"The first duty of love is to listen."

- Paul Tillich

"The fights, the yelling, the trips to the hospital. I thought it was the way that everybody lived. When my mother killed my father, I found out that it wasn't."

Those words echoed in Grissom's mind as he took Sara's free hand in his and massaged it gently. Her confession shed light on many aspects of her personality, her character, which generated as many questions as it garnered great admiration and the praise of others. Beneath the charm, exuberance, and innocent smile was a woman in pain, a woman struggling to cope with demons from her past.

Demons that left still gaping wounds that on occasion resurfaced and burned anew.

Now, he understood.

He knew now why she gravitated so much to him and vice-versa. The source of their grief was the same: distance. Distance was the only method of coping with great tragedy, that tragedy being the loss of parents at a tender age. Grissom himself lost his father whereas Sara lost both of her parents, her grief compounded by the truth of her mother being the one to rip her father away from her.

The combination of loss and other shortcomings were remedied, or appeared to be, by profound intelligence, knowledge that extended beyond the surface alone and reached depths that few could ever grasp. His intelligence complimented hers. They mirrored each other. The difference: Where he would break away and close himself off, she welcomed the company of others - embraced it even.

Her increased sobbing broke Grissom from his reverie as he moved closer to her, never relinquishing her hand. Slowly, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and pulled her inward. He ran his fingers through her hair, taking in its silk texture, before closing his eyes.

How long had it been since they were this close?

Too long, he concluded.

The last set of circumstances was very similar to the present. He was her anchor in the face of devastation. He held her hand then just as he was doing now, but she needed more than that. They both needed more. Gil was determined to not allow fear dissuade him this time around.

Instantly, images and conversations from a year ago shone before his eyes in vivid detail, almost as if he was standing on the outside and looking in.

"Come on. I'll take you home."

Sara gripped his hand tighter all the while her gaze didn't move from the floor, tears brimming her eyes as realization hit her. She embarrassed herself and Grissom, of all people, had to witness her shame first hand. She never wanted him to see her like this. She wasn't sure she wanted to see him at all until his gentle, assuring tone assaulted her ears.

On some level, she was waiting for him.

When didn't she wait for him?

Did he care?

Was his decision to pass along the position of lead CSI to Nick because of his concern for her or for ulterior motives she wasn't privy to?

How did he feel?

How would she feel once she knew the truth, presuming she ever found out?

Before she knew, Grissom was guiding her to his Tahoe, holding open the passenger door and helping her slip into the seat. The ride to her apartment was quiet. He didn't speak, and neither did she. At first, the silence hurt. Only as time elapsed did she find comfort in it.

The quiet gave her time to think.

Coming to a brief stop, Grissom looked over at Sara and found her deep in thought. What was she thinking, he wondered. The trail of moisture on her cheeks pained him. More concerning was her blank, vacant stare. He encountered that same expression in the mirror frequently, and it was something he never wanted for her.

Her face now was that of a stranger's.

There was no resemblance or sign of the one etched permanently in his memory.

He waited for her to look at him. Instead, her gaze remained fixed on a point outside the window. The pathway to her apartment complex was quiet, still, almost peaceful. Not many cars were parked on the lot. The grounds were beautiful, well-kept, as were the balconies that set high above, tranquil to anyone passing by for a quick trip or considering a permanent relocation.

It was inviting, unlike the aura encasing him and Sara presently.

"Sara…"

She looked away from the outside world and lowered her eyes to where his hand had come to rest over hers. She knew was he was doing. He was trying to coax her into looking at him, but she couldn't.

"You going to take me in, or am I getting out on my own?" Sara instantly regretted her choice of words. She wanted to cry when his touch melted away, but instead he rounded the vehicle and opened the door for her, holding it open just as he had at the station lot.

She sighed deeply before looking up, his blue eyes staring into hers.

Sara stepped out, waited for the door to close, and walked in stride with Grissom who rested his hand at the small of her back. His gaze alternated between her profile and the entrance ahead. The walk up was brief - her apartment was on the second floor, just near the end of the corridor.

Her fingers shook as she took her eye. Grissom gently extricated them from her, their fingers making soft contact as he turned the lock. He allowed her to go in first and followed her inside. Still, Sara would not look at him. She was prepared for many things, but his recrimination wasn't one of them.

She would never be ready to encounter that.

Looking around, Grissom examined her decor. The walls were lightly decorated, shelves were filled with numerous books – science textbooks and forensic journals mostly. He spotted photography books among other knick knacks. Furnishings were of the contemporary persuasion. Off to the side was her laptop still powered on, in sleep mode presumably.

"Going to sit?" The sound of Sara's voice surprised him.

Nodding, Grissom sat down on the couch just opposite to her. Sara looked at him. Her brown eyes met his just as they had when she got out of the Tahoe.

"Why are you doing this, Grissom?"

"Doing what?"

"This..." She gestured with her hands. "Holding my hand, driving me home. Why?"

"Because I care."

