A/N: Sara is in Vegas-and a new chapter! Most of you will immediately know the episode this one follows. Thank you for reading!

Gil Grissom's Romance

Chapter 6

"I wish I was like you, Grissom. I wish I didn't feel anything."

Sara's words, her tears, had stirred something inside of him, unexpectedly, causing him to remember the first time she visited Vegas; two sun-filled days of enjoyment. He had never regretted his decision—her decision—to choose the lab. Bringing her to his team had worked; she was a dedicated criminologist. She got along well with the others—even Catherine seemed to approve of Sara.

But Sara wore her feelings on her shoulder—too easily affected by a case; and the comatose woman, Pam Adler, overhearing Sara talking to the victim, had cause him to be to abrupt, to blunt in how he addressed the situation.

Finally, he pushed aside his never-ending work and got up, knowing Sara had not left the building. She rarely left before he did, and often, was there when he left and when he arrived. Making his way around the lab, he found her. Hunched over a stack of books, she didn't seem to notice when he entered the room.

He sat down across from her. "Going home soon?"

Not looking up, she said, "Soon enough—I'm not on the clock, if that has you worried."

Sighing, watching her, he felt inadequate; a state that was rare for him. He could deal with anyone in the lab, most people at a crime scene, but with Sara, he had a gnawing doubt of his abilities.

"Oh, Sara," he said softly.

With a suddenness and ease that always caught him off guard, she smiled.

That was it, he thought. She could turn that smile to him, nothing held back, that radiated an easy friendship—he thought of her as his student, nothing else, the same way he thought of Nick and Warrick, nothing more. Except she was more—he had asked her to move to Vegas. He had helped her find a small apartment. They could sit in the same room in comfortable silence and if he caught her eye, she would smile. It had almost become a ritual between them, even when they worked; she looked for his approval. He looked at her for—for what? Not approval, but for something else he could not name.

He knew she was special; in a way he refused to voice, she was special to him. She had a gift—or was it a curse—of acceptance. Whether it was a learned habit or in her genes, he had no way of knowing, but being with her every day, he knew she trusted and accepted him for what he was. She often knew what he would do before he did it; he had never known that with another person.

The months of working with her, of observing as she worked with others had confirmed his decision to hire her had been a success. Secretly, he knew, and was proud of the fact, that Sara was the smartest person in the lab—fairly certain her ability to work out problems and find solutions exceeded his own.

He stopped his thoughts and continued, "Would you—I was thinking about spending the morning outside. Would you like to go with me?"

If possible, her smile broadened. "Yes!"

Not bothering to change clothes, they left in Grissom's vehicle. Laughing at nothing and everything as they cruised northwest, Sara made a guess.

"Are we going to Mount Charleston? I've not been there."

Grissom glanced at her, smiling as he said, "I didn't think you had and it's my fault. I've ignored your introduction to Vegas and the surrounding area."

"No, you haven't. Works keeps you so busy—and—and I've seen a lot." She gave a small ironic laugh.

He laughed, saying, "Yeah, too much of it has been a crime scene and in the dark." He made a turn and pointed to the drive-thru. "You want to go in or…"

"Drive-thru."

He ordered more food than the two of them would eat all day but the steaming, salty fries were gone before he turned at the road sign for Mount Charleston. Then in the parking lot, they ate breakfast croissants dipped in melted butter and strawberry preserves. Grissom unwrapped a biscuit containing a greasy sausage and took a bite.

"Good!" He said after he swallowed his first bite. "There's one for you."

Sara took the biscuit, pulled out the sausage, saying, "You want this?"

With a grin, he took the sausage and placed it in his biscuit.

With full stomachs, they got out of the car; Grissom located the trail and a few minutes later they were in a wilderness, a forest of tall trees and scrubby undergrowth, following a well-trod trail.

The air was clear as crystal, the sky unclouded, and before long, the sun was warming their faces. The only noises were the occasional comments one of them made or the rustling of small animals and birds in the forest along the path.

Wind wafted through Sara's hair, twirling it inside out. Occasionally, she pulled and threaded fingers through it in an attempt to tame it. Grissom offered his hat but she refused saying she wanted the sun on her face.

