"This is adorable, you know that." Sara regarded Grissom from the far end of the fishing boat. A big, canvas fishing hat drooped over her face.

"It's the choke. Just give me a minute." Grissom struggled with the outboard engine.

"You're only pretending you know how to fish. I can tell because I actually know how to fish. You've rigged this poles wrong. I am surprised that a genius like you couldn't do a better job of simulating competence here. This is not brain surgery, you know. Do you want me to fix the outboard for you?"

"No! Thank you very much, Sara. I much prefer to have you sit there and heckle me." Grissom didn't bother to favor her with a look.

"Okay. You got this coming. You know that. You drag me out of the house. You refuse to answer questions about where we are going. And now we are sitting in the middle of Lake Mead because you thought it would be a good idea to take me fishing."

"All right, Sara. Let's try this. Do you know what's wrong with the motor?" Grissom turned back toward her.

"You never adjusted the trim. Your motor has been running at about 40-50 efficiency for the last 45 minutes. You flooded it. I figure you going to have to let it sit for an hour before you try again."

"And you didn't think to tell me any of this before."

"Hey, this is your party, and it's not like you've been keeping me informed. I've noticed this about you. Engines aren't really your thing."

"Nope. I guess not."

"And so now you have me out in the middle of this huge lake with a dead motor. What's next?"

Grissom looked around him. "Well, it's a nice day. Sunny. Beautiful scenery. Could be worse."

"Okay, but for a minute, Gris, just tell me how this all came together for you. I'm curious."

"I thought you should get out of the house. And you said you didn't want to be around people. Plus you need the fresh air, but not a lot of exercise. And…"

"And you figured that if I was in a boat that I couldn't get away if the conversation got tough."

"You do tend to disappear when you get frustrated. Often, you don't wait to see if I even have a response for you."

Sara grinned. "I like the hat you bought me. I feel like Gilligan."

"Well, you don't want to get sunburn. Not good for the healing process."

"Gris, are you my boss or my mother or my friend or my prom date or what?"

"Why are you hiding in your house?"

"Wow. So this is what's going on."

"I'm worried. Others are worried. You cut yourself off."

"At some point, Gris, you are healed enough to really understand what really happened. You notice the damage. You can see the cost of your actions on the faces around you. So you turn off the phone, take the drowsy pills, and retreat." Sara's eyes, her sole communication after the attack, were now hidden behind glasses and under her hat.

"I don't know what to say"

"So you finally have me trapped, and that's all you can think of."

"Do you remember everything?"

She turned her head away and stared at the shore for a moment. "I remember sending the kids off to the neighbors. I remember going into the house, and I remember the look on the woman's face when she was trying to tell me that her husband was coming down the stairs. I remember laying on the floor, and I could only see carpet. I couldn't seem to move. My body kind of shut down, I think. I remembered being kicked in the face and in the stomach. And I remember laying there while they talked about killing me. It was an interesting conversation. I guarantee you that."

Grissom stared at her unflinchingly, waiting.

Sara reached a hand under her glasses and squeezed at her eyes. They sat together quietly for a while; the sound of water lapping against the boar gaining presence.

She took a breath and started again. "I think I know how hard it would have been. I was around after Holly. I rememb…"

"No, Sara, you don't know." His voice was low. "You don't understand how hard it would be. You can't possibly."

"Grissom…"

"You're not Holly. Don't ever make that mistake. You've been there for five years. You're a…presence. Your heart and your passion and your tirelessness. You have friends, people who would be forever changed… Do you understand that?"

"This is why I'm trying to sleep 18 hours a day with the phone off the hook."

Grissom leaned forward. "Jim told me what he said to you. Said he told you that you weren't a hero to him. He was wrong to say that. I told him that. You risked your life to save those kids. I understand what you did."

"So I was wrong, but I also wasn't wrong." She pulled her glasses down her nose to stare at him.

"Confusing, isn't it?" He began a smile.

She scrunched up her face and stared at him, shaking her head slowly. After a moment, she leaned over the side of the boat, and, suddenly Grissom found a spray of lake water in his face. He wiped the water from his face and heard, for the first time in a long while, Sara Sidle laugh.

………………………………....................................................................................................................

