Greg Sanders was a scientist at heart. He could collect evidence of all sorts according to the ways Grissom had taught him, and he could do it unbiasedly and without disgust. He had gathered vomit, feces, and every other kind of body fluid in between. He was now able to look at a bloodbath and, instead of looking away in abject horror, begin to identify blood spatter and pooling patterns to solve crimes. Scenes that would send a civilian screaming into the night were now a part of his everyday life, and he was able to examine and investigate logically and subjectively.

So why, now, was he unable to tear his eyes away from Morgan Brody? What about her was so different that he couldn't keep his eyes from straying to her, even now in the middle of some godforsaken ghost-town-turned-bad-science-fiction-movie set?

Maybe it's because she almost died, he thought. He had thought she was dead just an hour before. But now, watching her sob from a hundred yards away, he could honestly swear that she was still one of the more beautiful things he had ever lain eyes on.

He wanted to go over to her, to see her and take her in his arms and let her know that everything was going to be all right. But he didn't. Instead, he watched, his heart twinging painfully, as she walked away with D.B., her shoulders shaking with her sobs. A part of him wanted to go be with his friend, but the rest of him knew that she needed her distance. She needed D.B. right now, not someone who was suddenly confused in his feelings.

It wasn't love, he decided. It was too soon for love. It wasn't friendship, either-too strong. What it was, however, was a start.

A/N: Hello, CSI Fandom! I haven't posted anything for you all before. However, I've been watching again, and I noticed this particular relationship is, well, lacking. Let me know what you think, will you?