Summary: In which Grissom and Sara have breakfast and Grissom announces a trip to San Francisco.

Disclaimer: Anthony Zuiker created these characters. I'm just playing with them for my own amusement.

It was funny, Sara thought, how something that had started out as a crush had turned into something so much more. The times the two of them had strolled along together after one of his seminars had been everything she'd lived for at the time. There hadn't been any kind of romance between them, but there was always a connection; an attraction, even, that drew them towards each other after each talk. They would walk along, their arms brushing together every now and again, discussing everything under the sun. It was Sara's idea of a perfect romance; without any of the intimacy that supposedly came with a romance.

When he went back to Las Vegas, they had written occasionally. He would send an article from a magazine that he thought she would find interesting. She would write back her thanks. It didn't matter whether or not the article really was interesting to her or not. She read it twice, three times, just because he had sent it to her. Because she knew that he had handled it and that he'd been thinking of her when he had slipped it into the envelope along with the brief, obligatory 'I saw this and thought you might find it interesting'. She thrived on those articles.

The day that he had called her, asking her to come to Vegas to help out while the crime lab was understaffed, she had actually pinched herself to make sure that she wasn't dreaming. It seemed so unreal. Gil Grissom was asking her, Sara Sidle, to join his team? In Las Vegas of all places! The way he had asked her seemed as if he thought that she might have to consider the offer. So she had joined in and pretended to think about it, telling him that she'd call him back in five minutes. Those five minutes weren't spent considering whether or not she should go, but staring at the phone in disbelief, a ridiculous smile plastered across her face. His pleased reply when she had assured him that she would be there had kept her going all the way from San Francisco to Las Vegas. If it had been possible to fly on happiness, she would have travelled faster than the speed of light.

She wasn't used to such unadulterated happiness. Her life hadn't been a fairytale until that point and Sara knew that it wouldn't be afterwards. But for that moment in time, she was content to bask in the warmth of Grissom's voice as he'd said, "I look forward to seeing you, Sara."

The breakroom door opened and Nick followed by Warrick came in, interrupting Sara's reverie. They were laughing about something and their laughter made Sara grin.

"Hey Sara," Nick greeted her, grabbing a soda from the fridge, "What are you up to?"

"Waiting for DNA results."

"And daydreaming, too, by the look of it," Warrick teased.

Sara smiled and shook her head slightly. "Just thinking."

Grissom entered the breakroom holding a sheet of paper. He held it up towards Sara. "Results are back," he announced, "Do we know a John Bradshaw?"

Sara jumped to her feet, taking a last sip from her soda can and tossing it into the trashcan. "Yes, we do," she said triumphantly, "Let's call Brass."

After calling Brass, the two of them headed for the SUV in the parking lot. Sara's mind was full of things that she could say, but she wasn't sure she dared to speak them aloud. Her mind always reeled for ages after any conversation with Grissom that seemed to have some kind of subtext hidden beneath its ordinary exterior.

She had been laying out evidence from a case that was due to go to trial soon and that she needed to refresh her memory of. Grissom had wandered in and stood at her side for a few moments, watching in silence as she arranged the photos.

"You once said that it never ceases to amaze you what people do to each other," he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, "This is one of the cases that made me believe how right you were."

Sara turned to him. "I said that years ago. You remember?"

She remembered, of course. He had pushed her hair out of her eyes and leant towards her, yelling over the sound of the helicopter, making sure that she was all right. It was the first time since she'd arrived in Las Vegas that they'd had a contact that was more than accidental. It had sent tingles down her spine.

Grissom gave her a smile that Sara liked to think of as 'her smile'. She'd never seen him smile that way at anyone else. It was a pursed lips smile, with a touch of a smirk accompanied by a twinkle in his eye, as if she had caused him some great source of amusement.

"I remember," he assured her. He gestured towards the photos on the table. "A man killed two of his work colleagues because he thought his wife was sleeping with one of them? He didn't even know which one it was. And as it turned out, it wasn't either of them." Grissom shook his head.

"He basically left the door wide open for his wife to go running to the guy she actually was having an affair with," Sara remarked, her voice quiet.

"I heard they're getting married."

Sara was intrigued. "They're getting married?" she repeated. "Wow. How'd you hear that?"

"Brass told me in passing the other day," Grissom replied. "He was reading up on the case for court, too."

