CSINut214's A/N: And now, chapter two. Also, to the reader (spongebob) who asked, A Study in Normality is not finished. I just kind of suck at updating.

"Hey, Griss." Sara leaned against his doorframe, watching Grissom sign paperwork. He held the pen much the way he might hold her – with both strength and reverance. Except that the pen was a lot smaller than she was.

"Hey," he replied, looking up with utter longing and secret self-loathing. He noticed the long, lilac silk dress she was wearing, with matching strappy sandals, and thought about how beautiful and feminine and special she was.

"How are you?" she asked, thinking back on the years and wondering if he would ever notice her, if he would ever see her as more than a coworker at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, which was under the auspices of the Las Vegas Police Department, in Clark County, Nevada.

"Fine," he said, thinking to himself No, I'm not fine, I love you and I want to give you smooches and marry you and have your babies even though that's medically impossible.

"That's good," she breathed, remembering how she had come to Vegas for him.

The night shift watched them from the break room, which had a perfect view of Grissom's doorway and office. "Gosh," Greg said, drinking Blue Hawaiian coffee. "I hope they get together soon."

"Yes," Warrick nodded. "What's the pool up to now?"

"Four hundred thousand dollars," Nick sighed.

"Maybe I can somehow push them along," Catherine speculated. "I could take Sara shopping for lingerie, or give Gil relationship advice. I'm really good at relationships, so he'll trust my opinions."

"I'm not sure they're right for each other," Sofia objected. "I mean, it seems like he prefers blondes–" Her sentence was cut off as a giant bear bounded in, ripped her out of her seat, and carried her off, chomping away.

"Anyway," Catherine continued, "We've got to do something about these two. They are meant for each other. It's the sort of 'boy meets girl, boy tells girl he's interested in beauty since he met her, girl asks boy out, he says no, he gets tired and tells a murderer that he couldn't take the risk' storybook love that you never seem to see in real life."

They continued to watch the pair. Greg sipped Blue Hawaiian coffee the whole time.

Suddenly Conrad Ecklie walked in, clubbing a baby seal. "What are you doing?" he roared to the night shift. "Shouldn't you all be working?"

"We're watching Grissom and Sara interact," Warrick explained.

"Yes," Greg nodded, blowing on his mug of hot Blue Hawaiian coffee. "We are staring wistfully at their pure, pure love."

Ecklie spun around, saw Grissom and Sara, and felt his heart grow three sizes that day. "Wow," he said. "It's amazing how perfect a match they are. In fact, in preparation for the day that Grissom realizes he needs her, I have looked through every LVPD employee manual. And I can tell you right now, as long as they are discreet, they can make sweet love all day long. Because, you know, they work at night." He gazed at the baby seal in his arms, and felt something inside him soften. "Run free, little one," he whispered. "Back to the sea, from whence you came."

"Haughaughm," the baby seal barked gratefully, pulling itself out the door.

Grissom watched the seal slide down the hallway, then looked back at the stunning gap-toothed vision in his doorway. "I have an assignment for you," he said at last. "Someone has been murdered on the Strip. Can you handle it solo?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I am an accomplished, dedicated CSI Level Three. See you later."

As she walked out of Grissom's office, Jim Brass walked in. He smiled at Sara, thinking about how she was like a niece to him and how he wanted to protect her always.

"Hey, Gil," he said, plopping down on the large couch that was in Grissom's office but magically did not appear on television. "How are you?"

"Swamped," Grissom replied, motioning to the four-foot-high stacks of paperwork. "What's up?"

"I brought whisky," Brass said, holding up a bottle of amber liquid. "Let's drink it, while we're both on shift, even though you process crime scenes and I carry a gun."

"Sounds like a great plan," Grissom affirmed. "Pour me some of that amber liquid." Together, they drank the amber liquid for a while.

