A/N: This is my first fanfic so I would REALLY appreciate feedback... just please be gentle with me! I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned them, we wouldn't need to write fanfic to get them together. I don't own any of the characters, or anything else associated with CSI, so please don't sue me! No one has helped me in any way so all the mistakes are my own.

The Park

My breath leaves my lungs in a rush. There he is, just standing there so casually. How can he be so casual while my heart and mind scream so loudly to him? How can anyone within a two mile radius not hear my heart's rapid pattering responding to his presence?

He leans one shoulder against a lamp post up ahead on the path, his hands are in his pockets and his left foot crosses over his right. He hasn't seen me and I'm not sure whether I want him to or not. His dark hair, sprinkled liberally with gray falls in gentle curls on his forehead. I once again feel the insane desire to run my fingers through his curls and his well trimmed beard. I've stopped walking now and I remain in the shadows which the park we are now in has plenty of. I can't help but take advantage of the chance I have to study, unobserved, the features I love so.

He looks thoughtful, but that's not unusual, he is almost always deep in thought. That's one of the things I love about him. He's a scientist, philosopher, a poet, a teacher… my dream man.

The street lamp he's leaning against basks him in a yellow glow, making him look otherworldly. This is also something I've become used to; he always seems a little unearthly.

An endless fountain of knowledge, I am constantly learning from him. He knows so much about nearly every subject from philosophy to entomology to world religions.

Will I ever again find someone who can whisper the words of the great poets, rattle off baseball stats, explain in detail the life cycle of the carpet beetle, and steal my heart away so completely? I doubt it, and there lies the problem.

The whispered words of the poets will never leave his lips for me; I will never be the one to share his life. He doesn't want my heart; doesn't want me, he's made that clear.

I should just move on, forget him. Even as I think it, I know I can never do that. Once upon a time I thought we might have something. I thought I read more than friendship in his beautiful blue eyes that I so easily lose myself in. The way he gently flirted with me set my heart hoping.

I took a chance, I made a move, and I got shot down. Later, I overheard him telling a stranger that though he felt something for me, I wasn't worth the risk. That cut deep, real deep. It still does when I think of it even though it was several years ago.

Yet, I'm still here. Sometimes I wonder why I didn't just leave then. After all, he was the reason I came in the first place. However, I realize that having no contact with him; that never seeing him would be even more painful than being around him knowing he'll never be mine. He's my addiction. Somehow I've become dependant on him being close. Somehow knowing that when I get in trouble, he may show up and hold my hand makes me feel secure. It's pathetic, I know. I've always been an independent person I wish I could feel as sure and confident as I once did.

Ten minutes has now gone by of me standing in the shadow of a tree watching him stand in the light of the lamp. He hasn't moved except to shift his shoulder slightly. He's gazing at the grass ahead of him as though it holds the secrets of the world and he has only to decipher them.

What's he doing here anyway? I come to this park to walk several times a week but I've never seen him here. I know many people may think it odd to go walking in a park before it's even light outside. I find it calming, I like that there aren't a bunch of people milling around at this hour.

I need to get going but he's in my path and I'm not sure I want to talk to him. Should I just walk by him and talk to him only if he talks to me? I wonder if he'll bother to say anything even if he sees me. A while ago I would have been sure that he'd ignore me but lately he's been friendlier again. It's confusing, I'm never sure if he wants a friendship with me or if he'd prefer I left him alone.

It's starting to get ever so slightly lighter now, the sky is turning gray. I breathe in deeply and exhale deliberately to calm myself. I square my shoulders, lift my chin and walk with what I hope is a confident stride towards him.

He seems oblivious to my approach and I think it may be best to walk past pretending I don't see him. For some reason I feel nervous and my palms are sweaty. Why would I be nervous? I see him every day! I guess I don't see him out of work…. Still, I'm just walking by him, what is my problem? Can't I even walk along a practically deserted path anymore?

I'm only a few feet away from him now and at last he glances up. He looks startled to see me.

"Sara," he says simply, and now I have to respond.

All I manage is a choked sounding "Hey."

I wish I were better with words but whenever I try around him I end up over talking and I just make things worse. I try to smile at him but I'm not sure my mouth gets the message my brain is trying to send it.

"What are you doing here?" I dare to query.

I really don't expect much of an answer, I've gotten used to him blowing off my questions.

"On clear nights you can actually see some of the constellations from here since it's far enough away from The Strip's lights."

His response surprises me since I expected little more than a one syllable answer, and I am further surprised when he continues:

"Tonight, or this morning rather, the sky is quite clear and good for a little star-gazing."

I'm just about to point out that the sky is getting too light to see stars and besides he hasn't so much as glanced at the sky for the past fifteen minutes. Thankfully I realize that to say that would be admitting that I've been watching him and I manage to bite my tongue before the words leave.

