Huh, I think that this song has become like my inspiration. It's Uninvited, by Alanis Morissette (I THINK I spelled her name right…I can never remember which letters are doubled…). Maybe I should write a songfic to this at some point. You know, when I've recovered from actually writing a multi-chaptered fic that I UPDATE. (this is a milestone for me, in case you don't realize). And it's all thanks to my reviewers (special thanks to remoob1513 whose reviews probably account for about half of the ones this story has, heh heh, I should give you an award or something).

And thank you, CSIrookiechick, for pointing out the shoe error. Heh, I know things about jazz, tap and ballet, but my ballroom dancing skills are questionable, so bear with me on any mistakes I make, and feel free to correct me at any point if I totally screw something up. I will fix that this chapter. Which, btw, this segment picks up where the last one left off.

And onward with the Sara/Gregness!

"One-two-three-four-Sara-keep-your-arms-stiff-one-two-three-four-one-two-OW!" Greg's diatribe was interrupted as Sara stepped on his foot for the umpteenth time. They had been at it for about an hour and hadn't managed to get very far. Not that it was expected; it was just that Sara stuck to things she was good at so being bad at something was a new experience for her.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. Greg forced what was supposed to be a smile but came out like a pained grimace.

"Don't worry about it," he said in a strained voice. "I think that foot is becoming numb to the pain. It's a good thing, trust me."

"Ah ha!" came a voice from outside the room. "I knew I had a spare pair in here somewhere!" A triumphant looking Enza entered the room with a pair of ballroom dancing shoes. "Size seven-and-a-half is molto generic, and usually I never have stock because they sell out, but these were hidden in the back." Sara eyed them nervously.

"But-but they have high heels," she protested. Enza stared at her blankly.

"Well...si. But these are the required shoes for ballroom dancing, and the mambo is definitely ballroom dancing. You can't just keep using ballet shoes."

"I can barely WALK in high heels, let alone dance in them," Sara said a bit petulantly.

"Yeah, um, maybe we should hold off on the shoes," Greg cut in nervously, gaze bouncing towards the heel of the shoe and back towards his feet. Sara stared at him in shock.

"You don't think I can handle them?" she said defensively. Greg's mouth dropped open.

"You just said-" his indignant sputters were interrupted by Sara raising herself to her full height (which, she was satisfied to say, was taller than Enza).

"I, Sara Sidle, do not back away from challenges, and what you just said sounded suspiciously like one," she declared. "Strap on those shoes, I'll learn to dance in them if it kills me."

"Or if it makes me a foot amputee," Greg muttered.

"What did you say?" Sara demanded. He raised his hands innocently.

"Nothing, nothing." She glared, while Enza checked her watch and gasped.

"I have to be at the airport in an hour!" she exclaimed with the air of one who receives an unpleasant shock. "Okay, bambini, please, try not to kill each other or destroy my studio before I get back from Italy," she said patronizingly. "It's the last thing I need after a visit with the del Rossi clan."

"She doesn't exactly see eye-to-eye with her family," Greg mock whispered. Enza stuck her tongue out at him.

"They're not all bad. Marco's a sweetie and little Belladonna is the most adorabile baby you ever saw. But my parents need to learn that not everything the Roman Catholic Church says is directly from God's mouth," she added a bit bitterly. Greg smiled softly at her, and for a moment Sara's stomach flip-flopped, and she blushingly remembered the electricity that she had felt looking into his eyes. However, she quashed that thought speedily enough.

"How am I supposed to return this stuff to you, if you're gone?" she asked. Enza waved it off.

"Keep it. Lord knows I have enough lying around already. Any friend of Greg's is a friend of mine." She hesitated. "Well…except for the ballroom shoes. Those'll have to come back when you're done with the whole thing."

"No great loss to me, really," muttered Sara almost inaudibly. 'Ohhh, Sara. How do you keep getting yourself into these impossible situations? How the hell am I supposed to dance in these things?' she wondered, staring at the shoes. Granted, the heels weren't THAT high, but in Sara's elevated state of panic, everything was just a little bit scarier.

"Well," said Enza, apparently ignoring Sara's remark, "I really have to get going. As my people say, in bocco al lupo!"

"Huh?" Sara uttered cluelessly. Enza giggled.

"Means good luck." To Sara's utmost shock, the Italian swept in on her, kissing both her cheeks. "Ciao, bella." She then turned to Greg and did the same. Then she pulled back, and looked him seriously in the eyes.

"Be careful," she said with a hint of solemnity. He smiled wryly.

"When have I been anything but?" Enza sighed, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He caught it, and raised an eyebrow. "Besides, save a little worry for yourself." Leaning forward, he whispered something in her ear, and suddenly she drew back and swatted him playfully on the shoulder, the soft, grateful look in her eye belying her violent actions.

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable witnessing what was obviously a personal moment, Sara cast her eyes down, suddenly full of an intense longing for the same type of connection that they obviously shared. It was something she had never managed with Grissom, the man she was supposedly in love with.

After Enza dashed off, Greg let his gaze linger a moment on the doorway with a slightly troubled look, then he turned his attention to Sara.

"What did you whisper to her right before she left?" she asked curiously, wondering if she had a right to ask. Obviously not bothered by the question, Greg quirked his lips up in a little half-smile (Sara's treacherous little subconscious screamed that he should do that more often) and answered.

