A/N: I love this chapter – I'm so excited for you to read it. I hope you like it, too!

Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Situational inspiration (but no dialogue!) is from episodes 109, "Unfriendly Skies" and 110, "Sex, Lies and Larvae."

Sara let herself into her apartment, locking the door behind her. Her keys dropped to the floor as she covered her face with her hands. Rocking slightly from side to side, she leaned back against the door and groaned.

"Why did I do that?" she moaned.

He was right – it had been entirely her fault. She had started it, over talking as she always did around him, then playfully asking him to cite his source. Of course, she had assumed that his source would be similar to hers….

Finally finding the strength to walk fully into her apartment, she pulled out her cell phone. There was only one person who could help her through a crisis like this. She pressed the appropriate buttons as she sank down onto the couch.

The phone only rang once before it was answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Sara!" Mary exclaimed. "How are you?"

"I made a horrible mistake."

Sara could almost hear Mary slowly sitting down. "What happened?"

"Do you remember Ken Fuller?"

"Your sophomore year boyfriend?" Mary asked. Her grin was evident in her voice. "The one who made you a member of the 'mile high club?'"

"That would be the one."

"What about him?" She paused. "You didn't find him in Vegas, did you? He didn't … persuade you to take another flight?"

"No, once was certainly more than enough of that particular experience," Sara said stiffly.

Mary giggled. "Okay, what does Ken have to do with your horrible mistake? I'd say it's a little late to feel guilt over the Delta Incident," she said, using the term she and Sara and coined during their sophomore year to refer to Sara's daring adventure with Ken Fuller.

"And, I know it's far too late for you to tell me that you're pregnant with his child."

"No, nothing like that."

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to listen to you beating yourself up over some unknown incident all night?"

Sara sighed. "I was working this case," she began. "A man died on an inbound flight."

"I'm guessing it wasn't a natural death?"

"Not so much," Sara said. "Anyway, we all went in to work on this one. Grissom assigned Catherine and Warrick to interview the passengers, Nick go back to the morgue to process the body and to run stuff through the lab, and me to help him process the plane."

"You and Grissom in close quarters … alone?"

"Stop it," Sara said tiredly. "So, we were working on the first class section of the plane, and we ended up in the bathroom."

"Oh, my God," Mary nearly whispered. "Was it a reenactment of your mile high experience, only less than a mile high?"

Sara laughed hollowly. "Well, we certainly found evidence that I'm not the only member of the club."

"Ick."

"Yeah, I've seen worse."

"I don't know how you do your job."

"You just do," Sara shrugged. "Anyway, Grissom commented that the high altitude increases euphoria and heightens the sexual experience."

"Oo, sounds like someone knows what he's talking about," Mary teased.

"Exactly! So, thinking that I'd take the bait and flirt with him, I asked him to cite his source."

"Cite his source?" Just her tone of voice suggested that Mary was rolling her eyes. "Sara Sidle, you are such a geek."

"What? We're always saying that in the lab."

"I rest my case." Mary cleared her throat. "Anyway …"

"Right. So, he tried to dodge the question, but, eventually admitted to getting his information from some forensics magazine that I've never heard of."

"Did you call him on … faking it?" Mary laughed.

"I most certainly did," Sara replied, laughing with her. "He said he'd get me a subscription."

"Right," Mary laughed. "You let me know when the first issue finds its way into your mailbox."

"Seriously."

"I don't know, Sara … I don't think it was a horrible mistake. He took it in stride."

"Yeah … until he turned it around and asked me to cite my source."

"Oh, no," Mary exclaimed. "Did you tell him?"

"What could I do?" Sara moaned. "I could have made up some journal like he undoubtedly did, but A.) he knows every journal ever published, so he'd know I was lying, and B.) he'd already done it."

"Oh, no," Mary said again.

"So, I told him," Sara sighed. She smirked. "I even gave him the flight number."

"Sara!" Mary laughed.

"Hey, if I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it all the way." She paused. "I also told him that it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Sara!"