He gave Sara one his special 'Sara' smiles. She returned the smile, but inside her heart was pounding. They were standing so close. They often stood that close but nothing changed. The effect on her heartbeat was the same every time.

"The two biggest motives to kill are money and love," Grissom informed Sara, "Which is strange, considering how different they are."

"Money is a material thing," Sara agreed, "But love – love is – " she broke off as her eyes met Grissom's. Whatever she had been about to say flew from her mind. Grissom's hand touched hers lightly.

"Love changes people in a way that nothing else can."

They stood gazing at each other for a few moments, until Sara felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks and she broke away, clearing her throat and muttering awkwardly about tidying away the evidence. Grissom said nothing. He watched her for a moment then, touching her arm lightly as he went, left the room.

Sitting in the car with him next to her, Sara suddenly had the urge to laugh. She felt the corners of her mouth twitch and Grissom took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said hurriedly.

He raised one eyebrow as he turned back to the road and Sara glanced out of the window to hide her smile from him.

When they reached Bradshaw's home, Brass greeted them, a frown puckered across his forehead.

"Your John Bradshaw? Dead."

Grissom and Sara stared at him in disbelief. "Dead?" Grissom repeated.

"OD-ed." He jerked his thumb towards the house. "See for yourself."

Half an hour later, they left, following the coroner with the body out of the door. Nothing seemed suspicious about the circumstances of Bradshaw's death. He'd OD-ed, plain and simple. It was frustrating because both Grissom and Sara would have loved nothing more than to put Bradshaw behind bars. Five bullets were too many to inflict upon a human being, but that's what he had done to Stuart Bryant. The gun missing five bullets in his apartment practically confirmed it.

The sun was rising as the two of them drove back towards the lab in silence, each brooding on the injustice of life. It was only when her stomach rumbled loudly that Sara broke free of her thoughts, covering her stomach with her hand and blushing.

Grissom smirked kindly. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I can't remember," Sara admitted. "I think it was the doughnut I picked up on the way home from yesterday's shift.

"You need to eat more regularly than that, Sara," Grissom scolded her, "Your body can't run off energy drinks alone."

Something in Sara was always thrilled when Grissom scolded her. It was his strange way of showing her that he cared. She pretended that it annoyed her, but the truth was, it was the exact opposite.

"I eat fine," she replied defiantly. Her stomach rumbled again, contradicting her words.

Grissom suddenly swerved the car into the inside lane and pulled into the parking lot of a nearby restaurant. He stopped the engine then turned towards Sara who stared at him curiously.

"Why are we here?" she asked slowly.

"To get you something to eat," Grissom replied, opening his door and climbing out. Sara followed his lead.

The restaurant was empty besides a waitress and a weary looking businessman who was meekly attempting conversation with the overly perky waitress. He seemed grateful when she turned her attention towards the newcomers.

"Hey there," she greeted them with a wide grin, "You guys have got the whole place to yourselves so go ahead, pick a table and I'll be right there to take your order." She thrust two menus into Grissom's hands and bounced off towards the double doors that led to the kitchen.

"I feel tired just looking at her," Sara muttered to Grissom. He wasn't listening. He was too busy inspecting each table that they walked past. By the expression on his face, none of them passed his inspection.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," he murmured, running a finger across a table, and then wrinkling his nose at the gooey substance that attached itself.

Sara's stomach rumbled again. Feeling both hungry and bold, she grabbed Grissom's arm and pulled him into a booth, then slid in opposite him. "Yes, it was," she assured him, "I'm starving and I'm sure this place is fine."

Grissom gingerly opened the menu. Sara watched him for a moment then ducked her head in embarrassment when he looked up and met her eyes. She hurriedly opened her menu.

"The pancakes sound good," she remarked.

"They do," Grissom agreed. "With blueberries or strawberries?"

"Blueberries. The strawberries never taste right. Too processed."

Grissom nodded approvingly as the waitress re-appeared, her blonde hair swaying in her ponytail as she beamed down at them both.

"You guys decided whatcha wanna eat?"

"Two orders of blueberry pancakes," Grissom replied, handing her the menus.

"Sure, blueberry pancakes coming right up. You want anything to drink with that?"

"I'll have a coffee," Sara told her. Grissom frowned slightly. She raised her eyebrows at him, daring him to contradict her.

"Can we get a jug of water with two glasses?" he asked.

