"Whoa, whoa, hold on there!" Warrick called, chasing Sara as she made her way toward the front doors. Finally getting a hold of her shoulder, he said lamely, "Uh, so how you holding up?"

"I'm fine, Warrick. You can tell Nick the same."

"Well . . . how are you getting home, Sara, if you're fighting with Grissom? You're not gonna walk or something, are you? 'Cause you know you can catch a ride with me or Nick."

"I'm almost thirty-two years old, Warrick. I think I can manage a ride home with Grissom without pitching a hissy fit."

Warrick shrugged elaborately. He knew better than to argue with that, but he really doubted that, thirty years past the terrible twos or not, Sara could make it home without making Grissom want to dump her on the side of the road.

Sara just smiled at him. She knew exactly what he was thinking – probably what everyone in the lab was thinking - and she wasn't going to try to argue with her friends about it. "See you tomorrow, War," she said, smiling sarcastically, and made her exit in an appropriately regal fashion.

When she walked into the parking lot, Grissom had both hands propped on the hood of her car and was leaning forward, obviously watching for her. His eyes were dancing with a boyish sense of anticipation at seeing her, and Sara hid a smile. She saw him before he saw her, and quickly ducked behind another car and maneuvered her way behind his back carefully.

When she was within reach, she stood up quietly and dropped a kiss on his neck. He jumped, just as she had hoped. When he spun around to face her, though, Sara could only offer a weak smile. "I'm, uh . . ."

Grissom had to admit that he was surprised that she was speaking to him at all. He knew how to handle Sara's silent treatment, and he'd even learned how to handle her when she acted ambivalent, but he'd never known Sara to act friendly like this while she was angry with him. "Morning, Sara," he finally said, deciding that was a safe enough response.

"Morning yourself," she shot back as she opened the door and lowered herself into the passenger's seat.

"Um, Sara? You want me to drive?" What was going on? Now he was really confused.

"Yeah," she said. "You let me drive yours last week, so I figure it's only fair to let you drive mine."

Mentally shrugging, Grissom decided that he had nothing else to occupy his mind while he waited for the other shoe to drop, anyway. "Ok." He plucked the keys out of her hand and started the engine. They drove in silence until they turned onto his block. "Give it up, Sara!" he finally growled. "Just yell at me and get it over with."

"I don't have anything to yell at you about."

"Are you trying to make me crash this car? Give me a heart attack? I can't deal with the suspense, Sara. Vent!"

She turned toward him. Grissom pulled away slightly, expecting a punch in the arm. When no blow came, he sat forward again, feeling rather silly. "You pitched a fit tonight when I helped Meghan, Sara. You do not forget things like that. You have the proverbial memory of a elephant, at least when it comes to my transgressions."

She shook her head. "Park, Grissom. If you want to talk, we'll do it inside." Taking her literally, Grissom screeched the car to a halt in his driveway and dragged her out of the car. "Chill, Gris!" Sara exclaimed. "I'm not going anywhere but inside, you don't need to be dragging me by the wrist."

Grissom looked down, realized he was doing exactly that, and dropped her arm. He wasn't really becoming one of those controlling men in Sara's life, was he? "Sorry."

"S'fine," she assured him. "Can we just go in before you drop dead on the driveway?"

Grissom nodded and they entered the house decorously. Just as Sara was beginning to relax, Grissom seized her hand again, pulled her down to the couch, and began kissing her. When she began to respond, he gathered all his willpower and set her away from him.

"There. Now that I've got that out of my system, let's discuss your performance tonight."

Sara frowned ferociously at him. "It was not a performance, Grissom. It's called jealousy. Remember it? It happens when you see your significant other in a compromising position with a person of the opposite sex who isn't you."

Grissom was silent for a moment. "Oh," was all he could think of to say.

"But like I said, I have nothing to yell at you about. I overreacted about you and Meghan, I had no reason to be so mean to you or her."

Grissom blinked. "You are joking, right? Sara, my Sara, admitting that she was wrong? Not taking advantage of the opportunity to yell at me?"

Sara growled and gave him a shove in the chest, causing him to topple backwards from his sitting position. "I don't yell at you that often, Gil Grissom! In fact, I hardly yell at you at all!" She pointed a finger at him and waved it threateningly. "Here I am trying to apologize to you, and all you can do is mock me, you ass."

Grissom sighed. "Sorry again." Then a thought hit him. Only half-jokingly, he said, "I get it now. I got angry over Greg, so now you're trying to show me up by pretending to not be angry over Meghan. You're trying to make yourself calmer than you are."

"What?" Sara blinked at him, furrowing her brow. "You got angry about Greg, yes. I got angry about Meghan, yes. You eventually apologized, sort of. I just apologized. Where's the issue here? This is not a calmness competition or something."

Grissom sat up silently. Why wasn't Sara angry about him flirting with Meghan Carter? The reason he'd gotten so angry when Greg kissed her was because he felt protective . . . . and, though he didn't want to admit it, because he wished her affections belonged only to him. Did she not feel protective of him? Ok, he could understand that. He was a man; women don't usually need to protect men. But did she not want his affections focused on her? That, he realized, was the ultimate question that was nagging at him.

"Grissom? Earth to Grissom, come in Grissom," Sara singsonged, pulling Grissom out of his thoughts.

He focused intently on her eyes and prepared to read her reaction. "Sara . . . do you love me?"