8 December 2000

            The sounds of the airport easily filtered through the Las Vegas Air jet. The rumbling of jets taking off sent tiny tremors through the plane but after an hour Sara had become slightly numb to the sounds and shudders. Focusing on the job at hand, Sara searched another chair pocket in the first class cabin. She had found the usual, magazines, books, the “kiss your ass goodbye” instructions should the plane go down. She had also found the unusual, food, a pair of women’s underwear and several complimentary liquor bottles.

            “I just got off the phone with Nick,” Grissom called out to Sara, snapping his cell phone shut. “The coroner did some carving on our dead guy.  She found intercranial bleeding, thoracic hemorrhaging a ruptured spleen.  And, for what it's worth the guy also had a fever.” Grissom paused mentally double checking that he had listed everything Jenna Williams had found during the autopsy. “You find anything interesting?” he asked with a motion of his hand.

            Sara stood up from where she had been crouched in between rows of seats. Motioning back towards Grissom’s area of the plane she said, “Well, the guy in 4B was knocking them back pretty good.”

            Orienting himself, Grissom realized seat 4B would be directly behind him. Grabbing a pair of latex gloves, Grissom reached into the seat pocket to confirm Sara’s findings, pulling out three small bottles of scotch. Holding them, he inspected them more closely for any pertinent evidence. Finding none he notices Sara’s latest find.

            “Could be dried blood,” Sara ventured holding up the neck portion of a dark, broken bottle.

            Grissom decided the three bottles were not as interesting as the broken bottle Sara held and replaced them where he found them before heading towards Sara. It did look like dried blood to Grissom, which made him immediately think of the cuts on their dead guy’s hands.

            “Victim had defensive wounds on his hand,” he said looking back to where Tony Candlewell’s body had been found.

            Sara craned her neck to make out the seat number. “Marlene Valdez was sitting in 2E,” Sara noted

            Grissom hummed in thought. Where’s the other half of the bottle? He thought, searching the aisles methodically. He didn’t have to turn around to know that Sara was doing the same thing. Since they had started working together, Grissom had noticed their balance, their symmetry. He suspected it had always been there but somehow it seemed more pronounced now that he was trying to keep a certain emotional distance from Sara.

            He was her boss. Sherrif Mobley and Lab Director Bob Carvallo had made his temporary hell, permanent and while there was no black and white rule against them seeing one another, there were dangerous shades of gray to consider. Grissom didn’t want to taint Sara’s career with rumors and innuendos associated with sleeping with her boss. She was a good criminalist on her way to becoming a great criminalist. Her instincts and intuitions were razor sharp and she had proven to be a valuable asset to the lab in just the few short months she had been there.

            Circling the cabin in opposite directions, the pair eventually ended up meeting up again at the overturned beverage cart. Their eyes meeting momentarily, each acknowledging to themselves, the natural balance they have with one another.

            “The other half of the wine bottle ... from 2E,” Grissom says picking up the bottom portion of the bottle, his eyebrow raised knowingly. “So ... Marlene in 2E
slashes the victim.  He's bleeding.  Where does he go?” Grissom eyes Sara, knowing she will run the scenario in tandem with him.

            Sara’s eyes widen eager to pay the scene out with Grissom. “The lavatory,” she answers turning.

            Grissom gives her a smirk before leading the way to the first class lavatory. Standing in the door, Grissom shines his flashlight inside giving the room a perfunctory look.

            “No evidence,” Sara said, peering over his shoulder.

            Without meaning to, Sara brushes up against his back and immediately feels the sharp sizzle of attraction pass between them. It is both pain and pleasure as she leans imperceptibly away from him. Sara knows it is a futile gesture. If she felt it then Grissom felt it.

            Grissom glances over his shoulder at her but barely makes eye contact. They were in close quarters and he could sense her nearness as surely as he could sense the tingle that had begun crawling throughout his body.

            “No patent evidence.  But if there's blood present there may be latent evidence,” he says softly, his voice slightly gruffer.

            Grabbing the small ALS from Grissom’s kit, Sara returned and handed it to him. Sara found it was better to immerse herself in the work when these heavily charged moments came up. “One step ahead of you, every so often,” she quipped.

            “Thank you.”

            Grissom placed the ALS on the side of the lavatory, the faint, glowing blue light picking up something of interest. “Well.  Would you hand me the Christopher Columbus from my field kit?” He asked Sara. “Thank you.”

            Taking the scope from Sara and placing on the lavatory, Grissom squinted into the eyepiece. With a slight smirk, he confirmed what he had initially suspected.

