Oh yeah part of my cannon is that Brass calls Sara Cookie. What? It's
my canon, not yours.

Chapter 2
Grissom looked across his desk at Brass. The offending object lay
between them. Gil refused to touch it. Brass stared at it, as if by
the power of his mind he could force his colleague to take the case again.

"I understand why you don't want to be on the case but it's not a
conflict of interest for you and Sara."

Gil placed his hands flat on the desk careful not to touch the folder.
He scratched at an angry scar, a result a fall from a tree when he
was twelve.

"Brass did you even listen to Lillian? I mean did you hear anything
that she had to say?"

"I've been a cop for 30 years. I heard everything that she had to
say." His Jersey accent seemed harsh suddenly.

"Don't you see that this is a problem?"

"Because our suspects look like you and Sara? What the hell is that?
So if you aren't going to investigate any middle aged guys with
beards that wear glasses you'll never leave the lab."

Grissom shook his head trying to explain for what seemed like the
100th time. "It's not just that. It's his relationship with a woman
that looks a great deal like Sara, Lillian said as much when you left
the room. She remarked on how much the Bloodworths looked like Sara
and I."

Brass looked defeated. "I guess the rest will only solidify your
position."

"When did you start using words like solidify and what's the other
stuff?" Grissom raised a trademark eyebrow.

Jim Brass exhaled a bit. Maybe Gil's insatiable curiosity would
propel him back into the case. He moved the file closer to Grissom
and began to speak.

"Their real name is Bloodworth. They are married and they do live in
Vegas, have for the last two years. He is an art professor at UNLV
and she is an artist in residence. He's one of the pre-eminent
experts on artwork from the Renaissance. He's the guy that the
Vatican calls when they are up a creek with no paddle."

Gil interjected. "Is the guy that figured out two of the Louvre's Da
Vincis were forgeries?"

Brass nodded. "The one and the same. By all accounts he's a genius."

Brass stopped and swallowed afraid that the similarities between the
men would cause Grissom to retreat again.

"Apparently she's not too far behind. Her maiden name is Atworth as in
the Atworths, as in the Vanderbilts, the Rockerfellers. They met when
she was doing graduate work at Columbia. She did an independent study
under him. No one knows if the hanky panky
started then or when she came to work with him documenting and
archiving Columbia's collection."

Grissom groaned. "Brass."

"It gets better."

Grissom held up the scarred hand. The ER doc that had stitched him up
told him that it would leave an ugly scar. Twelve year old Gil's only
response was to ask if he would still be able to catch and mount
butterflies.

"I at least need to call Sara in here. She needs to hear all of it so
that she can decide for herself."

Brass sipped his coffee. "Since when did you stop making decisions
for her?"

Grissom did not respond as he pressed the radio button on his cell
phone. Brass was right. For years he had made decisions about his
relationship with Sara or lack thereof because he believed that he
knew what was better for her. It was clear to him that a relationship
with an anti social, middle aged entomologist was not what his vibrant
Sara needed.

Sara threw the door open took a long legged stride in. She was holding
a sheet of paper and waving it about.

"Guess who has the DNA evidence on the Keys case?"

Brass watched as Gil gave her a warm grin. It was his Sara grin, when
his eyes lit up and his cheeks were tinged red with longing. He was
always rewarded with her gap toothed smile that had a hint of a giggle
at the end of it.

Grissom spoke. "The butler did it."

Sara's face fell. "How did you know that?"

"Doesn't the butler always do it?"

The gap toothed grin again.

She sat on the edge of Grissom's desk. "Hey is that the Bloodworth file?"

He hadn't told her that he was taking them both off the case. "Yeah."

"Groovy! What did Lillian say about them? Hey Brass you gonna ask her
out?"

Brass choked on his coffee. She looked like a mischievous kid.

"Where did you get that from? You were in the room for like a minute."

Sara reached out to ruffle his hair. "Brass has gotta girlfriend."

Grissom felt an unreasonable jealously as she touched the other man's
hair.

Brass smacked her hand away. "Cookie cut that out." He pulled a comb
from his jacket pocket and reordered his dark locks.

"Lillian's gone and the rest of us don't' care how you look. So
what's up?" She reached for the Bloodworth file."

She began to flip through absently waiting for Brass or Grissom to
speak. When she got to the last page Grissom saw her flat belly halt
its breathing. She pulled out the page that had been taken from the
UNLV faculty look book. The picture was a professional portrait,
probably taken at the behest of a manager or booking agent.

They both wore black turtlenecks and stared into the camera with
deceptively open faces. They didn't exactly smile as they emitted a
glow. Sara turned to Gil.
"Have you seen this picture?"

Grissom shook his head. "Lillian described them very well for me."

Sara thrust the picture into his view. He had not wanted to see it.
He peered at it for a second and looked at Sara.

Brass watched the two. Everyone was familiar with the Sara/Grissom
mojo, the communication without talking, the touching without
touching. Brass waited.

Grissom narrowed his eyes. I'll do it if you will. I won't let you
do this by yourself.

Sara parted her lips just a bit. Do you think we should? I'm scared.
What will this do to us?

Grissom leaned back into his chair. You never have to fear anything
as long as I'm here. I'm scared too. I will not let it do anything
to us. I'm glad you think there still is us'.

Sara's eyes narrowed. Can we stop if we need too?

The Grissom brow. Of course.

Grissom turned and picked up the folder. He directed his words to Brass.

"We'll do it. But we stop when we say stop"