Disclaimer: Vester faminalia volo aspectus melius di meus cubiculum solum. They're not mine.

A/N: Hey, brownie points to whoever can tell me what the above says, lol. How y'all doing in cyberland? Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. For those who created "couples" they'll be showing up in a chapter or two at a basic information meeting, so you've got that to look forward to. And as always, thanks for the reviews! On a slightly more serious note- someone more or less said that I was plagiarizing this story idea, and that there's a story with this plot already out. I am aware there is a story "The Last Dance" which has a similar plotline. However, if you'll read that and my story, they're very different. So to wishnik, the author of the story, I am in no way copying your story or plot. Any similarities are purely coincidental, and unintentional. Now onto the story.

Dancing With the Law

Chapter Four: In Which They're Blinded by the Light

"Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love." Jane Austen

"Please tell me I'm not sitting here getting my hair done," Sara winced as a hair pinned jabbed her skull.

"You're sitting there getting your hair done," Greg deadpanned. "But hey, so am I. And I have to get make-up to, so we're in the same boat."

"But I bet you're used to wearing make-up," she mumbled under her breath.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I just said that I'm not used to wearing make-up," Sara lied smoothly.

"Maybe so, but c'mon, you can't tell me you honestly never dreamed of getting all dolled up and dressed up for some occasion," Greg insisted.

"Once or twice," she conceded, wincing at yet another strong tug.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Sara made to turn her head and look at him, but stopped when the stylist tugged on a lock of hair and reminded her to stay still.

"Well what were you dreaming about?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious. And why do you keep answering my questions with a question?"

"Why do insist on asking me questions?" Sara shot back.

"Because I'm bored," he pleaded. "And besides, you're my friend. I wanna know more about you."

"All right fine," she gave in, hoping to sate him for a while. Actually, she also hoped it would keep her mind off the pain in her scalp. "I dreamt about getting my nails done, and hair fixed up, and all that other really girly stuff for my wedding. Like most little girls."

"Cool. And who did you see as the groom? Or maybe I should ask who do you see as the groom?" Greg smirked inwardly, thinking she would admit her crush on Grissom. He wasn't disappointed…at least not entirely.

"Not of word of this gets to the others," she warned, then gave a little sigh. "Up until a year ago, I would've said Grissom."

"And now?" He prompted.

"No one honestly, except you seem to be filling the role anyways," she laughed at the choking gasp that came from him at that statement.

"Did you just say what I think you did?"

"Yes, but I'm not meaning it the way you think. Honestly, there hasn't been anyone since Grissom, but look at our situation. You're in a tux of sorts, I'm in a gorgeous dress, getting my hair, nails, and make-up done. It's very close to what I had dreamed you have to admit."

"I got ya. I do have to say though, that as shocked as I was before at that statement, I can't say I'd be disappointed by it if it were true," he waggled his eyebrows playfully, but Sara detected a hint of seriousness; an undercurrent to the light tones he was using.

"Greg, I'm not ready for a relationship right now," she was bluntly honest. "After that whole…fiasco…with Hank, and all the dancing around Grissom, I just need time to myself."

"Hey, I wasn't asking for anything," he held his hands up.

"Friends?"

"Of course, and even better…DANCE PARTNERS!"

"Better for who Greg? I personally think I've got a pretty raw deal here, being stuck with you," she teased, unable to resist baiting him.

"Oh poor, poor you," he rolled his eyes. "Tell me, however can I make it up to you?"

"I don't know. Tell you what, I'll think about it, and hold you to it."

"Fine, but nothing life threatening," he wagged a finger at her as the hair dresser and make-up artist who had been working on him pronounced him finished. He hopped out of the chair and moved slightly behind and to the side of her. "How do I look?"

"Stop fishing for compliments, you know you look good," she scolded and complimented all in one breath, looking at his reflecting in the mirror. His hair had been re-colored to it's natural brown, but then had some lighter brown highlights added throughout. He hadn't really been made-up, except for a little bit of concealer to hide some faint scars, and a little lip-stick to redden his lips lightly.

"So how much longer do you have to go?" He asked, watching in interest as her hairdresser continued to twist, clip, and curl sections of hair.

"She'd be done a lot quicker if she held still, and you stopped distracting her," Esfir came up from behind them. "Now, you come practice your hold and basic steps with me while she's being made up."

Sara almost burst out laughing at the look of horror on his face, but didn't want to risk moving, and thus further angering the hairdresser. Biting back a yelp as the hairdresser once more seemed to tug unnecessarily hard, she decided to mentally run through everything she had been reading and researching on the web about the waltz. Her mind became so caught up, that she didn't even realize that her hair had been finished, and her make-up was now being started. She snapped back to reality the moment she saw a mascara brush coming towards her eye, and decided it would be safer to pay attention for the time being. So listening to the make-up artist, she complied with her instructions; tilt your head, close your eyes, unwrinkle your forehead, open your eyes- wider, smudge your lips.

