... part 1, chapter 6 ...

Gil stared out the airplane window, scrutinizing the twinkling lights miles below. He wondered where they were. And why, with all the amazing technology that had come about in the last thirty years, it still took over 8 hours to fly across the country.

At least he was in first class, and not in coach with screaming children and wheezing, hacking elderly. He reviewed the last 24 hours again in his mind, confirming again that yes, he had packed everything he needed, and yes, everything was taken care of back at home.

Gil's primary concern was his new "pet", the plant. Doc Robbins was taking care of his spider, and his cockroaches. But the plant needed sun, and there wasn't any sunlight in a morgue. So, with a small swallow of his pride, he'd brought the plant into work two weeks ago, and now Sofia was caring for it in its new home in his office. Catherine had given him a hairy eyeball when she'd seen it, but she hadn't said a word.

He'd also made sure he packed a few other items he might need. Always best to be prepared.

His nerves were behaving themselves, and he felt relatively calm as the ground passed below him. Only his team knew the real reason why he was flying out to the east coast, and even then – he hadn't told them. But, they knew. Hence the small little "farewell" and their gifts. Which was really above and beyond, even for them.

Gil sighed quietly to himself, realizing again that for most of them, this really wasn't about him. It was about him and Sara. Catherine, he knew, cared for him. She wanted him happy. And Warrick was probably in his corner as well. But as for the rest, he suspected that their loyalties lay more with Sara than him. They missed her, and wanted her back. People are selfish. It's all about personal agendas.

Then again, he himself was guilty of this. He wanted Sara back. His plan developed a few nights after Warrick had spoken with him. The gauntlet, although subtle, had been thrown, and Gil made it his mission to determine the identity of Warrick's secret crush.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Grissom was watching the employees in the lab, searching for any clues of an affinity for Warrick. Warrick himself was as stoic as usual; so watching him was unnecessary, and useless. Plus, Grissom knew Warrick would be extra cautious, now that he'd shared half of his secret with him.

In his people-watching, Grissom realized he and Warrick were not alone. And it astounded him. Hodges was clearly smitten with their new lab tech, Mia. Greg moped around like a lost puppy, still missing Sara. Jacqui seemed to be eyeing Archie, although Grissom could have sworn she was married. And Bobbie from ballistics seemed to be chasing a young blonde that Grissom didn't know. Ecklie spent a lot of time watching Catherine, much to Grissom's dismay. Sofia's eyes would follow Ecklie when she thought no one was looking. She seemed sad, most likely she felt betrayed. Her eyes also tended to follow him around, moderately confirming his own suspicion about her feelings towards him. But then again, her eyes followed Nick, too. And Warrick. Grissom had a tough time reading her. Either she was lusting after them all, or she was studying them just like he was.

Catherine flirted with everyone, including Ecklie. Flaunting her sexuality was just like breathing for her. Watching her made Grissom smile in a way. Catherine had spunk. Unlike the secretary Judy, who was always quiet and seemed shy. But she would giggle nervously if Nick joked with her. A woman from the day shift was obviously involved with a much younger man, also from day shift. Grissom had even caught them kissing in the parking lot before their shift.

He gave up after two nights, the whole study making his head spin. It left him more confused than ever about Warrick's lady, and office romance in general. Was he this obvious? Was Sara? He'd spent no more than a few hours just watching others interact, and their emotions were as clear as day to him.

It was no wonder that his team was frustrated with him. If he had to watch this type of behavior, day in and day out, with no resolution, it would drive him nuts. Memories of his words to that Dr. Lurie made him cringe in embarrassment and dismay. How many people had heard that? Brass, for one. Who else? It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out whom he meant. More cringing at that thought.

