Disclaimer: I don't own, etc. etc.

A/N: So I tried very hard to proof-read this without distractions, but the DVR was begging me to rewind and rewatch this random family bowling scene, for some reason... :)

Aaaand, I was sleepy and eating knoephla soup, which are both distracting conditions to be in, you understand. :) I felt all Grissom-y.

Oh, and I know Sara's apartment is purple in Nesting Dolls, but in the end of You've Got Male it looks burgundy-ish... and I don't know if it's a different color, or just the way the lighting was, but I figured it was open to interpretation. :) ...Yeah, I'm obsessive about details. Have you noticed?

Thanks for all the reviews!


Chapter 4: Moving Forward

I don't know how I managed to move in two weeks—I roped Greg into helping me apartment hunt the next day, because I didn't know my way around Vegas, and I was too proud to ask Gi—Grissom. The first day I found very little, but the second I found several in my price range. I was only looking at vacant apartments, because I would need to move in as soon as possible.

I opted for a two bedroom—it had a small kitchen but the appliances were new and stainless steel… there wasn't room for a table, but there was a breakfast bar and room for bar stools, and it had one and half baths… the rent was decent, the neighborhood was good, and even though it was a little small, it was nice. Everything was high-quality. I would be a little cramped in favor of an apartment that wouldn't fall apart on me.

I took myself to human resources to determine what kind of help I could get for moving—they would pay for a moving vehicle. That was it. …Not a lot of help, considering how costly moving could be, but I would take what I could get. Gi-Grissom had scheduled me a return flight—on the lab's tab, I imagined—and I returned to Frisco to pack up my things and give notice… It was halfway through the month, so I would end up paying an extra month's rent, which wasn't helpful. I was just lucky I had money in savings…

The drive from Frisco to Vegas was long, and I was already exhausted from packing. I had been tired, driving from Boston to Berkeley, but I had been running away from something I feared, then… now I was running to something I feared. It was a lot harder.

I talked Greg into helping me arrange furniture—helping me put together my beds and move my bookshelf, desk, dressers, and couch… the rest I did by myself. I painted the day before furniture arrived—a deep burgundy—because it helped me believe it was a home… a place I had chosen because I loved it, rather than because it was the best I could find on such short notice.

I called Kelly, and told her I'd moved—she was shocked, of course, not least of all because I had moved to Vegas but not into Gil—Grissom's townhouse. It was hard to remember the name change when she kept using his first name. She said they'd come visit me soon, and see the apartment, but I knew that was unlikely. It was the end of August and school had just started… she wouldn't have time off until the holidays, and Eric usually worked through Christmas break. Chances were they wouldn't come until spring break or next summer…

That was okay, though. It gave me something to look forward to…

A few days before I officially started on the night shift, I made my way into Gi—Grissom's office, to fill out necessary paperwork. I put on the old smile and the airy indifference, pretending we'd never fought… and as he always did, he took my lead and followed suit. Sometimes I was grateful for that, but more often I wished he wouldn't let me pretend things were okay when they weren't.

I had never wanted that from anyone else, ever.

I filled out the paperwork on his desk, though I'm sure he expected me to take it to the break room. It must have made him uncomfortable, because he began speaking to fill the silence.

"I could show you around the lab… introduce you to people…"

"I pretty much figured it all out, my first day…"

"I could help you find your locker..." There's the hint of a double entendre in his voice. He's trying to make the atmosphere playful, to ease the tension. I mimic it, but not in the way he wants me to.

"Greg already showed me." I wink and turn back to my tax information.

"…Oh. Right. Greg… he, uh… you two are close?"

I shrug, my discomfort well-hidden beneath my mask this time—I used to struggle with it, with Gi—Grissom, but now it slipped into place as easily as it had in each new foster home. "Yeah, I guess. Just nice to have a friend in town… he helped me move in."

"Oh. I, uh… I could have… helped."

I smile again, and give him a curious glance. "That would have been nice…"

He nods, uncertainly. "Yeah. …Did… did Greg offer, or… did you ask him?"

"I asked him."

"…Oh. You… could have asked me."

He sounds genuinely hurt, and I waver… my eyes soften and the mask slips, just a little. "I, uh… I didn't know if… after the fight, Gi… Grissom…"

He looks down at his desk. "You can call me Gil, Sara."

I know it takes a lot for him to say this, and my mask falls away completely. My eyes crinkle and I reach a hand over to rest over his, on the desk. "I, um… I need someone to give a key to… in case I ever lock myself out. It… it won't do me a lot of good to have my spare in the apartment. …Would you… can I ask you to… take it… for me?"

He looks up and meets my gaze, and for a moment our pain is mirrored in each others' eyes. I want to climb over his desk and his paperwork and his specimen jars and kiss him into delirium, until there is no more hurt left between us, only love. He nods, and I pull my hand and eyes from his to snatch my purse from the floor and take the spare key from the key ring and hand it across the desk to him. Our fingers brush as he takes it from me, and I tremble so badly from the contact that I have to squeeze my hands into fists to stop it.

"Thank you."

"…You didn't give… Greg… a spare too?" For a moment I'm tempted to tease him, just to return the false but playful banter… but he's revealed too much vulnerability in the question for that kind of insensitivity. I shake my head slowly.

"Greg is a… good friend, but..."

He nods. He doesn't need me to say it.

We sit in silence for a moment, and reluctantly I turn to my paperwork. After handing him another sheet, he speaks again.

"I, uh… told the team you'd be starting. They already knew… probably from—"

"Greg. Yeah, I figured he'd shoot his mouth off… What, uh… what did they say?"

The left corner of his mouth turns up. "Nicky said it made sense… we didn't need a rookie, right now, with everything that was going on… and you were clearly qualified."

I nod, slowly, and ask "Catherine?" because I'm avoiding asking about Warrick, which is inevitable.

He grins then. "She's… hard to read, sometimes. I think she liked you a lot, but is still… I don't know, threatened, maybe, by the idea of another woman on the team."

I smile. "Yeah, I got that… territorial… vibe from her."

Another moment of silence, because we're both avoiding the reason he brought up the subject at all, but he gives in first.

"Warrick seemed happy too… said we needed the help, and it would be nice to have a team of all level 3's…"

"He got promoted, then?"

He nods. "He will be. There was a B&E earlier in the week… pretty straight-forward. It was the man's ex-wife, disgruntled about the terms of the divorce…" I nod and refuse to look up. "Sara…"

"No, it's… none of my business. I'll just remember that gambling on company time is behavior that, while frowned upon when it results in the death of a CSI, is perfectly acceptable here. I mean, it's Vegas, right?"

"Sara, I talked to him about the gambling. It isn't going to happen again."

I hand him the last few pages of completed paperwork.

"Okay, I think I'm all set here. See you in a couple nights, Grissom." I wave cheerily and move from his office as if it doesn't bother me, and we both know it does.

I don't miss the flash of hurt across his face that I'm sticking to his request that I use his last name, the way the others do, despite him more or less taking it back. But I don't feel guilty, or sorry. I'm glad that it hurts him as much as it hurts me… and if for only that reason, I keep it up. Gil had been my lover, and my friend, and the kindest, gentlest, sweetest man I'd ever known… Grissom was my boss. Grissom was stoic and cold and hurtful. Grissom was an ass.

…and yet, I loved Grissom too.