Chapter Thirty:

'Brass knows.' Grissom is stood in the fridge, reaching in to pull the ingredients out for their meal. Sara stood at the sink, rinsing out Hank's bowls, drops one of the stainless-steel vessels causing a mighty crash, Hank scurrying away seeking shelter.

'Sorry?' She stands with her back to him, the counter top now under her crushing grip. He continues his rummaging, speaking to the tofu on the top shelf, than his seemingly pissed off girlfriend across the room.

'Brass kno..'

'No babe, I got that part. I mean what? How?' Turning, waiting for him to emerge from behind the dark metal. He knocks the door shut with his elbows, arms ladened with vegetables and tofu, carefully walking over to the counter next to her, he drops the items one by one near the chopping board. An onion rolls away from him, stopping abruptly at Sara's white knuckles.

'On the way to the Johnson residence the other day. He… He asked if I was getting him a veggie burger.' Pulling the towel from the hook underneath the counter he drapes it over his shoulder and arranges the food in some sort of order. Avoiding eye contact with her, knowing he is the reason they are having this conversation, albeit it a lot later than he originally planned.

'A veggie burger? Why would he ask if you were… The other day, in the break room?' He nods, pulling a knife from the block on the counter. She straightens, eyes focusing up on the front door, her face burrowed in thought. 'Warrick.' She exhales. He tips the knife in her direction. 'Do you think he knows too?'

'If I know Warrick as well as I think I do, then yes.' He slices a pepper, cutting it expertly.

'Should we be worried?' Rolling the onion around in her hands, she looks down at its silvery skin, picking at it.

'I dunno.' He wipes the blade on the towel and reaches over to take the vegetable from her wet hands. She turns back to the sink, whistling for Hank to retreat from his hiding place. Hank's claws tap through the room as he, with his tail between his legs, comes at a snails pace to her side. She drops a hand and rubs behind his ears.

'Sorry baby. I didn't mean to scare you.' Grissom looks up from his work, taking in her now relaxed form. Her tank top, black and tight, hugging her in just the right way. A pair of workout leggings, accentuating her long lean legs. Bare feet, toe nails a bright red colour. Hair wrapped around itself in a bun, tendrils at the nape of her neck curling from sweat from her mid-morning run with Hank.

'You know, maybe we should tell them.' She spins again to face him, sheer horror on her face. 'Not Ecklie but maybe just tell the guys? They would be respectful and wouldn't expose us.'

'Oh yeah and the next time I get the cushy case with the boss and Greg is wading through trash at a strip joint, everyone will think I'm getting special treatment.'

'I think Greg would enjoy going through trash at a strip joint… Don't you?'

'Are you not worried? I mean, your career? The rules? The implications this could have?' Waving her hands in the air, head whipping around the room, not really focusing on anything but everything at the same time. Grissom drops the knife, the towel from his shoulders and walks over to her, pulling her flailing hands down to her sides, his grip soft but firm.

'Sara, I knew all that when we started this. And my answer is the same. I don't care anymore. I can move to swing. Or I could retire. Hell, I could even take up a teaching job at the college.' Coming to her senses quickly at his last remark.

'Uh and risk you falling for another 26 year old leggy brunette. I don't think so Dr Grissom.' She bats her eyelashes at him pushing him away gently.

'My falling days are over dear. Anyway, I'm getting too old. I won't be able to get back up.'