December 2000

"There's protein in it." Grissom looked up from his field microscope to look at Sara who was standing in the lavatory's doorway. She smiled knowingly.

"That means two people may not have even been aware of what was happening in the cabin."

"You know, high altitude enhances the entire sexual experience." He spoke thickly with his nose still down his microscope. "Increases the euphoria."

"Well—it's good." She shrugged, "I don't know if it's that good." Their eyes locked as he looks up a bit bewildered, "Site your source," She tried backtracking her revelation.

"Hand me a swab please." He dismissed but she smiled with interest.

"You're avoiding the question! Enhances sexual experience, increases euphoria. Site your source."

"A Magazine."

"What magazine." Her eyes squinted in amusement.

"Applied Psychodynamics in Forensic Science."

"Never heard of it."

"I'll get you a subscription. Now site your source."

"Oh now you want to go down that route?"

"Yeah." He egged her on, looking up at her from his crouched position.

She shook her head, "Never mind."

"You started it." He jabbed. His head tilting, eyes boring into hers. The energy between them palpable.

She looked up, in slight disbelief that she was actually about to tell him about this, "Delta Airlines, Flight 1109, Boston to Miami. March '93." She thought about that spring break from from Harvard to Florida, how carefree she'd felt during that time of her life, "Hazel eyes, organic chem lab TA. Overrated, in every aspect."

His mouth went a little dry as he pictured it. He liked working with her. She brought a pep and energy to the cases they may otherwise not posses. And he liked getting to know her more as they bonded over the science. Overall, he'd been happy with his decision to bring her aboard the Vegas team.

He'd watched her with the team, she fit right in. And Dave had been right, she was like having a curve breaker.

Most of the days, Grissom found it easy to forget that she sparked something in him. He compartmentalized her far into the recesses of his mind, and rededicated himself to being her supervisor and nothing more. There wasn't even really a part of him that thought seriously about her. But every now and again, an interaction would bubble up between them and he'd feel that glow in his abdomen again. That yanking in his chest. And he'd remember all over again that a part of him yearned for her.

That, or, something would happen that would force him to confront his concern for her safety...

Grissom watched as Sara's movements as she walked down the suspect's hallway. Her movements were methodical, she nearly seemed to glide through the space as she tuned into her senses. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't let on. Luminal left the spray canister as she pulled it's trigger a few times. The liquid bounced against the poorly painted white walls. She continued to spray, higher and lower, on the floor. Nothing. She looked up and caught Grissom's eye as he glanced and the opposite wall for her to spray. She sprayed on as the bright pink color flooded the walls in streaks and smears.

"I have no idea how that got there." The suspect, Shelton, exhaled with a smirk.

Grissom watched Sara's eyes shift into hyper intensity, darkening and narrowing drastically. "How it got there!?" She stood from her crouched position and took two easy strides toward Shelton. "It got there when you shot your wife in the head, wrapped her in a blanket and dumped her in the mountains!" Sara shouted in Shelton's face, her finger wagging.

It escalated from there. Shelton slapped Sara's finger out of his face and without a beat she shoved him hard. "You touch me again—" She warned with the same level of veracity.

"Sara! Sara!" Grissom grabbed her from behind and he continued to shout her name. Brass restrained the suspect simultaneously and finally Grissom overpowered Sara and pulled her from the hallway. She was very strong, he noted as he released his hold on her. "Hey," He softened a small amount as he searched her face, "What is the matter with you?"

She pulled away violently, ripping her shoulders free of his touch. "I am a woman with a gun and look how he treated me. I can only imagine how he treated his wife." Her teeth stayed gritted and tightly closed. She turned away from him, uninterested in a lecture, a metaphor, or whatever else he'd deem she needed in that moment. When her temper flared like this, all she really wanted was to be alone to cool off.

Grissom watched her walk off, her shoulder shuddering, shaking off his touch and the moment at large. He'd seen small sparks of this from her over their brief time working together, but never like this.