"Done!" the make-up artist exclaimed what seemed a life-time and five pounds of make-up later.

"Oh wow," Sara breathed as she was finally allowed to see herself in the mirror.

All the painful twisting that she had hated at the time, she now admired. Small sections of hair had been twisted back from the front, and clipped into place with delicate silver clips that caught the light. The rest of her hair had been curled and pinned up in a bun of sorts. Her make-up, though heavy feeling, looked very soft and natural. Light eye-shadow and mascara to highlight her eyes, and a light pink lipstick. Overall, she was very happy with the new look.

"Ah Miss Sidle, you're finished," Esfir popped up behind her and hooked her hand around her arm, dragging her out to the front of the store. "Come along now."

Greg quickly moved to Sara and held out his arm to escort her to the studio a block away. Talking quietly as they walked, they did their best to ignore the car's honking and occasional cheer from people driving by. They were even stopped once by a group of Japanese tourists who wanted to take their picture. Soon enough though, they arrived at the portrait studio, and were quickly ushered into a large room where expensive cameras were set up.

The next hour was just a complete whirlwind for Greg and Sara. They were sent into hair and make-up again, even though they had just come from the salon. Once that was re-done, they were ushered back out onto set where the photographer immediately began directing them into posing in what Greg was sure were the most un-natural looking poses ever. And it felt as if there were hundreds of frames taken! Of them together, of them by themselves, and even a few of them with Madame Parajanov.

"Now, we have twenty frames left," the photographer Lyle announced.

"Oh goody," Greg said with relief.

"I think we'll use them to get you two closer," Lyle looked them both over critically. All pictures done so far had been fairly simple. Standing next to each other, or in dance position, or Sara sitting and Greg behind her. Nothing too intimate looking, all very casual. The closest they had been was for a fun shot where Greg dipped Sara, and they both had their faces turned towards the camera, big smiles shining on their faces. "Now, Miss Sidle, please go stand in the center with your side to me please."

"Right here?" Sara double checked her position.

"Yes, fine. Now, Mr. Sanders, if you'll go stand in front of her, and take her hands in yours. Your hands palm up, hers palm down."

"Patty cake," Greg gave her a goofy grin as they waited for the next direction.

"All right, now still holding hands, please lower your arms so they're nearly straight, and move close to each other," Lyle came over to them and began pushing them where he wanted them to go. "Good. Now, rest your foreheads together please, eyes looking into each others, and soft smiles."

Lyle smiled evilly as he turned away from them. The two were so perfect looking together he thought, he couldn't resist a bit of photo-matchmaking. Yelling at them to smile again, and not to move, he quickly snapped off six frames. All of which looked like they would fit on the cover of a romance novel. The two had an undeniable chemistry with each other, even if they were completely oblivious to the fact they did.

"All right, something a little more intimate perhaps?" Lyle suggested slyly.

"Why?" Sara just stared at him. The last pose had been awkward enough for her, seeing as she and Greg were friends, not lovers.

"Why not?" He replied whimsically. "After all, dance is love unspoken! It's a musical portrayal of feelings, and passion, and, and, and life!"

"Uh-huh," Sara muttered under her breath, but she didn't disagree with him. She actually agreed, but only if your dance partner also happened to be your life partner also.

"Wonderful! Now, Miss Sidle, face me, cross your arms, and Mr. Sanders, step up behind her and take her hands in yours again please," he directed. "Now if you were doing the cha-cha, this hold is used in what's commonly called the cuddle step. Now, Mr. Sanders, please step up and rest the side of your head against hers. Eyes soft, smiles gentles, and hold!"

Eight more frames were snapped.

"Last pose," he announced. "Now, would it be too much to ask for a kiss?"

"Yes," Sara gave him a death glare.

"Oh well. Fine then. Face each other please, your sides to us. Now, Miss Sidle, if you will place your hands, palms flat, on Mr. Sanders chest. And Mr. Sanders, I know you'll love this."

"Oh no," Sara muttered to herself, envisioning the horror to come.

"Arms tightly around Miss Sidle's waist please, and draw her closely to you," Lyle grinned as he saw a spark flare in Greg's eyes as he followed the direction. "Now Miss Sidle…"

"What?" Sara retorted, beginning to feel tired and overwhelmed by everything, and really just wishing it was over and done with.

"Lean your head against his shoulder, looking towards me please. And Mr. Sanders, kiss the top of her head?"

"Sir?"

"Just do it," Lyle flapped his hand at him. "It may sound odd, but it photographs extremely well and looks wonderful. Now just do it!"

Still looking slightly confused, and nervous that Sara was going to hurt him for it, he gently pressed his lips against the top of her head. Well actually, it wasn't quite the top of her head, as his neck wouldn't stretch that far, so he settled for kissing the side of her head. And of course he made sure to keep his head turned towards the camera.

"All right, eyes closed please," Lyle called, and then promptly snapped the last frames. "All right, thank you! You may head back to make-up and they'll help you clean off your make-up."

