A/N: We hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episodes 401, "Assume Nothing" and 402, "All for Our Country."

June 2003

Sara's cell phone alarm rang. Sighing, she picked it up and looked at the time. She was ten minutes away from a meeting to discuss the evidence in what had become an investigation of a serial killing couple.

She had done an admirable job of avoiding Grissom thus far – even to the point of asking Archie to deliver evidence to him rather than taking it herself. She found that her anger was easier to rein in if she didn't have to talk to him.

But, with the ringing of her alarm, that avoidance became impossible. She packed up the evidence she had been working with, and grabbed her notes.

When she arrived in the conference room, Grissom was the only one there. She checked in the doorway, but took a deep breath and entered the room.

"Hi," she said.

Grissom looked up at her with a wide smile. "Sara, hi."

Sara's breath caught as she sat down next to him. When she had seen him before, she had been so busy being angry that she hadn't really taken the time to look at him. Now, when it was just the two of them and she had no way to avoid looking him in the eye, she could see the changes in him. Oh, that beard. He was gorgeous before, but now … there are no words.

"I haven't seen much of you since we got started on this one," Grissom said.

"Yeah, there's a lot to process," Sara said.

As she forced her eyes back to his, she wondered what exactly she was talking about when she mentioned processing. The look in his eyes … she hadn't seen that look in years. It was as if his surgery had sent him back to being the man she had met in San Francisco … a younger man, who was more open to … life. As their eyes met, Sara's heart began to pound. Oh, my. Where, oh, where do we go from here?

"Hey, guys," Nick said as he came into the room, breaking the spell. He sat down across from Sara. "Where's everyone else?"

"On their way, I'm sure," Grissom said, reluctantly tearing his eyes from Sara's to look at Nick.

"Hey, if we've got some time, Grissom, I wanted to ask you about a conference in LA. Is there funding available for me to attend?"

As Grissom and Nick began their conversation about what Nick would need to do to attend the conference, Sara drew a shaky breath. She was glad for the time to get herself under control.

Hold it together, Sidle. You cannot let yourself get sucked in by this man again. He's just your boss. Nothing more.

There was a reason that Grissom constantly preached patience to his team. In their line of work, they were under constant pressure to produce results, but had to fight the urge to rush. Answers and results took time, and accurately was everything. Patience was, in Grissom's opinion, one of the more important traits of a CSI.

Even so, he found himself tested as they waited for the DNA results that would get them a warrant to search the house of the couple they were certain was on a killing spree. He found himself haunting Greg's lab with Nick, anxiously awaiting the results.

Sara sat with Warrick and Catherine in the break room, waiting for the news that they could further their investigation. Warrick leaned back in his chair and stretched his hands above his head.

"Does this seem pointless to anyone else?" he asked.

"What?" Catherine asked.

"Waiting! That couple could have murdered six more people in the time it's taking us to get a warrant!"

"Doubtful," Catherine said. "Brass put a couple of undercover officers on the house as soon as his first request for a warrant was denied."

"Oh-o," Sara said, her face relaxing. "Well, that does make it a little better."

"DNA is a match!" Nick nearly ran into the room. "Grissom already called Brass, who's on the phone with the judge now."

"Now, that's what I'm talking about!" Warrick grinned.

"Brass got the warrant," Grissom said, rushing into the room. "I'm going to the house with him now."

"Do you want us to tag along?" Catherine asked.

"No, I want you and Sara to go to a different scene," Grissom replied. "O'Reilly's got a dead college kid. He says it looks suspicious."

Sara's mouth dropped open.

"Okay," Catherine said, standing up to take the assignment slip. She glanced at Sara, then met Grissom's eyes again. "You're sure you won't need us?"

"I'm sure the guys and I can handle it."

Catherine shrugged. "Okay, Sara, let's go see what happened to this kid."

Sara refused to meet Grissom's eyes as she stood and followed Catherine out of the break room. A high-profile, serial case … and he had the audacity to send them to a different scene? She could feel her blood pressure rising.

And, yet … she felt a bit relieved, too. Every time she looked at him, her feelings and emotions became a complicated jumble, and she had no idea how to deal with it. Being forced to avoid him was probably a good thing.

Grissom watched his coworkers leave the room and bit his lower lip. He knew that Sara was likely very angry with him – she hated being bumped from one case to another, particularly when one was as enthralling as their serial case. But, he needed someone to take the college case. She and Catherine were the logical choices. Both were competent, and both could work the case alone if he needed to summon one of them back to his current case.

And, after the way she had looked at him just before their meeting … the heat in her eyes … Even with all his plans, his resolutions and his decisions …

Keeping his distance from Sara seemed like a good course of action.

Sara was silent during their drive to their new scene. Catherine kept glancing at her, but she, too, held her silence. She wanted to keep her promise and ask Sara if she was angry with Grissom, but didn't think this was the right time. Obviously she was angry – it was just unrelated to Grissom's initial fears.

Finally feeling controlled enough to speak, Sara broke her silence as they climbed out of their SUV at the scene.

