A/N: It's just a little something to keep my hand in. It was going to be a oneshot, but I've decided to make it a little longer. I worry that if I stop writing altogether I'll never get back to it when inspiration for a longer story strikes again - if it ever does. And let's face it, I don't want to stop writing.

It's fun and light-hearted. I hope you enjoy.

Man's Best Friend.

Grissom sat down at his usual spot on the wooden bench, set Hank's lead next to him, and opened his newspaper at the sports section before carefully, neatly folding the pages back and the paper in four. The crease was exact. He checked that his cell was off, and it was. One look over his shoulder told him that Hank was safe, getting himself acquainted with the shrubbery close-by.

Lowering the Cubs ball cap he was wearing over his shades, Grissom closed his eyes and took a deep breath, stretched his legs out in front of him and filled his nostrils with the scent of the bougainvillea bushes blossoming to his right. And breathing out very slowly through his mouth emptied his mind of all thoughts. Morning rush hour traffic noises receded as a profound sense of peace, calm and wellbeing permeated his entire being.

At this time of the day the park was deserted, except for the occasional runner or dog walker. The sun shone brightly overhead, already beating down onto the back of his neck despite the still early hour, and it felt good. From his vantage point, he almost could hear the buzzing of the insects feasting on sweet nectar. Until the previous month this ritual had been a rare treat, one he'd often wished he could carry out more regularly, but work had a habit of always getting in the way. Or rather, he had a habit of letting work get in the way.

Not anymore. He'd promised his doctor to turn his life around, and he fully intended to. His blood pressure was high, dangerously so. Unless he slowed down and avoided stress, ate more healthily and exercised he ran the risk of a heart attack or a stroke, kidney disease, and then what? The doctor had looked at him straight in the eyes and had asked him how soon he wanted to die.

Grissom's awkward smile had stiffened. Not quite yet, he'd answered, thinking of all the things he'd been putting off doing for too long. When after the doctor's visit he'd looked at himself, truly looked at himself, naked, in the full length mirror inside his bedroom closet, he'd seen a lonely, middle-aged man who was carrying excess baggage.

He changed his diet first, cutting back on fat, salt and meat intake, eating more fruit and vegetables. Then at the doctor's suggestion he got Hank. Having Hank to look after meant he'd had to change his priorities, rethink his lifestyle and not just his diet. It wasn't just him anymore; he was responsible for another being, someone totally dependent on him.

He'd not made the decision to get Hank lightly but, to cut back on stress, work needed to take a back seat and not be the be all and end all that it had always been. He'd not regretted his decision. Hank filled a void that up to then had been filled by work. Hank would be his salvation, but he didn't know it yet. The dog helped to take his mind off work while he was off-shift, forced him to go home on time and on long walks.

He'd only had him a few weeks, but the dog had made a difference already. The weight wasn't literally dropping off him but already he felt a little fitter and a lot more relaxed, and if he was honest with himself, less lonely too. Grissom often found himself conducting one-sided conversation with the pooch. He'd been fearful at first, scared he wouldn't do a good job looking after someone else, but the doc had been right.

Hank was his shadow, had become his loyal companion in very little time, his friend, someone who didn't judge, loved unconditionally and expected nothing in return but love and care. And Grissom had oodles of love to give and until Hank had come along sadly no one to give it to. The two of them had even taken a hike out to Mount Charleston on his day off a couple of weeks back, were now planning another one near Lake Mead. A man, his dog, and the wilderness, Grissom had thought as he'd surveyed the breath-taking red mountains stretching as far as the eye could see.

He'd changed his life around, and yet it still wasn't enough. His blood-pressure was better, but remained high, even in his downtime. But what more could he do? Avoiding stress altogether in his line of work was quasi-impossible. Unless he stopped going out in the field altogether and confined himself to the lab, which in itself would not guarantee a stress-free existence – far from it.

With a sigh, he reopened his eyes, checked on Hank who panting was lying down in the shade a little way away, and then focused his eyes on a lone jogger in the middle distance running laps around the field. The sight made him think of Sara, but he pushed the thought away. He was sure that the traumatic events of the past seven months were at the root of his health issues. Prior to that, he'd been fine.

First there'd been that business with Ecklie and grave being split up. A smaller team had meant longer hours, one shift bleeding into a second one on a regular basis until Grissom spent hardly any time at home. Then Sara was almost taken from him in front of his eyes and then Nick and he was almost blown up. His sleep was still haunted by these events and often he'd wake up breathless and gasping, disoriented and nauseous, his blood pressure through the roof.

Even now, as he sat on this bench thinking about it, he felt his heartbeat quicken anxiously. He took a few slow breaths, willing it to go back down. The jogger gave a nod as he ran past, and refocusing Grissom quickly returned the nod and his gaze to the baseball scores. Hank joined his side, lying down on the ground by his feet momentarily before going off again on another wander. Grissom wished he'd remembered to bring a ball, then they could have played fetch.

There's always tomorrow, he thought, and let out another long sigh before shifting uncomfortably on the bench. His butt had gone to sleep; it was time to leave. He was folding the paper back when an advert for a local animal shelter caught his eye. Smiling, he glanced at Hank.

"Hi Griss."

