Sara'd had no real use for love, not before Vegas.

Sure, she'd dabbled. Never anything serious though, she was a scientist. Romance had no place in a lab.

That was before Vegas.

Before Warrick pushing Greg against the lockers, one hand gripping his wrist the other on his throat. Sara had almost interfered before she realized Greg wasn't protesting, not even a little, even though his wrist had finger-bruises the next day. Before Catherine and her hips, her leather jacket and slow, toothy smile.

Before Grissom. His eyes, his mouth, and the way she never used to bite her nails.