"Okay, People, how are we doing?" Brass was directing from a chair in the corner, his feet up on the edge of the table. He was slowly nursing a beer, his sleeves rolled up and his jacket slung on the chair behind him. On the surface, he looked like he didn't have a care in the world. However, he had organized his group into two teams; one team working on the book and the other working on how Larry Madison could have killed Vivian without leaving any evidence. The team working on the book had become mired in the intricacies of the number and letter combinations. Brass was giving that team space. The other team was having a rather boisterous time figuring out how Vivian was killed. Keeping them in line was taking up all of his attention.

"So we have two theories going now. Hodges is working on the idea that Madison was able to enter the room, grab the paperweight, and kill Vivian without leaving any trace evidence. The rest of us have been working on how Madison might have killed her without being in the same room." Doc Robins reported.

"So Hodges is all alone on his idea," Brass observed.

Archie snorted. "So far, his only working theory is that Madison came up behind her dressed in a latex body suit, beaned her, and then took off."

"Well, it's better than whatever telekinesis theories the rest of you are working on ."

"Actually, I think we can do better than that," said Warrick. "We're thinking that Larry didn't have to be in the room. If you notice the room is situated in the basement. There are three small windows that are ground level."

"The windows were all closed, Rick. I remember that." Brass had his feet on the floor and was leaning forward.

"I have this kind of window, Jim. It opens to the inside, but if it was already open, and the killer used it to access the victim, it could be closed from the outside. My eldest did it all the time when he snuck out of the house at night. He'd climb out, tie a string to the inside handle, pull the window down, and finish closing it by pulling on the string. Took me months to figure out what he was up to."

"Okay Doc, supposing that's the case. What then? Madison takes a paperweight, throws it through the window and kills her."

"Not enough velocity for that." Warrick pushed some photos toward Brass. "But look at these photos we took when we searched Madison's truck. Lots of sports equipment. See anything in there you like?"

"You think he used a baseball bat?"

"Look harder."

Brass peered closely at the photo. A smile spread across his face. "That wouldn't be a bona fide sling shot, would it?"

"He could have sat at the open window, waited until she came in, aimed, and buried it in as deep as we found it."

Hodges grabbed the photo. "If you can get me this sling shot, I could probably find traces of glass in the sling."

Brass grabbed his phone. Soon, he was barking at a deputy about waking up a judge.

"Hey Hodges," said Warrick. "When we seize the truck, I promise to keep an eye out for that latex body suit, you know, just in case."

………………………………..................................................................................................

Sara pulled on the cord once more. The motor puttered bravely, but couldn't hold. Sara leaned over the motor and rested. The exertion was more than she bargained for. Grissom had traded places with her. He now sat on the front end of the boat. Watching her pale, thin arm pull the cord almost made him wince. He wanted to reach over and do it for her, but he knew if he tried it, he'd be met with resistance.

"You okay?" he ventured.

"It needs more time. Probably another half hour, hour maybe." Sara brushed sweat from her brow. She settled back into her seat facing him.

"I mean it though, Sara. Are you going to be okay?"

She shrugged. "I think so. Going have bad dreams. Going to have to rebuild some trust with you, Brass too. But I can do it. Hell, I've survived worse."

"You have?"

She let out a low whistle. "I'm really just laying it out there, aren't I?"

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Grissom leaned forward.

"Ah…no, it's okay. Hard times. We've all had them. You lost your Dad. Warrick lost his parents. Catherine lost Eddie. Just a normal part of life, right?" It almost looked like her fishing hat was falling further over her face.

"Who did you lose?"

"Maybe another time, Grissom. Maybe another time."

They both sat back, silent, drifting slowly with the wave of the boat. Grissom saw a boat coming in not 200 ft. away. He thought about standing up and gesturing. He could get their attention and then they could pull them in or maybe they knew what to do about the motor. But he didn't do any of those things. For awhile, he watched her profile. She had her eyes fixed on a group waterskiing to her left. Then he tried again.

"Catherine says that I frustrate you," he stated.

Sara erupted with something close to a choke. Then she turned to look at him. "This was news to you?"

"I can be a little…obtuse, shall we say when it comes to the people around me."

"Well stated, Grissom."

"What is it that I do? What would help that?"

"Oh boy, Grissom. Don't ask questions like that unless you really want some answers."

