The sequel to the sequel... I will eventually get round to writing the sought after Grissom/Greg confrontation, but for now...

Thanks again to everyone who review so faithfully, and to sweet-surrender5 for the good advice!

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Yep – They All Know

Sara Sidle was nervous.

It was a strange feeling - one she hadn't felt for months - and as she sat in her car, she was surprised at the force with which the waves of nausea was washing over her. She rarely felt sick – her gag reflex had been tested (and then summarily suppressed) so many times over the past decade, that the only thing that could get her sick these days was a particularly bad case of food poisoning.

But it was definitely not food poisoning that was to blame for the current state of her overstrained nerves. Oh no. Her anxiety and stress could all be ascribed to the oldest and silliest reason in the book.

"Well, that just figures, doesn't it," she grumbled softly to herself. "No matter how independent, self-reliant or successful you are – in the end, all the crap that happens in the world can always be laid at the door of a damn man. Or two damn men."

Leaning her head against the steering wheel of her car, she silently cursed the two of them. She'd already had a quick face off with one before coming to work.

"Shit, shit, shit! I'm going to kill that damn idiot. Kill him!" Grissom's words had been muffled through the closed door, but his intentions had still been pretty obvious.

Opening the door a crack and checking that the coast was clear, Sara had emerged from the bedroom, giggling uncontrollably. Over the last few months, she had gotten used to the I've-just-woken-up Grissom – cranky, malcontent and stomping round the apartment like a bear with a sore tooth, until the caffeine from his first cup of coffee had time to kick in. And the look on Greg's mug when confronted by this discontented spectacle had been so absolutely priceless, that Sara couldn't stop laughing, despite the dire ramifications of Greg's impromptu visit.

"Keys, where are my damn keys!" the fiend had yelled, raging through the apartment, his blue Hawaiian shirt flapping about him like the cape of some bizarre superhero. Hearing the giggling behind him, Grissom had swung round, and fixed her with a glare that would have caused a lesser woman to spontaneously combust.

"Griss…" she'd sputtered, "What exactly do you plan to do when you catch him?"

"Kill him," was the instantaneous reply. "Find him, kill him, dispose of him, forget about him and plead diminished capacity if anyone ever asks about him." The cushions on her couch had borne the brunt of his irritation, as he'd flung them around, looking for the car keys that were still missing.

Swallowing her laughter, she'd retrieved his keys from the kitchen counter, and tried to be as tactful as possible. "You might want to…change…first. Greg seeing you like that is one thing, but I'm not sure if anyone else in the lab will be able to handle the…uh…full…Grissom experience."

He'd glowered at her through narrowed eyes, but she could see that the corner of his mouth was threatening to lift into that lopsided grin he always wore whenever she had out-manoeuvred him. With an annoyed huff, he had marched past her, trying desperately to remain as dignified as possible, despite his overwrought state.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she had watched as he flung his work clothes on, still muttering darkly under his breath. "It's not only Greg's fault, you know," she'd ventured cautiously. "Can I assume that you didn't bother to check who was at the door before you opened it?"

He'd been in the middle of yanking on his pants, but her words made him freeze mid pull, and he stood there for a few long seconds, the Death Glare not quite as effective as he would have liked, since he was standing with his trousers only halfway up his legs.

"Don't make me commit two murders in one day," he finally growled, before he tugged on the rest of his clothes, snatched the keys from her hand and darted out the door and down the stairs with an agility that a man half his age would have been proud off.

After Grissom had gone, she'd slowly started to dress for work, while the grim implications of the recent events slowly swirled around in her head. She was pretty sure that Greg wouldn't spill his guts on purpose, but the fact was – like her, he also had a disconcerting tendency to over talk when he got nervous.

Besides – what in the living blazes was he doing coming over to her apartment unannounced? Did the man not know how to use a phone? What could he possibly want from her at this time of the day, when he knew she was just getting up and getting ready for work? When he was going to see her in less than an hour anyway? And what would happen if this tasty titbit of gossip got out at the lab?

It didn't bear thinking about. Murder might be a little extreme, but maybe a stern talking to from Grissom wouldn't be the worst thing in the world for dear old Greg.

She had angrily swallowed a cup of scalding coffee, before jumping in the car to get to the lab. But during the twenty minute drive, her anger had morphed into tension. Best case scenario – nobody (except Greg) would be any the wiser. Worst case scenario – by the time she walked into the lab, the whole planet would know. Either way, she was still going to have to confront Greg about this, to clear the air, and it was a conversation she was not looking forward to.

And that's how she'd gotten here, her head resting tiredly on the steering wheel. She was already late, and she couldn't put this off any longer, or Catherine would have her ass. Sighing, Sara dragged herself out of the car, and started trudging slowly towards the lab. She couldn't see Grissom's car anywhere, and she hoped that boded well. Hopefully he had accomplished his mission, read Greg the riot act, and was now on his way home.

As she entered the building, she saw Hodges coming out of Ecklie's office. He was wearing a huge smirk of sly satisfaction, which Sara found a little disturbing. When he saw her, he all but jumped out of his skin, veered around, almost slammed into the wall, and then scuttled off to Trace without saying a word.

Sara watched the little performance with a frown. What the hell was up with him? It must be something huge, to prompt him to act even weirder than normal. Did he know? Could he know? Mentally shaking herself, Sara took a shuddering breath. How could Hodges possibly know anything. Greg might tell Catherine and the guys, but not even he would dream of saying anything to Hodges of all people.

She was just being completely paranoid now.

Right?

Getting closer to the break room, she was surprised to hear howls of laughter and animated conversation coming through the closed door. Slowing down, she was just about able to make out Catherine's voice through the din.

"About time…always knew…"

As her stomach lurched, Sara crept closer, straining to hear what the conversation inside was about.

"Yeah, "Nick's voice was filled with laughter. "After six long, long years, it's about time, ya know? I just wish we could figure out when exactly it all started!"

"I'm with you there man. I dunno – I guess I started noticing a change sometime after we got you out of the box...you know – like they were just more comfortable around each other all of a sudden," Warrick offered.

"Ha ha. You remember that case about the werewolves? Sofia told me that she had to wait over two hours for Sara to get to the phone booth after paging her. Now you kind of wonder what she was doing all that time, don't you…"

At that moment, Sara could happily have throttled Brass until his face turned the same colour as his stupid blue sweater.

"Well, my money is on earlier. Much, much earlier," Catherine grinned at the assembled faces around her. "I always harboured a suspicion that those two got it on, way before Sara even got to Vegas. I mean really – at the time, Grissom told us she was "a friend", someone he "trusted". Now tell me – since when has Gil Grissom ever had a trusted friend?"

Slumping against the wall, Sara decided that she'd heard enough. Backing away from the break room, she pulled the cell phone out of her bag.

"Hey Griss. Um…uh…there's no good way to say this, but…I think we might have a tiny little problem…"

As she walked to the locker room, Sara reflected on how it was that a man, who was normally so unflappable, came to be so fluent in the use of colourful swear words.

One thing was for absolute certain though.

Greg was a dead man…

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A/N :

Yeah, I know - I haven't figured out what to do about Hodges either. I'll tie it all up somehow, I promise!

Leave a review if you liked it.

Oh hell - leave one even if you hated it. I can take it!

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