... part 1, chapter 4 ...

Grissom couldn't remember where they went for dinner, or how they got there. They must have talked about something, but as Grissom sat in his office, he couldn't recall for the life of him what they'd talked about.

The same went for their trip back to the hotel, although he remembered walking her to her room.

He remembered feeling awkward and shy, unsure of what she expected. But she had been polite, quickly thanking him for a wonderful evening, and she'd disappeared into her room, leaving him standing in the hallway, wondering what the hell had just happened.

It was so long ago. Did they have lunch that day, or was it the next? He remembered eating lunch with her, and attending a lecture with her. She had been fascinated by whatever it was about, and he had been fascinated by her fascination.

She didn't hold back either, and she hammered the lecturer when he had confused his facts in the presentation. She had a ruthless side to her that rivaled Catherine's. Yet where Catherine was flamboyant, Sara Sidle seemed more reserved.

Things had gotten interesting the night before the week-long seminar was supposed to end. That would have made it Thursday night. He and Sara had dinner with Charlie that night. And then things went to all to hell, and Sara… well, Sara had saved his ass.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Sara chatted easily with her boss, sitting across from him at the four person table in the upscale steakhouse. It was clear they were comfortable with each other, and shared more than an employer/employee relationship. Grissom felt a pang of jealousy at his friend's good fortune. He again wondered if there was something sexual between them, but Sara would glance at him across her wine glass, and Grissom would swear she was silently flirting with him.

It was the last night they'd spend in the hotel, and as much as Grissom would have loved to get to know this woman better, he knew she was much younger than him. Was she just being friendly with him, or was it something more?

And really, why would she be interested in him? They had nothing in common. He enjoyed her company, and sure, she was attractive, but Grissom wasn't a one-night stand type of guy. Perhaps she was only interested in an interesting notch for her bedpost.

Grissom frowned at the thought. He just didn't know her well enough to be able to tell. And cold, cruel logic made him believe that she couldn't possibly be interested in him.

"Gil, are you with us?" Charlie questioned. He must have noticed Grissom's scowl.

"Oh… yeah, sorry. I was just thinking."

"Must be something serious," Sara said softly. "You looked like you were a million miles away."

Grissom said nothing, and began eating the porterhouse that had been resting in front of him.

He saw Charlie shoot a look to Sara, and her eyes echoed something back in return. Grissom ignored them, and decided that pursuing anything with Miss Sara Sidle was an exercise in futility. If there wasn't something between his friend and the young woman already, there soon would be. Charlie was 5 years younger than he, and much more of a ladies man than Gil would ever be.

His mood was sour as they left the restaurant, and he sat alone in the backseat of Charlie's car as Charlie drove the three of them back to the hotel.

"I'll drop you off at the front entrance and I'll go park the car. Do either of you want to hit the bar for a couple of drinks? Or should we just call it an evening?"

Sara looked over the passenger side seat at Grissom, and he returned her gaze with a stony one of his own. "Actually," she said to Charlie, "I'm pretty beat. How about I meet up with you tomorrow at breakfast? There are still a few lectures I want to see before I call it a week."

"How 'bout you, Gil?"

"I'll just head back to my room. It was good to see you again, Charlie. You take care of yourself… and your staff."

"You know I will, Gil! Everybody out!"

He and Sara exited the car and watched Charlie peel away. Charlie was always a show-off.

He turned and walked into the hotel without as much as a word to Sara, figuring she would take the hint. Clearly he'd underestimated her.

"Is something wrong?"

Grissom paused, realizing it would be extremely rude to continue walking away from her.

"You've been distant all evening," Sara continued. "Was something wrong with the restaurant?"

Grissom turned to face her, noting her concern. Guilt washed over him. This wasn't right. "No… I apologize. I… have a lot on my mind."

"Wanna talk about it? Is it about a case? You want to run through it?"

Grissom sighed and chuckled softly. "You really do love your job, don't you?"

"You want to know what I love? I'll show you. Walk with me," she said, striding past him toward the elevators. Grissom followed her without thinking.

She wound up taking him back to her room.

"I've got something I think you'll like," she told him as she opened her door with her room keycard.

Grissom swallowed hard, stalling in the doorway as she walked over towards her bed. Was she hitting on him? Did she want to…? From his viewpoint in the doorway, he could see her bending over behind her bed, allowing him quite a view of her ass.

"Are you coming in, or what?" she asked as she turned to face him, presenting him with quite a view from her v-neck top.

"Uh… Sara… I…"

Sara stood, and was holding what appeared to be an old-style forensics kit, as well as two or three magazines. "I'm sorry… what?"

The flush crawled from Grissom's cheeks down to his neck. Boy, when I'm wrong…

"So come in. Come see my kit. I picked this up at another conference from a presenter who was retiring. They don't make stuff like this anymore. Everything fits in here."

