A/N: For some reason, I had a hard time getting going on this one, but by the end, I had so much fun with it. I hope you like this chapter!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and the occasional dialogue come from episodes 215, "Burden of Proof" and 216, "Primum Non Nocere," home of one of my favorite GSR scenes of all time … you know the one!

Confusion

"I had a really nice time tonight."

Sara smiled, tightening her fingers around Hank's. "Me, too."

They reached her apartment door and looked at each other almost nervously. Sara smiled.

"I'm glad we got to finish our first date."

Hank grinned. "Yeah, it was sort of 'to be continued,' wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

He touched her cheek. "Let's not make that mistake again," he whispered.

Before Sara could say a thing, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers. Sara shivered slightly, then kissed him back, reaching out to grab his shirt, twisting it in her hands. Hank's hands slid down her arms to her waist, pulling her closer.

Her pager began to vibrate. Clipped to her belt, they were close enough together that they both felt it.

As suddenly as the moment began, it ended. Hank pulled back. Sara, her face bright red, picked up the pager.

"I have to go to work," she said, reading the small display. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Hank smiled. "We've ended on a good note."

"Definitely," Sara grinned.

"Okay, well, we'll have to do this again, yeah?"

"I'd love to."

"Great." Hank paused for a beat, then leaned in to press his lips against hers again in a chaste peck. "Have fun at work."

"I always do."

Laughing, Hank turned to leave, and Sara unlocked the door of her apartment. Once inside, she looked at the pager again, shaking her head.

"Your timing sucks, Grissom," she sighed. "It really, truly, sucks."

"So, what brings you to work?" Catherine asked as she and Sara walked down the hall to the break room together. "I thought you had the night off."

"So did I," Sara replied. "Grissom paged me."

"Well, we've got a weird case," Catherine said. "Grissom and I had to go out to the body farm to look at a corpse."

Sara raised her eyebrows.

"A corpse that didn't belong," Catherine clarified.

"How did it end up there?"

"We're still working on that one. He appears to have been shot, but we didn't get to really look him over at the scene; Grissom had David get him out of there immediately. He was picking up bugs from the other bodies."

"What was the body farm like?" Sara asked eagerly.

"Creepy, if you want the truth," Catherine replied with a slight shudder.

They continued their conversation about the body farm as they walked into the break room, where Nick was ranting about Grissom leaving his experiments in the community fridge. The two women and Warrick agreed with Nick that it was disgusting – no one wanted a jar of expired blood next to his or her lunch – but they didn't think they could do anything to change it. The rather socially-inept Grissom would never see the problem with leaving experiments out in the open.

After the first half of her shift, Sara began to wonder why Grissom had paged her to come in on her day off. Thrilling though the case was, she wasn't exactly doing much to help it along. Catherine had taken over the victim's family – in this case, a fiancée and her two children. The victim's house had been set on fire, but Nick and Warrick, along with Grissom, were handling that. They found photo evidence that the victim may have been sexually abusing his fiancée's daughter; again, Catherine handled that.

Sara's anger continued to mount throughout the day. All she wanted to do was to help, to do her job, but no one seemed to need her. Catherine had the family well under control; the one time that she did need help in searching the house, she took Nick. Warrick was holed up in the AV lab with the pictures recovered from the victim's house; he always liked to be alone while processing photos. Grissom was busy with an experiment involving raw meat, trying to see how exactly insects generally found on bovine flesh had made their way into the victim's wound tract. Sara really hated the thought of helping with that experiment, and, given the way Grissom had been ignoring her all day, she doubted he wanted her help.

Her anger gradually gave way to a feeling of neglect and disrespect. If none of her colleagues trusted her to help with this case, did any of them have any respect for her work or for her at all?

There was only one thing to do. She had to talk to Grissom.

Catherine found Sara in the locker room, banging her fists against her locker.

"Hey, what did that locker ever do to you?" she asked.

Sara turned to look at her, her eyes glittering with anger. "What the hell is Grissom's problem?"

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked slowly.

"He brings me in on my day off, then won't let me work the case! I haven't done a single thing to help with this investigation. When I pointed this out to him, do you know what he asked me to do?"

Catherine shook her head.

"To clean up his ground meat experiment!"

"Oo," Catherine said, sitting down on the bench.

"Why would he do that? Everyone knows that I'm a vegetarian!"

"Did he know?" Catherine asked.

"How could he not know?" Sara cried. "We all eat together all the time. We go out for dinner, for breakfast, for lunch … everyone knows, Cath! Everyone! How could he ask me to do that?"

"Did you tell him?"

