There were three things Jessica Kolns realized at that moment: first, she was trapped under a mountain of boxes; second, the storage and supply closet smelled quite badly; and third, it was highly likely that no one noticed she was missing. Scratch that third one, she told herself as the door finally opened just beyond her head.
Gil Grissom blinked a few times: he had seen many strange things in his time as CSI supervisor, but the sight of the redheaded intern buried beneath piles of gloves, alcohol pads, and microscope slide protectors, was a novel sight indeed. He cocked his head slightly in question. "Do I want to know?" he asked, eyebrows raised. Easy, Gil, he reminded himself as he helped clear away the mountain of supplies. It's only her first day, and she's just a kid. She'll get better with time. He extended a hand down to the young woman, whose face now matched the liberally applied red streaks in her already red-brown hair.
Jessie felt a soothing hand patting her back, and it suddenly came to her that she was mindlessly babbling apologies. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just- it just- I was just- but I- it- oh, crap!"
Grissom opened his mouth again, about to offer a few words of comfort.
"Hey! Grissom! You found my intern! Wait, where was she? I sent her to get some more slides about half an hour ago." Greg Sanders skidded to a halt in front of the pair, his sneakers squeaking noisily on the polished tile floor as he braked.
The girl gestured helplessly behind her, tears of mortified shame threatening to drip from her eyelashes. Her hands flew up to cover her face, and she let out a self-abasing moan.
Seeing no need to add insult to injury, Grissom explained for her. "She would have been back sooner, Greg, but apparently someone stocked the slides under the cotton balls."
Greg had the grace to flush guiltily under the scrutiny of the older man's mild but direct stare. He noticed two things as Jessie slowly lowered her hands: one, her brown eyes were really really cute; and two, her cheek was bleeding. "Oh, jeez! Here." He fumbled in the pocket of his lab coat and drew out a spare kleenex, noticing quite acutely that his hands trembled as he handed the intern the tissue. Christ, Greg! You're supposed to be good with the ladies, not shake like a leaf and act like a horny teenager!
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, um, I should, uh, get you back to the...the...um..." Crap! Great, Sanders, stutter like a lovesick kid. Uh, what's that place called?
 "Um, you mean the lab?" Jessie volunteered shakily, sniffling back the tears and pressing the kleenex to her cheek.
"Yeah, that's it! Phsht! It's, uh, it's been a, uh, long day. Anyways, I'll, uh, just get back to work, then," Greg flashed Grissom a hasty, sheepish smile, draped his arm around Jessie's shoulders, and stumbled away, stuttering halfhearted apologies. Grissom let a knowing smile drift across his lips on the way back to his office. On sheer impulse, he began to whistle "Love Is In The Air" as he walked.
Greg flinched as though he had been slapped, and dropped his arm back to his side.