"I can't believe Grissom pulled us off that serial murder case."

"Yeah, well, let me tell you how it ends," Catherine said. "They die."

Sara smiled slightly at her colleague's rather morbid sense of humor.

Catherine's eyebrows shot up as they turned toward the house. "Whoa, this isn't half bad for college kids."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "Why live in a one-room flea bag when you can pull your resources and live like this?" She thought of the places she and Mary had lived during their college and grad school days. Although none had been this big, it had just been the two of them. They hadn't done half bad for themselves, either.

"Hey, how 'bout it?" Catherine asked with a grin. "You, me, Warrick, Nick, Grissom …"

Sara shook her head. "Um, no. Not Grissom."

Catherine chuckled. She was on the verge of making a comment about the fact that Grissom would come complete with about a hundred of his closest, smallest friends, when they walked into the house … where it appeared to be raining.

"What the hell is this?" Catherine exclaimed.

A police officer met them at the door. He was holding an umbrella over his head, and held one out to them.

"Ma'am, you may want to take one of these," he said.

Sara smiled and accepted the umbrella. "Thank you." She looked at the cop for a moment, thinking that she'd never seen him before – and that he was very attractive. Grissom always said I needed a distraction …

"Thanks," Catherine said as Sara held the umbrella over both of them. "Where's the body?"

"Upstairs," the officer replied.

"Upstairs?" Sara repeated.

He nodded. Sara and Catherine looked around the flooded first floor; horror slowly seeped through both of them.

"It's raining man juice?" Catherine asked in disbelief.

"Hallelujah?" Sara asked.

Catherine shot her a look and rolled her eyes.

Their friendly police officer returned with two pairs of rubber boots. "You might want to wear these," he said, putting them down in front of them.

"Thank you," Sara said, giving him a smile.

He smiled back, flushing slightly. Catherine glanced between them with a smile of her own. Oh, Grissom. If you could only see this.

Once they both had their boots on, they walked across the foyer and up the stairs. As soon as they got past the first floor, they were out of the "rain," but found themselves contending with a flood of water that raced down the hall and stairs.

"Well, the weather's clearing," Sara said as she collapsed the umbrella and gave it a shake.

"Yeah, if only the smell would," Catherine said.

"Yep," Sara agreed. She and Catherine always prided themselves on their ability to deal with the less-aesthetically pleasing aspects of their job – when they were in constant competition with men, it was a necessity. But, the smell in this house –

"It's like a sewer in here," Catherine stated.

Sara nodded her agreement.

They passed the first flooded bedroom and found their way to the bathroom. Sara turned to look in first; she was stunned by the sight of the distorted, bloated body in the bathtub.

"Oh, my goodness!"

Catherine stepped up beside her. "Oh, God."

O'Reilly, standing next to the tub, didn't even crack a smile. "Soup's on."

"How long has he been in here?" Catherine asked.

"Roommates last saw him on Thursday night," O'Reilly said. "Took off for the weekend. Came home to this."

"Guy goes to take a shower and DFOs," Sara said. "He never got to the cold water, did he?"

"Roommate said only the hot water faucet was on."

"Must've been a steam bath in here," Sara commented.

"Still is," O'Reilly replied.

After a short debate about evidence collection and body removal, Catherine called in a team to take the bloated body out through the bathroom window, leaving the tub in the room for her and Sara to process.

Catherine watched as Sara thanked the crew that took the body out, noting again her cheerful smile. Sara turned to see Catherine watching her.

"What?"

"Nothing," Catherine said quickly. She looked at the now-bodiless tub. "Shall we?"

Sara nodded. "Let's do it."

Sara and Catherine spent hours collecting evidence from the tub and the rest of the house. When they were finally done, they were both relieved to go outside and breathe the fresh air.

"I'm sure I'll never eat again after the way that place smelled, but do you want to go get a drink?" Catherine offered.

Sara smiled. "Sure, why not?"

Catherine returned her smile. "I'll drive."

Catherine and Sara didn't often go out for drinks together, just the two of them, but when they did, they always found their way to the same place. The bar was just this side of a dive, but they made the best martinis Catherine had found in Vegas. She loved the more upscale places, too, but there was something very charming about the smaller, less glitzy bar that appealed to her.

And, after a day like they had had, she was sure they could both benefit from a good martini.

"Ah, this is better," Catherine said as she took her first sip of her drink. "Nothing like a good martini to cap off a bizarre day."

Sara smiled. "I'll drink to that." She took a sip of her drink. "Ugh, can you imagine the autopsy on this guy?"

The smile slid of Catherine's face. "Why would you put that thought in my head?"

Sara laughed. "Sorry."

"That's it! We are not talking about the case anymore."

"Fair enough. Would you like to choose our new topic?"

Catherine tried to look thoughtful as she sipped at her drink. She knew exactly what she wanted to talk about. "Are you in the market for a new man?"

Sara choked on her drink. "What?"

Catherine grinned. "I saw the way you were looking at those guys at the crime scene – and I'm not talking about the floater."