The dynamics made sense though. They all spent the majority of their waking hours with each other. Having a life outside of work was difficult, if not impossible. Didn't Catherine complain about this, all the time? Their job demanded much of them. Grissom remembered Charlie Rourdan again, and how he'd originally assumed he and Sara were an item. It was human nature to develop relationships with your co-workers. And the need for male/female relationships to develop was almost instinctive. Reproduction. The feelings could be controlled, but they couldn't be denied.

Grissom had mulled over this for days, even reading up on inter-office relationships over the Internet. It seemed they were frowned upon by management, but easily accepted if the couple were to marry, or was already married. Interesting.

The more Grissom reviewed his past with Sara, the more ashamed he became. She'd already admitted, in her amazingly blunt way, that she came here for him. And for her, a relationship wasn't a problem. And it seemed for most, it wasn't a problem either. After all she'd done for him, and how he'd left her after that seminar, it was no wonder she had assumed more when he'd invited her here.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Sara had brushed past him when she heard the detective's voice in his hotel doorway. "Mac? Is that you?"

"Sara? What are you doing here?" The detective looked extremely suspicious, like Sara was hanging around with a wanton criminal.

"Mac, this is Dr. Gil Grissom from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. He's here at the seminar, as a guest lecturer. This week is the Forensics Conference, remember? And Dr. Grissom used to work with Charlie back in L.A. He is the last person who would commit a crime, okay?"

"We need to bring him downtown."

"Mac, that isn't necessary. The press will be all over this if he's hauled out of here. Can't we keep this quiet? Dr. Grissom was just about to file a claim that his forensics kit, complete with a gun, was missing from his hotel room."

"Is this true, Dr. Grissom?" Mac said to him.

"Yes, actually, it is. I had brought Miss Sidle up here to show her my kit, and when I went to get it from the closet, it was gone."

"Uh, yeah. Okay." Mac said with 'yeah-right' look on his face.

"Mac," Sara said sternly. "Don't go there. It isn't like that. Just like that Bardstow lady, what was her name? Kitty?"

Mac quailed slightly, and Grissom was taken aback at Sara's shrewdness.

"Why don't you question him here, in his hotel room? Since he needs to file his claim about his kit, you can take care of that as well. Save him a trip downtown."

"Or, maybe we can take him downtown to file his report, and question him there," one of the cops said harshly, scowling at Sara.

"Or," Sara scowled back, "we can call Charlie, and after he flips out, he can file a complaint against you for slander against Dr. Grissom's good name. Should I call him now?"

Sara walked over to the hotel phone, and grabbed the receiver. "Well, should I?"

"No. I suppose that won't be necessary," the officer replied, not quite subdued. Grissom suspected Sara would pay for this later. He didn't know her exact position, but no CSI had this kind of clout back in Vegas. He still couldn't believe any of this was happening.

"Let's have a seat, shall we?" The detective gestured to him, and Grissom sat down on his bed, while the detective took the larger chair, and the angry officer took the desk chair. The other officer lingered uncomfortably.

Sara, on the other hand, was leaving. "I am going to call Charlie anyways, Griss," she said, shooting a dark look at her new officer friend. "He and I will make sure that nothing negative comes of this. If you need anything, my room number is 709 and his is 804. Call one of us when you're done here, okay?"

Grissom nodded at her, still overwhelmed by the whole ordeal. He turned to the detective… Sara had called him "Mac"… and tried to look polite and professional.

After a half hour of questioning, and giving a detailed explanation of his kit, the detective and his two henchmen left his hotel room.

"I'm sure you know the protocol, but we need to remind you that you are still considered a suspect in this investigation," Mac said pointedly.

"In other words," sneered the vocal cop, "don't leave town until we tell you to."

Grissom stared back, his eyes hard. "I know the protocol. Please contact me when you have more information on my forensics kit."

After they had left, Gil sat down on his bed and tried to come to terms with what had happened. His kit was missing, and his gun, which was in said kit, was found at a crime scene. Most likely used to murder a convenience store attendant. But, like he'd told the detective and his cronies, there were no bullets in his kit or his gun.

