chest. Grissom squeezed his finger tips further into Sara's back, protectively. She felt the increase in pressure and instantly felt heady with desire, finding it nearly impossible to focus on the person speaking to her. "What?..." she asked, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. "I said, haven't I met you before? I'm sure I have.Wait, have you ever worked in Boston?" "Huh?...Oh, yeah, yeah. No, I mean. Well, I went to Harvard." She squinted her eyes slightly. "Have we met before?" He nodded. "I believe so. I worked in Boston. Before I headed the Society." He added as way of explanation. "Oh," She said, not really caring. Grissom's hand was still on her back; nothing else mattered. It felt like it had been ages since he'd touched her. She used to be accustomed to his hand on her arm, her shoulder.it was heaven to feel him again, and affected her like it never had before. She realized Mr. Fuller was still speaking. "Wait, a minute-my son went to Harvard-that's it! You dated my son once, didn't you? Ken Fuller?" 'Oh, god.' Sara's heart sunk to her shoes. Ken Fuller. The man who introduced her to the infamous Mile High Club. The relationship had been a basic waste of time; in hindsight, Sara could see that she'd only gotten involved with the guy because she was itching for new experiences-namely sexual-and was bored with her life at the time. But they'd had nothing in common, other than both enjoying science. Ken was hoping to go to medical school, and Sara, at that point in time, had no idea what she wanted. Sara broke it off with Ken not too long after the fateful plane trip (which Ken had dragged her on-she had no interest in going to the beach for Spring Break; it wasn't her 'scene', but it was all Ken could talk about. And in order to look decent among his circle of friends, he needed a girlfriend with him. So Sara, who would have been more than happy to have spent Spring Break catching up on her reading and physics projects, found herself in Miami.) Soon after that, Grissom had come into her life, and turned everything around. She felt Grissom stiffen next to her. "Oh, yes-Ken. Yeah, we went out once or twice." She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "That feels like such a long time ago.How is he, now?" "Great! Married, twins on the way. He's practicing plastic surgery in Los Angeles." Sara bit her tongue to keep from laughing. "Oh, great. Good for him," Knowing that if she stayed at the gathering any longer she'd go ballistic, she turned to Grissom. "Say, Griss, I'm going to head out for the evening. You want to join me?" Grissom nodded. "Sure. We'll talk to you tomorrow, John," He couldn't hide the relief in his voice. They left a bewildered John Fuller behind them. It crossed Sara and Grissom's minds that it probably appeared to the society president that they where a couple going up to a shared room for the evening, but neither cared. As Grissom ushered Sara out of the room, she couldn't help but burst out laughing. "A plastic surgeon in California! He had all these aspirations about doing something to help the greater good. I don't see how carving Sharon Stone a new nose accomplishes that." Grissom smiled, relieved to hear her talking about her ex in a less-than flattering way. "Yes, it doesn't sound like the most.prestigious medical specialty for someone with high aspirations, when you put it that way." Sara sighed contentedly. "I'm so happy to be out of there." Grissom nodded emphatically. "God, so am I." He let out a sigh of relief. In unison, Sara and Grissom both said aloud, "I hate these types of things." They laughed a little, and then walked in comfortable silence through the large convention hall. "It'll be weird to sleep at night. You know? Even after driving all day, it's going to take me forever to fall asleep. I shouldn't have had so much coffee back there. Now I'm all keyed up." Grissom looked at her sideways and nodded thoughtfully. "Would you like to take a walk around the hotel or something? I'm not that tired, either; maybe it'll relax us a little." He asked, tenativley. His offer caught her by surprise, but she wasn't about to turn it down. "Sure; that sounds like a good idea." They headed to their rooms to get their wind breakers, then headed outside.
The two walked slowly, like a couple who'd been together for years, footsteps in tandem, their matching blue CSI jackets flapped against the wind as they talked. Sara told him about the pathologist with the cake- colored dirty head wound; Grissom told her similar conversations he'd overheard during the cake. "That is one of the better parts of these conventions, comparing notes and stories with other scientists. Oh, did I tell you, this weekend counts as 18 credits for your continuing education, so by spending the weekend here, you're getting out of a bunch of lectures and other wonderful times." Grissom smiled down at her. "Really? Wow, that's great! I mean, I'll probably go to the lectures anyway, but it's great to get so many credits racked up at once. That'll look great on my record." She beamed ear to ear at the prospect. Grissom watched her. She was so adorable, so full of life. His life revolved around the dead; but, as Catherine had said, he truly did feel like a living, breathing, thriving person when Sara Sidle was around.
They came to the end of the sidewalk. "You want to go across the street, explore a little?" he asked. "Absolutely." They waited for the 'walk' sign. Sara looked up at him and started to tell him something-but to his dismay, he couldn't hear anything. 'No, not now!' he willed his ears desperately. Sara's head was turned away from him at just the wrong angle, and he couldn't read her lips. How he hated those bleak moments when the word went eerily silent.Hoping Sara wouldn't notice, he began to walk across the street, looking down, willing the moment to pass.
Sara watched him, puzzled, and started to walk after him. She was startled by an ambulance that tore around the corner-headed straight for Grissom. "What the hell.GRISSOM!" she called out to him. But he was looking down, like someone lost, and didn't appear to be at all aware of the siren blaring or Sara's voice. "Gil!" she cried again, her heart pounding. "God, no."
Grissom saw the lights and looked up, frozen in shock. The damn thing was coming right at him. His ear popped him back into a hearing reality, and he was aware of Sara screaming his name behind. He turned around, horrified to see she was coming towards him, in the path of the vehicle. Everything was moving too fast. "No, don't!"-he yelled...