Grissom suddenly wished he was no longer on a boat in the middle of Lake Mead with no working motor. She saw the look on his face and chuckled.

"No, it's okay, Sara. Tell me." Grissom tried to simulate a nonchalance.

"Where do I start?" Sara thought for a moment. "When we work together, you and I, sometimes there is a connection. I know what you're thinking before anyone else does. We have a communication that is…unique. It makes me feel close to you. You make me laugh. I enjoy being with you. That almost never happens for me. It makes me want more from you."

"We do work well together. I value you your friendship, Sara."

Suddenly she sat forward. "Okay, right there. This is where I want to kill you sometimes. I am saying something to you, something hard to say, and you're not listening."

"I am!"

"Grissom, there is not about us working well together. This is about…more."

"This is about you asking me out?" Grissom asked.

"You are so close to taking a header off this boat, Gilbert Grissom. I would really get secured on that end of the boat if I were you. Maybe tie on a life preserver, you know."

"I'm trying to understand."

"I'm done trying to guide you through this. You know what I am talking about."

Grissom chose his words carefully. "This is about you and I having an attraction for one another."

Sara threw her arms up in a cheer.

"And you want to act on that attraction."

"I don't know. Maybe. Right now, I'm just stunned that you acknowledged its existence. Some days, we are so in sync. It's like we're the only two people in the lab. And others, it is like I'm the receptionist whose name you forgot. Sometimes, you stare at me. Make comments that lead me to believe that I am special to you…And then nothing. You make me crazy."

"I didn't mean…"

"Stop! Don't do it, Grissom. Not one more comment about how unaware you are of what you do and how you don't mean anything. Don't make it seem like I'm crazy."

Grissom sat there for a while. And then he started slowly. "I do flirt with you, Sara. I think about you. Yours is the first face I search for when I walk in the door every evening. People notice. I know that. And every time, I sit down to consider it, I remind myself how impossible it is. And I back off."

His confession stunned her. She took her sunglasses off and perched her hat up off her face. "You admit this?"

"I do. I admit it. I don't want to make you crazy. I am just trying to handle this…situation the only way I know how."

"By ignoring it." She said it softly as if it was something she had never before considered.

"A relationship with me could ruin your career. It could ruin mine. It's inappropriate. I'm your supervisor. Ecklie would, well, he would use this against both of us. But most of all, your friendship means a lot to me. It would be a risk to that."

"You really worked this out, didn't you?"

"Yes, I have really thought this through, Sara."

"You won't even try."

"There is no try about this. There is no casual 'let's see what happens' about this. It's too much to risk. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"What about you? Maybe I wouldn't be the only one getting hurt. Maybe you think about that more than you're willing to admit."

Grissom looked puzzled. He opened his mouth to say something, but she was already pulling on the cord to the motor. It erupted into a healthy growl. Without looking back, she swung the boat around and pressed for the shore. Even in the same boat, he realized she had found ways to escape.

……………………………….....................................................................................................................

"Those guys working on the slingshot angle really have a leg up on you guys. I already have a warrant sworn out on the truck. But I'm sure that by the time Warrick gets back, he would be willing to help you guys out. He's that kind of guy." Brass picked up a new beer. Greg glared at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Nicky's off checking out a lead, Jim. I wouldn't be surprised if we were on our way as well." Jacqui looked at him, hands on her hips.

"Okay, what do you got?"

"We got numbers," Greg said. "This is much harder than what they had to work on."

"Don't rile me, Saunders. It's almost three in the morning." Jim growled.

"To be more precise, we have patterns of numbers. We were able to isolate this patterns and work on them separately. That was my idea." David pushed papers of numbers in front of Brass.

"Don't bother me with specifics. I lost my ability to understand you before you even started talking." Brass was staring at him intensely. Jacqui was grinning and shaking her head.

"Oh!" David blinked. "All right then. We were able to eliminate a number of theories from the first pattern of numbers and we narrowed it down to map coordinates."

"Outstanding!" Brass swung his beer skyward.

"But which map?" Greg began. "Well, we were able to check out a few city maps with no luck, but then Nicky remembered the pocket--"

"The pocket city guide that was in Madison's truck! Of course! Where are those pictures?" Brass started to shuffle through the photos on the table. Greg quickly corralled the photos and drew them in, away from Brass.