The waitress beamed again. "Sure thing!" She bounced off.

"You shouldn't have coffee," Grissom informed Sara.

Sara shrugged. "If it'll keep me going, I'll take it." She paused. "Who's paying for this?"

"I am."

Grissom's authoritative response took Sara by surprise. She tried to tell herself that Grissom was just taking care of his worker and that if she had been Nick or Warrick, he'd have done the same. But there was a glint in his eye that told Sara she was wrong. It made her breath catch in her throat. She could hardly dare to think that they might be sitting here because Grissom wanted to break away from their supervisor-boss exterior. The thought of him suddenly deciding that he wanted her, after years of her chasing him, of the uncertainty of not knowing how he would respond to her from one day to the next, sent her mind reeling. She couldn't deal with that. At least not there, not then. Not when they seemed so at ease in each other's company. It reminded her of the time they'd gone to lunch in the middle of a seminar in San Francisco. They had eaten waffles and Grissom had given her a brief overview of what he was going to talk about after lunch. Sara had asked him some questions that had caused him to smile at her. It was that day that Sara had first seen that smile that she'd come to think of as 'her' smile.

Neither spoke for a few minutes. Sara couldn't decide if the silence was comfortable or not. She was relieved when the waitress brought over the coffee and jug of water.

"I'll get your two glasses now."

Sara took a sip of her coffee then pulled the mug away from her mouth sharply. "Ouch!"

Grissom watched her with an amused expression playing on his lips. "Hot?"

Sara bit her lip and nodded. As soon as the waitress re-appeared with the glasses, Sara poured herself some water from the jug and gulped it down. It eased the burning sensation in her mouth.

"Water doesn't actually stop the burning, it just gives cools the mouth down," Grissom informed her.

Sara didn't care. She pushed her coffee mug to one side to let it cool. Again, neither of them spoke. Sara picked up a sugar packet from the container on the side of the table and twirled it through her fingers. She so badly wanted to say something to Grissom but her mind had temporarily abandoned her. The only thing she could think to talk about was the case and she didn't want this, this whatever it was that they were doing, to slip into just an ordinary work breakfast.

"You're nervous," Grissom observed, staring pointedly at the sugar packet in Sara's hand. He gently prised her fingers apart and slid the sugar packet from her hand to his. Sara stared at their touching fingers, her heart pounding. What was he doing?

"I'm not nervous," she lied.

Grissom cleared his throat. "Sara, I – I've been invited to go to San Francisco to do another seminar there."

Sara forced a smile, wondering what this was leading to. "Really? That's great."

"I was wondering if – "

Whatever Grissom had been wondering was interrupted by the waitress appearing at the end of their table and setting down a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of both of them. Sara's stomach rumbled approvingly.

"So what you two doing out so early in the morning?" the waitress asked them. "Usually the only people we get in here so early are people coming out of work."

"We are," Grissom informed her. "We work the night shift at the Las Vegas crime lab."

The waitress stared in amazement at the two of them. "For real?"

Sara hid a smile. "For real."

The waitress glanced at Grissom, a flicker of recognition on her face. "I've seen you on the news!"

Grissom smiled politely. The waitress got the message that they wanted to be left alone. She left.

"You're practically famous," Sara remarked, digging into her stack of pancakes.

Grissom watched Sara as she took a mouthful of blueberry and pancake. A trickle of blueberry syrup ran down her chin and she quickly caught it with her finger and licked it off. It was as she did that that she noticed Grissom watching her, his face full of a mysterious intent.

"Come to San Francisco with me."

Sara gaped at Grissom in disbelief, hardly daring to believe that she had heard his words correctly. Realising that her gaping expression probably wasn't terribly attractive, she peered down at her plate, finding sudden interest in the blueberries. Her mind whirled. If indeed Grissom had just said what she thought he had said, he was asking her to go on holiday with him. Or at least, that's what it seemed. She didn't know what to say. He hadn't asked her to go with him. He had told her to. He was being commanding. Although Sara had a problem with authority, somehow this was different. She liked the commanding attitude that Grissom was giving her.

They ate in silence. This time the silence was comfortable but wary. Two businessmen entering the restaurant at the same time that Grissom's phone started ringing broke their silence. He answered his phone within two rings.

"Grissom … Oh, hi … we stopped for something to eat. Our case is closed … we'll be back to do the paperwork soon … yep, bye."

