Disclaimer: What the hell is the point of a disclaimer? Obviously I don't own anything associated with CSI. I wish I could have Hodges all to myself though.

Pairing: Pre-GSR. Season four maybe?

A/N: I thought of this while I was trying to sleep a couple of nights ago. Seems like it could have potential. All mistakes are mine.


"You know, by the time you figure it out, it really could be too late." - Sara Sidle (Play With Fire)

At least the day started out on a good note.

Fifteen minutes early for work, which meant he had fifteen minutes to work on his crossword puzzle in peace; Greg had left some of his good coffee in the breakroom, and Hodges hadn't run screaming in his office about the latest findings on a case.


Grissom knew this day would be one in a million.

"Hey, Gil. Everyone's in the breakroom waitin'," Catherine slid into his room, half out of breath and half hyper. "For you."

Grissom looked up at Catherine with a highly discriminate eyebrow arch replying, "What is wrong with you?"

Catherine let out a shrieking laugh, "I had a Monster."

"A what?"

"It's an energy drink that makes you have loads of energy and it's so much better than coffee." She replied quickly. "You should try it sometime. It might make you smile."

"Eh, nevermind." Catherine walked to the door, but before leaving she added, "It's not like a drink is gonna make you smile anyway. You never smile."

Grissom grunted and stood up to leave. I smile, he thought, trying to force a smile to form on his lips.

Beep. Beep.

Another frown formed instead.

Paper airplanes were one thing.

Spit balls were another.

"Gregory Alan Sanders! Put the straw down now!" Grissom roared.

Catherine giggled.

Greg froze.

Nick and Warrick rolled their eyes.

Sara was hiding behind her book, laughing.

"Who else here had Monster this morning?" Grissom barked.

Greg rose his hand.

Grissom's eyebrow rose. "Well this makes my job much easier. Greg and Catherine, you two are on decomp duty."

"Thanks Catherine." Greg pouted. "I will never drink anything you give me ever again cause I hate working decomps and you know that which...- which means it's a conspiracy!"

Another blood curtiling laugh came from Catherine, "Get this, Greggo, you get to spend a very long time with me, smelling like decomp. All. Day. Long."

Warrick snickered, "Kinky."

"Exceedingly." Nick added with a slight shiver.

"Sexy." Greg purred.

Grissom tried his hardest to ignore his teenage-acting co-workers, but they were getting on his last nerve, and consequently ruining his one-in-a-million day. "Shut!" He yelled, and added with a whisper, "Up."


He cleared his throat and finished handing out the assignments. "Nick and Warrick, you two have a DB at the Circus, Circus; pissed off tourist didn't like the way a clown was looking at him. Pulled a gun on him."

"You're kidding right? Psht. I don't understand why-" Nick paused, "You know what, nevermind. C'mon Warrick, the sooner we finish this bull shit, the sooner we don't have to deal with it."

Warrick stood up, "Right behind ya."

"Sara, you're with me. Bank robbery on the Strip. Several wounded, two dead." Grissom handed her the slip, "I'll meet you in the car."

"Uh, ok."

"Greg. Catherine. Get going on the decomp." Grissom warned, "Now."

Sara stood up and followed Grissom out of the room.

"You alright?" She asked, walking beside him.

He took a deep breath. The last thing he needed was someone asking him if he was alright. "I'm fine."

"No you're not." Sara replied defiantly. "What's wrong?"

Grissom let out a low growl. "I said, nothing is wrong."

She lifted her eyebrows, "Oh. So that 'I am Grissom, hear me roar' thing was just because you're in a good mood?"

He walked to the drivers side of the Denali, yanked it open and slammed it shut once he was secure in the vehicle. Sara joined him in the passenger side.


"Shut up, Sara!" Grissom yelled, "Why do you always open your mouth on the worst occasions?!"

He furiously put the car into drive, and sped off.

The scene was a mess. Almost as much of a mess as Sara was.

He had brought her to tears.


Three dead bodies now.

More pilling up.

This night was going down as the worst since the Brenda Collins case.

Grissom was acting like a grumpy two year old who got a yellow lollypop instead of a red one.

And Sara was tired of it. Tired of taking his bull shit. Tired of letting him make her feel like shit. Tired of...him.

She had made up her mind. And her plan would go into action after they had finished the scene.

Yep. This night would suck.

After nine hours of endless evidence searching, three bazillion prints, and a total count of five victims, Sara and Grissom had finally finished their work. For now.

And Sara was getting ready to put her plan to effect.

If only Grissom would stop talking to that damn officer.

Hurry up, Grissom.

Ten minutes later, he had finally put his things in the trunk, and plopped his bum in the passenger seat. Sara wanted to have full control of her surroundings.

They drove for a short time before Sara finally broke the silence.

"Grissom." Sara started, making sure she had his attention. He merely grunted. Good enough, she thought. "I'm going to talk to you right now, and I don't want you to say one thing until I am finished. Ok?"

"Sara...I'm really tired, can we just do this some oth-" Grissom tried to coax her into dropping the conversation.

"Uh uh. Zip it." She pulled her index finger and thumb across her lips. "You're gonna listen to me, and listen to me good."

Deep breath.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.



"Four years ago I came to Vegas because you asked me to. If anyone else had asked me to move from my home to some crummy place to work for them, I would have declined. But because you asked me to, I agreed. Now what does that tell you?"

Grissom tried to make it look like he was thinking. "Umm...that you're a very dedicated worker?"

"No, Grissom. It means I lo-." She sighed, "It means I have feelings that dedicated workers shouldn't have for their bosses. And ever since I told you that, you have treated me like I am one of your bugs."

He stared, open mouthed.

Sara gave him a cynical look, "Feed me when you need to, and then set me back in a cage. Far away from you."

He still stared.

"Ok, what I'm trying to get at is, I'm sick of it. And not only is it effecting my working skills," Sara pointed to her heart, "It's hurting my heart, Grissom. And I can't work with someone who thinks it's alright to-to play with their co-workers. I just can't."

Grissom finally came back to Earth and blinked rapidly, "Wha-what? So what are you saying?"

"I'm handing in a resignation form tomorrow if you can't figure out what you want." Sara answered, "I love my friends, but I don't love this situation."

Grissoms one-in-a-million day was sure one-in-a-million. He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad one.

Fate would determine that.

Knock. Knock. Knock.knock.knock.

"What, what? I'm comin'." Brass opened his office door wondering who could need him at this hour. No one from grave should still be working. "Ah, Grissom. What can I do for you?"

"I need your help, Jim." Grissom rushed in.

He told Brass about what Sara had said.

And Brass understood.

"Look pal, there's one solution to this."

Grissom nodded.

"And only you can solve it."

Another nod.

"You're going to have to fix it. Talk to her, tell her how you feel. No lying."

Grissom nodded lightly.

Brass patted him on the back.

"Gil Grissom. You have 24 hours to change your life."


A/N: Ok, yes it was another attempt for a story. And it's not finished yet. Wont be for a while. I'm trying to make this one work, so the chapters wont come exceedingly quickly. I'm working on the next chapter right now.

Reviews are wonderful, if it's not asking too much, please write some. :)