Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or its characters...wishful thinking.

Rated: T (To be on the safe side. I don't know what I'm going to throw in later.)

A/N: Ok, so this is my first Fanfic of ANY kind, let alone CSI or GSR. I have no clue as to what the heck I'm doing, so any help would be greatly apreciated! Please review! I can take criticism. I've just recently fallen head-over-heels for CSI, and I haven't seen every episode, so if this is way OOC, that might be why. Hope it's not a disgrace to fanfiction... Here goes nothing...

Metamorphosis

Sara Sidle stormed into Grissom's office. Normally, she would have gladly knocked on the doorframe, knowing that she was always welcomed, but this time she had no energy left for formalities. This was the last straw.

Sara always loved visiting Grissom in there. The time spent alone with him in his office gave her a secret satisfaction. This time, however, walking through the doorway was like forcing herself through the fiery gates of hell. She slammed the door behind her, the door that hardly ever closed, and headed straight for his desk.

Grissom could feel her anger as soon as she stepped foot into the room. The heat from her presence was so powerful that he could feel it singe the hairs on his beard. He was taken aback by the look in her eyes, a frightening new one that he'd never seen before, and quickly removed his glasses to make sure his eyes weren't fooling him. She was angry; angrier than she ever had been before, and he knew it.

"What the hell is wrong with you!"

Where do I begin?

She began pacing in front of his desk. Grissom opened his mouth to speak, but his attempt was interrupted by the fire in her voice.

"Five years, Grissom. Five years. For five whole years I have put up with this…and…and…with you!" Her words hit him like a bullet to the heart. "You know, for a while there I thought I would be okay. I thought we would be okay."

We?

"But now," she was stuttering, fighting to translate her thoughts into words, "but now you go behind my back and do this to me?" Sara slammed her hands on the desk.

Grissom knew where this was going. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply.

"How…how could you?" The tone of her voice had changed from angered to disbelief. "After all we've been through. After all I've done…for you. Grissom, I left everything I knew in San Francisco just to help you, and I stayed…for you…because you wanted me to. I got a life for you…" as she fought back the horrible memories, her voice quivered. "Everything. Everything I've done in the past five years I've done for you." She paused to reflect. "And I thought you cared."

But he did care, and that's exactly why Grissom did what he did. It was for her own good.

They had been working on a case; a double homicide at a baseball game. The graveyard team was stumped. The evidence was not matching up. Nothing was making sense. After hours of argument between the six of them in the lab, Grissom decided he needed to return to the crime scene once again. Maybe he missed something.

"No, Nick," Catherine yelled across the table, "That's not possible. The pitcher's blood is no where to be found. Why the hell would you even consider that?"

Warrick struggled to hold Nick back as he lashed out at her.

"That's enough!" Grissom raised he voice and stood up abruptly. He only raised his voice when he was really frustrated and his pulse rate was forced skyward. "I'm going to the ballpark," he said quietly, as soon as he had everyone's attention. Then he started down the hallway, alone. Warrick, Nick, Greg and Catherine sat still and exchanged looks of confusion.But Sara immediately followed after him.

"Can I come with you?" That voice always jump-started some butterflies in his stomach. She had said the same thing to him so many times before, always wanting to be with him, and it secretly made him smile inside. But on the outside, he stopped walking, put up that Gil Grissom façade, and turned back to look at her in slight annoyance.

"I'd rather go alone, sort things out by myself."

"You shouldn't go alone. Not when you're so pissed off like that. You might not be thinking clearly," she said softly. "Let me help you," she pleaded. Their eyes met. Grissom sighed. How could he resist?

"Fine." And he continued to the parking lot.

Sara grabbed a kit and rushed after him, like a puppy to its master.

At the ball field, Grissom and Sara retraced the steps of the victims. They went over each and every piece of evidence, together. Their minds worked in a silent dance with each other. No words ever needed to be said. They thought as one. As their minds hunted harder and harder for answers, their passion for solving the mystery electrified the air between them.

The met up at the pitcher's mound, crawling on their hands and knees, searching for what they hoped to be the missing clue. Suddenly, a tiny glistening piece of dark metal caught both their gazes. Simultaneously, they exclaimed, "I've got it," and reached for the evidence. Before either of them registered that they had said the same thing and were going after the same evidence, their hands grazed each other's. In an immediate and instinctual reaction, Grissom wrapped his hand around Sara's dainty fingers and looked up at her. When their eyes met, he realized what he had done and quickly let go of her hand. He turned away, feeling slightly ashamed of himself. It was getting so much harder for him to ignore his emotions.

Grissom silently picked up the metal with a pair of tweezers and put it into a plastic bag.

Should I say something? He thought to himself while gathering up his gear. The two of them silently climbed back into the SUV. Sara audibly took a deep breath.

"It's really something, isn't it?" Sara stated, as Grissom started to turn the key. He stopped and looked at her.

"What?"

He knew very well what she was talking about.

"You know, when we work together. I think it's kind of…amazing."

