Author's note: Ok, ok, sorry about the lack of writing. On top of everything else that had been going on, my parents dropped the surprise of moving on me, so I've been sans computer until now! So, lets get to the story again, k? For all intents and purposes I'm skipping over what I had originally written in my notebook, and moving forward in the story a couple weeks. Trust me, we're not missing anything interest. So, on with the story!

Dedication: This one is dedicated to my mother. It's her birthday present, well, part of it!

……….

"Four weeks of waiting to come back, and now I'm here and all I want to do is go home," Sara mumbled as she signed her name to one more case report.

Four weeks had been long enough for a cast from her leg and the one from her arm to come off, long enough for her to find herself sitting in the break room filling out paperwork, and long enough to shake off everyone's insistent pampering. Four weeks had gone by like that, and yet it felt like her nightmare had just begun yesterday.

Sara flipped through another folder, searching for the right pages, the letters blurring as she stared at the monotonous lines. She sighed loudly and tossed her pen onto the break room table. No use in stressing out over paperwork; if she didn't get it done, the next poor sap stuck in the lab would pick some of it up.

Unfortunately, she was absolutely sure that's not how it worked.

Flipping through the folder again, she let her mind wander to the one thing that four weeks hadn't gotten rid of. Foggy though the memory was, the feeling of his strong arms around her shaking form still lingered. The sensation of his breath hot against her skin as he whispered into her ear, the feel of his soft beard rubbing against her cheek. His hand rubbing gentle circles along her back. Sara grinned as she flipped the page, but the expression was only momentary. She hissed as the paper dug into her finger, and pulled her hand away from the offending office supply.

"Damn it," she said rather loudly as she shook her cut finger.

She grabbed hold of it and looked down, studying the small cut that adorned her finger. A small drop of blood formed at its edge, and she sighed heavily.

"Band-aid," she mumbled as she reached out for her crutches.

Sara slipped them under her arms, and made her way to the first aid kit that sat in the corner. She reached for it, and opened it up, rifling though the various items for a regular band-aid. She came up empty handed.

"What are you doing?" said a voice from behind her.

Sara turned around and leaned against the counter, smiling as she watched Nick sit down at the table, sipping on a cup of coffee.

"I'm looking for band-aids. Do you know why there aren't any in the first aid kit?"

Nick smiled around a mouthful of coffee, then swallowed, "Warrick and I used the last of them up a few months back after an intense game of table football. They don't ever tell you this, but those things can give you paper cuts. But Griss might have some extras in his desk. I'm sure he'll give you one if you ask nicely."

Grissom was the last person she wanted to see. Sara was, after all, completely content with blaming the paper cut on him. If he only hadn't invaded her thoughts…

"Yeah, sure, I'll go check."

Sara made her way out of the break room, and down to Grissom's office. She stopped briefly outside his office, and took a deep breath before taking a peek inside.

He sat at his desk, glasses perched on his nose as he started down at an open case file. He jotted down a few notes, then continued to read. Sara bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath as she brought her hand to his door frame and knocked. He looked up, and stared at Sara his eyes furrowed as he watched her stand in the doorway.

"Hey," said Sara after a few seconds.

"Hey," Grissom said back, waving at her to come in. Sara gladly did so.

"Um, what's up?" he asked awkwardly as Sara took a seat across from him, glad to be off her crutches, albeit momentarily.

"Uh, I cut my finger, and I went through the first-aid kit in break room, but there were no band-aids. Nick said you might have some in here."

His eyes furrowed again as he continued to stare at her, "Cut your finger?"

"Yeah, just a paper cut, no big deal but still…"

"Let me see," Grissom said, reaching for her hand.

Sara hesitated, then gently placed her hand in his. He leaned over and pulled her hand higher, looking at the small cut. He gently ran his thumb over it and frowned. With his other hand, he reached into his desk drawer, and pulled out a band-aid. Pulling away only for a few seconds he removed the band-aid from its package and wrapped it around her finger. Grissom looked up and gave Sara a lopsided grin.

"There," he managed.

But her hand was still in his, and neither on of them wanted to move.

"I… I could have done that myself, you know," said Sara quietly.

Grissom shrugged, "Yeah, I know. I just, worried, I guess."

Sara sighed and slowly removed her hand from his, "You don't have to worry about me, Grissom. Not about this, not about anything."

She grabbed for her crutches once more and stood up. She looked down at the floor, then to Grissom, who sat frowning behind his desk.

"Thanks for the band-aid," she mumbled, before making her way out of his office.

Grissom sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Then why do I worry you'll leave," he mumbled to his empty office, and to the women who was no longer there.

……….

A.N.- I know this was a very short chapter, and that it really had no purpose other then to reveal feelings we all knew were already there. But I'm sure there is a purpose, as the next few chapters will reveal once I have them written. Expect a tough case that will have Grissom questioning his past decisions, and his future with Sara…