A/N: ok, I know you guys hate me for being so inconsistent with my updates…I apologize, but life is being mean to me lately, and the writing isn't coming as naturally as it usually does. So yeah…don't hate me too much, okay?

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Sara's staff really was quite young, Grissom realized when Sara led him into the team room. None of them could have been a day over thirty-five. And none of the men, he also noticed, had graying hair like he did.

"Grissom," Sara said formally, "I'd like you to meet my CSIs. Guys, this is Gil Grissom, the one you've been so curious about. He's up here for a vacation."

A chorus of "hi" and "hello" answered her. "Good. Grissom," she added, pointing one finger toward Sophie and another toward Will, "that's Sophie and Will, the ones who messed with your records."

The two younger CSIs murmured their greetings but, much to Sara's surprise, neither launched into a nervous explanation.

"So," Sara continued, "the deal for tonight is this: I was originally planning on keeping Grissom here with me and sending the rest of you out on cases, but I decided that would be kinda boring. Besides, when I arrived in Las Vegas, Grissom immediately threw me into working with other people, and turnabout's fair play. So Gris, if you're willing, I want you to go out with Sophie and Jack to their . . . hmmm . . ." She consulted her clipboard. ". . . to their smash-and-grab."

Grissom's eyebrows lifted slightly and he gave Sara a questioning look, but when she just shrugged, he said, "That's fine. As long as you promise that they're not going to give me the third degree."

"Guaranteed," Sara said, giving Sophie a repressive look. "And if they do, call me and I'll take care of it."

"Ouch!" Will laughed from his seat on the kitchenette's counter. "Watch your back, Soph."

Sophie's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "Shut up."

Jack, demonstrating that he did indeed have better political skills than Grissom ever had, stood up and held out a hand for Grissom to shake. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Grissom. Or is it 'Doctor'?"

"Just call me Grissom. I'm not a 'title' sort of person," Grissom assured him as they shook hands.

"Okay then. Nice to meet you, Grissom. I'm Jack DiLuca."

Grissom drew in a subtle breath. So he would be working with the man who Sara thought was so similar to him, the one she wanted to match up with . . . Sophie. She'd also put him with Sophie. Oh, wonderful – she'd stuck him in the middle of a love triangle or something. "Sara," he said under his breath, "can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Later, Gris," she replied cheerfully. "If you're going to ride with them, you'll have to get going ASAP." To her relief, Grissom gave her a dirty look but obeyed.

*****

"That's him?" Sam asked incredulously as soon as Grissom was out of earshot.

"Yeah," Sara said shortly. "That's him. You got a problem with that?"

"Umm . . . nope."

"That's what I thought."

"So . . ." Mark said cautiously. "When did he arrive?"

Sara, realizing that she'd have to pacify the masses with some amount of explanation, joined Sam on the kitchen counter. "He got here today. We didn't have time to go out or anything, so essentially this is his first activity here."

"He seems nice," Walter offered. "What hotel is he in?"

Time to change the subject. "Okay!" Sara announced, cutting off Walter's thought. "Time to work, guys! Walter and Sam, I want you two out on a suspected arson. Here's your slip. Mark, take Will to this attempted burglary and try to keep him under some semblance of control."

Smirking, Mark stood up and gestured for Will to join him. "Come on kid, I'm cracking the whip. Move 'em out."

Mark didn't follow his partner out of the room, though. He waited until Walter and Sam had left, then turned to Sara. "He's staying with you, isn't he."

"What's it matter to you, Mark? Go solve crimes and stop worrying about my personal life."

"Okay, not trying to snoop," Mark said, raising his hands in surrender. "I just wanted to tell you that if things get weird and you don't want him sharing your place, you can send him over to me, 'cause I've got a guest room. Just in case."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine. Seriously."

"Ok, Sara. Just keep it in mind. I'll see you later tonight."

"Sure."

*****

Grissom sat in the passenger seat of the lab's Expedition, silently observing the car's other two occupants. He hadn't ever realized it before, but he wasn't used to silence between CSIs. In Las Vegas, every ride to a scene was a scene of its own, full of laughter, arguments, and the occasional tickle war. Not that he participated in such foolishness, of course, but, well . . . Sophie and Jack were just staring through the windows, not even talking about the case they were on their way to.

The silence finally got to him, and Grissom had to say something. "So . . . have you two worked here long?"

"Not really," Sophie said with a shrug. "Jack's been here a lot longer than I have."

"Ah," Grissom responded. Apparently they weren't feeling too talkative. Time for another topic. "How do you like working with Sara?"

