Disclaimer: How many times do I have to say I don't own CSI?

Hmm... I don't have much to say this time. I almost bit my dad's head off yesterday when he wouldn't stop commenting that Sofia is hot and Grissom would be better off with her. Grrness. But he did help me with the next couple of chapters so I guess he's ok. I'm thinking about bringing this story to a close though within maybe seven chapters. Dont hold me to that though. Just an estimate. I guess maybe I did have things to say. More than usual. Oh if its possible I think my tarantula is sick. Kinda worried about him.

"First, let me start by telling you what when on that night at the crime scene. We were called in to investigate the murder of a young woman. She was strangled, and then stabbed in the chest. As you took the preliminary photos, you asked if I'd like to leave to catch up on paperwork." He paused, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. "And I did."

Sara was shocked. "But protocol requires at least two CSIs to do the initial collection of evidence. You were obligated to wait for a replacement."

"I know. There's no excuse. I should never have let my emotions get involved."

She scoffed. "You?"

"It happens, Sara. I'm only human."

"Could have fooled me."

Their glares were like flint and steel.

"Ok then. Who were you so emotionally involved with?" she asked with crossed arms.

"You."

Now she was curious. "How?"

"I came in a few minutes before our shift. You know how it is then. There are maybe two or three people still there. And you were in the break room. I thought then was the best time to tell you…" He trailed off.

"You aren't one to beat around the bush. Tell me what?"

"I told you that I thought it would be better for the lab if you were to switch to working days."

Her forehead creased. Her temples were throbbing. Images and sounds were slowly working their way into her consciousness. "Then I asked you if you meant better for the lab or better for you."

Grissom's eyes slightly widened, then he nodded.

"And you said nothing. So, I told you fine." She pushed back from the table.

"Sara, I take it back now."

She shook her head, not the best thing since her head felt like a Sex Pistols concert was being held inside her skull. "No, Grissom. Don't take it back because of pity. Take it back because you have absolutely no qualms about me."

Stillness fell upon them like a thick quilt.

"See." She stood and waved her splinted arm in front of her. "Nothing has changed. You once told me not to chase two rabbits at once because I'll end up losing them both. Well after more than five year I'm tired of chasing a rabbit who doesn't want to be caught."

Without waiting for a reply Sara grabbed her purse and left, pulling closed the door none too gently.

When Grissom heard a car start he suddenly jerked out of his petrified state to rush outside. But he was too late. Sara was already gone.

He hurried back inside grabbed his phone and punched in a number he knew by heart.

It rang twice before the brusque voice answered. "This is Brass."

"Jim, I need you to put out an APB on a dark blue GMC Yukon. And if you can post Sara's plate numbers with it."

"I'll get right on it. Is she in trouble?"

"I hope not."

"Ok then. I'll call back when we've found her."

"Thanks."

For the next thirty minutes Grissom paced his living room. How could he have screwed things up so badly that a woman would rather risk her life than remain in his presence? He knew after telling her what had gone on she'd want time alone, maybe lock herself in the bathroom or guestroom, but not this.

This was twice now in one week he'd let her down. It was a new record. He couldn't begin to list how many times he'd done that over the years; the earliest of which, when he'd met her at a seminar in San Francisco. He could only vaguely remember what it had been about—DNA Testing? New Fingerprint Techniques? It didn't matter really. What was most clear in his mind though was a young brunette, obviously a new comer. She took a seat in the back, but somehow managed to sense that he was watching her from the front row.

She gave him a friendly smile then turned her attention to the stage where a NYU professor was demonstrating one thing or another. Suddenly he hadn't cared. He nudged Neil Roberts, a coroner from Austin, Texas.

"Who's the newbie in the back?"

Neil turned and gazed a few long moments. "Not sure. Maybe she's that gal Simmons got to replace one of his lab techs. Samantha or Sierra, something like that. Why? Don't you have someone waiting for you back in Vegas?"

He shook his head. "Nah didn't work out."

Neil chuckled, "What's new?"

For the rest of the afternoon Grissom had nearly strained his neck from the amount of time he was looking to the back of the room. The brunette was focused though, listening intensely even pausing at times to take notes.

At last, the demonstrations ended and people stood to mingle about. Grissom practically climbed over chairs to catch the brunette in case she left. Luckily she'd stopped to talk to Simmons, a man easily recognizable by his bright red hair.

"Well hello there, Simmons. This must be your neophyte from Harvard you told me about."

"Gil Grissom," The men shook hands, "Yes, this is Sara Sidle. I made sure to grab her before your lab could bat an eyelash. Very bright young lady."

"I'm sure," And as he shook her hand a slight blush dusted her cheeks.

"Well, Gil it was nice to see you again. Don't forget to fax me those articles on insects you mentioned earlier."

"I will."

Simmons nodded, and then left.

"Does it get easier?"

Grissom grinned, "Wish I could say it did. The procedures become second nature, but criminals sometimes find their way around them."

"Why were you staring at me?"

He thought for a moment, but drew a blank. "I don't know."

"Do you normally watch people this closely or is it just one of those things that become second nature?" Her smile lit her eyes.

He smiled back. "I guess so." He jangled the keys in his pocket, and then asked nervously, "Do you want to maybe go get a cup of coffee with me?"

"Sure."

Sara led him to a café only a block from the conference center. From then on conversation became easy. An hour went by, then two then three. When the evening began drawing to an end they walked back to the conference center parking lot where they stood next to his car.

She was tapping her foot, clearly wanting to ask a question. He had a good idea what it was, too. But he never let her ask it. He wrote his number on one of the pamphlets, shoved it at her, and drove away. He returned to Las Vegas the next morning.

Grissom looked at it now like one of those moments you always wondered about, but knew you'd do nothing different.

His cell phone chirped at him and he quickly opened it. "Brass? Did you find her?"

"Yeah. Patrol spotted her vehicle at Robinson Park off of Flamingo."

"Thanks. I'll call if I need anything else."

"You usually do."

Oh, is it just me or can Grissom or maybe Will not choose between black hair or grey hair? He's cool either way but still. Im bothered by these things because Grissom doesn't seem to be the kind of guy who's like ahhh! my hair! I'll shut up now. I have a tendency to babble.