He hung up and answered Sara's questioning gaze by informing her that the caller had been Greg, wanting to know where the two of them were. And then they were back to that silence again. Sara's plate was nearly cleared, as was Grissom's. They couldn't hide in the pretence of eating for much longer. So Sara bit her lip then spoke.

"San Francisco, hey? Back where we first met."

Grissom nodded, avoiding Sara's eyes. "It's only for three days. We both need to take a break from work."

"We do," Sara agreed cautiously.

"It's being held in the same building that our seminar was in. I heard that they've renovated it, actually."

Sara giggled. "I hope so. I nearly fell to my death wrenching open a window there."

Grissom gave a smile of vague amusement. He swallowed his last bite of pancake and pushed his plate to one side, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. "I thought it might be fun."

"Fun?"

"Yes. To go back to where we met and see how everything has changed."

"Do you think it'll have changed much?"

"I'll see when I get there."

Sara ran a finger around the edge of her plate to collect the last remnants of blueberry sauce. She was about to suck the sauce from her finger when she suddenly had an image of herself from Grissom's perspective and thought how flirty that action would look. Instead she transferred the sauce to her fork and licked it from there.

"You didn't have to do that, Sara." Grissom gestured towards the fork when Sara looked blankly at him. "I wouldn't have thought that you were flirting with me if you'd licked the sauce from your finger."

Sara bobbed her head as she felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. He knew her too well. For someone who claimed not to like people all that much, Grissom seemed to be pretty good at analysing her behaviour.

The waitress re-appeared at their table and handed Grissom the bill. "I hope you both enjoyed your pancakes."

"They were delicious. Thank you," Grissom said politely.

Sara reached for her purse as Grissom got his wallet out of his pocket. "I'll pay for my meal."

Grissom placed his hand over hers, causing butterflies to erupt from the pit of Sara's stomach. "I said I was paying for this and I am."

"Let me pay for my meal," Sara begged, hating to feel that she was taking advantage of his kindness. Grissom squeezed her hand and mouthed the word 'No'. Sara sighed and reluctantly put her purse away.

The waitress took Grissom's credit card and the two of them waited silently while she processed their order. When she returned, she wished them a good day, adding to Grissom, "Keep up your good work!" Sara had to look away as she tried hard not to laugh.

It was almost completely light by the time they got outside. Sara couldn't remember the last time she'd seen the early morning from somewhere other than a crime scene. They got into the SUV, but Grissom didn't start the engine. Instead he turned to his companion, a serious expression on his face.

"Sara, I met what I said. I – I want you to come to San Francisco with me."

Sara swallowed. She didn't know how to respond to his request. She so badly wanted to go with him. Going back to where they met sounded like something that couples did after they'd been married for ten years. The thought made her smile to herself, causing Grissom to shoot a questioning glance in her direction but she ignored it. He was confusing her. After all of the things that had transpired between the two of them over the years, Sara still had no idea where she stood with Grissom. As work colleagues, they had a good relationship. On a more personal level, their standing was rocky at best. And here Grissom was, inviting her to San Francisco with him? It almost hurt her head to contemplate his motives.

"Why?" she asked him quietly.

Grissom obviously had been anticipating this question. He sighed. "Because we both need a vacation and I've been invited to go to the place where we first met. I thought it might be – uh, nice, to be able to walk along the seafront together again. I – I miss you Sara."

Sara thought she was speechless. But before she was aware of what she was doing, she'd opened her mouth and the word, "Yes," had come blurting out. Grissom looked up at her, surprise registering on his face.

"Yes?" he repeated cautiously, as if he thought he might have misheard her.

Sara suddenly became more confident in her words. "Yes! Yes, I'll come to San Francisco with you. I'd like that."

They gazed at each other for what seemed like ages, both with gentle smiles on their faces. Grissom was giving Sara 'her' smile. And Sara was returning 'her' smile with one that Grissom had begun to think of as 'his' smile.

Anything could happen in three days, they both knew that. Sara saw Grissom's eyes flicker onto her lips before he turned and started the engine. She smiled to herself. He hadn't completely opened up to her but it was a start. That was good enough for her. For now.

A/N: When I wrote this, I just wanted it to be a one chapter story butI know it seems like there should be more. I might continue this at some point. No guarantees though!