"Well," Greg began, returning to his presentation. "Since we don't have that guide with us, we used one that Jacqui had in her car. And with it, we were able to isolate general locations all over Vegas."

"Generally in the more affluent neighborhoods." David added.

"Jacqui, thank you for your guide. You are really a beautiful woman, you know that?"

Jacqui laughed heartily.

"The next set of numbers seem to be abbreviated street addresses. The numbers and then the initials of the streets. We've been marking the coordinates here." David was gesturing at a map taped on the wall.

"Good job!"

"And then there is the third set of numbers," Greg began. As if on cue, Nick walked into the room.

"We did it. The numbers match security codes for homes at each of the addresses we identified. Security company says that there have been 8 break-ins in the last 6 months. Got past security every time." Nick was waving paper at Brass.

"Bingo!"

Nick took a look at the effusive captain and raised his eyebrows.

"I still don't get why if that book was so important, Madison didn't go in and get it."

Nick turned to him. "Ah, Greggo, here's the best part. Employee of the month for September at the security company was Ellen Campbell. Ring a bell?"

"That's Madison latest girlfriend, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Ellen steals the codes and Madison sells them. Worked great until Vivian got suspicious. No clues how that happened. But she did and stole the book. Madison didn't want the book back. He probably already sold everything in it. Naw, he just wanted to kill nosy ol' Vivian. Rigged the slingshot because he knew we would peg him as a suspect because he was a suspect in the murder of the first girlfriend murder."

"It's all circumstantial."

"Wait 'til we get Ellen in the box and show her the codes. I'm thinking we could be done by breakfast. Maybe go to the Flamingo for a little steak and eggs." Nick gave Greg a wink.

Brass was working on the phone ordering warrants on Madison and his girlfriend, Ellen. Greg reached over, grabbed a beer, and then handed another to David. David looked around for Doc Robins, and then furtively took it. Nick laughed at David, and then pulled one for himself and Jacqui. Brass got off the phone and swung a startled Jacqui into an impromptu two step. She laughed and let him lead her into the hallway.

"Jacqui baby, where have you been all my life?"

"In bed with my husband." She was enjoying the inebriated homicide detective.

She had to adjust quickly as he transitioned into a waltz.

"Did you hear what I said to Sara Sidle?" he asked.

"Yup."

"How does everybody hear everything?" Then he elaborately waved away the question. She laughed at him. "My real question is, should I apologize to her?"

"Absolutely."

"What do you think I should do?"

She pondered this and then grinned at him. "I say we pluck your fattest credit card out of your wallet, and we order roses. Deep, lusty red roses with sprays of baby's breath."

"Lusty, red…Woman, I'm trying to say that I'm sorry not…Hubba! Hubba!"

"Listen! You order these roses, but you have them delivered. I'll arrange to have them placed on that desk outside of Grissom's office. He can't miss 'em. We put on a card that says, 'Lovely Sara.' And we leave them there for half the shift before we tell Sara. It'll drive him nuts."

"Nice. I like it. Now, how about we get old Jim a thick cup of coffee before the suspects arrive." He twirled her once more, and then let her lead him off to the break room.

………………………………...................................................................................................................

It was 3 a.m. and Grissom was parked in front of Sara's apartment. She was curled up, asleep in the passenger seat. She had slept the whole drive from Lake Mead. Conversation had all but died back at the lake. And so here he was, doing what he did best with Sara Sidle. He was staring at her. She didn't look as fragile as she had when he had picked her up yesterday morning. In fact, he was more than convinced that the strong willed Sara was more than capable of recovering.

He wished he could tell her things. Like how much he liked the shape of her face. It was sort of heart shaped. He imagined running his hand down her cheek onto her neck. She moved slightly and a lock of hair slid down and settled itself across her face. It obstructed his view. He reached over cautiously, secure in her oblivion, and pushed it back. She sighed deeply and dug in more deeply against the seat.

He sat back himself and thought about the conversations of the day. Instead of reflecting reluctantly, he found himself thinking of the intimacy of her words and the honesty. He was also amazed at his own ability to share himself with her. It wasn't what he expected.

"You're a coward, you know." The grainy voice startled him out of his reverie.