"Of course! And do you know what he said?"

"No," Catherine said slowly.

"He told me to get Nick to do it, like that would make it all better!"

Catherine sighed. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No," Sara said stubbornly. "I'll take care of it."

Catherine looked at her nervously. "Sara … don't do anything stupid."

Sara laughed hollowly. "I'm not going to take a gun to him, Catherine."

"No, I know that," Catherine replied. "Just … I don't want your temper to make your decision on this one. Give yourself some time to calm down."

Sara remained silent, feeling mutinous.

"Look, I have to go the hospital with the little Bradley girl. Just … please, don't do anything until I get back. We'll talk more, okay?"

"I'm fine, Catherine."

"Right," Catherine said incredulously. She walked toward the door. "We'll talk later."

"Right," Sara echoed. "See you, Catherine."

"Bye."

Sara waited until she was sure that Catherine was gone, then left the locker room. She walked straight to the department office, and picked up a form to request a leave of absence. She couldn't stay here and work with him. Not if he didn't respect her.

When Catherine reentered the locker room much later, she found Sara sitting alone, staring into her open locker. She approached her a bit hesitantly.

"I didn't mean that you literally had to sit here and wait for me," she said in a light attempt at humor.

Sara looked at her with red-rimmed, somewhat deadened eyes. "I didn't."

Catherine slowly sat down next to her. "What happened, Sara?"

"I can't work with someone who doesn't respect me," she said. "I told him that."

"You told … Grissom?"

"Yes. I asked for a leave of absence so I could explore other professional avenues."

Catherine exhaled. "Sara, I told you not to do anything until I could talk to him …"

"It doesn't matter," she said hollowly. "He refused to let me go. He said that 'the lab' needs me."

"We do need you," Catherine said at once. "We all do."

Sara shook her head. "That's not what he said. Not that you need me. God forbid he say that he needs me. It was just 'Sara … the lab needs you.'"

"Sara, Grissom … he's not very good with anything that smacks of the emotional. He's just not good with people. He doesn't know how to react in situations like this –"

"He knows how to show respect," Sara said, cutting her off. She paused. "I told me that if he didn't sign my leave, I'd quit."

Catherine's eyes widened. "Don't do that."

Sara laughed mirthlessly. "Ever since he refused, I've been sitting here, staring at my locker, thinking of all the reasons that I should go. But …" She sighed. "I can't stop thinking of all the reasons I should stay."

Catherine did something completely unexpected; she grabbed Sara's hand and squeezed it tightly. "You hold on to the reasons you should stay."

Sara looked at her in surprise.

Catherine gave her a slight smile. "You know, when you first started here, I didn't want you working with us. I had never worked with another woman. I was used to this being an old boys' club, and I knew how to play that game. But with you … my games wouldn't work. I was threatened by you." She sighed. "But, now, Sara, I can't imagine working without you. You're a great CSI, and you've become a friend to all of us. I don't think that any of us would be happy to see you gone." She smiled. "Besides, think of all the fantasies you'd cheat Sanders out of if you weren't here."

Sara laughed in spite of herself.

"Just … give it a week, okay? If you still want to leave at the end of the week, then go. But, if you doubt it at all, don't do it. You'd just be leaving out of anger and spite, and that's no way to start a new life."

Sara sighed. "Okay," she said at last. "A week."

Catherine smiled. "That's all I'm asking."

"Grissom!"

Grissom stopped in his tracks and turned to see Catherine coming down the hall toward him. "Good job with the little girl."

"You, too," she said.

He shook his head. "I can't believe her father …"

"I know," Catherine said, her disgust evident on her face. "Eddie may be a lot of things, but I know he'd never even think for a minute about doing anything like that to Lindsey."

"Thank God," Grissom said quietly.

"Hey, what are you doing after shift?"

"Going home, I suppose."

Catherine smiled. "Want some company? Lindsey is with Eddie tonight, and I really don't want to go home to an empty house after a shift like this one."

Grissom sighed. "Neither do I."

"Good. I'll bring the vodka. You're cooking."

Catherine appeared at Grissom's townhouse carrying two bags. He took them from her, and led her to the kitchen.

"I thought you were just bringing vodka," he said.

"Yeah, I was," she said. "But, I was afraid you wouldn't have orange juice."

"I do."

"Oh, well. Save it for breakfast. We'll use mine for the screwdrivers."

He smiled. "Are you playing bartender?"

"Sure."

Catherine poured them drinks while Grissom began chopping vegetables for a salad. He had rest of their dinner – a homemade pizza – already in the oven.