"Do you?" Her voice conveyed power, power that provided a stark contrast to the pain and desperation etched in her face. "Are you trying to tell me that everything leading up to now was because you care?"

"You know how I feel, Sara."

"No! No, I don't know Grissom because you keep me at a distance. When I do get close to you, all you do is push me away. All you do is push me and the others away..." Sara was growing more and more agitated, watching the slow grimace slip on his face. She was getting to him the way he had been getting to her as of late. On one end, it felt gratifying. On the other, she hated having to cause him any harm. "What are you afraid of?"

"Sara, I'm..."

"Please, Grissom." Sara stood up uneasily and sat down next to him, she wanted to look into his eyes and see for herself the emotions that crossed if any. "Gil, tell me."

The sound of his Christian name resonated. He rarely heard it being used, and the fact it came from her was a dream realized. However, it wasn't one he felt inclined to capitalize on.

"I'm..." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I'm afraid of being close."

Those words stung. She could no longer keep her tears inside, she let them flow willingly down her cheeks. She wanted him to see what he was doing to her.

"Being close...? Is that what you're really afraid of or is it the thought of someone knowing you give a damn that terrifies you the most?" She waited for confirmation from Grissom who could only intimate speaking.

Words wouldn't come.

"The way I see it, you're afraid of being seen. You sit around in your office hiding behind paperwork and your bug collection afraid, afraid that others can see you for what you really are, afraid of being seen with emotions and concern. You're afraid, keeping yourself at a distance, because you think that by presenting your true face that you'll lose everything. You're afraid to lose everything that you've earned. It's being touched that scares you."

Grissom let her words sink in.

Nothing she said was inaccurate. What hurt, however, was hearing it from her.

"You don't understand..."

"I do. I understand perfectly, Grissom."

He closed his eyes. "You can't. No one can, Sara."

"Gil, I..."

She stopped, taking Gil's hand in both of hers. His eyes bore into hers and for a fraction of a second, she thought she saw them water. "I want this, Grissom. You and me. That's what I want."

"But I don't."

"What..."

Grissom stood up, not looking at her but slowly moving to the door with a heavy heart. What he had come for was to help Sara, to look out for her and make sure she'd make it through the ordeal safely... to let her know he'd be of some help. Instead, he was cast as the one causing the hurt and not remedying it.

"Why Grissom?"

"Because I love you, and I don't want to hurt you."

Before she could protest, Grissom left, entered his Tahoe, and drove home to his townhouse. Suddenly cold, he refused to answer his cell phone as it went off persistently. Anticipating who was on the other line, Grissom continued on his way while Sara sat in her apartment, hugging her knees, and cried.

Grissom returned to the present when he felt Sara relax even further against him, her tears subsiding ever so slightly, as he continued combing his fingers through her hair. She relinquished her hold on his hand and moved to his thick forearm. The simple touch spoke of immense gratitude and friendship, the type of friendship that they'd once enjoyed and began to rebuild in a series of small, baby steps.

It began with frequent communication albeit on the phone, via email, or even penning notes to one another during shifts. They'd started convening on casework together, an activity that both had always found great pleasure in ding. Though it was never said directly, only implied, their colleagues buzzed constantly at the chemistry that existed between them. The little whispers never once escaped Grissom's attention, or Sara's for that matter, regardless of how busy or involved on a case they were.

"I never knew." She spoke quietly.

"What?"

"Peace, what it feels like."

Grissom saw fresh tears in her eyes and wiped them away before they could fall. In response, she shifted in his arms, and he obliged - wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close as her back rested firmly against his chest.

It felt natural, sitting this way.

Kissing her cheek, he waited for her to speak again.

"Looking back, I never had a place to call home. You know…" Sara paused, taking a breath to steady herself. "For so long, I found myself in this long hallway."

His interest piqued.

"Everything around me was dark and bitter. I had nothing to look forward to, no one to turn to because whoever was there caused me more and more pain. It was bad enough that I had to live with the stigma of being the daughter of a psychotic. People would look at me, and with just their eyes they'd say, 'Just like your mother, that's how you'll turn out'. I was trying so hard to be strong, be tough, but I just couldn't handle it. It was like a nightmare I couldn't escape from. I wanted all of it to be over, and eventually it did end."

Grissom sat silently, absorbing the layers of pain and sincerity within every syllable.

"Do you know…" Sara paused, running her hand up and down the strong forearm that held her. "You want to know what drove me out of that hallway?"

Suddenly anxious, he answered. "No."

"You."

He held her tighter then, breathing in a lock of her hair and then lowering his chin to her shoulder.

"The first time I saw you, you were lecturing on the finer points of forensic science. I remember looking at you - staring even - as on occasion your eyes would come to rest on me. It felt as if we were the only people in the room at the time." She smiled at the memory.

So did he.

Seeing her in the audience changed his life too. Then and there, he knew. He knew without any formal introduction that she was the one for him.