Brass frowned thoughtfully. "You know, Gil, I am a grizzled old detective. I'm around your age, and single, like you. And I am wise in the ways of the world. So I can tell you now, as I drink this amber liquid with you, that you need to start living." He pointed at Grissom, which made his argument stronger. "Sara loves you, and you love her. It's as simple as that."

"Wow," Grissom said. "Your blunt advice has gotten through where six seasons haven't. I think you may be right."

"Yes," Brass nodded. "And now I'm off to interrogate a suspect, even though I just drank a quart of whisky."

On the Strip, Sara was driving to the scene, thinking about blue eyes and bowed legs. Then, all of a sudden, a car veered out of its lane, heading straight for her. "Grissom!" she shrieked, even though he couldn't have heard her.

Back at the lab, Grissom sat right up. "Sara is in trouble!" he cried. "I know, because the hairs on the back of my neck are sticking up in a prickly fashion!" He grabbed his coat and ran out the door. "To the Denali!" he yelled, heading for his Denali and putting the Denali in gear and then driving the Denali toward Desert Palms Hospital. As he drove, an incredibly relevant song came on the radio that reminded him of Sara and how he hadn't taken a chance with her. "Hold on, honey," he whispered. "Hold on."

Meanwhile, Sara was lying in the emergency room. "Ow," she groaned. "Oh, the pain."

"Sara!" Grissom screamed, running in after parking his Denali and then locking the Denali. "Sara!"

A doctor stepped forward, wearing a stethoscope and a somber expression. "Sir, are you looking for an accident victim with big, brown, slightly haunted eyes?"

"I am!" Grissom replied. "Oh, doc, she is my life! Where is she?"

"Well, I can only let family see her. Family or, of course, her emergency contact – a Dr. Gilbert Grissom."

"That's me! Please, show me where she is!"

"Over here," the doctor said, motioning toward the one bed in the ER. "But I must warn you, she is hurt badly. She has shrapnel in her skull, plus she punctured her heart, ripped three holes in her lungs, and dislocated her shoulder. So it'll be a couple of hours before we can discharge her."

Grissom ran to Sara's side, grasping her hand. "Honey? Can you hear me, honey?"

She blinked slowly. "Who are you? Actually, for that matter, who am I?"

"No!" he cried, shaking a fist at the ceiling. "Why, God? Why must you give her amnesia, just as I've realized that I'm head-over-heels in love with her?"

Sara felt something stir within her. He's head-over-heels in love with me? Suddenly she was bombarded with images… Grissom throwing dummies off a rooftop... an orchid plant with a card saying From Grissom... Bob Barker from The Price is Right... Grissom saying he thought she must have been a smart seventh grader... sitting with Grissom by a rotting pig carcass... Bob Barker naked and holding a hamster...

"Griss!" she moaned. "Oh, Griss! I remember now! Your love for me has cleared my foggy, foggy brain!"

"Oh, honey!" he murmured, choked up with emotion. "Can you forgive an old fool?"

Just then, the night shift crew ran in. They'd heard about the accident through their police scanners or word of mouth or something.

"Oh, my poor little sister!" Nick wailed, letting us all know that he sees Sara as a little sister and not as a hot leggy babe. Warrick and Catherine clung to each other, while Greg sipped Blue Hawaiian coffee with a worried expression.

"Gil," Catherine sniffled. "What is the prognosis?"

"Love," he replied, gazing into Sara's eyes. "It's love, and we've both got it bad."

"Yes!" Warrick cheered. "I won the pool! Pay up, y'all! With this money, I'm going to buy myself a new Denali!"

Everyone grumbled good-naturedly as they pulled out cash and handed it to him. They weren't really that upset, because of the beautiful scene of true love before them.

"Griss?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I love you, Griss."

"I love you too, honey."

"Then kiss me," Sara pleaded.

Staring directly into her soul, Grissom leaned forward and captured her lips softly. She started licking his bottom lip, as if seeking permission for entrance. He groaned and stuck his wet tongue deeply into her mouth. They made slurping sounds of love for a while.