They drove back to the lab in silence. It wasn't until Grissom parked the car that he turned to her, ready to speak what he'd practiced in his head during the drive, "If he's guilty, we'll get him." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and was sad to feel her flinch below his touch.

"He's guilty." She said plainly and exited the vehicle without so much as a look toward him.

Later that shift, Grissom couldn't shake the moment from his head. He'd seen her intensity come out before, but never so violently and hot headed. He sat behind his desk now, staring at the linear regression timeline of insects that returned a result of 'four days dead' not five. Giving Shelton an alibi. He was missing something within the evidence, some element he must be overlooking. He could feel it. But his mind was cloudy with Sara's intense display on replay. He was filled with curiosity about its origins and equally mystified with the speed to which it surfaced.

"Hey." Her voice pierced through him. He looked up to see her standing his his doorway, leaning against its frame. Her features a mix of defeated, sad and exhausted.

"You find out anything about Warrick?" He'd asked Sara to look into the other CSI's whereabouts on suspicion he was gambling on CSI time. Sara proved to be a great resource to keep his favorite CSI in check. Her original reason for coming to Vegas turned out to be an ongoing duty for her.

"I'm actually here about something else." She looked down for a moment before continuing, "You know how you always say we're the victim's last voice? I thought it was our job to speak for Kate Shelton."

"You don't crunch evidence to fit a theory." He spoke plainly. He could see her hurt, but it was the truth. There was no way to sugar coat it.

"What if you hear the victim's screams? In the car, at the store…" Her voice trailed off sadly, with a resignation he'd not heard in her tone before.

"You have empathy for her Sara. You want someone to pay for what was done to her. That's normal." His word choice was purposeful. Empathy, not sympathy. It was a hunch that he'd hoped was wrong, but she gave no indication in either direction.

She cocked her head to the side and look at him, watching as he returned his attention back to what he'd been reading. "You want to sleep with me?"

His body reacted before his mind. Heat traveling through him, resting in his throat, his cheek, his hands, his lap. He could deny it to his mind all he wanted, but there was no denying the chemical reaction taking place in his body, evident of what he truly desired. Her.

"Did you just say… what I think you did?" He took off his glasses with great hesitation, searching her eyes for a hint, an explanation.

"That way, when I wake up in the middle of the night under the blankets in a cold sweat, hearing Kate's screams, you can be there to tell me it's just empathy."

Game. Set. Match. She shook her head at him, annoyed with his ability to reason away her feelings, knowing that her statement would leave some sort of impression on him.

His mouth opened but nothing came out. She looked back down at her feet, something he'd seen her do so many times before when eye contact was too much for her to bare. She gave him a sad smile before leaving without another word.

Her statement circulated in his mind over again, "The blanket." He realized suddenly and dropped everything else she'd said from his mind. He pulled open the case photos and looked at Kate Shelton's body wrapped in the flannel throw blanket. He grabbed a magnifying glass from his top desk drawer, pushing the 4x4 photo of them at the Golden Gate Bridge to the side. He held it up to the photo and noticed for the first time just how tightly that blanket was wrapped around the victim.

Later that night Sara and Grissom did spend the night together. Outside the lab in the adjacent parking lot and loading dock, conducting an experiment to prove the blanket's tightly wrapped nature had delayed the entomological timeline. She walked up to him to see the experiment was already underway and wrapped a fleece blanket around his shoulders. She handed him a thermos of hot coffee. He looked up at her and smiled as he felt her fingertips graze his neck as she placed the blanket around him.

They spent the night together pouring over the evidence, exacting the protocols of the experiment, take note after copious notes to document for the eventual hearing. Hours passed and they watched as the larva and pupae appeared on the piglet cadaver.

"Infatuation."

He looked over at her with confusion. She continued, "37 down." She motioned her head to the crossword puzzle he had placed at his feet. He smirked knowingly.

After a few beats of silence she added, "Thank you...for spending the night with me."

Her tone was innocent, but her words felt chosen and it sparked that warmth within him again. He looked at her and noticed how the glow of the warm building lights illuminated the side of her face.