"Grissom." He picked up his office phone, distracted by a book on beetles he'd been reading.

"Grissom, It's Dave Crow." He paused but Grissom did not reply, "Could you have Sara give me a call? I don't seem to have her new phone since she returned her department issued phone."

"Yeah. Sure. I'll uh— I'll go find her."

"Sooner than later please." Crow added before disconnecting the line.

Grissom pushed to his feet and walked down the lab hallway. He found her in Greg's lab, seemingly sharing a laugh. Greg slapped the smile off his face at the site of Grissom entering the room. The younger lab tech always felt nervous around him.

"Sara." She turned to see him.

"Hey, so Greg got us the DNA results from the epithelial and vaginal contributions on the bed sheets."

"Can I speak with you?" He gestured his head toward the hallway and she followed him. "I just got off the phone with Dave." He began as they left Greg's presence, "Crow. He needs you to call him back."

"Oh, thats strange." Her brows furrowed with worry. It was unlike Dave to call out of blue. And even more unlike him to use Grissom to get to her.

"He said something about how you haven't updated your new contact information." Grissom offered as watched as realization flooded through her eyes. She quickly left him. To see a quiet place to call Dave back.

"Crow."

"Dave, it's me. Is everything okay?"

He wasted no time, "Your mother's facility called the lab looking for you. I'm guessing you didn't update your employment or contact information with them?"

Sara's eyes shut hard. How could she forget to do. That? Worse yet, had it really been two years since she'd checked in on her mother? She sighed heavily. While she was acutely aware that running from her memories and childhood were one of the reasons she'd justified moving to Vegas, she knew that this wasn't running—it was negligent.

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine." Crow offered reassuringly, "They updated her medication because of an… episode… but they didn't give me much more information than that."

"I'm sorry you were brought into this. I'll call the facility now, get that information all updated."

"Nonsense, Sara. It's fine. I'm just glad it wasn't anything too serious. How have you been? It's been a while."

"It has, and I'm sorry for that too—"

"Stop apologizing, Sara. I know you've been busy. You sound good though. Vegas treating you okay?"

"I am good. Vegas is starting to feel a little more like home these days. How are Susan and Harry?"

"They're great. Come visit some time, they'd love to see you." He paused, "We all would."

February 2002

"10 minutes unsportsmanlike conduct."

"Boys will be boys." Sara offered.

"Sounds like thee boys went to a fight and a hockey game broke out."

"You just don't like sports." She said with dismissal.

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

"Baseball?" Her tone revealed her surprise, "Well that figures, all those stats."

"It's a beautiful game."

"Since when are you interested in beauty." She knew the man sitting next to her, knew his proclivity for empirical science—beauty of which would be too subjective.

"Since I met you." It was true. He remembered the exact moment that beauty came into his view as something real and tangible. When she stood looking at the Golden Gate Bridge. Her hair pushed out of her face by the breeze, the diffused sunlight brightening her features. Her scent drifting into his nose. Her voice like music as she spoke.

She looked to him now, totally caught off guard. These little gestures and sayings were almost too subtle, too discrete, to detect or to really hang onto, to have any chance at analyzing. She was so conflicted. One moment, she'd been reluctantly resigned and okay with the idea that they were great colleagues and nothing more. But when a spark of him shown like this, she'd get that feeling again. A feeling like there had to be something more there.

He'd continue to push and pull at her like that over the next several months, peppering closeness with distance. Each time she'd given up hope that something was between them, he'd do this. And just as quickly, pull it all away from her. It was messing with her head.

"What are you doing here? I didn't page you." Grissom looked up at her as he placed a hair in an evidence envelope.

"Scanner said triple homicide."

He looked at her disapprovingly, "You need to get a life, Sara." His words came out much harsher than he'd realized. And he of all people really didn't have a right to recommend such a thing. "There's video footage that needs to be processed."

"Got it." She'd stated emotionlessly. Loud and Clear. She thought to herself, shaking her head and leaving his side. So when Hank Pedigrew approached her on a scene a few shifts later, she'd met his interest with enthusiasm.

It was nice to feel wanted in an obvious and not so cryptic way. He was tall, handsome and sweet. Really sweet. Plus, he wasn't squeamish about her job. A difficult trait in a companion that didn't work the field. She liked him right off the bat. And his graveyard shift as a paramedic made their plan making simple.

In some ways he'd reminded her of Doug. His golden retriever like energy and enthusiasm, his ability to make her feel seen. But in many ways he was nothing like Doug. He wasn't quite as clever or witty, and certainly lacked a bit in the common sense department. He couldn't really keep up with her intellectually, so she found herself dumbing down touch around him. She knew what she was doing, she was using him as a distraction.

On days off they'd go see a movie together or grab breakfast after shift. Their paths began to cross a bit more at work too. She enjoyed the subtle communication they'd share in those moments. Moments where he'd be leaving a scene as she'd arrive.

Warrick and Grissom walked through Sam Braun's casino as Hank threw his med bag on his back.

"Hey Warrick. Sara here?"

"She's on her way now."