This is awkward. I'm just standing here with my arms crossed over my chest looking at my feet. He's standing here pretending to look at the stars that can't be seen anymore. I should really go. I open my mouth with a polite excuse on my tongue but I never get to deliver it for he asks suddenly:

"What are you doing here, if I may return the question?"

As he says this he lifts one eyebrow in classic Grissom fashion, tilting his head and looking at me semi-sideways.

"Walking," I say with a slight shrug, "I come here often to walk."

He looks surprised.

"I've never seen you here," he says, looking slightly perplexed, like I'm a puzzle he can't quite fit together.

I am tempted to make a biting comment about how he never sees me now anyway but it wouldn't be quite true. He has been getting much more attentive lately. It's not nearly the same as when I first came here, but we seem to be regaining some ground with our friendship. So, I swallow my comment and opt for just shrugging and raising my eyebrow.

"I've never seen you either so I guess that makes us even."

He smirks gently at this and looks up at the sky again.

I wonder if I should leave now and say "Well, I should probably be um… getting home, now. Despite popular belief I do sleep sometimes."

I try to keep things light and casual. He looks at me again and looks purposely skeptical.

"Is that so? Well, I'm not sure I believe that," he says with a smile. "I only believe the evidence and the evidence suggests you avoid sleep, which would make your statement untrue."

I'm surprised by his teasing and that saddens me because it used to be common.

"Well Dr. Grissom," I say "what do I have to do to prove my statement to you?"

I purse my lips and raise one eyebrow as high as I can. It's wonderful to be having this kind of conversation again; it almost feels like we're friends the way we used to be.

"Well, I need proof," he says.

I wonder if he realizes how close this conversation is to becoming dangerous. I'm tempted to say something slightly suggestive about him observing my nocturnal activities and documenting them… just as we once did with a dead pig. However, I don't like the idea of comparing myself to an animal carcass and I don't want to ruin this newly regained ease so I opt for letting it drop and just laugh. It feels good to laugh with him and I have no problem giving him a smile now.

"Well, Professor, I'm afraid I have none so you'll just have to take my word for it."

He smiles and shrugs, "You're asking a lot of me Sara," he says.

"You underestimate yourself and I'd never ask more of you than you can give," I say before realizing the implications of what I am saying.

I hope he doesn't catch on and just takes my statement as part of our continued banter. He says nothing and I hastily avert my gaze to the imaginary stars he was previously so enthralled by.

The sky is now streaked most definitely with light and I can now see a few early joggers on the paths of the park. I realize that I'm cold and remember I was leaving. I open my mouth to say goodbye and am once again silenced by the words issuing from his mouth.

"I know," is all he says.

My mind reels… what does he mean by that? What am I supposed to think? I look at him my confusion undoubtedly written all over my face. He looks at me and gives me a slight smile. I still don't know what to make of it.

All other thoughts flee though as he reaches out and gently squeezes my hand. With Grissom actions have always spoken louder than words and my head spins. I have a thousand questions but they don't seem to matter at this second, I can worry about them later. For now I am content to give his hand a squeeze in return before he withdraws it from me.

We don't need words to understand each other. I know exactly what he means by that squeeze. He's trying to repair our crumbling… what do I even call it? Somehow the word relationship is insufficient as is every other word I can think of. Anyway, could it be he's finally making an effort towards the "us" that has never been? I feel truly happy for the first time in a very long time, but also very confused. Why now? As I look into his eyes I realize that he must have been going through the same hell I have been in. Maybe he got tired of it just like me.

He reaches out his hand and brushes a few errant strands of hair behind my left ear. I feel shocked to say the least at his bold move. His hand brushing my cheeks sends chills through my whole body. I see the look of caring and longing in his eyes.

"I can't take it anymore," he says barely above a whisper.

"Neither can I," I whisper back.

I shock myself with my ability to speak. I was sure I had lost all my capacity to form coherent words. He nods and I feel that for once the world is right. We stand there, not touching, but feeling more connected than we ever have.

"You should be going home to bed," he says at last.

"I thought you didn't believe I sleep," I tease him, smiling.

"I don't, but I feel it is my responsibility to try to get you to take care of yourself," he teases in return.

I smile and nod. I have a lot to think about, I doubt I'll be sleeping much today.

"Well, goodnight," I say.

"Good morning," he corrects, pointing at the light sky.

I shrug in a non-committal way.

"Well, I'm going to bed so good morning seems wrong… how about sweet dreams?" I say with a tone of jesting.

"I prefer 'sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite,' personally," he says in an equally light tone.

"You would, you are the bug guy," I say.

He inclines his head in mock bow of acquiescence.

"I'll see you tonight," he calls after me as I turn and I walk away with a wonderful lightness of heart.

I grin and nod my agreement.

We both have our issues and insecurities, but somehow I know it will all work out. When we have problems I know he'll reach and take my hand in his and everything will be all right. After all these years, we're finally taking a step in the right direction. I realize how much I really love this park… I really must come here more often. Maybe next time I'll do a little star-gazing, and maybe I won't be alone.