Title: Past and Future
Rating: K
Pairing: GSR
Summary: Looking for each other in two different directions.
Spoilers: Right up through 9x05.
Disclaimer: Obviously they are not mine, because I wouldn't be doing this to them either.

A/N: Not beta'd, so I have no one else to blame for any mistakes. I also might be a little rusty at this, so please be gentle.

Part I: That Was Yesterday

Lying on a satin covered bed in Heather's guest room, trying desperately to curl deep enough into himself to dull the pain.

If you had told me two years ago that this was where I would be tonight, I would have laughed.

But that was yesterday, after all, a million miles away in a world that no longer existed.

For one brief shining moment in his life, he really did have everything.

A job he loved. Mysteries to solve, a team to mentor, students to teach.

Above all of that, he now realized, was Sara.

He had known it would destroy him if she ever left, he just didn't know how it would feel to be this destroyed.

And was it worth it, really, for just a few glorious years, to be torn apart like this?

He never thought he would think so, but yes, it was worth it.

He couldn't blame her at all. She deserved to be happy. He wanted to believe she was happy, but something in her voice didn't sound right. He had heard Sara when she was happy, or at least he wanted to believe she had been happy. Hadn't she?

Hadn't they been happy? He had been, he knew that. And Sara had been too, most of the time. She couldn't really fake that smile of hers, or that laugh, or the way she…

"Grissom?"

He had asked Heather to stay with him, although now that she was there he didn't know what to say to her, or even if he wanted to say anything at all. She was sitting on the other side of the room, settled in an armchair, just out of his sight.

"Yes?" The word came out in a whisper.

"You never really answered my first question." She said, her voice somehow soothing and disturbing at the same time.

He didn't respond, but Heather seemed to take that as a signal that she should continue.

"I asked, What do you want?" She asked.

He took a long moment to answer, finally sighing.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," She replied, "It matters quite a bit."

He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

I want Warrick to still be alive. To see his big, warm smile and hear him laugh one more time.

I want to care again, to care about puzzles and science and following a trail, not to dread the sound of a ringing phone, knowing that there is nothing on the other end but death… and ghosts.

I want to hear those dinner conversations. I want to tell that marine biologist to keep his damn hands to himself.

I want Sara, goddamn it, I want Sara. More than anything else.

"Well?" Heather prompted.

"I want…" He sighed again, more deeply this time. "I want yesterday."

Part II: Fool (If You Think It's Over)

There were nights when the gentle rocking of the ship, combined with the exhaustion and excitement of the day before, put Sara to sleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

This was not one of those nights.

Since she'd hit the send button on her message to Grissom, she'd turned back into an insomniac. She couldn't help but wonder what he'd think, what he'd say.

If he'd say anything. She doubted he would.

I gave him an out. Gracefully.

I told him it's better this way.

It was all true, except for the part where it wasn't.

Now there was nothing left except to try and build a life without Grissom.

Yeah, sure, right. Easiest thing in the world.

But it came down to a simple fact – he couldn't leave, and she couldn't stay, and no matter how deeply they loved each other (and she didn't doubt that they did), nothing was going to change that.

Sara felt the tears starting, and she didn't bother fighting them.

It's better to get all the grief out of the way now. That way I can start getting used to this.

Except she sincerely doubted she would ever get used to it.

It was different the first time she left. She never asked him to leave, never expected it, never even hoped for it, and they never discussed the subject. He reassured her they would survive the unfamiliarity of a long distance relationship, and she believed it.

Well, he's the one who did it, not me. He's the one who asked me to stay. He's the one who went back to his old-fashioned passive aggressive crap when it didn't work. That wasn't me, that was him.

But in her heart she knew it was useless to try to lay the blame anywhere. So he hadn't made a decision. Should that surprise her? Maybe she shouldn't have asked him to make a decision, not now. She knew he was hurt when she said she wouldn't stay, and he retaliated – actually, the better word was reverted. Blame grief, stress, whatever.

Maybe there was enough blame to go around.

Maybe it didn't matter.

She had met a marine biologist on the ship – she told Grissom that he reminded her "a little bit" of him, but in reality he wasn't much like Grissom at all. He was certainly handsome, about a full decade younger than Grissom, and very charming. (A little too charming, truth be told) His hair was the same salt-and-pepper grey, and he seemed to know something about everything. At first she'd enjoyed his company, maybe even a little more than she expected to.

But.

She'd told him a joke – admittedly a silly joke, but she thought it was funny, and she knew Grissom would have laughed if he'd been there – and John didn't laugh. He just gave her a puzzled look, as if to say "I don't get it."

He didn't get it and Sara found herself fighting back tears for the next several hours because - it was so stupid - but it hurt, it hurt more than she'd thought it would.

It was going to be a long, lonely rest of her life if no one else understood her jokes, even the dumb ones.

She sighed and found herself wondering again if she'd ever get a response.

Probably not.

She had tried to give up on him before. Logically, she should have. She should do it now.

But.

Hope is resistant to logic. It would smolder, long after she thought it had burned away.

Hope is a dangerous thing.