It looked like he was going to be staying in San Francisco a little while longer, now. Lovely. Well, at least he could spend some more time with Charlie and Sara Sidle.

And Sara was just full of surprises, wasn't she? And emotions. Gil wasn't sure what he felt towards her, it was definitely different for him. He was physically attracted to her, but that was to be expected. She was attractive. She also intrigued the intellectual in him; she was very intelligent and quick to wit. Her love of knowledge seemed to parallel his own. Yet a part of him was apprehensive; Sara was a handful. Something about that was also appealing. The chaos, the uncertainty. The whole package together was somehow desirable, in a way that he couldn't quite comprehend.

He picked up the phone, and called Jim Brass back in Vegas. His boss would need to be brought up to speed on what had happened. Jim had connections as well; perhaps he could help move this along smoothly.

After getting an earful from Brass, he called Charlie. He wasn't comfortable calling Sara. Charlie picked up on the second ring.

"Gil!" Charlie exclaimed into the phone, "What have you gotten yourself into?"

"A whole load of shit, it seems."

"I talked with Sara, and with Joe Mackenzie, the detective you met. Sara and I can't work this because of our attachment to you, but I've got guys back at the lab running ballistics on the bullet and your gun. And we're running prints from the store as well. We should have something tomorrow."

"That's… that's great, Charlie. Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet – you'll need to change rooms. I've got a team coming over to dust your room, top to bottom. If your case was stolen, maybe the perp left some prints we can lift. I'm sure the hotel will be okay with you switching rooms, but you most likely will be here until Monday. Will your lab pick up the cost of staying at the hotel, or do you want to stay with me at my place?"

"My lab won't pick up the cost, Charlie. I already asked. Without the discount for the seminar, this place is way over per diem. I was planning on finding a cheap motel."

A voice in the background murmured something.

"You don't have to do that…" Charlie said. "You barely know him."

More murmuring, stern-sounding murmuring. "Yeah, I know. But I can clean it, right?" That brought on a wry laugh in the background.

"All right. Gil, Sara's volunteered her spare bedroom for the weekend, based solely on the fact that my place is a sty, and she knows it. She has a two-bedroom condo near the bay. It's nice. "

Anxious murmuring now. "Oh, and she says it is purely professional. She didn't want you to think that she wanted to… OUCH! Jesus, Sara… that hurt! Okay, okay. Professional she says. And believe me, if you try anything, she'll deck you like she just did me. It isn't pretty!"

"She doesn't have to do that, Charlie. That's really above and beyond. I can get a room at a motel. It'll be okay." The thought of spending a weekend in someone else's home, let alone Sara Sidle's home, was more than he could handle right now. He needed his privacy.

"He says he's gonna get a motel, Sara. Says he doesn't want to impose, that sort of thing." Murmuring again. "Oh, you're right. Let's play it by ear, huh? He's fine for tonight." Charlie then spoke back into the phone to Gil. "Sara says there is a possibility you won't find anything, there's a game this weekend at the university. Homecoming or something. However, you can give it a try, and if you can't find anything, you can stay with her or me."

"I'll keep you both informed – I'm going down to the front desk to switch rooms. Talk to you later."

"Let me know tomorrow what your new room number is. Hang in there, Gil."

"Thanks, Charlie."

Grissom packed up his belongings and toted them down to the front desk. After 20 minutes of waiting, he found himself in a room on the third floor. He picked up the Yellow Pages, and the phone, and spent the next hour calling as many motels within a ten mile radius as he could. Sara Sidle's prediction was correct, and there was no room at the inn.

Twenty-four hours later, and afflicted with a permanent case of his heart problem, Grissom found himself and his luggage positioned at the third front porch in a set of row homes facing the bay. He raised his hand to knock on the bright red front door, when it suddenly burst open and a tank top-and-shorts clad Sara Sidle opened the door with a grin.

"C'mon in, roomie!"