As they walked, the trail became narrow so they walked in line, Sara in front, as they climbed higher. In the silence, the birds were the only noticeable sound; darting from one spindly tree to another, calling to one another. The incline of the track made conversation difficult, so they walked in silence, with only the wind gently sighing as a backdrop for the sounds of the birds.

Forty minutes after they left the parking lot, Grissom moved ahead, quickly, saying, "I knew it would be spring up here!"

The temperature was a few degrees cooler yet the sun was blazing into mid-morning as they climbed the mountain and suddenly, the sun, free from shadows made by the trees, warmed Sara's face and arms. Grissom was slowly turning in a circle; a seldom seen smile spread across his face as Sara stepped into an open meadow.

Flowers were everywhere, shimmering and flaring in a treasure of colored jewels across the open space. Sara stood, open-mouthed, surprised at all of the colors; blues, purples, pinks, yellows, reds, and oranges made a scattered rainbow across the field.

Slowly, Sara made her way into the meadow, trailing fingers lightly over fragile blooms that grew as high as her knees. Midway across the area, she found several rocks, domed and smooth, piled in a way to suggest natural stairs to the highest one. She turned to find Grissom a few feet behind her.

Following her by ten feet or more, he had watched as she had discovered the beauty of the meadow. As she stopped at the mass of rocks, he said, "You've found my secret spot—well, I call it that—I've never seen anyone else up here."

Sara's hand pointed upward. She said, "Can we climb?"

He nodded and she placed her hand on a rock for support and began to climb. The rocks were only fifteen feet or so above the meadow, but high enough to see the entire field. The top was smooth and almost flat, worn that way from thousands of years of exposure to weather, except for a rise that made a natural seat on its north side. At the top, she turned, extended her hand to Grissom, and brought him to stand at her side.

"This is absolutely beautiful," she said. "How did you ever find this place?"

"Walking around—trying to find a quiet place," he said as he released her hand. "I've spent hours out here—lots of insect activity—silence—a place to think—or not."

As she slowly turned, he reached into his jacket and handed her a bottle of water. As she accepted it, she said, "I could have carried it!"

Shaking his head, he said, "I didn't bring food—just water. We won't stay long. I—I wanted you to see this place."

In companionable silence, they sat down, relaxed, and watched—birds flying overhead, flowers waving in a gentle wind, a few clouds floating in a blue sky. A short while later, Grissom stood, saying he wanted to check out a butterfly he could see among the flowers.

When Sara stayed on the rock, he handed her his jacket. "I'm not cold," she said.

"A pillow."

A few minutes after he left, Sara folded the jacket behind her head, closed her eyes, and within minutes, she was asleep.

A dream, Sara thought, as her brain tried to work her eyes open from the fuzziness of unexpected sleep. She had gone to sleep on a rock, she remembered, in the middle of a field of flowers—with Grissom. Her eyes flickered open to brightness, so bright that she had trouble focusing as a shadow covered her eyes.

She realized it was Grissom's hand moving toward her, reaching to touch her hair. She drew a breath as he caught a lock of her hair between two fingers, looking at it for what seemed to be a long time before his eyes met hers.

A quick smile before saying, "It's a small bee—harmless," as his fingers moved above her head. "It's tangled in your hair." His tongue touched his upper lip; finally he grinned. "There she goes—just a little confused."

Sara managed to remain still as she said, "I don't like bugs."

Then he laughed. "It's gone now. Got you mixed up with a flower." Suddenly, he leaned over her head; his nose almost touched her hair. "Lilac, I think."

Sara reached a hand to her hair, smoothed it, and made a small groan as she shifted to sit up. "I—I must have dozed off."

Grissom had knelt beside her and reached to steady her process. "I got busy watching bees—there's a colony in a dead tree over there." He pointed to the west. "It's not very far, but took me a while to find."

Sara sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You looked for bees?" Softly, she laughed. "How do you find bees? It looks like a lot of wilderness out here."

Laughing at her comment, they almost miss the rumble of thunder. Immediately, Grissom frowned. "Was that thunder?"

