Inappropriate

Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Category: General/Romance
Archive: FF.net and here. Anywhere else ask first, I might say yes.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Don't let that bother you, though. I don't let it bother me.

Author's Note: Some good friends of mine harassed-oh, I'm sorry, no, they politely asked me for months to write a fic that explained how Grissom and Sara met and ended up friends. I only agreed to write their history in flashbacks, encasing it in a current casefile that could include some resolution. This was the end result. Thanks to Marlou for the beta work (and the harassment). You're the greatest.

Summary: Grissom takes a trip down memory lane while working a tragic accident scene with Sara. Meanwhile, Sara isn't sure what to make of his new attitude.

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Chapter 1

It was impossible not to eavesdrop. Grissom got the call just after Sara came into his office. She'd been at work for almost an hour, but her missing person case turned out to be a case of miscommunication. So, she had returned to the lab, ready for a new project. Grissom was about to sic her on some paperwork when his cell phone rang. She stood in front of his desk and waited while he talked.

"Well, there's only two of us available right now," he said, glancing up at Sara. She lowered her eyes, trying not to look so obvious. "I understand that, but I'm short people. We can handle it. How many fatalities?"

Sara looked up with interest.

"Seven?" He paused for a moment, listening. "You're kidding..." He was looking at Sara when he said, "All right, we're leaving right now."

You'd think she'd be used to the rush of the immediate callout, but Sara still felt a flutter in her stomach as her heart rate sped up, awaiting his instructions.

"We've got to go to Niagara Falls."

Sara's face contorted wildly. "Huh?"

"The waterpark. It's across from the Sahara on Paradise. There's been an accident," he said, grabbing his forensics vest and coming around the front of his desk. Sara turned to follow him out.

"Seven teenagers died at the scene. A bunch more were injured. The media's going to be all over this, so let's stay on our toes," he warned calmly.

They weren't in the car for very long, when Grissom started tossing glances in Sara's direction without saying anything. She noticed, and finally, after the third time, she said, "What?"

"Nothing, I just..." he trailed off and looked at her again, a faint smile gracing his features. "Remember the last time we worked a scene at a waterpark?"

Within seconds, Sara was blushing at the memory. "Oh, yeah." An embarrassed smile spread across her face. "God, that was a long time ago."

"Yeah, I guess it was," he said wistfully.

They both sat in silence for a moment, recalling a different time in their lives, when they were... different, when he was a guest seminar instructor and she was an eager grad student.

"I wonder if I ever thanked you for taking me with you that day," Sara said, her voice unusually warm and sincere.

Grissom was taken aback. "Y-you're welcome," he replied awkwardly. It never occurred to him that she would still be grateful to him, or that she would look back at that time in their lives fondly. Lord knows he did. "I'm sure the pleasure was all mine," he added softly, wishing he could go back somehow, start over with her and fix this uneasiness between them.

~*~ Berkeley, CA, 1995

"I'm Gil Grissom. This is a Forensic Science Seminar. I'm assuming you're all here because you want to be, and not to fill some last-minute degree requirement." He scanned the small classroom while he spoke. Only fourteen participants, four women, ten men. "It's an introductory course-lasts four weeks. We'll cover three main topics: collection of forensic evidence, forensic examination of DNA, and interpretation and limitations of DNA evidence in court."

It wasn't anything like love at first sight, he recalled. In fact, she was almost irritating, with her incessant questions and need for more detailed information that was beyond the level of the seminar. She certainly kept him on his toes that summer.

By the second week of the class, he had already gotten a feel for his students. Six of the men and three of the women were wasting his time and theirs. Four of the men seemed genuinely interested in forensics-but only two seemed smart enough to do well in the field. Then, there was Sara Sidle. Sara was in a class all her own. She seemed... brilliant, like she could be anything, anything she wanted.

He admitted the course wasn't nearly as 'hands on' enough for his liking, but due to the introductory level, the university discouraged in-depth field trips. He promised do his best recreating evidence scenarios for them. "But the only way to really learn about forensics," he assured, "is to immerse yourself in it and experience scenes first hand."

Sara had stayed after class that day, asking questions, which wasn't unusual for her. They stayed in the classroom for almost an hour, discussing collection techniques and various laboratory tests. Despite the age difference, he found it abnormally easy to talk to Sara. Her grasp of the basic procedures was remarkable, her interest fierce. She hung on his every word.

Grissom apologized when his cell phone rang, answering it gruffly. It was a friend of his who ran the Oakland crime lab, wondering if he'd like to watch his team work a scene.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Where is it?" Sara watched as he fumbled around in his briefcase. "Wait a second, I've got to find something to write on." He moved the phone from his mouth and turned to Sara. "Have you ever been to Wild Waters?"