He was glad she said something first. He was thinking the same thing, but as always, he couldn't formulate the correct words.

She continued, "Did you ever notice that we always know what each other is thinking?"

Once again, he took note of her beauty, and watched as she nervously pushed a loose curl behind her ear.

If you only knew what I was thinking now.

Since he didn't say anything for a while, she started to take it back. "Never mind. My mind just wanders sometimes. I don't know. I don't know, you make me nervous sometimes, and confused, and I just say things…You know me…" Her voice trailed off.

Sara was rambling on and on. He noticed she did it a lot when their conversations turned personal. Something inside him told him that this little episode was not supposed to end up like all the others. Time and time again, it seemed as though they were finally making some progress in their "relationship", but every time, without fail, Grissom would get scared, act as if nothing ever happened, and distance himself from the object of his affection.

"No, I think I know what you're saying. I guess we just make …a great team."

Now, was that so hard?

"It's always a pleasure working with you, Sara. You're a wonderful criminalist," he said gently.

Now's your chance, Gil. Say something!

"And a wonderful person."

Before he realized what he had done,Grissom mustered up enough strength to place his hand on top of hers. When his synapses finally fired at the touch of her warm skin on his fingertips, Grissom could do nothing but stare down in his hand on hers. When she curled her fingers to take his hand, he could feel his body temperature rise.

"Grissom," she whispered.

No answer. He was physically unable to move, overcome by the shock of the situation he had put himself in. This was bound to happen eventually, and he knew it.

"Grissom."

Still no answer.

"Grissom, look at me."

He picked his head up and was drawn into her soft brown eyes, like a moth to a flame. He felt himself slowly being pulled into her by some unexplained force. Grissom could not explain what happened in the next few seconds. Somehow he ended upjust inchesfrom her lips.Saragently put her hand up to the side of his faceand stroked his cheek. As he closed his eyes to live out his fantasies, something triggered inside of him.

"What am I doing?" he though out loud, turned away and quickly started the car. Grissom had been two inches from her face. He was going to kiss her. He was going to do something he only dreamed about thousands upon thousands of times before. But he couldn't.

"What the hell is wrong with you? What are you romantically inept or something?"

Grissom growled at himself. This was not just another tally mark to add to his list of screwed-up encounters with Sara. This time he really did it.

Grissom had the death grip on the steering wheel. He stared straight ahead, trying to focus on nothing but the road ahead of him, but so many thoughts were ricocheting throughout his mind.

"This can never happen. Nothing can ever happen between us. This never happened, okay?"

"No, that's not okay," she screamed. "It's never been okay! Why can't you give in to you feelings. I know they're there. We both know. I don't understand."

"We just can't, alright? We just can't. It would ruin our careers..." Grissom sped through a yellow light.

"That's it?" she inquired. "Our careers? Is that all that's important to you, Griss? Why else can't we do this, huh?"

Grissom tried hard to think of an answer. So often he would spend hours lying in bed, contemplating his feelings for Sara, and ever time he could come up with a list of reasons why it wasn't possible. But now Grissom was too frustrated to think of anything. That part of his mind seemed blank.

"See? Nothing else, right?"

"Sara, I'm sixteen years older than you? Don't you think there's something wrong with that?"

"No, I don't,and damn it, that's all that should matter to you!"

Grissom was at a loss for words. The remainder of the trip back to the lab was silent, except for their heavy, angered breathing. Grissom parked the car and turned the engine off, but he stayed buckled in his seat for a while, still staring right in front of him. Sara practrically pulled her seatbelt off and ripped the door open.

A dark voice came out from deep within her. "Baseball is a damn beautiful game." She grabbed the kit, slammed the door, and left Grissom to ponder what had just occured.

Grissom stayed in the car for half an hour. Something had to be done about this. He needed to save Sara from this potential downfall of her career. Of course he loved her. He always had and always would, but she was young and had her whole life ahead of her. She was brilliant, talented, and, God was she beautiful. She was going to make quite a name for herself one day in the world of forensic science, and she had plenty of time to make one young guy the luckiest man in the world. He, on the other hand, was dull and over-the-hill. He loved her too much to ruin every chance she had to do all those wonderful things. His life would beover sooner than hers and he wouldn't have as much time as she to think about all the things he never had.

Finally he made a decision. Grissom felt he had no other choice.SaraSidle would be moved to the dayshift. Things would be better. They would have almost no contact with each other; no more ways to become what he saw as dangerously too close to her.

"And I thought you cared." She repeated her words, dark and cold.

Finally, he spoke. "Sara, I do care. That's why I'm doing this...for your own good."

"Grissom, if you truly cared about me, you'd be able to open your heart and let me in." She leaned closer to him. "We're finished." She lingered a moment to take in his gaze one last time, and then she turned around and stormed out of his office. As she slammed the door behind her, Grissom could feel a sharp pain pierce behind his eyes. A migraine, just what he needed.

To be continued...

A/N: I hope you don't hate it! Perhaps I'll continue?