            “Hey Catherine,” Sara greeted the other woman as she entered the cabin. The look on her face suggesting she no longer wanted to be the “people person”.

            Looking up from the scope, Grissom gave Catherine an inquiring look. “Did you get something?” he asked standing up.

            “I take it that's not blood,” Catherine stated irritably, her hand pointing at the scope.

            “No... but there's protein in it,” he joked, unable to hide the slight amusement that washed over his face.

            “The Mile High Club,” Catherine answered.

            At her tone, Grissom surmised she had some information concerning their recent find. Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, he waited for Catherine to go on, hoping she didn’t pick up on the slight unease that had come over him.

            “I’m going to guess those little soldiers belong to Carl Finn,” Catherine said sarcastically. “He claims he was sleeping when all hell broke lose but I have a feeling he and Vicki Mercer were breaking in their membership cards in the Club,” Catherine almost gave a little swagger at her declaration before settling her hands on her hips.

            “That means we have two passengers that had no idea what was going on inside the cabin,” Sara said trying to avoid any uncomfortable pauses

            “You know, high altitude enhances the entire sexual experience,” Grissom said rather quickly. “It increases the euphoria.”

            A nagging feeling told Catherine that there was something up. Sara answered to quickly and Grissom should have said something ironic. Looking between the two a dawning realization slowly broke as Catherine noted the furtive glances between the two. They were trying not to look at each other and looked guilty as hell doing so.

            “OH-HO!” Catherine said as that niggling sensation turned into full blown knowledge.

            “Catherine…” Grissom pushed himself from the doorjamb, his fingers linking in front of him as he desperately sought away to control the situation and more specifically the woman in front of him.

            “You two…unbelievable!” Catherine said. Her tone was one of exasperation but she wasn’t completely surprised or perturbed by it. Still she was getting a perverse pleasure out of Gil’s and Sara’s obvious discomfort. “Cite your source.”

            “Whaa…?” Sara fumbled in disbelief.

            Grissom could see the mischievous gleam in Catherine’s eye and knew the woman was taking great delight in their embarrassment. “Hand me a swab, please,” he asked trying to get the woman refocused on the case.

            "You're avoiding the question. "Enhances sexual experience. Increases
euphoria."  Cite your source,” Catherine demanded playfully.

            “A magazine,” Grissom answered slightly annoyed at getting caught in the obvious lie but unwilling to let Catherine get the upper hand.

            “What magazine?” Catherine asked turning to eye Sara as she waited for Grissom’s answer. Sara’s blush reached the tips of her ears as she tried to look anywhere but at Grissom or Catherine.

            “Applied Psychodynamics in Forensic Science."

            Good answer, Sara thought as she fought the urge to pump her fist in the air and chant Grissom’s name. Since she had been in Vegas Sara had learned that Grissom seemed the only one capable of holding his own against the feisty blonde.

            “Never heard of it,” Catherine countered, folding her arms defiantly across her chest.

            “I'll get you a subscription,” Grissom and Sara answered in unison.

            The surprised, guilty looks that erupted on Grissom’s and Sara’s faces had Catherine laughing. Slapping her hands together she silently declared herself the victor as she began to leave.

            Grissom and Sara exchanged looks of horror as they watched the woman laugh her way towards the exit.

            Turning back towards the two, Catherine wiped the tears of laughter from the corner of her eyes. “Did you two ever keep your clothes on?” Catherine asked still chuckling as she exited the plane.

            Grissom’s mouth opened and closed several times before he was finally able to say, “Yes, when we were six hundred miles apart.”

            Sara’s mouth hung open and then she too had to laugh. Grissom was right. It was about the only thing that did keep their clothes on.

            “What?” Grissom asked partially indignant but slowly losing his fight not to laugh.

            “Nothing,” Sara answered smiling, “you’re right…Good answer, by the way… “Applied Psychodynamics in Forensic Science”, very nice.”

            “Well…it might not be the correct source but everything else was relatively accurate,” he defended.

            Sara felt a warm flush rising throughout her body and this time it wasn’t due to embarrassment. “That it was,” she answered a little husky.

            SUPERVISOR! Grissom’s conscious screamed. “I…umm…I, why don’t you,” he turned back towards the lavatory as he took a few steps down the aisle, placing distance between them and the room in question, “swab the…”

            “Yea,” Sara interrupted trying to save Grissom and herself. “Yea…I’ll, umm…yea,” she stumbled pointing towards her kit and the lavatory.

            “Yea,” Grissom mumbled aloud while silently cursing the cold shower he saw in his immediate future.