Oh shit… God have mercy…

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Grissom was startled out of his daydream by the copilot's crackling voice. They were landing at Bradley soon. He settled back in his seat, content to watch the landing. A flutter of anticipation ran through him. He was almost here. He had her address, and tomorrow afternoon, he'd show up at her door. With flowers. Yes, flowers. Roses. Red ones. Wait… what if she doesn't like roses?

No, he wasn't going to panic. He'd go with the flow, follow his heart. He'd be romantic and would sweep her off her feet. She'd be receptive and say she missed him as much as he missed her. Yeah, so I'm dreaming. Sue me.

They landed without incident, and he retrieved his luggage and his rental car. It was 11:15 p.m., and apparently the last flight for quite some time. Around him, people were dragging. But for him, the day was just beginning.

As he left the rental car lot, he finally reached down to turn on his cell phone. A beep told him he had a voicemail message. He looked down, and the lab came up as a missed call. Twice.

Oh shit. Something's happened. Sofia wouldn't have called unless it was extremely important. He dialed his voicemail, and sure enough – Sofia had called, and left a message that he call her immediately.

He dialed his office phone, and luckily, Sofia picked up. "Sofia? What happened? Is everyone okay?" His voice was filled with panic, his mind racing.

"First, relax. Everyone is fine, and everything here is fine. I want you to sit down, though."

"Sofia, what is this?"

"You need to be sitting down for this, okay? Just sit down."

"I am sitting down. I'm in the rental car. And I'm off to the side of the road, and people are honking at me. So tell me, what the hell is going on!"

Sofia took a deep breath before continuing, and it echoed across the line. Grissom's heart started to race. She let out a big sigh. "Grissom, Sara Sidle called."

Grissom's mind went blank. HUH?

"Your trip has taken a detour. Remember the Walker woman? Found in the Tangiers, posed? Everything bleached?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, Sara Sidle called from some local casino in southeastern Connecticut. She is on a case there. Two women have been murdered and found within the casino's hotel. The M.O. matches the Walker case. Sara called to hand off the case to us."

"It belongs to both labs," Grissom replied quietly.

"Yes, I know. I told her that as well, and that you were heading out her way."

"Did… did you tell her why?"

"No, Grissom. I didn't. I did make arrangements for you, though. You've got a room at the casino's hotel. The Mohegan Sun. The owners of the casino want to keep this quiet, and they don't want the press to know you're there. So you're going to have to play this as low-key as possible. No reporters."

Sofia paused, and he heard her ruffling through some papers.

"You're point of contact is a Jon Northwind. He's apparently the detective on the case. He's going to meet you tomorrow by the front desk of the hotel. His exact words were 'by the fountain'. So look for a fountain. I've taken the liberty of shipping your kit there by FedEx – you should have it tomorrow afternoon. Is there anything else you need?"

Wow, she was efficient at this. "No, thank you for this Sofia. Does anyone else at the lab know that we've been called to this?"

"Ecklie knows…. I had to tell him." She sounded remorseful, but then again, he could never tell with her.

"I understand. Stay by a phone; I may need the help of the lab with this one. I don't know the resources they have out here."

"I know," she said quietly. "And for what it's worth, things happen for a reason."

"Uh… what do you mean?"

"You're going to be working this with her. A case. Maybe you can use that to your advantage."

Grissom didn't respond to that. He merely replied, "Thanks again, Sofia. I've gotta go."

He flipped his phone closed, and his head was spinning. His not-so-well-thought-out plan had just been squashed by the cold, cruel hand of fate. He was on a case now, and tomorrow he'd be working. Side by side with Sara and her new team. He'd meet her new boss; most likely work with him as well. And he'd have to be extremely professional. What a disaster.

Grissom flipped open the phone, and called Catherine. He needed help.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

It took a little more than an hour before Grissom arrived at the Mohegan Sun casino. It looked a little out of place, like it belonged back home, in Vegas, not the backwoods of Connecticut.