"Like I said …"

"Right. Do it all the way." Mary giggled. "Which, incidentally, is an excellent phrase to use in this case …"

"God Almighty, Mar."

"You're the one who brought it up." Realizing what she had said, Mary burst into laughter again.

"Stop it!" Sara exclaimed, laughing with her. "Enough with the double entendres, already!"

"All right, all right. What did Grissom say when you admitted to the Delta Incident?"

Sara smirked again. "He made me collect the bathroom evidence. He said that I was the one with the firsthand experience, or something like that."

Mary laughed again. "Well, darling, all told, I'd say it's not nearly so terrible as you're making it sound. I think he took it pretty well."

"So we think now. We'll see what he says tomorrow."

"A gentleman wouldn't comment."

"A gentleman wouldn't have asked."

"Neither would a lady," Mary shot back.

Sara moaned again. "I told you it was a horrible mistake. I thought I was flirting with him."

Mary shook her head. "Geeks don't flirt, Sara."

"Hey!"

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing to be a geek. God knows I'm one. But, so are you and Grissom. I think you should stick to what you're good at."

"What's that, exactly?"

Mary paused. "Focus on what it's not: flirting."

"You know, you really know how to bring a girl's spirits up when she's down."

"Hey, you called me."

Sara laughed. "I love you, Mary."

"I love you, too, Sara."

Grissom threw the journal he was attempting to read across the room. He couldn't concentrate. Ever since his airplane conversation with Sara, he couldn't stop thinking about what she had said. He never would have guessed that she was a member of the mile high club. Somehow, things like that seemed so beneath her …

Or, maybe it was that he considered things like that beneath him. Maybe, he was projecting his own feelings and opinions onto her, hoping that she would be the same sort of person that he was.

He shook his head. He already knew that they were similar people. They just held different opinions about some things.

But …

He'd be willing to change if she'd be willing to help him. He could almost see them in that bathroom, together, his lips on hers, her hands on him, him pulling her closer and closer …

His face burned red, and he closed his eyes tightly. No, he couldn't have thoughts like that about Sara. He didn't have the right to have thoughts like that about Sara.

He needed a distraction. He jumped out of his chair and began pacing around his apartment, searching for something to capture his attention.

His eyes fell on a small piece of paper, and a smile crossed his face. There it was. He had found his distraction.

He had nearly forgotten about Teri in the heat of the investigations he had been leading. But, she was always there, tapping away at the back of his mind. He couldn't forget her, even if he had wanted to – and, he certainly didn't want to. He reached for his phone, and dialed her number.

Her voicemail picked up. Grissom sighed and waited for the tone.

"Hi, Teri, this is Gil Grissom. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to call you, but I'd love to get together sometime. I – I really liked spending time with you in the lab, and I'd like to get to know you outside of work. So, if you could call me back, we could arrange a time to go out…." He left his number and said good bye.

He looked at his silent phone for a moment, almost amazed at his own daring. He hoped that she'd call back. Soon.

Sara sat alone in a darkened conference room, finishing her report on her latest case. She knew that there were plenty of spaces in the lab where she could have worked, but she always used empty conference rooms when she could. She liked spreading all her notes and evidence out across the large tables when she worked.

She was nearly done when the door opened and Grissom peeked in. She looked up with a somewhat apprehensive smile. They hadn't spoken much since they had finished the airplane case, and had certainly not spent any time alone together. Admittedly, she had not done anything to seek him out. She was attempting to put off the inevitable as long as possible. She hoped that things wouldn't be awkward between them after her confession.

"Want to go to the mountains with me?" he asked.

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Huh?"

Grissom smiled. "A couple of hikers found a body in the mountains. I'm on my way right now. Want to come along?"

"Sure," she said, clicking the save button on her computer. "Can you give me a few minutes?"

"Of course."

Fifteen minutes later, Sara was seated in the passenger seat of Grissom's SUV, on her way to the mountains with him. He threw a sidelong glance in her direction as he turned out of the parking lot.

