Phew! Ok guys, I'm trying to get back into this whole "CSI" deal (what's that? Haven't thought about it for a month!), and here's the first evidence of success. This chapter is shorter than most of the other Pizza Boy chapters have been (er, like half the size), but I figured that everyone, including me, would like to just see it out there ASAP. So yeah, here's Part 26 :)

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When Grissom's eyes opened that night, it was to the sight of Sara, cup of coffee in one hand and book in the other, stretched out on the couch next to his futon. "What time is it?" he asked, sitting up. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Relax," Sara said. "It's a little after five; you've got plenty of time, and since I'm already dressed, you don't have to fight me for the shower. You want something to eat?"

Grissom took a moment to digest that information. "How long have you been awake? Why didn't you come get me?"

She shrugged. "Why would I? You were sleeping and there was no rush."

"Well yeah, but I wouldn't have minded being woken up. You're a lot more pleasant than my alarm clock."

"Thanks for that," she said with a smirk. "If you want me to wake you up when I get up in the future, just say so and I will - but be warned, you'll end up getting a lot less sleep than you probably do normally."

"I can handle it," he said. "I've operated on much less sleep than your wake-up calls will give me."

Sara snorted. "Right."

Choosing not to address Sara's apparent lack of belief in his sleep-related machismo, Grissom scratched his cheek. "What's this I hear about food? Did you eat already?"

"Nah, I was waiting for you to do that. What are you up for?"

"Here, or out?"

"Your choice; you're the guest."

"I don't even know what the choices are around here!"

Cocking her head to the side, Sara pursed her lips. "Well, there's the usual stock of diners, pizza places, and chinese places. Then we've got a couple of Charlie Browns' and Applebees . . . about a million Starbucks, if you need a caffeine fix. Really, we could probably find anything we want."

"Applebees . . . I think I've heard of that one. A bar and grill sort of place, right?"

"Yep. Great salads and appetizers, and I hear their hamburgers aren't too bad, if you're into that kind of thing."

"Sounds good to me. Let's go there."

Sara furrowed her brows. "No debate?"

"Why? Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"No, I'm fine with Applebees . . . I'm just not used to things being so simple with you."

"It's just food, Sara," Grissom said with a smile. "If we don't like it, we can always go somewhere else, ok?"

"Whatever floats your boat, Gris."

"So . . . what's on the schedule for tonight?" Grissom asked half an hour later as they studied their menus in the Applebees. "Are there any lingering cases?"

Sara took a sip of her water and looked thoughtful. "Not really, actually. And that's pretty unusual. The only thing I'm committed to tonight is a meeting with my supervisor."

"I thought you were the supervisor."

She gave him a look that should have left his head aching from the mental slap upside of it. "So are you, Gris, and you have a supervisor too." Leaving it at that for the moment, she returned her attention to the menu. "I'm thinking Oriental Salad." Raising her eyes over the top of the menu, she looked at him. "What about you?"

"What? Oh, uh . . ." He considered the options. "I guess the ribs."

Sara made a face that didn't need to be explained. "If you say so. Just keep 'em away from my side of the table."

"So . . ." Grissom cocked his head slightly to the side and considered her. "What's this meeting about?"

"Politics, basically. I guess I'm lucky that that's not as big an issue here as it is in Las Vegas, but they still exist. There's supposed to be some sort of press release about me taking over the old guy's position, and the Sheriff wants me to give him details about who I am, where I come from, what I ate for breakfast . . . you know, the usual too-invasive-for-my-tastes stuff."

He nodded sagely. "It's the worst part of the job, isn't it?"

"Mmm." Whatever Sara had been about to say, she was cut off by the arrival of a waitress to take their orders. When the women had scribbled everything down and left, though, Sara continued her silence.

"So . . ." Grissom attempted. "What do you want me to do while you're at this meeting? I could stay back at your apartment, I guess . . . order in some pizza or something . . ."

Sara shook her head. "Nah, I wouldn't leave you alone in my apartment. Not only would it be boring for you, but you'd probably get absorbed in searching the whole place for god knows what, just to keep your mind occupied."

He was surprised by the shock of hurt that her comment drove through him, and he took a moment to compose himself before answering as best he could. "I wouldn't snoop around your belongings. You're not a criminal, and I'm a guest in your home." He paused, tracing a squiggle into the frost on his soda glass. "But I'd rather you not leave me home, anyway. Why don't you just put me to work again, like you did last night?"

Sara's skeptical look reminded him of the fiasco that the previous night had teetered on the edge of being, and he mentally backtracked. "But this way you wouldn't even be around to have to deal with me if I get, uh, unmaneagable." How depressing, he thought, and how ironic, that he was trying to keep Sara close to him by promising to stay away from her.

She looked at him curiously, fully aware that something strange was going on inside his greying head. "You're not unmaneagable. You're just . . . overthusiastic at times. But I can't fault you for that; it's what got you this far in the first place." Keeping her face as expressionless as possible, she added, "But I don't see why you shouldn't be able to work if you want to work. Mark's off tonight, so I could use an extra body in the field. Why don't I put you with . . .hmm . . ." She appeared to be mentally flipping through the possibilities. "Go with Sophie and Will, I'd say." A definitive nod. "Yeah - they're the two who could use the most help from someone older and wiser."