A/N: This is a post ep for Law Of Gravity. I was watching it the other day and this sort of popped into my head. It was written in about 30 minutes and there's no beta so sorry if it sucks.

Disclaimer: If you think I own anything, and that's not limited to CSI, I mean ANYTHING, you're deluded. I'm a broke college kid.

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"You smell like death."

"I've heard."

"You know, a real man wouldn't mind."

It was funny, I couldn't stop thinking about those words Greg had said that day. I didn't know then how I would secretly judge all men against those words.

Yes, men. Plural.

As in more than just Hank. Hank just happened to be the first, and only one, to stick around for more than a week or two. Of course that wasn't an ideal relationship so let's move ahead.

I think I probably should have been ready for the fact that my job isn't easy for every man to deal with. Especially men looking to date me.

Don't roll your eyes there were a few of them. It's just, in my job, I carry a gun, I work with 5 men and 1 woman, plus or minus the lab techs, again there are mostly men there, I am constantly around dead people, and, sometimes, they smell.

The dead people, not my co-workers.

So, idle chit chat over at the Olive Garden isn't so free flowing on my dates. Inevitably the conversation would turn to work and I could only talk about dead bodies, fingerprints, GSR, and experiments with dead pigs. At this point Mr. Real Estate Agent, Mr. Chef, or Mr. Photographer-I-can-get-any-girl-I-want-aren't-you-glad-I-picked-you, would invariably put down their forks and go right to that international hand signal for 'check please this chick is nuts'.

So much for endless salad and breadsticks.

I would always go home with that twinge of rejection but still, deeper down, I held on to Greg's words, almost subconsciously, because, I knew, a real man wouldn't care.

So I find myself now almost chuckling at the notion of trying to find a man OUTSIDE my field of work. I know I had been warned against fishing off the company pier, or whatever the saying is now. But come on now, who better to put up with the crap that comes with my job than someone that has the same exact crap to deal with?

Again, I'm not rationalizing anything, this is fact.

Now that we have established a profession for the man in my life, you may ask me, 'why that one?'

And I'll tell you.

Warrick, while sexy in a way that is unfair to the female population, is not a choice for two reasons. One, Catherine has sharp mails and I don't want her wrath. Everyone knows SOMETHING is going on there. I hope Tina is watching herself. Two, Warrick and I have very similar personalities, we don't like to back down and we like to be right. While this makes for a nice, competitive friendship, he's not the best person for me to date.

Nick would be a fine choice if his superhero tendencies didn't bother me so much. He's a wonderful man but I can't be with some one who needs to be perfect. He's damn good looking though.

Brass. Father figure. That would be weird. Moving on.

Greg. I actually seriously considered Greg for a short while. But after a while I realized that this was simply because he had a crush on me and he wasn't afraid to let everyone know it. And after the things I was going through with Grissom, it was nice to see someone who was willing to let their intentions be known. But I couldn't make myself have more than friendly feelings for him.

Grissom. Why is so much wrapped up in that one name? Yes he is a little aloof at times and probably the worst at communicating his feelings. Yes he is a good 16 years older than me and ALSO the small fact that he is my supervisor and dating him would throw all our work into suspicion.

However none of this changed the fact that when I was breaking down telling him the story of my parents and he held my hand, I let him. Or that a few minutes later, when he came and sat on the arm of my chair, wrapped trembling arms around me and actually held me to his chest while I cried, I let him.

It didn't change the fact that after Adam Trent threatened my life at that institution with a shard of pottery, Grissom showed up at my apartment, and I let him in, soaking wet from the rain. Nothing, not his age, his job, his communication skills, nothing, was in my mind when he simply stood, staring at the small red mark on my neck. Especially not when his thumb came up to trail over it lightly. And definitely not when he leaned in slowly and gently placed his lips on it and placed at least 5 or 6 six feather light kisses on and around it. And I let him.

That was the beginning. We've been through a lot together since then. Throughout our relationship, I've seen both our insecurities and shortcomings show up and we have worked through them. We even moved in together and got a dog. It's almost funny in its utter normalness.

Most recently, though, Grissom decided to go on sabbatical, to work, of course across the country. And he decided this with barely a consult to me. Things like this I was coming to expect and work through with him. But the fact that it was a month away from me and he barely asked me how I felt about it really hurt me. And of course he left with a half assed goodbye, at the lab no less. So Grissom.

While he was gone I definitely had my doubts as to our relationship or if he was coming back at all. Don't get the wrong idea. I love him. Painfully so. I didn't do anything dumb like get drunk off my ass and sleep with Greg or anything. I'd never do that. But I did just fall into this sort of melancholy place while he was gone. I think the others noticed.

So now I find myself sitting in the locker room, getting ready to get in the shower with an unbelievably large smile on my face. Grissom was back. In a big way.

I was on my way to check in evidence from a garbage dump. I smelled, bad. Really bad. I was so focused on checking this stuff into the vault and getting clean that I didn't even notice him until he came out of his office and practically jumped on me. The look on his face was something indescribable. It was like he felt if he looked away from me I would disappear. It was a strange feeling. We spoke of the cocoon. I told him he looked good. And he did.

The smell of me couldn't be ignored though. Even though I knew I stank to high heaven, and he clearly knew it to, he kept advancing on me. As if, if we were home, he would rip off my clothes and take me right there. He'd step forward and I'd step back. I think I was afraid of the reaction he'd have and then I'd be back to that hallway all those years ago with Hank practically running away from me with a look of disgust on his face.

But he just kept coming toward me. Finally I told him I was going to go clean up and began to leave. And even as I was walking away he called me back, wanting to ensure that he would see me later. I paused. I smiled just the tiniest bit and looked at him, with that puppy dog look on his face, just looked back at me.

"Yeah, you will."

As I'm sitting here replaying his homecoming over and over in my mind, reeking of garbage and decomposed flesh I can only think of one thing:

A real man wouldn't mind.