I'm very new to this group, and this is my first contribution to CSI fanfic. I had a great time writing it, and I'd love to hear some feedback from you . Special thanks to Tracy and Alison for their helpful comments. Also, does anyone know the actual poem that I paraphrased in this story? If so please let me know, it's driving me nuts.

"Come On, I'll Drive You Home."

By Joan Powers

"Come on, I'll drive you home."

His words rang in her ears. Just when things had gotten bad enough, it seemed that they could get worse, much worse. It wasn't bad enough to be mortified for being pulled over by the police for drunk driving. Then there was the reprimand delivered by her superior officer, Captain Brass. And now the man whose opinion she valued more than anything would be once again, be disappointed in her. She wanted to shrink into the ground and hide but she obediently rose as Gil Grissom clasped her hand and led her out to the parking lot.

This is so humiliating.

Finally she had enough to drink to dull her pain, to chase her troubles away just for a little while. It wasn't that much, she had thought, just enough to take the edge off. Unfortunately, it was starting to take more and more alcohol. Being pulled over by the police for drunk driving was a sure fire indication that she was losing control, but she already knew that.

Grissom opened the passenger side door of his SUV and she quietly slunk in. She began to stare at her hands, her fingernails. At one time in her life she had enjoyed taking care of her nails and actually polished them. These hands with their calluses and torn stubby nails looked like they belonged to a manual laborer. When had she let herself go? How had she gotten to this point?

"Are you okay?" Grissom asked softly as he stopped the vehicle at a red light.

NO! She wanted to scream. Of course I'm not okay. You, of all people, ought to know that.

She sighed and held her tongue.

Are you going to yell at me now? Tell me how disappointed you are in me? Isn't this situation embarrassing enough? Do you have to add to it and make it worse?

She bit back a sob.

"Sara, what's going on?" he asked with obvious concern.

Don't you know?

They drove silently through the city, Sara intently focusing on her knees and Grissom on his driving.

I can't do this anymore. I just can't. God, I'm drunk and I still hurt. Something has to change and I just can't seem to make myself do it. My life is a mess.

"Are you still mad that I didn't recommend you for the primary CSI investigator position?" Grissom tentatively asked.

Of course she was. She had been nursing that grudge for several weeks now. But that anger had rapidly given way to despair. She just couldn't seem to do anything right these days. She didn't understand. She had always loved her job and poured all of her energy into it. But she was failing. She was making mistakes. Things were getting to her. She wasn't completely sure why and it nagged at her.

"Sara, you know I think you do just as good a job as Nick." He tried to assure her.

"It's not about that," she replied, devoid of emotion.

"Then what is it about?" he asked.

She wasn't sure why she bothered to reply but it had been festering in her, "What did you mean that I wanted the position too much?'

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Like I said, it meant too much to you."

Her voice rose, "So you take away any chance in hell of me getting it? What kind of sense does that make?"

Careful, you're going to say something you regret.

She was getting angry, "I do such a great job that you can't recommend me for a promotion?"

"Do you want know how I feel, off the record?" Grissom quickly replied.

"Yes." She demanded. This better be good.

Since this was something personal, Grissom searched uncomfortably for words. Then he seemed to sidetrack. "Sara, why couldn't you interview that rape victim earlier this week?"

Urg! I can never get a straight answer from this guy.

Getting more annoyed she explained, "I was tired. I told you that."

Grissom pulled over to park on a residential side street. He pressed the buttons to open the windows of the car for ventilation, and then turned off the ignition so that only the beams from a nearby streetlight filled the car. After releasing his safety belt, he slid across the bench seat to be closer to face Sara.

He took a breath. He didn't want to be right about this but his gut told him differently. He had suspected this for years but never had the opportunity to broach the subject. Not quite so sure of himself, he tentatively asked, "Sara, did someone ever attack or rape you?"

All the color ran out of her cheeks.

How did he know? Damn this man. Thank God the lighting is bad in here.

"I don't want to talk about it." She curtly responded. Unfortunately, she couldn't lie and completely deny it ever happened.

Gently, he tried to reach her, "You're carrying it around. You need to deal with it."

Look who's talking about dealing with issues?

"No I don't," her voice rose. "It's nobody's business."

How did he know?

It was none of his business any way, it had happened several years ago in San Francisco. A fellow police officer had raped her while they were supposedly on a date. The case never made it to court because the rape kit evidence was mishandled, mostly likely by one of his fellow officers. Yet, she had put it behind her. At least she had tried to. Somehow that last case she had investigated had touched a nerve. Interviewing the victims always brought back her pain.

