The Loophole

Chapter 1

The timing would have to be perfect.

Problem was, their track record with perfect timing was less than stellar.

He'd see her at the end of shift looking too exhausted. Too preoccupied with a frustrating case. Too annoyed with him over his latest slip-up. It was always too something, and he was beginning to fear it would eventually be too late.

When the day came, it was clear from the start that this, this was it. This was his shot.

She'd come in whistling, giving him momentary cause to wonder if she had someone else in her life. Someone who could put a spring in her step without waiting for perfect timing. But when Nick asked her about it, seemingly reading Grissom's mind, she blushed and admitted she'd just finished watching a Real World marathon.

"What's The Real World?" Grissom had asked, perplexed.

Nick had laughed at him, but Sara just tilted her head at him affectionately and said, "Sometimes I ask myself that same question."

The only case that night was a bank robbery. No child abuse, no sexual assault, nothing to make her jaw clench in memory. When they studied the surveillance tapes, she pointed out a suspicious-looking teller that had reacted before the robbery was announced. Grissom himself hadn't even noticed.

Brass brought the teller in for questioning, and Sofia declared that she wanted do the interview. Sara folded her arms and stared at the ground, waiting for Grissom's inevitably disappointing decision.

"Sara was the one who picked him out on the tape," he said. "She should lead the interview. You can sit in on it, if you like, but she's primary on this one."

Sofia didn't bother concealing her frustration as she left his office. Sara stood in the doorway, studying him for a moment with wide, lovely eyes. "You sure you want me doing this interview, Grissom?"

He took off his glasses and rubbed them with a tissue. "Of course, why?"

She shrugged. "Male suspects tend to open up more to beautiful women."

"All the more reason for you to do it." The words were out of his mouth before he'd even thought them, and she drew in a sharp breath.

"Gotta clean those glasses a little harder, Griss," she mumbled, but when he watched her walk down the hall her shoulders were back and her chin was raised high. She'd called him Griss. This would definitely be the day.

He paged her near the end of shift, asking her to stop by before she left.

His palms began to sweat as he waited. He'd rehearsed this so many times in his head, but in his imagination his palms were always dry. Then she walked into his office and his mind went blank. In his imagination her eyes hadn't been this unsure.

"Got your page. You wanted to see me?"

She bit her lip, waiting for his response. Slowly he looked at each of the piles of paperwork on his desk as if gathering courage from them. "There's something I'd like to show you, Sara. Do you have time to take a ride?"

She started to ask why, but when she saw his cringe of anticipation she let it go. "Yeah, sure. I'll get my stuff and meet you in the parking lot."

Sara hadn't known what to make of his behavior that night. He'd alternated between being pensive and tense, and every time she looked up his eyes were on her.

She took a white sweater out of her locker and pulled it on, almost running into Sofia on her way out the door.

"Sorry about that," she apologized breathlessly.

Sofia smiled at her self-consciously. "Sara. I was just looking for you."

"Oh?" She tried to avoid glancing at the clock on the wall. Surely Grissom wouldn't leave without her.

"I wanted to say. you did a great job questioning the suspect," Sofia said awkwardly. "It was inappropriate for me to have asked to be primary for the interview."

Feeling an unexpected surge of sympathy, Sara started to protest. "It's okay. You just wanted-"

"I wanted to run the show, like I used to," Sofia finished. "But I'm not a supervisor anymore. I need to be more of a team player. I just. wanted to tell you that I'm trying." With that, the blonde turned on her heel and left.

Sara blinked, hard. For the first time in months, everything seemed to be going her way from the moment she'd gotten out of bed. She'd run four miles that morning in 28 minutes, her new personal best. A marathon of The Real World had drawn her in before work, making her grab a pint of cookie dough ice cream and dive into the angst. At work she'd been at the top of her game, first with the evidence and then with the suspect. Grissom had been effusive with his praise after the interview.

Grissom.

Sara walked through the automatic doors and found herself outside, facing the parking lot. Grissom was standing beside his Denali, staring fixedly at the ground and mumbling to himself. He didn't hear her approach.

"Sara, do you think - no. Sara, how do you feel about. how would you feel about."

"Grissom?"

He looked up in alarm to find her standing next to him. He stared at her white sweater. "Sara. Hello."

"Hello," she replied, adopting his formal tone with a slight grin. "Shall we?"

