Second Chances

by Bethe

Disclaimer: Yeah, and I'm the Easter Bunny.

Spoilers: I'm not real sure, let's just say seasons 1-4 to be on the safe side.

Rating: PG-for language.

Summary: There are only so many second chances a girl can give…

Author's Note: I'm fairly new to CSI fanfiction. Please don't crucify me. If you think I'm no good, I'll just go back to my Pretender fandom and try to muster up inspiration for a dead show…

Second Author's Note: Yeah, this QuickEdit feature bugs me. Don't mind the lack of dividers, just pretend they're really there.

The night was cold, but dry. Dark clouds obscured most of the sky, but the moon managed to peek out every once in awhile. Grissom tugged his jacket tighter around him as he passed under a streetlight. The yellow hue of the lamp created a sickly circle on the sidewalk. The color matched how he felt this evening. Sickly.

He wanted to pick up the pace, but he wasn't far from his destination now, and he didn't want to appear overly zealous. So he maintained his regular stride. After a few more steps, a silhouetted figure became visible about two streetlights away. Grissom swallowed and mustered up his courage as he approached her. It had to be her.

Sara Sidle sat on the curb just outside her apartment building, a cigarette between her lips. She heard Grissom's footsteps, and frowned at her feet. She flicked some ash from her cigarette.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a low voice, and then took a drag off her cigarette. She exhaled the smoke, a bluish cloud which faded into gray the higher it went.

He stood in front of Sara, his hands in his jacket pockets. He tilted his head before saying, "I came…I came to stop you."

She chuckled, but with little mirth in the sound. "Too little, too late, Grissom." She took another drag before snubbing the cigarette into the concrete. "I 'left' a long time ago."

Grissom sat down beside her. He took his hands out of his pockets, brought them to his mouth, and blew onto them. They weren't cold, but he needed something for his hands to do while he processed her statements. How had it come to this?

"Besides," she continued, "All my stuff's halfway to Chicago by now." Grissom observed her profile. Her expression was one of somber indifference. It did not suit her. A little part of him died at seeing his Sara's aura become chilly.

"Do you believe in second chances, Sara?"

She turned to look at him. Her eyes were pained, but her face remained reserved. "There are only so many second chances a girl can give, Grissom."

"I just need one more," he whispered, letting his inner turmoil show through for once in his life.

She seemed to think this over for a few brief seconds before shaking her head. "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Isn't that the saying?" She bit her lip and looked up at the sky. "I've got enough 'shame on me's ' to last me a lifetime."

"Please, just stay," he found himself pleading, "let me prove it to you."

"Trust the one thing that cannot lie," she whispered to the moon. She closed her eyes, and Grissom saw a tear slide from the corner down the side of her face. Grissom closed his own eyes as his oft-repeated mantra came back to bite him in the ass.

"The evidence," he finished for her. The air, which had been dry previously, now threatened to drown him. Sara's words after he had turned her down her dinner offer echoed in his ears, chilling him to the core. "It's too late, isn't it?" he asked. Upon hearing her sniffle, he stood up and said, "You were right."

He started to walk away, but turned around and shoved his hands in his pockets. "For what it's worth, I love you, Sara." A flash of lightening and a peal of thunder punctuated his statement. He then raised one hand in a meek farewell, and resumed his course back to where he came from.

Then the heavens opened up.

He was getting drenched, but he didn't care. His mind was too preoccupied at the moment. He had dared to hope that she would stay, but that was shattered. That's not to say that it wasn't his fault. He knew that his cowardice had cost him happiness with the woman who most likely was his soul mate. Sara Sidle was in a class all her own, and deserved far better than the likes of Gil Grissom.

Then he felt himself be pulled back around before a pair of arms were flung around his neck. Even though he'd never experienced Sara's body flush against his, he knew that it was her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and held her to him, not wanting to let go. Ever.

She sobbed into his neck, her salty tears mingling with the fresh rainwater. He brought his hands up to her head and buried his fingers in her hair. He quickly claimed her lips with a hunger like that of a man who had been stranded on an island for months without proper nutrition and has just seen his first steak dinner upon returning home. She returned his kisses with a passion almost greater than his. His hands roamed over her body; going from head, to shoulders, to hips, to her adorable rear. He wanted to make sure she was really there, and really his own.

He ceased his kissing and put a couple of inches of space in between them so he could look at her face. He smoothed the matted hair from her cheeks and gave her a small smile. "So," he breathed, "got one more second chance in you?"

Sara smiled as well, and rested her forehead against his. "You damn well better make it a good one!" she shouted above the roar of the rain. Grissom nuzzled her nose and was about to kiss her again when thunder rumbled very loudly.

"What do you say we get out of this rain?" he asked. Sara nodded, but stopped him before he could make a move towards her apartment. Her face was now solemn. She gave Grissom just enough time to begin to panic a little before she brought up her right hand with only her thumb, forefinger, and pinkie finger pointing up. Then she lowered her forefinger, moved her hand to where it was parallel with the ground, the thumb facing her, the pinkie facing Grissom. She moved her arm so that it was gliding back and forth between the two of them, her palm still parallel to the ground. Grissom's grasp of sign had become a little rusty, but there was no misinterpreting that statement.

/I love you, too./

Grissom pulled her to him and kissed her, completely disregarding his earlier suggestion of getting out of the rain. This was his final second chance. He intended to make the most out of it, regardless of the weather.

End.