"Sara," he reached over to try to hold one of her hands but she pulled it back. "You need to find a better way to handle stress or it will tear you apart. You're a good investigator but you're having trouble dealing with your emotions."

"At least I have emotions." Tears started to well up in her eyes and she tried to choke them back. This was all she needed. She swallowed hard. Darn it, it wasn't working, they were starting to stream down her cheeks. She drew her knees to her chest to attempt to hide her face and muffle her rising sobs.

Looks like this situation can get even more humiliating.

She let go of her last shred of dignity and let out hearty sobs.

"Oh Sara," he almost whispered. Grissom slide over further on the bench seat to put his arm around her shoulder and pull her close to his chest. Instinctively, she lowered her legs and leaned against him, nestling her face against his shoulder. His arms felt warm and strong around her. Under different circumstances, she would have reveled in being so close to him.

God, what am I gonna do? She thought as she cried. I'm trapped and I don't know how to change anything for the better. I just keep going round and round in the same circles, like some stupid hamster in an exercise wheel. I'm so lost.

Grissom held her as her sobs only continued to escalate in intensity. He tried stroking her back to calm her. A few times he tried to say something, but then he decided just to hold her close and let her cry it out.

Somebody just put me out of my misery. I can't control my feelings anymore. What's wrong with me?

Finally, after almost twenty minutes had passed, her sobbing began to subside. "Guess you think I'm a complete loser," Sara whispered into his chest. "Sorry about your shirt." It was a sodden mess.

"No, it's okay. You've just got a lot on your mind," Grissom replied tenderly.

"I...don't know what to do." She sniffed as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Trying to be helpful, he suggested, "You could try counseling. That could help with the job stress and your previous...ordeal. You really need to talk to somebody about that. It could even help get you out of trouble in the department with this DWI charge."

Like these are the only issues on the table here? How dare you act like you don't know that there's so much more.

She pushed herself away from him as she spoke, leaning against the car door. "Oh, and would that help with my other unresolved issues?" she said with biting sarcasm. "Don't insult me and act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

He wasn't going to try to deny it. He knew it was coming. He admitted, "No, I do. What do you want to talk about?"

"Debbie Marlin."

He shuddered, "Why?" He didn't want to think about that.

"That's a stupid question!" Sara was getting angry again.

"Sara, I'm not going to do this if you don't calm down," He curtly replied.

Okay, he's opening a door. Can I do this without losing what little is left of my pride and self respect? On the other hand, after tonight's events, what do I have to lose? Maybe I need to face the truth.

"I'm sorry." She took a breath to try to steady herself. "What was going on there? You wouldn't let me within ten feet of that house. You wouldn't look me in the eye or even take my phone calls during that entire investigation. It was like I was dead to you, not just Debbie Marlin."

Becoming agitated, Grissom responded. "It was upsetting for me to see that woman. I didn't want you to have to deal with that."

"Then why the brush off? Why did you take on the case practically all by yourself and almost barricade yourself in her house until we solved the case?

Come on, Gil. Please let me into your head.

His voice rose, "You're exaggerating Sara. And what kind of a man do you think I am? Of course it bothered the hell out of me that woman looked like you. It was like you had died. I couldn't leave until I figured out what was going on."

And how did that make you feel?

She was dying to ask but she wasn't sure that he knew how to answer it. She tried a different tactic.

"I heard you." She said softly as she moved closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "In the interrogation room. Talking with that doctor that most likely murdered Debbie and carved up her boyfriend."

That caught his attention. He had been working the case over twenty-four hours straight and he was starting to lose his focus. That's the only reason she could come up with for those words that he had spoken. Otherwise they would've remained deeply buried within him.

She continued, "You know, after a year or so had passed after I asked you out, I almost had myself convinced that you really weren't interested in me any more. I even started dating to try to forget about you. And then...this." She sighed as she rubbed her temples with her fingers, "Let me see....someone comes along." Her voice started to crack, "Someone you could really care about." Another sob rose in her throat.

Oh no, not again.

"I can't do this anymore." Despair filled her voice.

Grissom was getting frustrated. "Sara, we've already discussed this, many times." His voice began to rise as well.

She practically shouted back, "Yeah, and it's all a bunch of garbage. Excuses. Lame excuses. I don't care how old you are. I never did. That one doesn't float. And as for you being my boss, I understand you don't want to put yourself in a bad position. But it's a fact, people date in the workplace. Even Brass's ex-wife was a fellow officer. Sure, it would be awkward and a little embarrassing at first, but nobody really cares."

"Yeah, I'm sure that no one would think it was strange for a guy my age to be with a great looking younger woman," Grissom sarcastically remarked.