"So, any mountain stories I should hear before we get there?" he asked.

Sara knew very well what he was asking, but decided to make him work for it. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, that whole airline lavatory story sort of came out of nowhere … I don't want to be blindsided while working a case again."

Sara couldn't help but smile. "That's a terrible way to ask someone for very personal information."

"And telling someone to cite his source is a tactful way to do it?" Grissom shot back.

"Fair enough," Sara grinned. "No, I don't have any mountain stories … yet."

Grissom glanced at her again. "Were you hoping to have one?"

"Maybe … someday. With the right person starring opposite me."

"Ken Fuller wasn't the right person?"

"No," Sara said promptly. "Not by a long shot."

Somehow, her words made Grissom feel lighter as he pulled onto the freeway. He smiled and reached over to turn on the radio. Silence reigned for a moment until strains of Vivaldi filled the air.

"Griss, what the hell kind of music is this?"

"Classical," he replied, undaunted by her question. "Don't you think it's soothing?"

"I think it's going to put me to sleep." Sara leaned forward and pressed the radio's scan button until she found her favorite top 40 station.

Grissom glanced at her. "Are we twelve years old?"

"I love top 40," she said defensively.

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, we're not listening to this all the way to the scene."

Sara rolled her eyes and searched for another station. She finally stopped as the sounds of Pink Floyd flooded the car.

"Will this suit his majesty?" she asked.

Grissom pursed his lips, trying unsuccessfully not to smile. "Yes."

"Good," Sara said, leaning back in her seat. "I didn't know you like classic rock."

"I've always liked it."

She smiled. "Me, too."

Grissom smiled back at her.

"How's that missing person going, Nick?"

"Still missing," Nick replied, looking up from his locker. "How's your mountain lady?"

Sara closed her eyes. "Not dead enough."

"Huh?"

She opened her eyes again. "Brass must have told us a thousand times that we needed to pinpoint her time of death five days ago. That's when her husband was still in town, and that's when the neighbors heard gunfire from their house. And he did this, Nick, I know he did. He's been abusing her for years – her face is full of fractures from the times he's hit her, and he's cleaned up blood all over the walls in that apartment, trying to cover his tracks."

"So, what's the problem?"

"Grissom and his bugs," Sara said, twisting her hands together. "According to his linear regression, she's been dead three days."

"Two shy of the mark."

"Yeah." Unexpected tears filled Sara's eyes. "And now her husband's going to walk, even though –"

Nick reached out to grab her hand. "There's always more evidence, Sara. You'll find a way to make it happen. I know you will."

She shook her head. "Not according to Grissom."

"Believe it or not, Grissom has been known to make mistakes," Nick said. "Catherine told me straight up that he's not always right. Maybe this is one of those times."

"Oh, I hope so, Nicky," Sara sighed. "I really, really hope so."

"What are you up to?"

Grissom looked up from the blanket he had spread across the table as Catherine walked into the evidence room. "Examining my evidence."

"Nick said that Sara said that your bugs proved that the husband is innocent," she commented.

"Good news travels fast," Grissom replied.

"Looking for another suspect?"

Grissom shook his head. "The husband is guilty. I just have to prove it."

"For whom?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're putting an awful lot of effort into proving a theory that is very near and dear to Sara."

Grissom looked at her evenly. "I'm putting an awful lot of effort into finding the truth."

"All right," Catherine said, holding up her hands and walking back toward the door. "I'm just saying …"

"Don't," Grissom said, cutting her off. "Just – I know what I'm doing, Cath."

"I'm not so sure of that," she said quietly, leaving him alone with his evidence.

Sara rushed through the lab, trying to find her supervisor. She had thought through what she had said to him earlier, and now realized that blaming him for the way that the insects had behaved was wholly unfair. She wanted to apologize. But, in order to do that, she needed to find him. She slowed her steps as she noticed Warrick coming toward her.

