Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of its characters. The "smiles" idea comes from, Win A Date With Tad Hamilton.

Gil Grissom sat in his office staring out the open door. He watched her walk down the hall and into the Trace lab. She was smiling at something Hodges was saying; not a real smile, but more of an, I think you're pathetic, one. He'd learnt all her smiles over the years; one when she was trying to hold a secret, one when she broke a case, one when she was trying not to cry, one when she thought someone was being stupid, and one when she looked at him.

He'd known that smile from the first moment his eyes locked on hers; sitting in the front row of the lecture hall she scribbled her notes furiously as he spoke. The thought of someone taking meticulous notes of his speech was unsettling, but what came next unnerved him even more. For a split second, she looked up at him; a simple smile spread across her face- simple, but strong- a smile he'd learnt that she had only reserved for him.

"Grissom?" A knock and a voice came. He looked up to see her standing there in front of him. He couldn't stop himself from thinking how adorable she looked in the blue FORENSIC jumper with her long brown hair pulled loosely back into a pencil and smudges on her face.

"And…" he questioned; eyebrow raised.

"Nothing," she seated herself in the chair across from him. "Greg and I searched every inch of that car and- nothing. We even took the engine apart, well what was left of it, no signs of a bomb anywhere." Grissom smiled slightly, so that's grease on her face, he mused.

"Maybe the bomb wasn't in the car," he suggested. Sara crinkled her nose.

"You're basing that on…?"

"You didn't find any parts for a bomb in the car-"

"But, the car was the source of the explosion."

"You're sure?"

"Grissom, you were there- and you read the report," she added quickly.

"Yes, I was there, but at the time I was a little distracted." His cool blue eyes met her chocolate brown ones. She smiled.

"Like I said, you read the report. Hey," Sara whispered. "About last night…"

"Hey, guys," Greg burst into Grissom's office. "I think I know what happened." After an uninterrupted pause, he continued. "What if the explosion came from beneath the car?" Still, nothing; he again continued, "According to Brass, the car was on top of a man hole, so what if the bomb was planted underground."

"Then, we took the car apart for nothing," said an annoyed Sara.

"Yes. And, now we have to go back over to the scene and see if we can get down in the man hole, because if my theory is correct, the tunnel would've been destroyed, so we have to use the next entrance and claw our way through."

"Great," Sara scowled, getting up. "More muck." With a last pleading look at Grissom, to which he replied with a small smile, she followed Greg out of the office.

"We'll talk tonight?" Grissom asked softly.

"I suppose," Sara said, not even bothering to turn around.

Sara Sidle got into the passenger side of the Denali and pulled out her laptop.

"Oh, so I have to drive?" Greg said in mock annoyance.

"Yes. I have some work to do."

"Ah, yeah, work. Sure." Turning on the radio, he turned to a rock station. Sara rolled her eyes, but said nothing; instead she starred at the face of her laptop. After working for a few minutes a message popped onto the screen.

G.G. is now online

G.G. told you

S.S. Shut up

G.G. Maybe you were the one being distracted

S.S. Only because you were the one distracting me, Sara smiled to herself.

G.G. Serves you right for reading case files in bed. What ever happened to work staying at the office?

S.S. Yeah, like you ever follow that rule!

G.G. Yeah, but I've been doing better

S.S. True.

G.G. So, last night...

S.S. Talk about breaking rules…

G.G. You started it, remember.

S.S. Yeah, okay. She gave in. I wanted to talk to you about that. I was thinking and…

"You ready?" Greg asked parking the car.

Sara sighed. "Yeah, give me a second."

S.S. We're here. Finish this conversation later?

G.G. Yes. Bye.

G.G. has signed off

Sara stowed her laptop and followed Greg a few yards down the road where a group of construction men were standing along with their Captain.

"Brass," Greg greeted the Captain.

"We're just waiting for bomb squad to clear," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh."

"Your theory might be right after all, Sanders; bomb squad had a hell of a time trying to get to the man hole that the car was over. After they're done clearing the area from any other bombs, we're going to have a construction crew come and clear a path from this entrance to the next.

"Capt. Brass?" an unfamiliar man came up to the trio.

"Yes."

"We think there may be the possibility of another bomb through the tunnel. No one is to go down there. We need this area to be cleared off immediately." Brass looked at the CSI's.

"Guess you made a trip down here for nothing. We can't do anything till they're sure the area is cleared," Brass said walking to the car and picked up his radio. "This is Jim Brass; we need a possible hazard area to be cleared straight away." Beep… beep… beep... Greg took his pager out.

"It's Warrick. We need to get back to the lab."

"Warrick! Catherine!" Sara said jumping out of the car. "What's going on?"

"There was another explosion…" Warrick started. He was sitting next to Catherine on a gurney. Both of them had bandages around their heads with worried looks on their faces.

"Grissom was hurt badly," Catherine interrupted. "He's been taken to Dessert Palm Hospital." Sara grabbed they keys out of Greg's hand.

"Sara, wait." Greg said running after her. "Let me drive."

"No, Greg. You need to stay. Make sure Catherine and Warrick are okay." Greg looked into Sara's tear filled eyes.

"I'll be fine." she said answering his unspoken question.

"Gil, Gilbert Grissom was just brought in," Sara tired to remain calm.

"I'm sorry-" Began the receptionist; Sara shoved her I.D. on the counter.

"Miss Sidle," Sara turned around to see, Tina, Warrick's wife. "They just took Dr. Grissom to trauma room seven," she said before hurrying off down the next hall.

"Thanks," Sara called after, running toward the corridor. By the time turned down the right hall, her head was spinning, her hands were shaking, and she felt sick. Stopping at the emergency room door, Sara peeked inside. Grissom was laying on the third bed to the right; his left hand was wrapped as was his head; his head and right hand were covered with cuts. Sara heart started pounding uncontrollably as she threw up on the floor.

"Miss, are you okay?" A woman asked stooping down beside her.

"I'm sorry," Sara whispered, tears streaming down her face.

"Bathroom is this way," the woman said taking Sara by the elbow and helping her into the bathroom. "Are you looking for someone in particular?"

"Um, yeah; Dr. Gil Grissom," Sara said in shaking voice. She rinsed her mouth out and washed her hands. "Thank you," she smiled weakly.

"I'm his attending, Dr Bryant," the woman said introducing herself as they walked back down the hall.

"Is he okay? What happened? Can I see him?"

"Dr. Grissom sustained fractures to left wrist, and three ribs. He was apparently thrown across his desk landing head first in the hall. We're keeping him here for observation; to make sure there's not internal bleeding." It was too much, Sara felt sick again; she felt herself black out.