After parking, he found his way to the hotel lobby. Luckily for him, he had parked in the garage closest to the hotel. He was grateful for the casino's road signs.

He approached the clerk behind the desk and stated his name. From nowhere, a manager type appeared, complete with double-breasted suit.

"Come with me, sir," he crooned.

Grissom followed the manager into a back office. The manager gestured for him to sit. He obliged, and was hoping this wouldn't take too long. It had been a long drive, and nature was calling Gil Grissom's name. Loudly.

"We want to thank you for coming here so quickly. As I'm sure you're aware, we want to keep this whole business quiet. If the press were to find out, well, I'm sure you've been in that situation before."

Politics. "Yes," Grissom replied, "I have. I'm as eager as you to keep this as low-key as possible."

"Excellent, excellent," the manager oozed. "We've arranged for you to have one of the comp rooms for your stay. However, I'm afraid that food and beverages are your own expense. I apologize for this, but it is our policy."

"It isn't a problem. My lab will cover that expense, and we appreciate your generosity of the room."

"Good, good," the man sighed, visibly relieved. "I'll have one of our bellhops show you to your room. If you need anything during your stay here, just call the front desk. Our staff has been instructed to handle your requests as an utmost priority."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, you're very welcome. We want your stay to be comfortable."

Grissom wondered if the man realized he repeated half of what he said. But Redundancy Manager was standing now, clearly ending this little discussion. He followed the manager back to the lobby, where the manager made a slight gesture, and a bellhop magically appeared.

"Take this man to the 15th floor comp. Sir, here are your keys." And Grissom was handed two credit card-like cards – digital hotel keys. He nodded in thanks to the manager, and followed the bellhop to the elevator. When they arrived at his room, he noticed the number – 1535. He committed it to memory, since the cards had no markings on them.

The bellhop opened the door, and Grissom followed him inside the room. It was large, and clean, but nothing amazing. He'd seen more impressive rooms in Vegas. However, since it was free, it was more than adequate. He turned around, but the bellhop had disappeared before Grissom could even think about tipping him. Well, that was a positive.

He paid a visit to Mother Nature, and did a quick unpacking of his clothes. His kit, along with the spare and his work clothes – courtesy of Catherine, were due tomorrow afternoon. There wasn't much he could do, and he was still wide-awake. It was almost 1 a.m. He could order room service, but he'd been on enough business trips to know that room service food was never as good as the food at the restaurants.

So after a quick shower and a clean set of clothes, he grabbed his wallet and his "key" and rode the elevator downstairs. He had to admit; the "fountain" in center of the lobby looked more like a pool than a fountain. There were also numerous padded chairs scattered about, so at least he'd have a place to sit while waiting to meet Detective Northwind tomorrow afternoon.

He left the lobby and walked towards what he thought was the casino. What he found was a two story waterfall cascading down the side of the fake mountain wall in front of him. There wasn't a slot machine in sight; however, he could hear them off in the distance. Interesting. It wasn't extremely crowded, but there was a steady stream of people drifting about below him. He'd have to explore this casino later on, but his stomach was mildly reminding him that food was a priority right now.

Conveniently off to his left was a restaurant, Fidelia's, which appeared open. It was a little more crowded than Grissom expected, but hell, at least they were open. Maybe he could get a beer and a bite to eat before heading back to his room. He could also attempt to listen in for any local gossip from the other patrons.

As he walked inside towards the hostess' counter, his eyes were drawn to the brunette sitting off to his right, near the window. She seemed to be drinking coffee, or maybe it was tea, her face half-hidden by the magazine she was reading. He stopped dead in his tracks as he recognized the cover.

It could be no other. Grissom's heart leapt into his throat. There, six feet in front of him, sipping lightly from her cup, intent on whatever forensics article had caught her fancy, was Sara Sidle.

... end part 1 ...

Continued Part 2 ->