Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Summary: Why did he have to choose this very moment to get his communicative phase? Spoilers for 6x24, SaraGreg

A/N: Inspired by the Sandle shippers on talkcsi.

Betaread by Emmithar. Thanks!

Wrong Moment

It had affected him more than it had appeared. More than he had admitted to himself. Brass being shot, nearly dying. It had made him think. It had made him afraid. The possibility of suddenly going. Without a warning.

He had needed somebody to talk to. He, Gil Grissom, enigmatical, uncommunicative scientist, who could explain everything that was possible to be explained in a rational manner. Only this could not be explained that way. And now he needed somebody to talk to.

Only, why did he have to choose this very moment? And why her? Sara groaned inwardly, when she listened to him rambling on while she was in the bathroom. Why did he have to get his communicative phase right now?

"I don't know. Most people wanna die in their sleep I suppose; never know that it's happening. Like a crime scene. Surprise: you're dead. I prefer to know in advance that I was gonna die. Like to be diagnosed with cancer actually, have some time to prepare," he sighed. "Go back to the rainforest one more time. Re-read Moby Dick."

Okay, she had to go out there right now; otherwise the whole situation would end in an even worse debacle than it already was.

She walked out of the bathroom, still only wearing her bathrobe. Had he not noticed that when he rang at her door? When she had heard the bell, she had hastily put it on, hoping that whoever it was would leave again quickly. Well, Grissom had not. She had invited him in, having little other choice. Then he had obviously found comfort in her bed. And so far he had talked for at least half-an-hour, probably saying more words to her than he had in the last year counted together. Unfortunately she had not found a way to make him leave so far without being impolite, or more important, without giving everything away.

"Possibly enter an international chess tournament. At least have enough time to say goodbye to the people I love," he was saying now, and Sara kneeled down next to the bed. Speaking of clothes, what was that terrible thing he was wearing? He had not been on the street with that! Sara feared he had. Oh, he so had.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye yet," she told him. Why would she? She had too much to live for. And way more than re-reading Moby Dick or entering a chess tournament.

But speaking of goodbyes, it was time to say goodbye for him. Not necessarily dying, even though he had ruined a nice evening. No, that would be too much. But getting out of her apartment, out of her bedroom, that would be a start.

"Grissom, you know it's late. And I…uhm… need my sleep." Damn. Worst. Lie. Ever. He so would not believe that.

He looked at her puzzled. Then he sat up and Sara dared to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Okay, I better go then."

Don't appear too enthusiastic, Sidle!

"Yeah…," she agreed slowly.

He stood up from the bed, making his way out of the bedroom and she followed him quickly. She accompanied him to the front door and he opened it, turning around to her again.

"Until tomorrow then, Sara. Thanks for the conversation."

Yeah, 'conversation'. Anyway.

She closed the door behind him, leaning against it with her back in relief.

"Is he gone?" the voice came out of the bathroom.

Sara walked back into her bedroom. "Yeah, you can come out. God, I thought he'd never leave."

"What do you think I went through? There's only a limited time a man can hide between the toilet and the shower without going crazy," Greg complained.

"Get over it, or did you want your boss to see everything?" she teased, looking at him unambiguously. Greg was not wearing a bathrobe.

"Nope," Greg had to give her right. "But I thought he'd never stop."

"So did I."

"Why did he have to go into your bedroom?" Greg wanted to know, slightly disturbed.

"I'll never understand him. Maybe he wanted to talk the whole night."

"Can we resume our earlier activities now?" Greg asked eagerly.

"Sure," Sara replied smiling, and let her gown glide off her.

End