Hank nodded, "Tell her I say hey." He smiled sweetly as he kept walking in the opposite direction. Grissom glanced over at Warrick, curious about that interaction.

"Who's that?" He asked Warrick as they walked through the casino.

"That's Hank. He tends to be the first responder on a lot of our scenes. You don't recognize him?"

Grissom shrugged and let the moment pass by. He wasn't sure why it had sparked his curiosity and he didn't care much to explore it.

Grissom had a lot going on at the moment. His hearing was getting worse and each time he'd make an appointment to see a doctor, he'd been called in on a scene. Though if he were honest with himself, he'd been looking for excuses to avoid it. He didn't want to face the reality.

And frankly, that was true for several matters in his life. His hearing and his feelings for Sara. He couldn't handle facing either situation. He'd brought her to Vegas initially because he'd been thinking with his heart, not his head.

But he felt so deeply inadequate of her affection. He was much more comfortable playing into the hermit workaholic label that'd been cast on him. And as her boss, it was an off limits conversation. He'd learn once he finally did see the doctor, that ignoring the problem doesn't make it go away. His hearing regression was father along than the surgeon would have hopped. The same could be said about the woman he was begrudgingly infatuated with.

Grissom hadn't thought about that casino interaction again until a few months later when they were investigating a double homicide with movie star Tom Havaford as the main suspect. Sara had been equally as surprised as Grissom to hear that his former mentor, Gerard, had been hired by the defense to evaluate the evidence.

At this moment, Sara and Grissom stood side-by-side in a layout room. They were discussing the blood spatter on the sheets when they felt another's presence with them. Grissom turned around to see his one-time mentor snapping a photo of Grissom and Sara.

"Sorry, Gil. Just doing my job."

"Sara, this is Dr. Gerard." He motioned toward her, "Anything you say to him will be considered testimony."

"Then hopefully you'll say I'm better looking than I appear on TV." Sara smiled politely at the older gentleman but rolled her eyes internally.

Dr. Gerard began directing a series of question at them, mainly at Sara. She answered them with ease and could feel Grissom's pride as he watched his underling rise to the occasion.

"And the victim's bra?" Gerard passed the folder to Grissom, "I just saw the photos."

"We already know the bra was moved. Sara filed a supplemental report to that effect."

"I know. I just wished she'd mentioned her relationship wit hate EMT who moved the bra." Dr. Gerard watched the shock process on Grissom's face, his eyes darting to Sara as she looked down in shame.

Dr. Gerard made a note in his folder to follow up on a hunch he had about the pair that stood before him.

Sara froze. She felt as stiff as a body in rigor mortis. While the other team members had known about Hank. She'd found herself to be a little extra careful not to let Grissom catch on. A childish attempt to preserve Grissom's view of her, she realized, just incase he'd ever come around to the idea of seeking her out.

"Relationship?" Grissom questioned, looking deep into Sara's eyes. The interaction between Warrick and Hank from a few weeks back suddenly came barreling into his mind. The man that asked about Sara at the scene. The young, handsome EMT. It wasn't an innocent question when he asked Warrick where she was. They were together. Thoughts began to assault him before he had a chance to push them away. How long had they been together? Was it serious? Had he touched her? Were they intimate?

"Hank Petigrew," Gerard offered, "We just finished interview him. He said he thanked Sara for letting him move the bra back." Gerard glanced between Grissom and Sara. He could read is former colleague so very well. He knew that look and had a strong hunch on what it meant. He was in love with his subordinate. And this news of her relationship was clearly bursting a very thick bubble he built himself.

"He was just being polite—" Sara began but Grissom quickly cut her off and suggested that he and Gerard continue their chat in his office. As the two men exited the room, Grissom turned back toward Sara. She couldn't tell exactly what she was seeing on his face. Was he hurt? Surprised? Disappointment? All she knew is what she'd felt in that moment, shame.

Gerard later would chat with several officers that work closely with the CSI team. It was in one of these chats that he'd uncovered what he'd begun to suspect in that layout room. One cop who was often stationed outside crime scenes was asked about the relationship between Grissom and Sara.

"You ever see them, taking a moment together? Sharing a more intimate communication?"

The cop relayed several moments he'd observed, most notably when she'd rubbed chalk dust off his cheek.

Gerard nodded knowingly. He could spin this into something, even if nothing was there.

A while later the case had been put to rest. But success was not felt. The team had been put through the ringer on this. Bloodied and beaten down by the antics of the defense, putting them on trial.

Grissom sat behind his desk now, signing off on the last of the evidence files.

"So, that's Dr. Gerard?" Sara appeared in his doorway.

"It is."

"You were right." Grissom looked up at her quizzically, "It would have been a waste of time to sit in on that lecture." His face was still scrunched in uncertainty so she continued, "At the conference, in San Fransisco. When you gave me your own version of his lecture instead."

"You have an incredible memory." He stood and grabbed his jacket. "And Sara, you're allowed to have a personal life. I'm sorry if that was uncomfortable earlier."

She frowned and nodded, surprised at such a pointed comment.

Just as she was making her way to her car, she'd heard her name called from down the hall. Upon turning she saw Catherine approach. "Come grab a drink with me." She insisted.