"Thanks Lyle," they called, then followed a nearby assistant off the main shooting area.

"You sneaky little devil," Esfir scolded approvingly as she came up beside him once Sara and Greg were out of sight.

"Who, me?" Lyle put on a look of false innocence, batting his eyelashes.

"Yes you," Esfir rapped his shoulder with her cane. "You know very well none of those last three poses was necessary. I highly doubt they'll be what the dance sponsors want as their competition display photo, or the programme photo."

"Ah, what can I say? They're such a lovely couple, I couldn't resist," he shrugged, holding his hands out.

"And I'm glad. Just make sure I get some copies. For my collection, and to give to them later on," she raised an eyebrow in warning of what would happen if he didn't.

"Of course. That was a given my dear," he laughed, and swiftly kissed the top of one of her hands, and then gave her a wink before disappearing to attend to the photos.

OooOooOooO

"You know, I used to think that nothing was going to be more tiring then dancing, but I was wrong," Greg moaned as they walked back to the dance studio. There had been a silent agreement between them to not discuss the last poses they did for the photo shoot. "I don't know how models do it. Standing and sitting, and posing and moving, and smiling! God, I feel like my skin is permanently stretched out and my teeth hurt! I didn't even think that was possible for my teeth to hurt from smiling!"

"Guess it is," Sara replied sleepily. "What I'm more concerned about however, is how I'm going to stay awake at work tonight."

"Maybe you should use a sick day?" He suggested, then hurried into an explanation when she glared at him. "Hey, don't look at me like that. You've got TONS of overtime already, and the last time you actually used a sick day was what, never? Come on. And if you take a sick day, I'll even promise to tell Grissom to give you a call if we get too swamped."

"Really?"

"Really," Greg nodded, though he was lying. If he managed to convince her to take a sick day, he wasn't about to let her come in.

"All right then, maybe I will," she shrugged in acceptance. The thought of going home and just going to sleep was tempting. She had been pushing herself really hard over the past two days, between work and the extra lessons with Greg. And not to mention all the time she practiced at home. She wanted to get back into shape, dance-wise, and not having anything else to do, simply spent a lot of her free time practicing. She worked on the holds and step they'd learned so far, but she also went over some of her old ballet moves, since they had really helped her become limber and more flexible when she had started ballet.

"Hey, are you okay?" Greg asked softly, with a light touch to her arm as they arrived back at the dance studio and prepared to go their separate ways. The salon and photos had taken the entire lesson.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she nodded.

"Really?" His gaze was penetrating…knowing.

"No, maybe not," she admitted with a sigh, and realised how good it felt to be honest with herself for the first time in a long time.

"But you will be," his words were more of a statement as he gave her a half smile.

"Yeah, I will," she smiled back, glad someone understood, and wouldn't push.

"Then that's all I need to know," he tugged on her hand and pulled her in for a hug. "Now I know you probably won't, but if you ever need someone to lend an ear, I'm your guy."

"Thanks Greg," she answered, surprised by this rather mature side he was showing. She was so used to the goofball-side he showed, and acted like most of the time.

"That's what I'm here for," he playfully slugged her shoulder. "Now go home and get some sleep."

"Hey! I haven't decided whether or not I'm going to or not."

"Well I just decided for you."

"Greg," she glared at him, then sighed; something she felt she had been doing too much lately.

"Please? I'm begging here," he pouted. "Come on. I promise, I'll come over tomorrow afternoon before our gym practice session and go over the case I get with you."

"All right, all right!" She laughed, before it abruptly switched into a yawn. "Sorry. All right, I'll take tonight off. I'll see you tomorrow at three then, we'll grab some food or something."

"Kay, see ya then," he hesitated, then shyly stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Take care of yourself."

And with that last sentiment, he spun around and dashed to his car as quickly as his pride would allow. He didn't what had possessed him to do that. He just knew he wanted to protect her, make her feel better, take away whatever demons were bothering her. His mother had always kissed him on his forehead when he was upset, and it always made him feel better, so on impulse he had done the same to her.

Sara had been just as surprised by the action, but it wasn't exactly unwelcome. If he had done so a few weeks ago, or even a few days ago, she probably would've laughed or lectured him playfully, and warned him not to do it again. But for some reason, this whole dance competition fiasco had seemed to help him mature, at least around her. And to her surprise, she found she like this side of him, and that her thoughts, even in the last two days, were beginning to dwell on him more than usual.

Smiling and thinking herself to be silly and acting like a teenager with a crush, she climbed into her car and drove home. All the while desperately trying to convince herself that her feelings for Greg weren't changing.

OooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooO

A/N: Okie dokie, that's it. Hope ya liked it. More good stuff next chappie. Maybe some more dancing? Or maybe some more introspection and self-examination? Or maybe something else? Lol, just tune in next time and find out. And in the mean-time, review please, if you're so inclined.