"Hey, have you seen Grissom?" Sara asked.

"Oh, yeah."

She gave him a questioning look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you know what he's doing?"

"If I did, would I be looking for him?"

Warrick smiled. "I don't know what kind of power you have over that man, little girl, but he's outside with a pig wrapped in a blanket, trying to prove that your mountain lady died five days before she was found, not three."

"He – what?" Sara asked in surprise.

Warrick nodded. "I just saw him heading out. Talk to Brass if you don't believe me – he was chasing him down to find out what he's up to."

"I – wow. Thanks, Warrick."

"Anytime."

Sara took off again, and Warrick ducked into the break room, where Nick was drinking a cup of coffee.

"Do you know what's going on with Griss and Sara?"

Nick choked on his coffee. "Excuse me?"

"Grissom just had a frozen pig delivered so that he could wrap it in a blanket and watch bugs crawl all over it, all in the hopes of proving Sara's theory about their case."

Nick shrugged, looking considerably calmer. "Warrick, you're talking about Grissom. The man is into bugs. We've always known that."

"Yeah, but this seems extreme, even for him."

Nick shook his head. "Give it up. There is no way that anything other than science is going on between Grissom, Sara and that pig."

Warrick shrugged, but the incredulous look did not leave his eyes. "If you're sure …"

"I'm sure."

Grabbing a flashlight, Sara threw her backpack over her shoulder. She made her way outside, where Grissom was stationed with the pig. She paused just before entering his fenced enclosure. He looked like he was freezing, hunched over a notebook, making careful notations of the insect activity on the pig. Smiling slightly, she walked closer.

He looked up as she approached, giving her a slight smile. He pulled a box over for her to sit next to him. She sat down and unzipped her backpack. She pulled out a thermos of hot coffee, which she handed over. He gave her a grateful smile, but she wasn't done. While he opened the coffee, she pulled a fleece blanket out of her bag. She wrapped it around his shoulders, leaving her hand on his back a bit longer than was necessary.

"Thanks," she smiled.

He smiled back. "It's not just for you."

"I know," she said, wrapping another blanket around her own shoulders. "This is for Kaye. We're giving her a voice."

"I … I want to make sure we've done everything we can for her. I don't want her to haunt you forever."

Sara shivered involuntarily. "I'm sorry, Griss. I shouldn't have said the things that I did. It's not your fault that the insects did their job."

He shook his head. "It's my fault that I didn't match the conditions accurately. I deserved what you said."

"Even when I asked you to sleep with me?" she asked quietly.

He looked at her for a minute. "Sara …"

"No," she said, cutting him off. "I'm sorry, Grissom. I really am. You know how I meant it, you know that it was nonsexual, but that doesn't change the fact that it was inappropriate. You're my supervisor, and I –"

"I'm your friend first," Grissom said quietly, stopping her flow of words. "You were upset. When we're upset, we go to our friends, looking for answers and comfort. My answers were inadequate, and my comfort …."

"This is all the comfort I need," she said, waving her hand to indicate what they were doing. "You're right, Griss. You're my friend. But, while we're at work …"

"We're still friends. You, me, Catherine, Nick, Warrick … we're all friends, and I think it makes us better at what we do. We know that we can rely on one another." He paused. "Don't apologize for feeling deeply, Sara. It's part of who you are, and part of what makes you such a special person."

Sara flushed slightly and looked back at the pig. "I can't believe we killed a pig for this," she said, trying to take the conversation back to safer ground.

"It was going to be this or someone's dinner," Grissom said, following her subject change.

Sara scrunched up her face. "So much for ham for me."

Grissom smiled, then reached out to touch her hand. "Thank you, too."

"For what?" she asked in surprise.

"For reminding me of our job and the responsibility we hold. For reminding me to fight for the victims."

She smiled and closed her fingers around his. "You're welcome."

When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Thank you for being my friend."

Sara tightened her grip on his hand, even as she felt his fingers tighten around hers. "Thank you for being mine."