A/N: Well, I'm breaking one of my own rules right now – I'm working on two pieces simultaneously. I can't believe I'm doing it, but this idea really wouldn't leave me alone. On the plus side, I think this entire story is pretty much done, so it won't interfere with "Chasing the Rainbow's End" too much.

This is a very different format for me, so any thoughts and advice that you have would be welcome.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story!

I don't own CSI. Anything from seasons 1 – 7 is fair game in this one, so keep that in mind as you read!

Rule 1: No touching

It had been an unwritten rule in their relationship since Sara's first day in Las Vegas. When she arrived at his crime scene, seeing him for the first time in ages, both of them were full of ecstatic smiles and cheerful greetings. They were clearly overjoyed to see each other, but neither moved to give the other the welcoming hug that they both craved. Instead, they buried their feelings in work and friendship.

They both knew, without the words ever being exchanged, that touching would change everything. They didn't know how everything would change, but the fear that it would be for the worse forced them to keep their hands to themselves.

Oh, they had their moments. His hand against her cheek, comforting her. Her hand on his back, thanking him. Their shoulders touching as they looked at evidence. His hand clasped around hers as he walked her to his car to drive her home after she had been pulled over for a DUI. None of these small occasions changed anything, and neither of them stopped to over-analyze what had happened.

Then, a moment changed their lives forever.

They were in Sara's apartment. She was on a chair, curled up into a ball as she told Grissom the terrible truth of her past. Of the abuse her mother had suffered at the hands of her father. Of her mother's final, violent revenge. Of her life in foster care. Of her suffering.

He let her talk, knowing that she needed to say all of this, and, somehow, that he needed to be the one to hear it. But, when her voice died and words failed her, when her hand covered her face and the sobs shook her body, he broke their unspoken rule.

He touched her.

He leaned toward her from his spot on the sofa and grabbed her hand. She didn't raise her eyes to meet his – she couldn't do it, not yet – but she held his hand tightly, as though it would save her from drowning in the horror that surrounded her – had always surrounded her.

He leaned even closer, and spoke for the first time since telling her that no, there is not a murder gene.

"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm here for you. I always will be."

Her fingers moved around his, gripping his hand even tighter. "Thank you."

"You know, we have to have some rules about this."

"Rules about what?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Griss, we've been out together five times. For me, it's sort of a record. You're my longest relationship in years."

Grissom smiled. "I think this actually makes you my longest relationship ever," he replied.

"Right. So, since we do work together, and I don't want either of us to lose our jobs, we need rules."

"Such as?"

"We can't touch each other at work."

"Why not?"

She rolled her eyes again. "Look, I know you don't do office politics, but even you have to know that dating your subordinate could cause a problem."

"Fair enough," Grissom said. "No touching at work, then."

"Agreed."

He leaned across the table to touch her cheek. "Thank goodness we're still at dinner. We don't have to be at work for another hour."

Sara giggled and leaned into his touch. "Thank goodness."

It had sounded so easy when they had agreed to it. But, really, they were hardly dating at all at that point. They hadn't even had their first kiss. How were they to know how much harder it would become with time?

They longer they were together, the more comfortable they became around each other. With this new comfort level came a lowering of the barriers they had constructed. As the barriers lowered, they found themselves constantly wanting to be near each other, constantly fighting the urge to touch each other.

They both broke the rule. Sometimes it was accidental. Sara's fingers often brushed against Grissom's when she took assignment slips from him. His shoulder sometimes brushed hers as they looked at crime scene photos together.

Sometimes it was on purpose. After dating and working together for over two years, it was impossible to think that it wouldn't happen. Sara leaned into him, her chin hovering just above his shoulder, as they looked at a corpse together. Grissom brushed away her tears and put his arm around her as they left the building after a particularly difficult case. On these occasions, they exchanged secretive smiles, but knew that no one had seen them. They were always quite alone in the lab.

Then, they broke the rule while at a crime scene.

Sara had her camera slung over her shoulder as she looked down at the wreckage of the red Mustang. She was frowning slightly when Grissom came up behind her.

"What's wrong?"

"I was just wondering how stupid someone could possibly be to do something like this to such a beautiful car."

Grissom smiled. "Don't over think it, Sara."

"I won't," she promised. "Now, as I am the lead on this case, I think I need to give you some work to do."

"What would you like me to do, my dear?"

"Crime scene photos," she said promptly, turning back to the car.

"All right." He leaned in a bit. "I'm going to have to use your camera. I gave mine to Greg for the day."

"Where's his?"

"Oh, who cares?" he breathed as he took the strap of the camera off her shoulder. His hand trailed down her arm far more than was necessary, eliciting a smile from her.

"Are you trying to get us caught?"

"What? I'm not allowed to touch you?"

"Actually …"

"Right. The rules. Damn them all to hell."

She finally looked up and smiled. "For the love of God, Grissom, just go take the pictures."

He winked. "We'll pick this up again later."

"Yes," she said softly, her voice full of promise, "we certainly will."

It was a moment of weakness that led to hours of terror. Grissom regretted it for the rest of his life.