To his surprise, he got more than one sentence as an answer. "Oh, she's great!" Sophie exclaimed. "Our old supervisor was just old. You know, DNA hadn't even been useful for almost all of his adult life. He wouldn't even use e-mail! Sara's so much better. I mean, she's younger, and she knows all the new stuff really well, and she, well . . . she's willing to hang out with us. Like, to teach us, but without making us feel dumb." She paused. "Well, by 'us' I really mean 'me.'"

"No," Jack said much more calmly than Sophie had, "that applies to me too. She really is a good boss. Did she learn it from you?" he asked Grissom.

Grissom thought about that for a second. "Well, I helped, I guess, since I was around when she was acquiring her skills. But I assure you, Sara's her own person, and her talents are her own."

Before Sophie could stop herself, she let out an "Awwww."

"Sophie!" Jack hissed.

"Well it's cute, you have to admit it."

"I beg your pardon?" Grissom asked confusedly. "What's cute?"

"She's just a little overexcited, Grissom," Jack said before Sophie could embarrass herself any farther.

"Jack!"

"Don't dig yourself any deeper, young lady."

Sophie began to turn red. "Don't call me 'young lady,' asshole! I'm not that much younger than you; it's not like you're my father or something!"

"Shut UP!"

"You know . . ."

"Hey!" Grissom interrupted. "Lower the volume a little, please?"

Sophie and Jack immediately subsided, both looking contrite.

"You can keep fighting," Grissom explained. "Just more quietly. Actually, listening to you fight reminds me of home. Las Vegas, I mean. When Sara was there. She and Nick used to fight all the time . . ." Realizing that he was beginning to sound wistful, he stopped.

"Admit it Jack, it is too cute!" Sophie crowed triumphantly.

"Maybe I could arbitrate this debate," Grissom suggested, "if someone would just explain to me what you're fighting about?"

That shut them up. "Um . . ."

"I take it that this involves Sara, then?"

"Sort of," Sophie said slowly.

Grissom only raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"I just think it's cute how you and Sara talk about each other, that's all," she said defensively.

"The way we talk about each other? Sara talks about me?"

"Of course she does," Jack said with a sigh. "Aren't you two dating or something?"

"Er . . . no, we're not. At least, not the last time I checked."

*****

"Really?"

Sara sighed and checked her watch. "Really, Mark. We're not. And why the heck are you and Will back so early, anyway?"

"You sent us to an attempted burglary, Sara. What did you expect? We picked up glass shards, took fingerprints, checked for blood . . . it really doesn't take that long."

"Ok, fine. But why are you in here bugging me?"

"I'm not 'bugging' you; I just asked whether you and Grissom are a couple. It's a reasonable question."

"It's not a reasonable question!"

Mark slumped farther into his chair. "Ok, chill out. It is a reasonable question, because Sophie, Jack, and Will raised the issue a long time ago, and now he's here, and he's staying in your apartment. It is definitely fair to ask if you're dating him."

"I just told you," Sara growled, "that I'm not. Not that it's any of your business, or anyone else's here."

"Whatever, Sara. You don't want to talk about it; that's fine. Just don't act like we have no right to wonder."

Sara groaned. "We're not dating, ok? Does that answer your question?"

"Ok, listen," Mark said gently, standing up to move closer to her desk. Leaning a hip against it, he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just asking, Sara. As a friend. I know you might be shocked to realize this, but you have people here who worry about you."

"I don't need to be worried about, Mark," she said tiredly. "I'm an adult and I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a long time now."

"I get the feeling this is an argument you have a lot."

"Well I don't know why everyone seems to think I'm some fragile teenage girl who needs to be protected!"

"Maybe you do, every now and then," he said with a small shrug. "You know you were looking at him like you wanted to prostrate yourself at his feet, right?"

"I was not," Sara protested.

"You were. Come on, Sara. I didn't come in here to start a fight with you; I just wanted to, I don't know, make sure you know you have five guys here who would be more than willing to forcibly remove him from your vicinity if he hurts you."

Sara snorted. "If he's bugging me, I can do that for myself. But, well . . . thanks. It's kinda nice to know I've made friends here."

"You dork," he said with a teasing smile. "You know we love you. Come on, group hug."

Sara couldn't keep herself from laughing at the lack of a "group" as Mark wrapped his arms around her in a brotherly hug. "Oh, come on, your hair's getting in my mouth, Mark!"

A cough came from the doorway, and somehow Sara wasn't surprised when Grissom's voice asked dryly, "Are we interrupting something?"