"In bocco al lupo," he said a bit cryptically. Sara didn't inquire further, but she wondered why exactly someone would need luck when going to visit family. Then she shrugged a little to herself. If she were going to see her relations, she'd like a few wishes of good fortune too.

Not too long afterwards, Greg yawningly suggested that they quit for the day and go home to get some sleep. Sara immediately felt a little guilty. While she had had an opportunity to nap during work (a rarity indeed) Greg had not, and he'd been working.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I totally forgot-" Greg cut her off.

"Nah, not your fault. Besides, this was a very productive session."

"Really?" Sara hadn't gotten that impression.

"Uh huh. Because of it, I've realized that you need all the practice you can get," he teased. Sara punched his arm good-naturedly.

"Sorry I can't be the Baby to your Johnny," she retorted. Greg stared a moment. "What?"

"I knew it!" he exclaimed gleefully. "You are SUCH a closet Dirty Dancing fan!"

"No I'm not!" Sara denied heatedly. "I've just seen the movie a couple of times."

"You probably even have the soundtrack," Greg continued on as if he hadn't even heard her.

'The original one on tape, then the CD when it became available,' Sara confessed mentally, but damned if she'd let him know that.

"You have no proof," she said determinedly. He positively cackled, and she wondered exactly what medication he was on.

"I don't need proof," he declared. "The look on your face is evidence enough." Sara schooled her features to be perfectly neutral. "Nope." Greg shook his head when he saw her expression change. "It's too late, the damage is done. You probably have a poster of Patrick Swayze, too."

'I was fourteen! Young! Impressionable! It's not like I still have it…on my wall.'

When Greg saw that Sara was definitely becoming irate and on the verge of storming off, he caught her wrist. Swinging around to face him, she stopped short when she felt it again.

'Connection…'

And had she ever felt this way when Grissom looked her eye-to-eye? Had that strong bolt of frisson crackled between their gazes until neither were aware of their surroundings, only of the person standing right in front of them? It had never happened, to her crystal recollection of every awkward, painful moment of her very non-relationship with Gilbert Grissom.

What was that supposed to mean?

Greg took a shaky breath and let it out in one whoosh, drawing away from Sara even as her entire being cried out for otherwise.

"Sorry," he said tremulously, clearly thrown. "I mean, if I got a little annoying. It's late…" he made a face "…or early, and I get a little slap-happy when I'm tired, so I can't be accountable for anything I may say or do."

"It's okay." Sara accepted the apology, avoiding his gaze. "I mean, I guess I should be a little less touchy anyway. Let's just go home-I mean, to my home, then yours, except separately-" Sara scowled and shut her mouth, realizing after these past few days, nothing good could come of her opening it. Greg shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I know. I get what you're saying." Said ex-lab rat smiled hopefully at her, and unwillingly she found herself reciprocating. "How about we forget these past few minutes ever occurred, and get on with our lives?" Sara laughed a little.

"Sounds good to me."

Later that night, after Greg had dropped her off, though mentally she was exhausted, the nap Sara had taken halfway through shift had left her body wired, and following half-an-hour of restless tossing and turning, she gave up and went into her living room. Once there, she ended up taking out every eighties dance flick she had and indulging in a movie marathon, hoping that the mindless dialogue and overacting would numb her over and allow her to get some sleep.

Of course (albeit with a guilty look at the cover) she watched Dirty Dancing first, and by the end of that, still had energy to pop in Footloose. Halfway through, her eyelids began to droop. She'd barely made it past the opening credits of Flashdance before dozing off.

When she next opened her eyes, she found her vision somewhat blurred and hazy. As Kevin Bacon danced by singing 'Footloose', she found herself suddenly tangoing with Patrick Swayze, even though she had no real idea how to tango, and that wasn't even what his movie was about! She reached up to run a hand through his hair and suddenly it was soft and spiky, and when did Swayze have spiky hair? But it was Greg staring down at her with that wide, butterfly-inducing smile of his and-

Sara's eyes snapped open. What the hell was that about? Since when did she dream about Greg Sanders? Since when did she dream ROMANTICALLY about Greg Sanders? She liked Grissom. Admittedly there were none of the insides melting leg jellying sparks that she felt when she looked at Greg, but the man had taken up almost five years of her life, and that had to count for something more than admiration and a deep respect, didn't it?

Mentally she compared the two. Grissom was brilliant, socially inept, caring in his own fumbling way but at oftentimes cold and aloof, especially when it came to Sara expressing her possibly misplaced affections. Greg was warm, bright, probably just as genius as Grissom in his own off-balance way, concerned with her feelings, surprising in all the right ways and also incredibly adorable when you really thought about-oh shit.

Ohhhh shitshitshitshitshit. She was falling for Greg Sanders. This was not good. In fact, this was as bad as it could possibly get. Her world was about to come crashing down around her ears. Armageddon, anarchy would reign. There was no getting through this.

So then WHY couldn't she wipe the stupid grin off of her face?

Hum, well, parts of this chapter were rushed and a little foggy around the edges. And in my opinion, Family Channel is definitely wearing out Dirty Dancing, it was just on again tonight. Sigh.

So Sara has finally recognized her entirely non-platonic feelings for Greg. Took her long enough. Sorry if parts of this seemed sappy, I tried my best.

Updates may be a little slower in coming now, because school is coming. Plus, my grandmother just died, so we're a little busy with that. It's all very surreal.

Hope you weren't disappointed by this latest installment, and I will see you in the next one.