Slightly puzzled, Sara laughed. "Yeah, it's right off MacArthur Boulevard."

Grissom nodded and went back to his call. "Okay, I'm bringing a student with me. Oh, wait--" He turned back to Sara and asked, "Do you want to come to a crime scene?"

Her face lit up in youthful exuberance. "Yes!" Grissom wasn't sure if he should be proud or wary of her excitement.

When they got to his car, Sara took off her sweatshirt to reveal a maroon tank top. "They keep those classrooms so damn cold, you forget it's August out here." He grunted his agreement as he unlocked the car.

Grissom set his briefcase in the backseat and allowed himself a brief glance at Sara's attractive figure as she slipped into the passenger seat. She was twisting her hair into a low ponytail, her slim wrists maneuvering behind her long and suddenly exposed neck. He started the car, wondering for a moment if this were a bad idea, if it might appear inappropriate.

"What's wrong?" she asked, clueless to the reason for his hesitant expression.

"Nothing."

"I thought evidence was time-sensitive. Shouldn't we be moving here?" Her smirk was infuriating.

"You'll get 'time sensitive'," he muttered, pulling out of the parking lot. "Where am I going?"

She stifled her giggle. "Left, to the highway. Then head south."

He did as he was told. "So, Sara Sidle, what are your educational plans?" he asked after a few uncomfortable moments of silence.

"Well, I graduated from Harvard a couple years ago with a Bachelor's in Theoretical Physics. I've been working on my Master's here at Berkeley for the past three years. I have enough credits for the degree, I just haven't... filed for graduation yet."

"Why not?"

"I'm... not done learning," she admitted in a hushed, almost embarrassed tone.

He stole a glance at her, and in that moment, found her utterly charming. There was something about this girl.

"Hm... Maybe that's my problem."

She looked at him, puzzled.

"There's no end to learning when you're a crime scene investigator. Every scene needs to be studied, every body examined, every piece of evidence scrutinized." He paused a second, choosing his next words carefully. "Think seriously about this line of work if it interests you, Sara. It takes a certain type of mind to be a proficient CSI."

"I will," she replied softly, suspecting the moment was an important one. "MacArthur's the next exit."

Grissom got a little bossy when they first arrived at the scene. "Walk where I tell you to walk, don't touch anything, and don't talk unless you're spoken to."

Sara nodded and listened intently as Grissom's friend relayed information about the case. Apparently, a man noticed something in the bushes and thought it was a kid hiding. When he moved some branches back, he saw a woman's body.

Sara scanned the scene, wondering how on earth someone could have dumped a body in the bushes in the middle of a crowded waterpark. It made no sense. The victim's feet were practically visible from the walkway.

Grissom pulled Sara off to the side when they finally loaded the body bag onto a gurney. "Tell me what you see."

She proceeded to ramble about how it made no sense that the victim was placed there. She hypothesized that it might have been some kind of accident, or maybe the woman fell in the bushes somehow.

"I don't care what you think," Grissom interrupted, "I want to know what you see. Did you notice anything about the victim?"

Sara thought for a moment. "She's older than the typical waterpark guest. Mid thirties, I'd say. She had a medic alert necklace on, which could obviously be a factor. No wedding ring. She also rented a locker today, which should be checked for identification."

"How do you know she had a locker?" Grissom asked curiously.

"I saw the key on her wrist when they put her in the body bag." Grissom still looked confused. "It looks like a bracelet, but it's a key-so you don't lose it on the rides," she explained.

"Good." Grissom bit back his sense of pride. "Very good..."

~*~Las Vegas, 2004

The Niagara Falls waterpark was still being evacuated when Grissom and Sara arrived. This scene was a lot different then the one in California. Turns out Sara had been right that day about the medic alert necklace. The woman was a diabetic who became disoriented when her blood sugar went too low. All evidence suggested she had stumbled into the bushes, far enough out of sight that, by the time someone noticed her; she had died from a severe insulin reaction.

This scene today was truly a disaster by comparison. Bodies lay covered in tarps, the injured already taken away, but the blood stains on the cement a reminder of where they landed. Park employees hovered near the crime tape. The media, which had already gathered at the scene, scrambled to interview park officials, guests, and police detectives, hoping for an answer as to how this tragedy could have happened. A glance above the scene was just as disastrous. A section of the chute-type water slide had collapsed and hung from the ride precariously. The teenagers plummeted to their death from fifty feet up.

"This is awful," Sara commented dismally, squatting next to Grissom, who had already begun photographing.

He replied without looking up. "Don't tell me what you think, Ms. Sidle, tell me what you see..."

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