Sara blushed a deep shade of red.

"Thought so," Catherine said with a triumphant grin. "Hey, I can't blame you. That cop at the scene was cute."

Sara's blush deepened. "Yeah," she admitted reluctantly.

"I don't usually condone dating coworkers, but I suppose he doesn't really count." She paused. "I wonder how Grissom would feel about it," she continued carefully.

Sara, if possible, turned even redder. "Why would he care?" she asked, refusing to meet Catherine's eyes.

"Sara, what is going on with you two?"

Sara's eyes snapped back to her face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, things have been weird between the two of you for awhile, and I'd like to know why."

Sara shrugged. "He's Grissom, Cath. What do you expect other than weird?"

"Good point," Catherine replied, realizing that Sara was obviously going to completely avoid the issue. God, she is so like Grissom sometimes. "I just would hate to see you two in some sort of … fight."

"Why's that?" Sara's curiosity got the better of her.

"We're a team, Sara. We work together very closely. Sometimes, I think too closely. Any argument or issues between two of us can hurt the whole team."

"Oh."

Catherine shrugged. "We're a great team. I'd hate to see that ruined because of something Grissom did to piss you off."

Sara sighed. "It's nothing, Cath. Really. We're fine."

And, suddenly, they were. In that moment, she realized that everything she had been upset with Grissom over was far too petty to jeopardize the team she had learned to love. While an apology seemed ridiculously out of line, she vowed to be kinder to Grissom. They could return to the collegial relationship she had come to know and appreciate.

Everything would go back to normal.

"Well, that's good to know," Catherine said. "I was getting worried."

Sara shook her head. "Sometimes, Cath, I think you're too good at your job. You're looking for evidence even before you see a crime."

Catherine grinned. "Hazard of the trade, I guess." She drained her glass. "Want another round?"

Sara smiled. "Sure. Why not?"

October 2015

When Sara wakes up, the house is quiet. Assuming Grissom has gone to the university, she doesn't even think to look for him before stepping into the shower.

When she returns to her bedroom twenty minutes later, Grissom is sitting on the bed. Sara, stunned to see him there, jumps and nearly shrieks.

"Gil! You scared me to death!"

"I'm sorry, honey."

She shakes her head as she continues into the closet to choose her clothes. "You could have said something to let me know you were here."

"Where did you think I was?"

"UNLV."

He glances at the clock. "I'm usually home by now."

"Yeah, but you got a late start, so I thought you might stay later."

"I didn't do my office hours today. I just taught my class and came home."

Sara emerges from the walk in closet holding her clothes and frowning. "Why not?"

"Because, Sara, we need to talk."

"Are you still worried about Anna and her hearing?"

"Yes, of course. Why aren't you?"

Sara pulls on her jeans and blouse. "I just don't think there's anything to worry about just yet."

Grissom shakes his head. "You're avoiding this, Sara. That's not going to make it go away."

"I'm not avoiding anything. I just think you're panicking without just cause."

"Sara, you're being unreasonable, and, worse, irrational. I know it was an isolated incident, but that's how it starts. She's just little; she wouldn't recognize the signs. We need to see them for her and to get her the help she needs."

"Griss –"

"Sara, believe me, I don't want her to have any of my problems. But, you have to understand that I've been there. I know what it's like to slowly lose your hearing, and to realize that you could lose it entirely."

"She's just a little girl!" Sara argues. "You were a grown man when –"

"That doesn't matter, Sara! If she can't hear, she can't hear."

"Griss, you're over-reacting! So, she slept through a phone ringing. She's always been a heavy sleeper. It's not a big deal."

"Yes, Sara, it is a big deal!" Grissom yells.

Sara stares at him, shocked by the fact that he has raised his voice to her.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry that I'm so angry. But, Sara, you have to be reasonable about this. I have a genetic condition that affects my hearing – one that there's a very good chance I've passed on to Anna. I nearly went deaf because I was too afraid to seek the medical help I needed. I know that I was older, but that's not always the case. My mother went deaf when she was eight years old! With all the medical advances that have been made, there is no reason that Anna needs to lose her hearing. The only way that will happen is if we're too afraid to get her the help she needs."

Sara stares at him wordlessly.

"Sara, I nearly waited too long," he says, his voice lowering. "If I had waited even another six months, it would have been too late. When I think of all that I would have lost … I never would have heard you say that you love me." Pain fills his eyes. "I never would have heard Anna laugh. I never would have heard her call me Daddy. Sara … I can't even imagine how painful that would be. I don't want Anna to have to live with those kinds of losses."

Sara stares at him for another heartbeat, then reaches out and runs her fingertips over his cheek. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sorry."

Grissom leans forward until his forehead touches hers. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry that I yelled at you. I'm sorry that I got angry. But, Sara …"

"I know," she says quietly. "I know."

"And," he nearly whispers, "if it's true – if Anna is losing her hearing … I'm sorry for that, too."

"It's not your –"

"Yes, it is my fault," he cuts her off. "It is. I'm so sorry."