Title: Climate Change of Heart
Author: Ambrosia (o0cellar_door0o@hotmail.com)
Rating: G
Summary: Set a month or so after Sara was brought in to the LVPD Forensics unit. Grissom and her are driving through the desert on the way to further investigate their latest case. Oh, and it's really hot. (Summaries are soo my thing, can't you tell? ;)).
Disclaimer: Believe me, if Grissom and Sara were mine this season would have ended *very* differently.
Note: This was originally written in response to the challenge "Road Trip" at the livejournal community multifandom1000. (Thanks PT for the inspiration!)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sara gazed out the opened window at the rust coloured hills and the vibrant blue sky as the desert flew past, and, for the hundredth time that hour, wiped away the perspiration that had formed on her brow.
God it was hot. Well over a hundred degrees hot.
Her throat was parched and she had already coaxed the last precious drop of liquid from her water bottle half an hour ago. The small hairs on the back of her neck prickled with sweat, and she mentally patted herself on the back for always keeping a butterfly clip in her bag in case of hair emergencies. The code-red of earlier had been resolved when she had piled her curly mop on top of her head and up and away from her unbearably hot skin. The few tendrils that had escaped her messy updo were now being carried in the wind's vicious currents as the Tahoe sped along the deserted highway. Though she knew it was anything but, the air felt mildly cool as it rushed over her, providing only a slight, (though greedily accepted), respite from the scorching heat. August in Nevada was something no one should ever have to experience.
She just couldn't handle it. Her body was accustomed to the year-round mild San Francisco weather and, sure, it wasn't all wonderful but, she'd take a little fog over this any day. She raised her arm from where it rested on the car door frame and gently brushed her fingertips over the back of her slick neck. The cool pads met burning flesh and, the contrast, gave her goose bumps.
Would she *ever* get used to this climate?
Looking to distract herself from her uncomfortable state, she glanced to her left at the man behind the wheel. He was staring straight ahead, looking intensely focused. She knew though that this focus was not in fact on the road before them but, miles away, back in the lab or at the earlier crime scene or, perhaps both at the same time. He was busy analyzing their latest case, the one they were driving way the hell out in the middle of the desert to investigate. A robbery/homicide.
The clerk of a road-side convenience store had been found strangled to death behind the counter, $400 dollars taken from the till. No one had witnessed the murder itself but, several people had seen a beat-up red El Camino flee the scene. Police had later found a vehicle matching this description abandoned along the roadside some sixty miles out of the city. Brass had contacted Grissom with the news who had then relayed it to Sara as he ushered her out of the lab and into the parking lot. He had conveniently not mentioned just how long a drive they were in for until they'd reached the 50mph mark and it was too dangerous for her to jump out.
And now here she was, an hour into the drive, miserably hot, thirsty and wishing she was back in the temperature controlled lab, even if it meant she had to analyze stomach contents or, something equally glamorous.
And now here *he* was, seemingly obliviously to the sweltering heat and everything else around him. Sitting next to her in body only, his mind off elsewhere, trying to put together the pieces of this latest puzzle.
She watched him now though, discreetly of course yet... intently. And as her eyes traversed his face, mentally taking note of his features, she felt her frustration, with him, the heat, all of it, gradually melt away.
His hair, at one time a rich brown like her own, was now peppered with grey, not so much a sign of his age she thought, but his wisdom.
His forehead, broad, and glistening with tiny beads of sweat. Three distinct lines could be seen above his brow, furrowed in concentration.
His eyes, narrowed, were a smoky blue. They danced when he was excited. She could get lost in them.
His chin, with itss sharp cleft, jutted out slightly. His jaw set in determination.
Finally, pursed, as he was in deep thought, his lips... god, his lips...
"Sara?"
She awoke from her trance to find Grissom staring back at her curiously.
"Hmm?" she managed, as she tried to pull herself together.
"You okay?". His expression was now twinged with concern, something that both embarrassed and amused her.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I was just thinking about the case."
"What about it?"
"Well..."
Something Sara, say something. Anything.
"I uh, I was just thinking, strangling is intimate. It's a crime of passion and usually indicates that the vic and the attacker knew each other, right?"
Grissom nodded but looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.
"Well, I'm thinking that, that the suspect didn't stop by the store to fill up or, even for a HoHo and a coke. I'm betting he went there to see the vic and an argument ensued, which then led to the murder. But the lack of a weapon leads me to believe that it wasn't planned. Taking the money was likely an afterthought, maybe even as a cover-up, done to make us assume it was simply a robbery gone wrong."
*Nice one, Sara*, she silently congratulated herself. *A very astute analysis put together in record time*. What she had said was believable enough, and Grissom would be none the wiser that she had been ogling him like some naive ninth grader with a crush on the fresh-out-of-college teaching assistant.
"I mean, who pre-meditates a homicide by strangulation?" she finished, satisfied.
Grissom had turned his attentions back to the road at some point during her cover story, and now said nothing. Sara was just beginning to wonder if he had heard her at all when...
"Maybe he just forgot the gun at home", he shrugged casually, eyes never leaving the highway.
Sara stared, incredulous.
Then, it happened. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as his mouth slowly formed into a teasing smirk. And she could have sworn his eyes had literally sparkled before he shot her a knowing wink.
Wow, he could really turn on the boyish charm when he wanted to.
Smiling wide now, uncontrollably, she lowered her head as her cheeks flushed crimson.
And despite the ringing in hers ears at the blood rush, she heard Grissom let out a soft chuckle, feeling herself do the same.
Sara sighed, shaking her head, before turning away. Once again gazing upon the vast desert.
But, it was different now. Even as she felt the familiar wetness weighing heavy on her brow, she knew something had changed.