Sara looked at the sky, saying, "Do you think it was?" Standing, gazing to the north sky, she added, "I see thunderclouds—do you think it's coming this way?"

Standing beside her, Grissom said, "The wind has picked up—we'd better get going." Turning to her, he gently touched her hair with his fingers as he said, "Thanks for coming with me—even if you don't like bugs."

Before they reached the ground, raindrops were falling and they began to run. Thunder echoed as they reached the tree lined trail. Quickly, the sky darkened and rain grew heavier. The path soon turned to mud; Sara realized she could easily outrun Grissom, but she remained behind him as he hurried down the path in pouring rain.

Suddenly, he veered off the path into a stand of trees. She followed.

A little breathless, he said, "Have you heard any more thunder?"

Before she could answer, another thunderclap boomed, causing both to look at the sky seeing dark clouds hanging over the tree tops. If possible, it began to rain harder.

She said, "What do we do? It's at least thirty minutes to the car."

Motioning to a spot deeper in the trees, he said, "Stay here."

Suddenly, lightning streaked in a bright line across the sky with an instantaneous crack of thunder.

"If we stay low—and in small trees, we'll be okay," said Grissom as he took her arm and led her into a vine tangled area of trees.

A scud of heavy rain surged over them and any inch that might have been damp was drenched. Sara's shirt was soaked, clinging to her skin. Grissom handed his jacket to her as he got on his knees.

"It's wet but it might help." Pushing some of the brambles back to make a small indention, he waved for her to enter. "Crawl into my den, dear."

Sara ducked her head and hunkered down to get under the thicket, scooting over so he had room to crawl in the little cave-like structure beside her.

Lightning in multiple streaks lit up the sky; thunder clapped within seconds.

Grissom said, "Usually doesn't last long, but I think we'll be better here than running down the trail." His hand touched her knee. "You okay?"

She laughed, "Soaked, but fine. San Francisco doesn't get many thunderstorms," she said. She spread his jacket over her head, giving him part of it to hold over his head. "I don't think I've ever seen it rain this hard."

Another bolt of lightning creased the sky followed by booming thunder.

The thick vines overhead helped, as did the jacket, and the ground was only mildly damp, cushioned by a thick layer of leaves. But they were soaked.

Grissom settled so his shoulder touched Sara's. He said, "Las Vegas gets its share of thunderstorms—and flash floods." He chuckled, "The weather predictions are not always accurate."

Rain continued; Sara noticed it wasn't as intense as it had been. There had been no lightning for several minutes.

She said, "I think its passing."

Grissom made an agreeing noise. He liked being this close to Sara. Her smell—lilac, along with rain, damp earth, trees—her body was warm. At the moment, he thought, he would give the remaining years of his life to stop time and remain in this cocoon-like shelter—he and his Sara.

He shook himself out of his thoughts as Sara said, "I think it's moved on—should we stay or try again? We're going to make a mess in your car."

Muddy shoes and wet clothing made a mess in his car. He laughed it off, saying the car was built tough, to take mud and water without damage.

Bypassing the lab where her car was parked, Grissom said, "I'll pick you up tonight—no reason to get your car muddy too."

Sara remained in his car for several moments after he stopped at her apartment building. Reaching over, she touched his arm, quickly pulling her hand back, as she said, "Thank you, Grissom." She smiled as he looked at her. "I really enjoyed it—rainstorm and all."

He nodded, a quick smile forming on his lips. "We'll do it again, Sara."

As she got out of his car, as she walked to her apartment, after she disappeared inside, Grissom remained at the curb, watching. Finally, he pulled away, smiling, realizing he had enjoyed the morning more than he wanted to admit. As he slowed for a traffic light, his thoughts changed from those of pleasure to a puzzling dilemma—he should not prefer one over another, but his feelings for Sara were not the same as he had for Nick or Warrick. Certainly not what he had for Catherine; but, he resolved, he could be her friend, nothing more. But he remembered her warmth, the fragrance of her hair, the trust in her eyes, as he turned into his garage.

A/N: Thank you for staying with us. All we ask is a comment or review for encouragement. More soon. Long live GSR!