Sara shouted, "Oh come on, you wouldn't lose anyone's respect. You've already earned that by the integrity of your work. Besides, we're two consenting adults. That's all that really matters. Would you be bothered if any two other people of our team were dating? Catherine and Warrick? Nick and I? As long as it didn't interfere with the job, I seriously doubt it."

He tried to protest, but she wouldn't let him talk. If she stopped now, she might not get to say the rest. And she had to get it off her chest.

She continued her tirade, her voice becoming hoarse, "And I'm not Debbie Marlin. I don't sleep around for the fun of it or to obtain jewelry from my lovers. I'm not into recreational sex like she was! You talked about losing everything for 'her'. Did you think I was going to use you then dump you like she did to her men? Did you think that I wanted to ruin your professional reputation? Damn it, don't you know that I'm already in love with you?"

Did she actually say that out loud? He was looking at her rather intently. Better keep going before she completely lost her nerve.

"You want to know what I think is the real problem?"

With some resistance, Grissom replied, "Okay, Sara, let's hear it."

She leaned closer to look directly into his eyes. "Even though, at the office, you can deal with hardened criminals and homicidal maniacs who mutilate people, when it comes to real relationships, you're scared. I think that you've always wanted me, maybe you still do, but you've been too scared to act on it. You're terrified and you don't want to take a risk and maybe get hurt."

"You make it sound so easy," his tone filled with bitterness.

"I know it's not. But not taking any actions also has consequences. You've already hurt me, very badly. Come on Gil, answer me! I'm right, aren't I?" She pleaded and looked at him expectantly.

Gazing into her eyes, his pride demanded that he deny it but he couldn't. He was stunned that she had hit the nail on the head. He himself hadn't fully realized the extent of his true problem. It didn't take long for him to acknowledge it.

"I'm sorry." He confessed awkwardly as he grabbed one of her hands and held it tightly. 'You are right. When you're as old as I am, it's hard to change even though it could be for the better. Taking such a big chance is a huge risk. You never realize how cold and empty your life is until you step into the sun and feel its warmth. Once it leaves, you're completely aware that up to that point you'd been freezing. How can you face what's left?"

Pain filled her voice, "So you don't try at all? Gil, you gave up on me at Debbie Marlin's house. It was my funeral. I gave up too when I heard the bitterness in your voice in that interrogation room. You were already in mourning."

That was when a part of her died, when the drinking had gotten worse, when success on the job was the only thing which gave her joy, but ironically enough when the darker aspects of the job started to disturb her even more.

Somehow, fresh tears welled up in her eyes. She didn't think that she had any left. "But even though I gave up, I just can't get away from you. No other man is like you. I love that you can quote Shakespeare and other authors off the cuff, and that you know as much as you do. I love that you have so many unusual interests and that you are so well read. I love the way that you are passionate about your job and that you care about your team at work; that you look out for us and challenge us to improve our skills and to help us work well together. When I look at you, I don't see an older man, I see a handsome, sexy man whom I want to be with. But I can't."She held back a sob. He squeezed her hand.

"Several times I've tried to make myself leave the CSI lab for another job and I just can't do it. It hurts to stay and it hurts to leave. I'm trapped and I can't win. This is killing me. I'm still in love with you Gil. Please, if you have any feelings at all for me, can't we stop hurting each other and try to build something good together?" She pleaded.

Grissom was obviously moved by her words and he was disturbed by how much he had hurt her. He had known, for a while, that something was seriously troubling Sara. It had bothered him, yet he had been avoiding her. He had convinced himself that it was best for her, and that she would be better off without him.

The truth wasn't pretty, he had been afraid to hear what she had to say. Now he knew that he had inadvertently made life even more difficult for Sara. She wasn't happier without him in her life; for over a year, she hadn't been herself. He missed the old confident Sara, and he desperately wanted to see her smile. He couldn't solve all her problems, but he could be there for her.

Her words caused an ember of hope to spark within his heart. He slid closer to put his arm around her shoulder, and asked softly. "Did you mean it? What you said about being in love with me?"

She met his eyes. "Yes."

"You're not drunk?"

With certainty, she replied in husky tones, "Even if I am still a little, I know that I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time."

He leaned closer to her, their faces almost touching. "Sara, I'm not very good at this."

She held his gaze, "Nobody is. We just have to work at it, together. And don't try to be someone else, just be yourself. I'm willing to try. Are you?" She raised her fingers to stroke his beard, which startled him at first, but he let her continue.

"I don't even know where to start. It's been a long time."