He turned to see those bright, brown eyes wide open.

"And you're a bad scientist. You can't think something through when you don't see both sides."

He just listened.

"The irrational, our emotions and feelings, cannot be disregarded as some unimportant variable in an equation. It's not good science. You have to study the irrational in order to effectively enter it into your logic."

He wondered how long she had been awake, thinking of all this.

"I'm okay with your reasons. They make sense. But life isn't about the rational. That's too safe. To live life is to…risk the irrational. I need more than just a rational life." She delivered her treatise still curled up against the seat.

"You think I'm too safe," he whispered.

"Yeah, I do. Tell me that the irrational doesn't kick your ass every time you feel something real inside. Tell me that you don't fear things like confusion and desire and a loss of control."

"I do fear those things, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm bored with safe and predictable and lonely. Maybe this boot print actually kicked some sense into me. Maybe I realize that life is too short to spend it wishing for what might have been."

"I'm not ready." He was talking as softly as she had ever heard him.

"Just tell me you'll think about it, Grissom. Tell me you want something more out of life than crime scenes and lab work. It doesn't have to be with me. Just tell me you want something."

He dropped his gaze. She let him wrestle with it in his own time. She had dragged him through unfamiliar territory for last 20 hours. She felt like she owed him some space. Then looking up, he reached out and found her cheek. It startled her, but she swallowed her reaction and let him touch her. He stroked it softly, tracing the shadow of her injury. He stared at her, unabashed. She could hear herself breath and out. Then his hand moved behind her head and moved her toward him. The kiss was light, soft. His lips grazing hers. The hint of a taste of him with her. He drew back and looked at her. She wanted to laugh. He had this worried look as if waiting for her to disintegrate. Before she could smile, he was there again, more insistent this time. His lips parted and she was there. The smells and taste of him exhilarated her. The hints of leather, musk, and heat. She waited for his cues, letting him explore in his way. His beard found its down to her neck and a shiver ran through her. She wanted to relax and enjoy him, but she had no idea of the terms so she bided her time. His mouth returned to hers and settled there. She loved the meticulous attention he gave, not rushing anything. His hands stayed on her face and her neck. His attention solely on her mouth. It brought an intensity of focus that thrilled her. She found herself slipping into that place where reason is lost to desire. It was a lovely place, one she had dreamed of for years. She wanted to let go and free fall, but she couldn't. His words echoed through her. Arms reached out. Her arms. She pushed gently at his chest.

He blinked at her. "Sara?"

"Believe me. I really hated to do that."

"What's wrong?"

"You're not ready. Remember?" She smiled in an effort to cover the tension bursting within her.

"I thought I was supposed to explore the irrational." The hint of a smile playing on his face too.

"Yeah, well. You're a regular Magellan. Too much, too fast. You need to really think about with this. I need to think. One day, maybe, you will be able to look me in the eye, and tell me that this is what you want. When you're ready to do that, then it will be time."

"I don't know how or even when that would happen, Sara."

"It's okay. I'm not so confused about you now. It feels clearer, less like I'm an afterthought in your life. I think I can probably live with that just fine for right now."

"You're aware that you have left me a great deal more confused than when we started."

"Yeah. Sorry. Your turn. You sitting around all the time with that detached, slightly smug look on your face was really starting to piss me off." She reached up and gave his beard a little tug. He caught her hand and held it tightly. She resisted an urge to pull him into her. "Oh, and I like that thing you do with your tongue. It was very nice. Sort of playful yet insistent. I am curious as to how that might feel right here, behind my ear." She pushed her hair back and tilted her neck at him. "So you think about that, Magellan. And you let me know if you plan to be in that area anytime soon."

"You really think you should be enjoying my confusion quite this much?" He asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm quite sure." She tugged her hand away from him. Before he could react, she leaned in and kissed him once more. He reached for her, but she was gone, already sliding out of the cab of the SUV. She waved at him, and he watched her run up the steps, two at time, until the shadows swallowed her.

Grissom dropped his head back against the seat. He let out a great breath, and, for a moment, he entertained the explosions of feeling erupting inside him. Then he shook his head violently, trying to loosen the chaos spiraling in him, and started the car. Plans to get home and take a cold shower were foremost in his thoughts.

The End.