"Tough case, huh?" he asked.

Catherine blew him off, not wanting to talk about the case. She redirected the conversation at her next opportunity.

"I heard about you and Sara."

"Sara … you know," he said with an attempt at a chuckle. "She gets very emotional."

Catherine stared at him in disbelief. "Are you in denial?"

He raised his eyes from the knife he was slicing through a tomato to look at her.

"No, that's … no, no, way too analytical." She shook her head.

As much as she and Grissom had discussed her personal life, his had always remained rather off-limits. Although she had always been curious about it, Catherine was generally willing to let him have his space. But, this time, she wanted to help.

She began babbling about being burned by love. Grissom asked her to drop it, and she swiftly changed topics, reminding him that he was he shift supervisor, and that, whether he liked it or not, his team was forming a family around him.

"Look," she concluded, "we don't have to go to the Grand Tetons together, just … every now and then you've gotta lift your head up out of that microscope."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed.

Catherine smiled. Knowing that she had said enough – and that if she said anything more, she'd lose him completely on this – she walked away from the kitchen, into the living room. She looked out the window, completely ignoring him as he thumbed through a telephone directory. It wasn't until he actually called the florist that she felt free to turn around, collapsing onto his couch as she listened to him order Sara a living plant because "she likes vegetation."

When Grissom turned to look at her, Catherine was grinning. He smiled.

"Will that make it better?"

"It's a good start."

"Miss Sidle, I have a delivery for you."

Sara looked at Judy in surprise. "A delivery? I wasn't expecting anything."

Judy grinned as she passed the flowering potted plant to Sara. "It would appear that you have an admirer."

Sara's eyes widened even further as she looked at the gerber daisy. "I didn't think he'd ever do anything like this."

Judy's smile widened. "You have a boyfriend?"

"No … not exactly … I guess we haven't really defined it …"

"I'd say he's pretty clear," Judy giggled.

Sara shook her head, picking the plant up off Judy's desk. "Thanks, Judy."

"You're welcome."

Sara carried her plant to the locker room, where she put it down on the bench and plucked off the card, noticing that three of the colorful flowers were blooming – one yellow, one pink and one red. She was surprised that Hank would send her a plant. It was so odd … he seemed more of a "roses" kind of guy.

She took the card out of the envelope bearing her name and sat down next to the plant. There it was, typed in neat, twelve point font: FROM GRISSOM.

She could have been knocked over with a feather. Grissom had sent her a plant. A flowering plant. A gerber daisy.

"Hey, is that from your boyfriend, Hank the EMT?"

Sara felt like she truly had fallen over. She turned to see Greg standing over her, and shoved the card back into the envelope.

"No, it's … How do you know about Hank?"

Greg grinned. "I hear things."

"Greg Sanders, I swear to God …"

"I have a friend who's an EMT," he said. "He told me that Hank had said something about going out to the movies with you." He frowned slightly, as though unsure he should share this next bit of information. "He also said that he didn't know that Hank had broken up with his previous girlfriend."

"Yeah, well, I guess not everyone wants the entire world to know their business," Sara said harshly. "Greg, please don't tell anyone about this."

"Why not?" Greg asked in confusion.

"I just … I don't think that my personal life is everyone else's business."

"Fair enough," Greg said. "My lips are sealed."

"Thanks."

"Sara, I need your help with a dead hockey player," Grissom said, walking into the locker room. His eyes lit up as they fell on the plant next to her. "Oh! You got the plant I sent! Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's beautiful," Sara said, her cheeks turning pink. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I thought you'd like it. Anyway, I'm going to leave in about ten minutes for the rink if you'd like to ride with me."

"Yeah, that would be great," Sara replied, amazed by the control she was able to display. "I'll meet you in the parking lot?"

"Great."

Grissom left, and Greg turned to Sara with wide eyes and an open mouth.

"If anyone finds out about this, I won't think twice about killing you," she said menacingly, rising out of her seat. "And, I'm a CSI – I know how to make it look like an accident, and where to hide your body so that no one will ever find you."

Greg cleared his throat. "No need for the empty threats. Your secrets are safe with me." He lowered his voice. "You aren't cheating on Hank with Grissom, are you?"

Sara laughed. "Look, Griss and I had a fight about a case the other day. I guess this is his way of making up for it."

Greg shrugged. "Well, you can't blame me for looking for back story."

"I thought Nick told you to stick to the real back story, as opposed to the one you've made up in your head."

Greg grinned. "I know. But, the one I've made up is so much more interesting."

Laughing, Sara left the locker room to find Grissom.

