Gil Grissom thanked the man for his time and turned his attention back to the task at hand.  Two armed men had broken into a home in a gated community, terrorizing and robbing the homeowner and his family.  No one had been hurt, and so far there were no clues to the intruders' identities.  The neighbor he had just interviewed had been eager to help, but it was unlikely that his description of a dark colored sedan in the neighborhood earlier in the day would be of any use.

Re-entering the upscale home, he watched Sara as she lifted fingerprints from the edge of the kitchen counter.  This was the third straight day he'd assigned her to work with him, and the third straight day she had been distant, detached, and yet coolly professional.  Her demeanor was all business.    This attitude perplexed him.  It was as though she were angry with him.  Had he finally pushed her away for the last time?  He certainly hoped not.  He had hoped to begin rebuilding the friendship they once shared, and if that went well, maybe it could finally progress to something more.

"Would you like some help with that?" he offered amiably.

"No, thank you," Sara didn't meet his gaze. "I'm almost finished."

When the printing was done and the other evidence had been collected, the crime scene investigators loaded everything into the truck and headed back to the lab.  They drove in silence for a short while before Grissom made another attempt to engage his companion.

"You want to stop for dinner?"

Sara spoke in a soft monotone, keeping her eyes straight ahead, "No, I'm not really hungry."

"Sara," Gil inhaled deeply. "Is there something wrong?"

"Why do you want to have dinner?" she asked quietly.

"Because I'm hungry?" he was beginning to feel defensive and frustrated, and it was evident in his voice.

"So hit a drive-through.  Or drop me off at the lab and go eat."  Sara turned to stare out of the passenger window, effectively ending the conversation.

*^*^*^*^*^*

"Gil!"  Albert Robbins called out as Grissom passed by morgue.

"You need something, Al?"

"I need to talk to you for a minute," Al waved him into the small office.

"I think I may have made a mistake last week."

"Like what?" Gil asked warily.

"Your surgery last year…was that a secret? I thought it was public knowledge, but when I mentioned it to Sara, I got the impression it was a surprise for her.  She tried to cover, but still…"

"Well, it wasn't public knowledge," Grissom tried to remain composed, but was screaming internally.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to betray your confidence," Robbins apologized sincerely.

"It's not your fault.  It shouldn't have been a secret."

Grissom left the office, his head spinning.  Oh God, she did know.  She gave you one last chance to tell her yourself, and you blew it yet again!  You claim to want her friendship, but you continue to lie to her and deceive her.  How could he blame her for mistrusting him?  He knew he had to find a way to repair this relationship, but it just seemed to become increasingly confused and complicated with each passing day.  He felt inept when dealing with simple straightforward interpersonal interactions; how was he supposed to handle this mess?

Taking a seat behind his desk, he removed his glasses, closed his eyes and tried to rub away the pain and tension in his temples.  He had to confront this, that much he knew.  When he had summoned up the courage, he paged Sara to his office.

"Hey," she appeared in his doorway after a few minutes, holding up her pager.

"Come in, please," Grissom said softly. "And shut the door."

Sara did as directed.  She settled into an empty chair, her anxiety building.  "What's this about?"

"You asked me what I knew about otosclerosis."

"Yes."

"You know that I wasn't completely truthful."

Sara snorted, "Not completely truthful? What, you're a Senator now?  Call it what it is. You lied."

"Technically, I didn't lie," he knew he shouldn't be arguing this point, but he was beginning to feel defensive again.  "I didn't say I didn't know anything about it. I dodged the question.  I was evasive and deceptive, but I didn't lie."

"And you thought you weren't political," Sara's expression changed from anger to sadness. "You know what? It's not my business anyway.  It was when you jeopardized my safety as crime scenes, but it's resolved now, right? So it's no longer my business."

Gil sighed deeply and slumped his shoulders. "I'm a private person."  He paused for a beat, then continued, "But you're my friend.  I should have told you."

"I would have been there for you, you know?"

"I know."

She rose from her chair. "And we're not really friends. Not for a long time now.  This is just evidence."

"I really wanted to tell you, Sara," his voice caught on her name. "I was so afraid.  My whole world was spinning out of control.  It threatened everything—my career, my independence…I panicked.  I kept it from everyone.  Catherine only found out accidentally."

"Catherine knew?" Sara rolled her eyes. "Well, that figures."

"Sara, I'm sorry—"

"Forget about it.  It's the past.  I'm sorry you had to go through that, and I'm glad you're okay now. Really," she gave him a sad smile.

