I don't own anything...I might have shamelessly stolen some of their words but I still don't own 'em!

A/N - I just watched all of season 5 and was kind of intriuged by Grissom and Sofia. I mean, he asked her to dinner! Of course, as a fierce Grissom and Sara shipper, this annoyed me greatly. But at the same time, I thought his fascination with Sofia kind of went hand in hand with his thing for Sara. Sooo... this will sound all pro-Sofia and Grissom for the first couple of chapters, but believe me, that's not the ultimate objective here! It will eventually be GSR. I didn't like Sofia the second she stepped in that elevator with Grissom. Now that Sara and Gil being together is canon, I don't mind her so much. :) Anyway, here we go.

Gil Grissom did not want to be at this "dinner" for Conrad Ecklie. He was now the assistant lab director and Grissom was not what you would call excited about that. But somebody had to be the assistant lab director, and Grissom didn't want to do it. Too much politics for him.

While he sat at the table with his colleagues, not worried or concerned about the speech he was being forced to give, his pager went off. There was a 419 and Grissom was on back-up for swing shift. He shrugged at Catherine, who gave him a murderous look, and gave her the napkin he wrote his speech on. Well, part of his speech. Well, the very beginning of his speech. Okay, the first sentence of his speech.

Grissom walked swiftly out just as the sheriff was calling him to the podium. He knew Catherine would handle it with her usual class and humor.

Relieved at having escaped the dinner before he had to fake his way through his speech, he drove to the Four Seasons and stepped into the elevator that would lead him to his newest crime scene. He tugged a little at his tux, trying to get it to be no so...constricting. He was not a formal kind of man, and the tuxedo he had on felt...different. Not exactly bad, but just different.

The elevator stopped and an attractive female with a slinky red dress stepped in. She greeted him and he said hello. He hoped she didn't try to engage him in small talk. He was not a fan of the small talk. He preferred to stay in his own thoughts. But to be nice, he asked, "What floor do you want?"

She gave him a long glance and in spite of himself, he noticed a little sweat collecting at his brow. What is this? He thought to himself. Why in the world is this strange woman making me sweat? She was making him nervous, and Gil Grissom liked to think he had nerves of steel.

The woman said, "Where do you think I'm going?" To which Gil replied, "I wouldn't know."

She glanced at him again, and again he felt the sweat. Damn it! What is with this woman?

"You don't recognize me, do you?" She asked.

Gil tried to place her and couldn't find her in his extensive memory banks.

"Apparently not," he said, again trying to be polite.

"In the lab, I wear my hair up," she said helpfully.

Recognition finally dawned on Gil and he said, "Ah, yes, you work for Ecklie."

"As of tonight, so do you," Sofia Curtis said, and the elevator stopped and they stepped off together.

The case turned out to be at the site of some high schooler's homecoming. Sofia and Gil found Jim Brass at the scene, and he filled them in on what happened.

The DB was Nicole Jensen, a teenager. She was lying on her side, surrounded by pools of vomit. Gil and Sofia took stock of the scene and scattered to do their respective duties.

Later, Brass and Grissom eventually found their way to the balcony, where Sofia already was. Brass filled Gil in about the owner of the hotel, Charlie Macklin, let his daughter have the suite for her homecoming party.

While Brass was talking, Gil noticed Sofia pulling her dress out of her jumpsuit, and he instantly became intruiged. After all, he was a man and she was a very attractive woman.

Sofia noticed Gil watching her. Of course she did, didn't she want him to? She said, "I can barely move in this dress and we haven't cleared the bathroom yet, so there it is. Don't worry, I'm wearing underwear."

Gil raised an eyebrow and went back to processing the scene. He also found himself wondering about this woman. He didn't know many women who stripped at crime scenes, and she caught his attention. She was new, interesting, obviously intelligent, and he thought she also kind of exuded an interesting sort of blatant sexuality.

He thought about the other women in his life. Catherine always had that sexuality about her and wasn't afraid to use it to her advantage. Gil had known Catherine a long time, and sometimes he felt sorry for his friend. It became obvious over the years that sometimes she used her sexuality too much and it got in the way of the ultimate goal. He admired and respected her and enjoyed having her as a friend and colleague. He enjoyed her companionship, especially when he found he couldn't relate to his younger colleagues. It just sometimes pained him to watch her turn to her assets to get what she wanted, and oh, yes, he had seen her do that before. He thought, no, he knew she was an attractive woman. And though they had a casual flirtation, nothing ever went too far between them. It was a relationship based on friendship, and neither of them wanted to jeopardize that by crossing the line.

And, of course, when his mind turned to his younger colleagues, it immediately turned to Sara. Sara Sidle. Sara wasn't like Sofia, she didn't carry herself the same way at all. Even though Sara could be flirtatious, she wasn't exuding sexuality. She didn't use it as a badge like Sofia was doing so blatantly. But Sara...she didn't have that sexual charge about her, but Grissom still found her sexy. Achingly, heartbreakingly sexy. He found her...intoxicating. He was fascinated by how passionate she became with some of the cases she was on. All the crime that she's seen in her life, and she sill gets upset on certain cases? Gil admired that. He liked passion. He liked her. But something inside him didn't, couldn't do anything about it. He spent hours thinking about it, and came up with a conclusion: he didn't want to hurt her. But he was also getting the impression that not doing anything was hurting her in a more distinct way.

Gil knew Sara had...feelings for him. And over the years it had become a problem. When he was talking to Dr. Lurie in the interrogation room that day, he knew for a fact Sara was behind the glass. And he said what he had to say to Lurie partly to make Lurie want to confess, which it didn't. But also partly because he wanted Sara to give up on him. He was an old man, incapable of making a young, beautiful woman like her happy. She was too full of life to be dragged down by him. And so he told Dr. Lurie that he couldn't do it, and he knew he was hurting Sara, but she had to hear it. She had to know he couldn't make the sacrifice without dragging them both down. And at the time, he meant it.

But now, as he watched his sexy colleague Sofia work a crime scene, he was attracted to her. He wondered things about her. While he took pictures and talked to Brass about the scene, he also pictured Sofia naked, soft and hard and feminine and raucous.

They all headed back inside. While Sofia processed the scene, she talked out loud. Gil didn't know if she was talking to him or to herself. If she was talking to him, it all sounded like a bunch of gibberish.

"No beer or liquor," Sofia said, taking pictures. "Just water, yogurt and OJ. Mixers -- not for drinks. Maybe for drugs. Right pH in the stomach speeds the buzz along. I think there's narco around here somewhere."

Gil finally had to ask. "Are you talking to me?"

She said no. He asked if she always processes scenes with her mouth.

"Whenever I meet someone new, I say their name aloud a few times. It keeps a picture in my head."

Interesting, Gil thought. Strange, but interesting indeed.

And so it went for much of the night. Sofia talking to herself, Gil looking at her and become more intrigued as the minutes ticked by. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know what books she read, what movies she watched, what she though of Conrad Ecklie. He would ask her, someday. For now there was a scene to process and a murder to solve.