Continuing to caress his cheek, she answered, "I'll help. Kiss me. However, not if you're feeling sorry for me. Do it only if you really want to. Take a chance. Touch me. Doesn't that poem you paraphrased conclude that it is better to spend even a moment in warmth of her presence than to be forever in the darkness? Take a walk into the warmth of the sun."

She was practically holding her breath.

Please God, please. He's so close. I want him so badly.

Yet, as much as she wanted him, she had to let him make the first move. It had to be his choice.

Grissom slowly closed the distance between them, bending forward to kiss her. Their lips touched gingerly but then opened almost immediately for their tongues to tentatively explore each other. She reeked of beer, but he didn't seem to care. Sara wrapped her arms around his shoulders while Grissom pulled her even closer to him so she was sitting on his lap. As their kissing grew in intensity, their passion rose rapidly. Their hands moved to explore one another's bodies. The sound of their ragged breathing filled the SUV.

Suddenly, a bright light shone in their faces. The couple pulled apart to shield their eyes.

"Um, excuse me. Is there a problem here? We've had some complaints about a couple fighting." A police officer holding a flashlight in their faces was at the passenger side window.

Were we that loud?

Her cheeks burned as she tried to slow her breathing. She had been shouting at Gil during parts of their argument. Yet she assured herself that the neighbors couldn't have understood much of what they were saying, the houses weren't that close to the street.

"Is everything okay, Miss?" The officer asked as he assessed Sara's appearance. Her eyes were red and puffy. Tears still stained her cheeks. "Can you step out of the vehicle?"

"Okay," She croaked hoarsely. Sara moved slowly. She was tired, exhausted even. While the alcohol had been wearing off, kissing Gil had filled her with a sense of drunken giddiness. Her legs didn't seem to want to work as she pulled herself away from him. She fumbled for the door handle and practically fell out into the street. The officer and Gil both lunged towards her to try to steady her.

"Are you okay Miss?" The officer was concerned.

Sara assured them, "I'm fine. Just tired."

Grissom tried to help the situation. With some embarrassment, he offered, "We're police officers, do you need to see our badges?"

The officer continued to examine Sara who was leaning against the car, "I don't think that will be necessary." He turned to face Gil, "Let me guess, the girlfriend gets a little drunk, you get into an argument, then I just caught the making up phase?"

Grissom started to correct him, "She's not...." Then he realized what he was saying. "That's sounds about right."

The officer turned to Sara, "Do you feel safe going in the car with him?"

"Yes." She said emphatically and smiled. "I want to be with him."

He advised Gil, "You need to get this lady home. It's almost three o'clock in the morning."

"I'll do that sir." Grissom assured him, cheeks burning.

Within no time, Grissom pulled up to Sara's apartment. "If I had realized we were this close, we could have avoided that lovely little scene." His face was still flushed with warmth.

"At least he didn't take our badge numbers. That would look pretty bad to have two incident reports in one night." Sara was practically laughing. Her coordination had not improved; she stumbled out of the SUV and up the walkway to her apartment while Grissom popped the hatch to grab a dry T-shirt out of his car.

Sara stared at her keys, and then attempted to fit one into her apartment door lock. Since she couldn't quite manage it, Grissom took them to do the job, and then he returned her keys to her.

"You are coming in?" she asked coyly, rubbing her hand on his shoulder.

Somewhat shyly, he responded, "Yeah." Gesturing to the shirt tucked under his arm he added, "Think I'd like to put on a dry shirt."

Once in the apartment, Sara stowed her keys on the coffee table and collapsed on to the couch. The events of the evening had worn her out. Within minutes, Grissom emerged from the bathroom, wearing the black T-shirt. Then he immediately started foraging around in her kitchen.

"What're you doing? You hungry?" She wondered as she stifled a yawn.

"No." He called out. "Good, you have some." After more banging from the opening and closing of cabinet doors, he came out of the kitchen with a tall glass filled with red liquid.

"What's that for?" She asked.

"You." He handed it to her.

"Huh?" She made a face.

"It's tomato juice. It'll help with the hang over." He automatically sat down on the other end of the couch as she sampled her drink.

"Hmm...not bad." She commented. She looked at him and laughed, beckoning with her finger for him to move closer to her. He grinned and obliged.

She leaned against him as he advised, "Drink it all, it works."

Sara was curious. "And what do you know about hangovers?" She continued to sip her tomato juice.

"A lot." He confessed.

"Tell me more." She invited. She was intrigued to learn more about the man she loved.

Somewhat embarrassed, Grissom proceeded to explain, "Well, for the most part I don't mind being alone. It's just the holidays -- the whole family and friends scene. It's hard to take. It's constantly thrown in your face. So if I can't work on the big holidays, mostly Christmas or Easter, I usually get a few bottles of Scotch to keep me company."