Grissom looked up and round with a start. Sara was running on the spot in front of him, a wide smile on her face. She wore wraparound sunglasses, black shorts and a red running top that clung to her sweaty chest, showing a shape-hugging sports bra underneath. She was holding a runners' drink bottle in her right hand, a white plastic one with the hole in the middle for easier gripping. Her brow shone with perspiration, and she removed her sunglasses, slipping them on top of her head to wipe at it. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that had lost its shape and hung loose behind her, unruly strands of hair sticking to her face.

For a moment he could only stare mesmerised, before he remembered to talk, and even then he wasn't very eloquent. Licking his bottom lip, he pushed to his feet, had to physically stop himself from raising his hand to tuck her hair away. "Sara, what are you doing here?"

Her smile widened, and she looked down at herself still jogging on the spot. When she looked back up at him, her eyebrow was arched in a wry isn't-it-obvious? "I was going to ask you the same thing."

His shoulder lifted diffidently. "I like to come here in the morning. It's quiet, close to home." Lifting the paper in her eye line, he shrugged again.

"Me too," she said, and he wondered how come they'd never bumped into each other before. Sara stopped jogging, fixed him with a smiling stare. Her eyes flicked away from him suddenly over to Hank sauntering over, tail beating animatedly, very much interested in making Sara's acquaintance. "Hey, who's your friend?"

Grissom's smile widened pleasurably. "Sara, meet Hank, my dog."

Sara reached out her hand to pet Hank. "Your dog?" she said with surprise, glancing up at him.

His shoulder lifted again; he nodded his head.

Sara's surprise turned to a look of approval. Hank shoved his snout where it wasn't wanted and giggling Sara gently pushed him back.

"I'm sorry," Grissom said, quickly stepping forward to grab Hank's collar and gently pulling him away while his other hand stroked the dog's side affectionately. "He's still got a lot to learn."

"He's okay," Sara said, and then in a playful mutter, "He's male and called Hank. What do you expect?"

Grissom's brow furrowed in confusion, but Sara didn't give him time to fully register her words because almost immediately she crouched down to pet Hank warmly.

"Hello," she cooed sweetly, and releasing his grip on Hank's collar Grissom stared awestruck while the dog licked Sara's face enthusiastically. Sara's happy giggle warmed his lonely heart. "He's real friendly, isn't he?" she said, turning her face up from Hank's overzealous display. If only it were this easy for him too, he thought. "Did you get him at a shelter?"

Grissom gave his head a shake, refocusing. "Yeah, my doctor suggested it." Damn, where had that come from?

Sara's smile faded. She nodded her head, gave Hank a little more love. "How long have you had him?"

"Only a few weeks," Grissom replied. "We're still getting to know each other."

Nodding, Sara pushed back up to her feet. Hank shook himself, and Sara reached down to nuzzle his snout. "That explains you clocking off on time for the last few weeks."

Grissom's eyes lowered; so she had noticed then. When he looked back up, Sara's expression as she watched him was solemn, slightly wistful. Quickly, she plastered a smile on her face. "I should go," she said brightly, but the lingering sadness in her eyes made his heart ache.

Dumbstruck, he nodded his head at her.

"I'll see you then," she said, making to leave.

Speak, you dumbass. "I'll see you tonight. Have a good day."

Sara swallowed and nodded again, glanced down at Hank and gave him a stroke before finally raising her hand in a small wave and walking away. Grissom stared at her retreating form as she picked up her pace and started running again, and wondered at the reason behind what he'd glimpsed in her eyes. Regret, he realised belatedly, regret and longing he himself felt. It wasn't the first time.

"I think she likes you," he said and gave a wistful sigh. Then he looked at Hank and picked up the lead and his newspaper off the bench. "Come on," he said, headed the opposite way Sara had left, "It's time to go home."

The next day Grissom returned with Hank and a hot off the press copy of the Las Vegas Sun. He resumed his spot on his bench while Hank went foraging, and began to read. He was a creature of habit, and he knew Sara was too. Dared he hope they would meet again? He was holding the paper in front of him as if reading, but his eyes weren't intent on the text. They flicked this way and that, left and right, searching. Hank came to lie down by his feet, and together they waited and waited some more, but Sara never came.

Could he have missed her, he wondered? Could she still be at the lab chasing up results? No. She'd left a few minutes before he had. Truth be told, he'd kind of been dodging her all night, pairing her with Warrick while he'd stayed behind to do paperwork. It's not that he'd purposefully been avoiding her, just that he found it hard to speak with her about matters not relating to work.

It was so hard to remain on the right side of the line, a line he could so easily, but wasn't allowed to, cross. He'd waited until he heard the guys say goodbye to her in the locker room to go in himself. Sara was putting her jacket on. She closed her locker. Their gazes met, and he smiled. She returned the smile a little diffidently before her eyes had flicked down and then back up again. He could swear something had passed between them, a silent agreement to meet at the park. Maybe he'd misread the message. It wouldn't be the first time.

It was with a heavy heart that he finally folded his newspaper and stood up. "Come on, buddy," he said, his disappointment tasting bitter in his mouth, and standing up Hank shook himself, "Let's head home. She's not coming."