Spoilers: Nothing overt.

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. After Charley and Frances, I'm lucky I still have a computer. So don't sue me. Please.

A/N: This is the first part of a WIP, becoming fluffier toward the end. I'm planning to post chapters on Tuesdays. Hopefully (fingers crossed) I can keep up with that schedule. Special thanks to Psyched and Maddy for advice, assistance and support. What would I do without you?

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The coffee cup clattered to the floor before Gil Grissom could catch it, but luck must have been on his side. The new no-spill lid had functioned as advertised, preventing a disaster. He picked it up, replaced it on the desk and finished with his evening ritual. First order of business when he arrived at the building had been to pray that his parking spot wasn't occupied, next, check with the receptionist for messages. Then he picked up the night's assignment slips and read over them. Those tasks completed, he logged onto the lab's intranet to check his e-mail.

He found the standard messages and deleted them; he wasn't really concerned about the upcoming PD carwash, nor the newly revamped family insurance coverage from human resources. There was only one that Grissom felt the need to actually read, and it was the one from Director Cavallo. It was a reminder about the interdepartmental bowling league, to which Grissom had apparently been assigned. Reminder? He searched his memory and couldn't recall hearing of it before then. According to the e-mail, he had agreed to form a two person team. Damn, he wished he could remember doing that. He must have been out of his mind. Oh well, he supposed he would just assign two of his CSIs and be done with it.

"You get my e-mail?" Cavallo asked from the door.

"Uh, yes. Why are you here at this hour?"

"I forgot some papers I needed. Who's going to bowl?"

"I'll check with my team. I'm sure it won't be a problem...probably Stokes and Brown." Grissom logged off the computer.

"No, no, it's you and someone else."

"I don't bowl."

"It has to be you," Cavallo asserted. "The Sheriff's really gung-ho about this. You're the leader. You need to step up and put yourself out in public. Let me know in the morning who's going to be with you so I can have the shirts made."

Before Grissom could respond, the director was gone. Grissom chuckled in spite of his irritation; he couldn't help but wonder if Cavallo had learned that maneuver from Sara. He gathered the assignment slips and made his way to the break room, where he knew his team would be waiting.

He found all of them but Sara staring at the television. She was making a new pot of coffee. To get their attention, he switched off the set.

"Hey!" Nick protested. "James Woods was all in!"

"It's a rerun, Nick," Grissom replied. "Dule Hill wins."

The other four CSIs exchanged curious glances--did Grissom really watch Celebrity Poker, or was he bluffing?

"Really?" Catherine asked.

"Woods is on his way to join Mo Gaffney in the Loser's Lounge," Grissom answered matter-of-factly. "Back to business, who likes to bowl?"

"Bowl?" Sara looked confused. "As in, rolling the ball down the lane and trying to knock down pins?"

"Yes. And now that we know what it is, who's in?"

"Why?"

"The lab is joining the department league. I'm obligated to send two bowlers, including myself," he explained.

"Pass," Catherine said. "I don't have time."

"Yeah, me too," Warrick chimed in.

"I'm a lousy bowler," Nick said quickly.

All eyes turned to Sara. "The same reason as the others," she declined. "I don't want to."

"That's the team spirit," Grissom said dryly. "Fine. I'll pick a name randomly." He suddenly wished he had enough decomps for all of them. "Warrick, Catherine, you already have your case. Nick, you get a B and E in Summerlin. Sara, we have 200 grand in jewelry stolen from a room at Mandalay Bay."

"200 grand left in the room?" Catherine wondered. "Haven't these people ever heard that hotels have safes?"

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By assigning Sara to work with him, Grissom hoped to begin repairing their badly damaged friendship. Badly damaged? He knew it was on life support. He had been unhappy for a long time. Since he had his surgery, he had made efforts to reach out to others, and he met with some success. But it still felt empty. It had taken him a far too long to figure out what it was that was missing. He had been alone his entire adult life, and he thought that it was enough for him, but now he knew that it wasn't. That deep yearning in his body and soul every time she was near was there for a good reason, he realized. He needed her. It was as simple as that. He needed her.

But was he too late? Recent events had shown him just how unhappy she really was, and he knew that he had played a role in that sadness. Sara was a strong person; she would do whatever she needed to do to pull herself together again. What if she decided leaving him was what she needed to do? After all, he'd given her no reason to stay. He'd made it clear that the relationship wasn't going to advance personally, and the promotion fiasco had been enough to demonstrate to her that she wouldn't be advancing professionally either. And clearly , the status quo wasn't enough for her. Being honest with himself, he knew it wasn't enough for him.

He hoped working with her more often would give them time to get their rapport back, but it didn't seem to be working out. She didn't respond at all to his attempts at flirtation. His overtures were met with polite professional detachment. He needed a way to spend time with her away from the lab, where they couldn't hide behind their professional roles.

Hours later, he left Sara in the DNA lab and returned to office. Four small squares of paper, each with a different name scribbled on it, went into a cup. Grissom closed his eyes and fished his hand in, removing one scrap of paper. Sara. Immediately, a sudden urge to discard Sara's name and draw another passed over him. Surely she wouldn't appreciate having to spend so much time with him, and he would be uneasy as well. However, he reasoned, this may be a blessing in disguise; if they spent a couple of hours together every Tuesday night, they may be able to become friends again. He worked the rest of the shift in peace, having made his decision.

He found her in the locker room as he was leaving. "You going home?"

"Yeah."

He bit the bullet. "I hate to tell you, your number came up. You've been officially elected to the bowling team." He braced himself for the feared reaction.

"Damn! I have the worst luck! Randomly?" She slammed the locker door shut.

He felt a stab of pain. Was the idea of spending time with him really so distasteful to her? "Yes."

Sara sighed heavily. "When and where?"

"Tuesday at eight o' clock. Sunset Bowl."

"Eight o' clock?" Sara groused. "How are we supposed to get to work on time?"

Grissom fought through his hurt feelings. He knew he really couldn't blame her for not wanting to be near him. "I'll rearrange the schedule so we have Tuesdays off. You'll be there?"

"Yes."

"There's good news. It seems we get shirts."

"Bowling shirts? Oh this just keeps getting better."

TBC