Sara couldn't help but feel excited as she followed Grissom to a seat in the bleachers at the hockey rink. She had always loved hockey. Her father, a native of Pittsburgh, had always been a huge Penguins fan. Her favorite memories of her father were of sitting on the couch with him, watching the Penguins play. Her last memory of her father was of watching the first game that Mario Lemieux played, when he scored with his first shot of his first shift. Her father had jumped out of his seat, grabbing Sara and swinging her around the room in a wild hug.

"We finally have a player!" he had yelled. "We're finally gonna win this thing!"

She always felt bad that he never got to see Lemieux lead his team to the Stanley Cup.

Unlike her father, she wasn't committed to just one team. She always cheered for the Pens, but other teams found their way into her heart as well. During her time at Harvard, she was a stanch Boston Bruins supporter. When San Francisco finally acquired a team by extension in the early 1990s, Sara immediately became a San Jose Sharks fan.

"So, our man was killed on the ice," Grissom said, bringing Sara's thoughts back to the present, and to the case they were working. He picked up a list of penalties that their victim had incurred during his time on the ice and began reading them off, the disbelief in his voice increasing with each one.

"Boys will be boys," Sara said when he finished the list.

"Yeah, sounds like these boys went to a fight and a hockey game broke out."

"You just don't like sports," Sara said, defending her sport.

"That's not true, I've been a baseball fan my whole life."

"Baseball," Sara repeated, turning to look at him. "Well, that figures … all those stats."

"It's a beautiful game," Grissom said.

Sara nodded with a smile and turned back to the ice. "Since when are you interested in beauty?"

"Since I met you," Grissom said without looking up from his papers.

Sara felt an explosion in her stomach. She turned to look at him, but he did not look back at her.

"So, we'll start at the opposite goal, work our way across the blue line to center ice." He finally turned to look at her.

"Sure," she said, desperately trying once again to hold onto her composure.

Grissom got up to go the opposite goal, leaving Sara sitting on the bench in a state of shock. Looking back even years later, she was never quite sure how she made her way from the bleachers to the ice, where she and Grissom searched for evidence.

Sara felt like she worked for days before she got home again. When she arrived, her answering machine flashed that she had a message. She pressed the button to play it back.

"Hi, Sara, it's Hank. I just wanted to see what night you're off this week … I thought we could go see a movie. Give me a call and let me know. Talk to you soon."

Sara sighed and picked up the phone. She did not dial Hank's number. It only rang twice before it was answered.

"Hello?"

"I've got a huge problem."

Mary giggled. "Hi, Sara. It's lovely to talk to you, too. I'm fine, thanks. Now, let's hear your problem."

"Grissom is into me all of a sudden."

Mary paused. "What?"

"He sent me flowers."

"What?"

"Okay, they're not flowers, but it's a flowering plant. A gerber daisy."

"Why did he send you flowers?" Mary asked.

"We had a fight the other day," Sara said. "Well, more I had a fight. He doesn't really fight back. But, I got mad and threatened to quit. Catherine made me promise to wait a week before I made any major decisions, and Grissom's been all nice to me since then, and then today I got this plant that he sent me. And, then, he told me that I'm beautiful!"

"Well, you are," Mary said loyally.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Mar."

"How did he say it?"

"We were talking about sports, and he said that baseball is a beautiful game –"

"Or the most boring game ever," Mary cut in.

"Mar …"

"Sorry. Go ahead."

"Anyway, so I asked when he developed this interest in beauty, and he said it was when he met me."

"Whoa."

"Yeah, seriously." Sara laughed hollowly. "You know, two months ago, I would have been thrilled with this. Totally, completely elated. But, now … I came home to a message from Hank, asking when we can get together to go to a movie."

"Oh."

"Mary, I don't know what to do," Sara moaned. "I've got Hank, who has been nothing but kind and patient, who has put up with so much crap from me and my job … But, I've got Grissom suddenly acting like he cares …"

"Go with Hank," Mary said without hesitation.

"What?" Sara asked, surprised by her abruptness.

"Stick with Hank, Sara. He's a great guy, he's not going to leave you for his job, and … well, sweetie, he is more your age."

"I thought age didn't matter."

"It doesn't," Mary said. "But, still …"

"You're right," Sara sighed. "He doesn't deserve me leaving him for something that might happen with Grissom."

"Exactly."

"All right. I'll call him back."

"Excellent," Mary said cheerfully. "Let me know how your date goes."

"I will," Sara said, reaching out to finger the petals of her red gerber daisy. "I'll talk to you soon, Mary. Thanks for listening."

"No problem. That's what friends are for."