She left the office and disappeared into the hallway, leaving Grissom once again alone with his thoughts.

*^*^*^*^*^*

With the entire team gathered in the break room awaiting assignments, Robert Cavallo, the lab's Director, knew that the time was right to make his announcement.  He cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Good evening, everyone."

A chorus of voices politely returned the greeting.

"I have an announcement to make.  The decision has finally been made about the Lead CSI position.  Congratulations CSI Stokes."

"Thank you, Director Cavallo," Nick drawled, reaching out to shake the man's hand.

"Way to go, Man," Warrick slapped him on the back.  Catherine gave him a friendly hug.

Sara sat expressionless at the other end of the table.  "Congratulations, Nick," she offered him a forced smile.  A myriad of emotions played across her heart.  She loved Nick like a brother, and certainly wouldn't begrudge him a little success, but she wasn't happy that it had to come at her expense.  She knew that she deserved this promotion more than he did.  She glanced pointedly at Grissom, only to notice him avert his eyes.

"Yes, Nick, congratulations," Grissom said quickly. "Now let's get to work.  We have a triple shooting downtown. Looks gang-related. Everyone's in."

Jim Brass leaned on the doorframe, watching the reactions of Grissom and Sara with keen interest.  He knew that despite Sara's calm affect, she had to be boiling inside.  And she had every right to be.  If it was obvious to him that Sara was the best CSI Grissom had, it certainly should be obvious to Grissom.  "Let's go," he said dryly and walked away.  Well, this ought to be interesting.

He caught up with Sara during a quiet moment at the scene. She was marking and photographing a number of shell casings in the dark alley.

"For what it's worth, I think you got a raw deal," he told her candidly.

"Thanks, but I'm not surprised by it."

"You're not disappointed?"

"I didn't say I wasn't disappointed," she looked up at him. "I said I'm not surprised."

Brass knelt beside her. "Why aren't you surprised?"

"I can't do anything right by that man lately."

"Hmm.  I'm not sure what that's about, but I know he does have a great deal of respect for your work."

Sara sighed, "He's got a fine way of showing it."

"Come on, you don't seem like the type that needs the hand-holding and back-patting anyway, not the way Stokes does."

"True, but I sure could use the money.  And everybody likes to be appreciated for their efforts.  Even me."

"You don't think anyone appreciates your efforts?"

"No. Do I sound petty?"

Brass flashed her a friendly smile, "No, you sound human."

"Maybe if I blew up the lab or something I'd be eligible for a promotion, eh?" 

She turned to Jim and they both began chuckling.

"Thanks for the support, Jim.  I really do appreciate it."

"I'm not the enemy, you know," he winked at her. "I can be a good friend, too."

"Yes, you can," Sara smiled back.

*^*^*^*^*^*

"Are you out of your mind?" Jim Brass stomped into Grissom's office and stooped in front of the desk, leaning with his palms on it.

"Fine, thank you. And you?" Grissom responded with irritation.  He had successfully hidden in his office most of the shift, knowing that Sara was upset.  He regretted recommending Nick almost as soon as he had done it, and now there was no way out.  Another nail in his coffin as far as his relationship with Sara was concerned.

"Did you actually recommend Nick, or is this some kind of cosmic joke?"

Gil appeared defeated, "Ah, that."

"Yeah, that," Brass's tone softened. "What were you thinking?"

"I thought I was doing the right thing."

"And now?"

"Now I'm not so sure."

"It's clear to everyone else on the planet that Sara was the most qualified candidate.  Her record is spotless.  She's the best you've got, and you know it."

"I know that, Jim.  Like I said, I may have made a mistake."

"You may have?" Brass switched gears. "Look, Gil, I was there, remember?"

He continued off Grissom's blank stare, "The doctor? All that stuff you said? I was there.  I know how you feel about her."

Grissom remained silent.  Brass shook his head, "You're really blowing it."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think she's happy here?  You let your personal feelings get in the way of your professional judgment.  It cost her something she really wanted.  It may just be the last straw.  Put yourself in her shoes for a minute. You totally take her for granted.  No respect at all. Would you stay if you were her?"

"You're amazing," Jim brought his hand to his forehead. "You've got everything you could ever want right there in front of you and you're just throwing it away."

"It's not that simple."

"It is that simple.  It's only as complicated as you choose to make it.  Maybe if you would just confront your feelings, they wouldn't cloud your judgment like that.  You think about what I've said, my friend."

TBC