Yeah, she could get used to this climate. She could get used to it just fine.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Author: Ambrosia (o0cellar_door0o@hotmail.com)
Rating: G
Summary: Set a month or so after Sara was brought in to the LVPD Forensics unit. Grissom and her are driving through the desert on the way to further investigate their latest case. Oh, and it's really hot. (Summaries are soo my thing, can't you tell? ;)).
Disclaimer: Believe me, if Grissom and Sara were mine this season would have ended *very* differently.
Note: This was originally written in response to the challenge "Road Trip" at the livejournal community multifandom1000. (Thanks PT for the inspiration!)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sara gazed out the opened window at the rust coloured hills and the vibrant blue sky as the desert flew past, and, for the hundredth time that hour, wiped away the perspiration that had formed on her brow.
God it was hot. Well over a hundred degrees hot.
Her throat was parched and she had already coaxed the last precious drop of liquid from her water bottle half an hour ago. The small hairs on the back of her neck prickled with sweat, and she mentally patted herself on the back for always keeping a butterfly clip in her bag in case of hair emergencies. The code-red of earlier had been resolved when she had piled her curly mop on top of her head and up and away from her unbearably hot skin. The few tendrils that had escaped her messy updo were now being carried in the wind's vicious currents as the Tahoe sped along the deserted highway. Though she knew it was anything but, the air felt mildly cool as it rushed over her, providing only a slight, (though greedily accepted), respite from the scorching heat. August in Nevada was something no one should ever have to experience.
She just couldn't handle it. Her body was accustomed to the year-round mild San Francisco weather and, sure, it wasn't all wonderful but, she'd take a little fog over this any day. She raised her arm from where it rested on the car door frame and gently brushed her fingertips over the back of her slick neck. The cool pads met burning flesh and, the contrast, gave her goose bumps.
Would she *ever* get used to this climate?
Looking to distract herself from her uncomfortable state, she glanced to her left at the man behind the wheel. He was staring straight ahead, looking intensely focused. She knew though that this focus was not in fact on the road before them but, miles away, back in the lab or at the earlier crime scene or, perhaps both at the same time. He was busy analyzing their latest case, the one they were driving way the hell out in the middle of the desert to investigate. A robbery/homicide.
The clerk of a road-side convenience store had been found strangled to death behind the counter, $400 dollars taken from the till. No one had witnessed the murder itself but, several people had seen a beat-up red El Camino flee the scene. Police had later found a vehicle matching this description abandoned along the roadside some sixty miles out of the city. Brass had contacted Grissom with the news who had then relayed it to Sara as he ushered her out of the lab and into the parking lot. He had conveniently not mentioned just how long a drive they were in for until they'd reached the 50mph mark and it was too dangerous for her to jump out.
And now here she was, an hour into the drive, miserably hot, thirsty and wishing she was back in the temperature controlled lab, even if it meant she had to analyze stomach contents or, something equally glamorous.
And now here *he* was, seemingly obliviously to the sweltering heat and everything else around him. Sitting next to her in body only, his mind off elsewhere, trying to put together the pieces of this latest puzzle.
She watched him now though, discreetly of course yet... intently. And as her eyes traversed his face, mentally taking note of his features, she felt her frustration, with him, the heat, all of it, gradually melt away.
His hair, at one time a rich brown like her own, was now peppered with grey, not so much a sign of his age she thought, but his wisdom.
His forehead, broad, and glistening with tiny beads of sweat. Three distinct lines could be seen above his brow, furrowed in concentration.
His eyes, narrowed, were a smoky blue. They danced when he was excited. She could get lost in them.
His chin, with itss sharp cleft, jutted out slightly. His jaw set in determination.
Finally, pursed, as he was in deep thought, his lips... god, his lips...
"Sara?"
She awoke from her trance to find Grissom staring back at her curiously.
"Hmm?" she managed, as she tried to pull herself together.
"You okay?". His expression was now twinged with concern, something that both embarrassed and amused her.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I was just thinking about the case."
"What about it?"
"Well..."
Something Sara, say something. Anything.
"I uh, I was just thinking, strangling is intimate. It's a crime of passion and usually indicates that the vic and the attacker knew each other, right?"
Grissom nodded but looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.
"Well, I'm thinking that, that the suspect didn't stop by the store to fill up or, even for a HoHo and a coke. I'm betting he went there to see the vic and an argument ensued, which then led to the murder. But the lack of a weapon leads me to believe that it wasn't planned. Taking the money was likely an afterthought, maybe even as a cover-up, done to make us assume it was simply a robbery gone wrong."
*Nice one, Sara*, she silently congratulated herself. *A very astute analysis put together in record time*. What she had said was believable enough, and Grissom would be none the wiser that she had been ogling him like some naive ninth grader with a crush on the fresh-out-of-college teaching assistant.
"I mean, who pre-meditates a homicide by strangulation?" she finished, satisfied.
Grissom had turned his attentions back to the road at some point during her cover story, and now said nothing. Sara was just beginning to wonder if he had heard her at all when...
"Maybe he just forgot the gun at home", he shrugged casually, eyes never leaving the highway.
Sara stared, incredulous.
Then, it happened. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as his mouth slowly formed into a teasing smirk. And she could have sworn his eyes had literally sparkled before he shot her a knowing wink.
Wow, he could really turn on the boyish charm when he wanted to.
Smiling wide now, uncontrollably, she lowered her head as her cheeks flushed crimson.
And despite the ringing in hers ears at the blood rush, she heard Grissom let out a soft chuckle, feeling herself do the same.
Sara sighed, shaking her head, before turning away. Once again gazing upon the vast desert.
But, it was different now. Even as she felt the familiar wetness weighing heavy on her brow, she knew something had changed.
Yeah, she could get used to this climate. She could get used to it just fine.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