As Grissom was slowly recovering from his mistaken assumptions, he began to wonder what kind of woman brought her kit to a seminar. It wasn't like she was going to use it.

He did go into her room, and stood next to her. The analytical side of his mind noticed she kept her room tidy, but not spotless. Her kit was similar to one of his back in Vegas, and she was right – they didn't make them like that anymore.

"I have one like it. Useful, isn't it?"

Sara smiled. "It is! The newer ones don't fit everything in. And this one is a lot sturdier. And fits better into the back of my car. But this, this is what I love." And she lifted up the forensics magazines.

"Knowledge. New technology. Improvements in existing technology. Innovative ideas… all of it. And all to help those who couldn't help themselves."

Her eyes were bright, and Grissom suddenly found himself lost in them. Here, in this woman, was a kindred spirit. Another soul who respected, no loved, the quest for knowledge in this field as much as he did. His opinion of her shifted slightly, and she was no longer just an attractive young lady at a seminar. She had become something… more.

Their eyes locked for a few more moments before Sara broke away.

"Well… I just wanted to show you. I guess… you can go now."

"Oh," he mumbled. "I guess I'll be going… unless you want to come see my kit?"

"You have it here?"

He nodded. "For my presentations. Don't you remember? It's full of 'old-fashioned' and 'outdated' technology."

Sara's face flushed, and he chuckled at her. "Only teasing. C'mon, you showed me yours, now I'll show you mine."

As he led her into his room, he glanced around fretfully, hoping he didn't leave anything embarrassing out for her purview. He sighed mentally in relief, and again praised his mother for teaching him to clean up after himself.

He went to pull his kit from within the small closet, and paused when it wasn't there. That was odd. He was sure that he placed it in the closet after his final presentation this afternoon. A flicker of panic shot through him. His gun was also in that kit. There were no bullets, but the firearm was a prop in one of his presentations.

He began searching the room in earnest. Sara stood to the side, puzzled.

"Is something wrong?"

"Uh… I seemed to have misplaced my kit."

Sara blinked, realizing the implications. "Was… your gun in there?"

Grissom looked up at her, and his face said it all.

A knock at his door broke the tension. Grissom walked over and opened it.

Two police officers and a detective stood in the doorway. The detective was clearly the spokesman.

"Dr. Gilbert Grissom? We beg your pardon, but it is imperative that we speak with you. A convenience store clerk has been murdered, and a firearm registered in your name was found at the scene."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Knocking brought Grissom's thoughts back to the present. Brass was standing in his office doorway.

"She's in Connecticut."

Grissom looked up, amazement on his face. "She showed up? In Connecticut?"

"Yup, sometime between last night and tonight. She was busy yesterday apparently. She's signed a lease through a…"

Brass paused as checked a printout in his hand, "… Groton Realty for an apartment in Stonington. She opened a checking account at a Citizens Bank. And, she is officially an employee of the State of Connecticut Department of Public Safety, assigned to Troop E in Montville."

"This all came through today?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, but it all could have happened last week. Sometimes there is a delay in posting info." Brass shrugged. "Computers."

They both were quiet for a moment. Brass must have sensed that Grissom needed to process this new information in peace.

"I'll let you know what else turns up in the next couple of days."

"Hmm? Uh… okay, thanks… thanks, Jim."

"Hey, no problem."

Grissom felt a little overwhelmed. For over two weeks now, the question of "where" hung over him like a dark cloud. Now, he knew the answer.

She's clear across the damn country. Could she get any further away?

Grissom sighed. What now…

Well, for one, he could tell everyone. He was sure that Greg would want to know. Then again, Greg might already know. If he didn't, he'd pound Grissom with questions. No thanks.

Actually, whomever he talked with would pound him with questions. Questions that he did not have the answers for. Particularly what he was going to do about it. He had no idea.

So for three days, he did nothing. Nothing was appearing to be the best way to go. Word had traveled throughout the lab, and everyone knew Sara hadn't held back in her efforts to get away. Yet, there were no knocks on his door, no uncomfortable questions to answer.

Grissom hoped it would all blow over, giving him time to figure out what he wanted to do, without the pressure of the lab hovering over him. He knew if he left now, they'd all suspect he was chasing after her. How pathetic he'd seem. If he just went away on vacation, say, 3 months from now, they wouldn't suspect a thing.

It was a good thought, but like most bright ideas, practice is always different than theory. It was Monday night, and Grissom had peace for the remainder of the week. Then it started.

Nick was first. He was polite, almost genteel, but became increasingly agitated as Grissom skirted all the direct questions. Grissom winced when Nick slammed his office door, ending their conversation.

The following night, Greg appeared in his office, and was just as polite as Nick was. Until Grissom told him that he had no intentions of allowing anyone on his staff, including himself, any time off to go pursue fruitless endeavors. Greg left shortly after that, but without the dramatics of Nick.

