CCC

Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Category: General/Romance
Archive: FF.net and here. Anywhere else ask first, I might say yes.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. Just borrowing for fun-please don't sue.

Summary: Grissom and Sara reluctantly attend a conference together. Will they straighten out their feelings for one another or kill each other in the process?

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Chapter 4 - A silk night gown, and that long trip home

The problem with separate hotel rooms was that it meant the evidence was divided among the two of them. Grissom needed Sara's analysis of the glass found at the scene. He looked at his clock; it was 11:45pm. He took a chance that the woman who never slept was still awake. He knocked quietly on her adjoining door. He was about to knock again when she cracked the door a few inches.

"The victim's clothes were damp when they found her," he said.

"Huh?" Sara asked, crinkling her face.

"So maybe the killer used some kind of crystal drinking glass to kill her. Can I see your glass analysis?" he asked.

Sara looked down at the floor, and awkwardly stuttered. She glanced down toward her chest and said, "Umm... I'm not exactly dressed... appropriately."

Grissom squinted at her, confused. "I don't care," he said without emotion. She flung open the door to reveal herself in a short silk night gown with spaghetti straps. She turned around and walked back to her bed, which was covered with reports and folders. "It's on the table I think," she said, climbing onto the bed and revealing more of her rear end than she intended. Grissom tried to close his mouth, and avoided looking at her the best he could. He picked up a few papers on the table, but couldn't find what he wanted.

"It's not here," he said, not wanting to go near her.

"It might be over here somewhere," she said, glancing around at her stacks of papers. She suddenly recalled his words before they left for L.A.: 'I'm not scared of you'. Yeah right, she thought. He walked over to the bed and began searching for the report. The tension was palpable, and for a moment, she actually considered attacking him.

"I don't think he used a glass," she said, picking up papers herself.

"Why?" he asked, clearing a space for himself to sit on the bed. That surprised her, considering there was plenty of room on the other bed.

"Well, there were no other crystal glasses found in her apartment. So, why would you have just one? Plus, I don't think it would be heavy enough to kill someone outright with one blow," she explained.

"Hmm... maybe you're right," he said, digging out some photos of the body.

"Hey, let me see those," she said, leaning toward him. He glanced at her chest as he handed it to her. He could see entirely too much of her. He needed to get out of there, but he wanted to hear what she had to say.

"Why would you spend time picking up the pieces of a murder weapon?" she asked, wrinkling her eyebrows in thought.

"I don't know-we don't have enough pieces of the puzzle. We don't know what the weapon is or why the killer would take it with him," Grissom said, moving closer to her and reaching for the photo she was holding. There fingers were almost touching, both of them holding the same photo.

"The weapon has to connect the killer to the victim somehow," she said. She could feel his warmth in her bed, and she looked up at him. She could not hide the desire she was feeling.

They continued to look in each other's eyes for a moment. Grissom was slipping, and slipping fast. His eyes trailed from her face to her lips, down to her chest, along the blue silk of her nightgown, onto the bed and back up again. He swallowed hard, and opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out. He stared at her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, and he knew if he did that would be it. They were already in bed, for crying out loud. He put his hand on the bed and leaned on it. He slowly leaned in toward her, fully intending to kiss her. His lips were so close to hers-only inches away, when he stopped abruptly. He put his head down, and sighed in frustration. Sara put her hand on his and said quietly, "Nobody knows you're here."

"Sara," he said, looking away from her.

"Nobody has to know," she continued, gently squeezing his hand. She wanted to nail it to the bed to make him stay.

"I'm going," he said, standing up.

"You don't have to," she said, looking back down at the photos. She had him. She had him right here in her bed, and somehow she blew it.

"Good night," he said blankly, and closed the door behind him.

Sara growled loudly and threw herself back on her bed. This man was making her crazy. She knew she was not imagining this; he did want her. "What is your problem?" she quietly asked the ceiling. She eventually sat up and worked a little while longer. Then she piled up all of her evidence and papers on the bed next to hers. She got under her covers and stared up at the ceiling for a long time, hoping to find some magical answer-if not to Grissom, then at least maybe to this case. She looked over on the nightstand at the roses he sent her. They really were beautiful. She wondered how much he spent on them. Really, the vase looked more expensive then the flowers. She reached out and touched the intricate design on the crystal vase. She shot up in bed, moving closer to the vase. "No way!" she said out loud. She dug through her stacks of photos violently, looking for the ones of the glass pieces. She found the one she was thinking of and held it up to her vase. It seemed to match the design on her vase exactly.

First thing in the morning, she tested the density of the crystal in her vase against the glass found at the scene. They were a perfect match. She called the florist and inquired about the vases they use. The owner bought them exclusively from a vendor in Canada. He said customers buy flowers from them just for the crystal vases in which they are arranged. She asked if they kept records as far back as five months. He checked, and their records went back six months. The day before the murder, the victim received flowers from his florist. The man who sent them paid with a credit card. He lived in Burbank, and within the hour police were at his house to question him. Sara had a new lead in a cold case.

She found Grissom in the lab on the first floor of the hotel. She told him what she had discovered, trying unsuccessfully to hide her excitement.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, shaking his head. "A crystal vase? From the same florist?" he asked rhetorically.

"Yeah, can you believe that?" she asked, smiling.

"That explains why her clothes were wet-the water spilled out of it when he hit her," he said.

"Yeah, probably," Sara nodded. "By the way, you don't mess around when you send flowers. Kind of posh there, Grissom."

He gave her a sideways glance, and then looked down at the table. "You did good work," he said quietly. "You always do. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, surprised at his sincerity. "I couldn't have done it without your... gesture of... what would you call that anyway?" she asked sarcastically.

"I have no idea," he sighed, still looking at the table. She shook her head and walked to the elevator, heading for her room.

The L.A. crime lab matched the suspect's DNA to the DNA sample found at the scene, and he was arrested that afternoon. Apparently he had been stalking the woman for weeks, and she did not return his affections. When he confronted her at her apartment, he snapped and hit her with the vase of flowers. Knowing he would be an immediate suspect, he took the flowers and most of the broken vase with him.

She and Grissom were awarded the "CCC Award" as expected, in a presentation that evening. He seemed genuinely happy, and Sara liked seeing him like that. She just didn't understand why he was so inconsistent in his behavior toward her. What was he so afraid of? She started to think she may never know.

The flight home was awkwardly quiet and tense. Grissom felt like he needed to say something to her, explain his actions, and set things straight somehow. He just couldn't bring himself to do anything though. Talking about it would only make matters worse by acknowledging there was something there. He didn't know what to say or do. He knew she would eventually interrogate him about that incident in her bed. He just wanted to get home without any further questionable exchanges with her. After picking up his car at the airport, he drove her to her apartment. He got out and lifted her bag for her.

"Thanks," she said, taking it from him.

He nodded, walking back to his car door. As he opened it, she said, "Hey, Grissom?"

No, don't do it. Please don't say anything. Not yet, he silently pleaded.

"Yeah?" he asked tentatively.

"I really like working with you," she said sincerely.

He looked at her face, and wanted to kiss her more than ever before. He would not give in to the temptation. He nodded again and replied, "I like working with you too, Sara." He got in the car and drove to his house. He wondered, if given the choice, would he rather date Sara or work with her? He couldn't choose. Ever. That was the problem.

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Author's Note: Relax, it's coming... last chapter will be up soon. Thank you for such nice reviews!