Oh my God, he's starting to open up. Thank you.

She was surprised, "Bottles? Don't you have any family?"

"My mom and I get along well enough, yet we're not especially close. She's never wanted to do much for the holidays. When I can, I usually take her to Mass on Christmas Eve, and then we have dinner. That's enough." Grissom replied.

She rested her head against his chest; she could feel the rhythm of his breathing. "Think we can work on some new traditions this year?"

He smiled, "I'd like that."

Sara explained, "I don't usually spend Christmas Day at home either. I love my parents but we just don't see life the same way. It's like they never grew up; they never take anything seriously. Whenever I try to talk with them about any important issue, they're always telling me to 'mellow out'. They never listen to what I actually have to say, so we usually get into a fight and I end up leaving early. So lately, I've been saving myself the aggravation and I just stay in my apartment and watch all the sappy Christmas movies and eat junk all day."

"Sounds like fun." He lifted his hand to trace her cheek with his fingers.

"Wanna join me?" She smiled as her eyes met his.

"Yeah."

She was pushing it, but she had thrown caution to wind a few hours ago. "Think I could meet your mother sometime?"

"Sure." He pulled her closer to him and covered her lips with his. Their kisses started off gently, as they explored and tasted one another. As they became more passionate, the couple pressed their bodies closer to one another. As Gil's hands brushed against her breasts, he reluctantly broke off the kiss and moved his hands.

"Do you want to make love?" Sara asked, practically panting.

"Yes," Gil insisted, breathing just as hard as her. "But not now." Sara pouted. He explained, "You're exhausted Sara. You need to sleep. Besides, I want it to be special. Can't I take you out to dinner first?"

She didn't care, "You don't have to. Who says we have to play by the rules? Let's do what we want to do." She leaned forward to kiss him, but he covered her lips with his fingers.

"I want to." He owed her more than he could imagine. He wanted to make up for the pain that all those years of his fear and indecision had caused her. For she was right, he had always wanted her. He wanted to do this right. "Think about where you'd like to go tomorrow night."

"Okay. Be sure to bring lots of condoms." She must be tired to be so flippant about that issue.

His eyebrows rose.

"We'll need them," she emphasized. She didn't want anything to spoil their first night either. "If you won't have sex with me tonight, will you sleep with me?"

He looked confused.

She explained, "Just hold me. We can leave our clothes on. It's taken so long for us to get to this point that I don't want to let you go. I want to be close to you."

"I'd like that. That would be nice," he agreed.

The two rose to enter her bedroom. While the living room of the apartment hadn't been neat, this room was much worse. Clothes were strewn everywhere. An opened beer can was on her dresser and another one was on her nightstand. Her sheets and blanket were a wrinkled pile on top of her mattress.

"Um...sorry about the mess." She apologized. Keeping up with her housework hadn't been a top priority. "I have a lot of cleaning up to do."

Gil reached for one of the beer cans, "Like getting rid of these?" He held her gaze, dead serious. He had seen the beer in her kitchen and the other cans strewn about her apartment. He knew about her problem.

"Yeah." She agreed, somewhat ashamed.

Sara threw some of her clothing into a laundry basket. She tried to spread her bed covering to remove some of the wrinkles but she wasn't having much luck.

Gil recommended, "Let's just make this up right to begin with."

Sara found some clean sheets. They stripped the bed and rapidly made it up with fresh sheets, a blanket and the bedspread. After removing their shoes and turning off the lights, they lay, on their sides, on top of the bedspread. Sara's back was resting against his chest, as Gil wrapped his arm around her.

"Are you cold?" He whispered.

"No, you're nice and warm." She burrowed into him. The warmth emanating from his body was heavenly. She enjoyed feeling his arms wrapped about her and his warm breath against the back of her neck.

"Sara, are you going to remember all this in the morning?" Grissom asked, with obvious concern.

"If I don't, you'll tell me. I trust you." Sara replied with confidence. "Good night Gil."

"Good night Sara." He kissed the back of her neck.

Sara woke to find herself lying on her side, fully clothed on top of her completely made bed. She moved cautiously.

Oh my head. I really over did it last night.

Last night, what had happened last night?

It hurts to move.

She opened her eyes to see bright sunlight streaming into the room.

What time is it? Thank God I don't have to work today.

The inside of her mouth tasted odd, what had she been drinking? Another beer ought to help chase that away. She gingerly turned on to her other side to check the clock on the nightstand, but something else caught her eye. There were depressions in the bedspread beside her. As if someone else had slept there.

Huh?

Then she saw a note, perched on top of the clock radio. She pushed herself up