Catherine was third, on night three, and she brought Brass with her. Grissom was starting to get annoyed.

"So, you are doing nothing," she stated with scorn. "All of our checking up on her, and you are doing nothing."

"That isn't true," Grissom replied. "I am doing something. I'm doing my job. See? It may not be what everyone seems to expect me to do, but it is what I'm doing. You both should try it sometime. It's why they pay us."

"I think you're wrong on this one, Gil," Brass told him. "If you let this go, you'll never have another chance again. She'll move on. It is much easier to get over someone if they are a thousand miles away. By the time you're ready, she'll be lost to you."

"And?"

"You'll be alone."

"I'm alone now."

"You want to be alone forever, Griss?" Catherine was glaring at him. "Look, we all know how you feel…"

"No, you don't."

"Well, we all aren't blind. We can see that there was, and still is, something between you two. And I can tell you for a fact, pal, that this is your last shot. You aren't getting any younger, and unless you plan on turning heads at the senior citizen's center, this is it for you."

"Trust me, Gil," Brass said with a hint of sadness, "it isn't easy for guys like us out there."

"It isn't easy for me, either," Catherine sighed. "You have no idea how hard it is."

"Are you both done with your middle-aged depression dialogue, or do you plan on tag-teaming me on this all night?" Grissom lowered his glasses to peer at them over the top rims. "Because, really, I have work to do."

They both stared at him, offended.

"Yes, I'm older. Yes, we're all older. One day, we'll all be so old that we'll slurp stewed peas through a straw. Being alone, or not alone, doesn't change the inevitable."

"Yes it does!" Brass barked. "You are so ignorant to your own damn emotions…"

"Enough. We're done here, Jim," Catherine interrupted. "He's clearly decided to take the easy way out. It isn't like we should be surprised."

"No," Brass replied bitterly. "We shouldn't."

Two more nights passed before Warrick knocked on his door.

"Hey, Griss. Got a minute?"

Grissom eyed him stonily; unsure if this was yet another plea from a co-worker to go and 'rescue' Sara Sidle.

"Have you come to question me, too?" he asked snidely.

Warrick paused before answering, "No. I came by to have you sign these forms from my case two nights ago."

Grissom said nothing, but reached out to grab the forms from Warrick's outstretched hand.

"There's a pool, you know," Warrick murmured. "If, and when you'll go."

"And what's your bet?" Grissom asked without looking up.

"None for me. But for the record, I know how you feel."

"Oh?"

"Fighting it all the time. Seeing her every day, but you can't make a move. Knowing it isn't right. But wanting it all the same."

Grissom said nothing, and watched quietly as Warrick continued.

"At least you know. I mean… it was obvious to all of us how she felt. She wore her heart right out there on her sleeve for everyone to see. I envy you that."

Warrick lapsed into silence. Grissom put down the papers, and took off his glasses.

"Well… Warrick… Have a seat."

Warrick looked uncomfortable, but he settled himself in the chair next to Grissom's desk. Grissom took pity on his old protégé.

"She certainly was emotional, wasn't she?" he mused. "Sometimes I wonder if it was wrong to bring her here."

"I remember why you brought her here. I resented her for a while. And she wasn't easy to work with, in the beginning." Warrick paused, a half-smile forming on his face. "But she kind of grew on you after a while, y'know?"

"Yeah, I do."

More silence as both men paused, each lost in their own thoughts.

"So yours is here, at the lab, I assume," Grissom stated.

"Yes."

"If I ask, will you tell me who?"

"No."

"Not worth the risk?" Grissom was curious. If his ladylove was just another revolving lab technician, Warrick wouldn't have hesitated to tell him.

"Not your business."

Grissom smirked, "I see."

"You'll figure it out sooner or later. I'm surprised you haven't already."

"I've been… distracted," Grissom admitted.

"Oh," Warrick grimaced at him, "is that what you're calling it."

They both chuckled for a second, and Warrick stood to leave. "I should get back to work. It isn't like we don't have tons to do. My new boss runs me ragged, you know."

"I'm sure you can handle it."

"Of course. I've dealt with worse."

Grissom scowled as his jibe, and handed over the signed paperwork. When Warrick was at the doorway, Grissom stopped him with a question.

"So, are you going to tell me what your bet is, or do I need to go look it up in Greg's locker?"

"I didn't…" Warrick began, but Grissom's eyes stopped him. "Al'right. A c-note that you're gone in the two to three month timeframe. Two more that she's back within six."

"Optimist," Grissom deadpanned.

"Nah…" Warrick grinned, "…hopeless romantic. Works well with the ladies, too. You should try it sometime."

Maybe I will, son. Maybe I will.

continued next chapter ->