A/N: This, while not my first fic, is my first CSI fic. Don't worry though, I'm not one of those newbie's to the series who think that because they've seen one episode, they're suddenly experts, and can write a novel-length fiction. I've been following the series for awhile, not since it first came out, because I was a little young then, but for awhile. This started out as a one-shot for how Grissom felt on the helicopter ride to the hospital in Dead Doll, but it turned into… well, this. I feel sort of like the mother who expects to have a girl, paints the nursery pink, buys little dresses, even starts looking into ballet classes and the like, only to give birth to a boy. ::Shakes head::

Disclaimer: I wonder if the writers of CSI have ever walked into school, only to find that they have a Science quiz on Mitosis that they haven't studied for…


Gil Grissom had never been one to analyze his feelings. Of course, a case would inspire a multitude of emotions within him, but he understood those perfectly. They were little things that were tied to a certain case, and when he filed away his report, he filed them away too, and would never have to look at them again. They, like the case-file, would stay shoved in the corner of a dark room, collecting dust, never to be perused again.

Gil Grissom had never been one to have personal relationships. He saw, every day, what relationships did to people. Relationships built people up, only to tear them down in the most vicious, horrid ways possible. Of course, he did feel certain things for his team. They were colleagues, associates, and all were connected with the lab. So they were not personal. They were work. And like work, the minute he locked his office and walked out of the building, they fell away, letting his precious bugs take precedent.

Gil Grissom had never been one to have feelings for other people, most certainly not Sara Sidle. She was a skilled CSI, one that he had called in to take over for Holly Gribbs. She had been an exceptional student, and was smart, and, admittedly, rather beautiful. He would have have to been blind not to see it. But those were all observations, and observing was what he did for a living. It meant nothing more than knowing that Catherine was strong-willed, and that Nick had a temper. Simple observations. And like all observations, the information was filed away, only to be looked upon when pertinent.

Gil Grissom did not have feelings.

Gil Grissom did not have personal relationships.

Gil Grissom did not feel anything for Sara Sidle.

Gil Grissom was in denial.


A/N: Review please! (Oh, and if you like Harry Potter, check out my other fic's.)