Nodding quickly, he crossed to the passenger side and opened the door for her. Slightly taken aback at the gesture, she slipped in. When they were both buckled in securely, he put the car in reverse and pulled into traffic.

It soon became clear that he wasn't going to volunteer any information, so she was forced to ask. "Griss, what's this about?"

He'd been waiting for the question, but still wasn't sure how to answer. "Sara. do you remember when you asked me to dinner?"

This was not what she'd expected. "Uh, yeah. I remember."

"Do you remember what I said?"

She squinted a little, pretending to think. "I don't really remember, a lot happened that day. Explosion and all." At his dubious look she sighed. "You said you didn't know how to handle... us. Or something."

"I want you to see something." With that, he reached down and pulled a large bound volume out of his bag. "Take a look at page 214."

Sara took the volume from him, running her eyes over the title: LVPD Supervisory Manual. Flipping through the pages, she came to 214. A tiny smirk appeared as she saw the page's header: Personal Relationships.

"Read the second paragraph aloud," Grissom instructed.

"Dating between supervisors and their direct subordinates is expressly forbidden. With the exception of married couples, no romantic and/or sexual relationship may be entered into by any supervisor/subordinate pair. Any employees who are found to have broken this rule will be immediately terminated." She stared at the words in dull shock after she'd finished reading. Somehow, she'd always thought that his reticence was based on his own personal hang-ups, not an actual written rule.

"So you see why I brought you out here?"

She smiled sadly. "To explain why it's never going to happen between us?"

He looked at her in surprise. "No. Sara. I must have read that paragraph a hundred times. Whenever I was overcome with how brilliant, and beautiful, and. I wanted to just go over to your apartment and. I'd read the paragraph. And then, maybe a month ago, it struck me."

"What?"

"There's a loophole."

She read it again, with furrowed brow, while he navigated through traffic. "Grissom, I don't see a loophole."

"We're here."

When Sara finally looked up, her eyes widened in complete and utter shock. "You're not serious."

"I'm serious." They were parked outside of Little Ladybug's Wedding Chapel.

She spun around to face him, her eyes incredulous. "Grissom, we can't get married."

"Why not?"

A hundred reasons flashed through her mind. "We've never even kissed!"

"Exactly," he said earnestly, taking her hand. "When they wrote those rules, they assumed that no employees would get married without dating first."

She stared at him, trying to conceal the hurt she felt. There was a reason why people dated. It was a period of courtship, of romance. Was it too much to ask that she get the romance, and not the ladybug chapel?

Her eyes were glinting with something that looked like pain, and he knew he was losing her. "They assumed that no one could fall in love without dating, Sara."

His voice was like warm honey. "You love me?"

"Oh, Sara." His eyes were impossibly blue. "Sara."

She leaned in to kiss him, her heart pounding wildly. This was it. She was finally going to kiss Gil Grissom. The scent of him made her head swim as she leaned closer.

He clasped her shoulders firmly, holding her back. "No."

"Why?" She licked her lips. He was so close.

"We have to be able to say that we didn't date first, that nothing romantic happened between us before we got married."

She swallowed. "I'm trying not to find this offensive, Grissom. You're asking for all the rewards without any of the work."

He ran his thumb along her collarbone. "I'm not asking for us to skip all those steps. I mean, yeah, the timeline has to be changed. But after we get married, we start at the beginning. First date and everything. Only difference is, we'll have matching rings on our fingers."

His thumb was making her blood rush and her breath quicken. "You're serious. You want to marry me."

The corner of his lips twitched. "More than anything."

"Well." she noticed how he held his breath, waiting. "I did wear white."

They held hands as they entered the chapel, both bemused by the fact that it was the most intimate gesture they'd ever shared. A woman dressed in a giant ladybug costume took their information and pointed them down the aisle.

It wasn't what either of them had dreamed of. They didn't have any family or friends there. Sara wasn't wearing a veil or a gown. The service was conducted by a man dressed as a spotted insect. But they clasped each other's hands tightly, and said their vows with certainty, and it was almost perfect.

"Now, by the power vested in me by the great state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

They couldn't help smiling when he said it. Grissom crooked his finger under her chin, and his lips met hers softly once, then twice. He laughed with the inanity of it. He could kiss her as many times as he wanted. She laughed back, understanding completely.

They turned and ran down the aisle as strangers pelted them with rice. Stepping into the bright Las Vegas sun, they turned to look at each other, both wondering the same thing.

Now what?