"All I could think about was getting to know you outside of the lecture hall, and we did. We'd meet up often for dinner and discuss a variety of topics. Those first few weeks were, and still are, the best of my life. But then you left for Vegas. Not that I blame you, or that I ever did because it was a great opportunity, but it made me doubt."

"Doubt what?"

"Us, what we were to each other. It wasn't enough to hear your voice every other evening or to read a simple letter of yours. I had to be close to you, and it hurt not being near you. I thought I'd lost you."

Grissom sighed, understanding how she felt. "Where we were in our lives as well as our careers and the distance separating us, the combination got in the way which we shouldn't have allowed. I shouldn't have allowed that to happen."

"We're both responsible, Gil. The one afternoon you called and asked me to come to Vegas, to hear your voice and hear you say how much you needed me, you have no idea how long I waited for that call."

"5 years, 9 months, and 17 days."

Neither could refrain from smiling.

The silence returned and extended as both occupants were content to simply hold each other, relish the feel of the other's breath on their skin. It was a moment Sara had fantasized about for years, being held in the arms of the one man she ever loved and warm and safe.

"I'm sorry."

Those two basic words stunned her.

Never losing physical contact, Sara turned in his embrace and pressed her hands to his chest, taken aback by the quiet intensity in his eyes.

"I'm sorry for running off that night."

Sara shook her head. "That was nearly a year ago."

"You needed me then, and lately…all I've done is think about what I did, leaving you vulnerable and alone. You needed someone to be there for you, to be there with you, and I failed you. I'm ashamed for convincing myself that I wasn't capable of being the person you can trust the most and count on in every situation. The truth is I've never wanted anything more than that, to be there for you."

"We're past that now."

"Maybe."

She said nothing as his expression turned more thoughtful, introspective.

"You once asked me why. Do you remember what I said?"

"How could I forget?"

"I meant what I said, Sara. I meant every word." He paused to take a breath as her eyes remained locked on his. "I never meant to hurt you, and I don't want to fight you anymore."

"So, stop fighting."

Before she could say more, Grissom tilted her chin upward with his index finger. Seconds, minutes, or potentially an hour, they simply gazed into one another's eyes for an incalculable measure of time.

Then, their lips touched.

The contact was soft at first but quickly escalated.

Grissom startled even himself as he braced her with his left, positioning his right hand at the small of her back, as Sara straddled his hips. Reaching beneath her blouse, he deftly unhooked her bra. His breathing hitched as her touch grew more impatient. She unbuttoned his shirt as well and ran each of her hands along his torso.

The sounds of Sara moaning above him echoed. They were the only sounds in the room apart from his own heavy breaths as he probed her mouth with his tongue once more. Never in his life had he experienced a fire this consuming.

She wanted this every bit as he did, and that drove him on.

Keeping his left arm pinned to her for balance, he reluctantly lifted his right hand from her skin and brushed an errant wave from her face. He wanted – correction, needed – to see her.

"Gil." She breathed heavily. "I -"

Before she could finish, Grissom maneuvered both of them to an upright position. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him, her heels pressed into the small of his back, as he moved toward her bedroom. Articles of clothing were strewn left and right, kiss unbroken.

Nothing else mattered apart from the need to feel.

A chirping sound woke Sara hours later. She blinked several times before looking to the nightstand where the offending object rested.

Grissom's cell phone.

As close as they'd become, she didn't feel quite right checking who the caller was, even less taking the call. The one positive that consciousness bestowed on her was remembering whose embrace she rested in. Looking up, Sara smiled tenderly at Grissom who was sound asleep.

She could see traces of a smile on his face.

He looked boyish, far younger than his 49 years.

She loathed to wake him but knew she had to.

"Gil." Sara laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking it gently. "Gil, wake up."

"Hmmm." Grissom let out a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes with his fists before looking to Sara wearily. "What is it?"

"I think it's the lab." She paused, watching him run his hand through his hair briskly. "Your cell's been going off for the last few minutes, figured it must be important."

Why now, Grissom thought to himself.

Sara kissed him lightly on the cheek, transferring the phone from the nightstand to his grasp.

"Grissom." He answered, the agitation evident.

The sheets around him dipped as Sara snuggled closer to him, sidling her waist to his as her head fell atop his chest, just above his heart. She loved its sound. It was steady and strong. She smiled as he twirled strands of her hair around his fingertips.

A couple of minutes later, the call ended.

"Ecklie?"

"Yea. He wants to meet by the end of shift tonight."

Sara lifted her head from his chest, taking in the dark look in his eye. She only saw that look on his face when he was mulling over a decision or a puzzle that he couldn't solve. "Between him and Cat, looks like I'm still fired. It won't matter what you say or do."

"Prudence and compromise are necessary means, but every man should have an impudent end which he will not compromise." He quoted, running the back of his hand along her cheek.

"Charles Cooley?" She was rewarded with that classic smirk.

"Let me worry about Ecklie. I'll handle it."

Seeing her nod, he got up and re-dressed quickly, foregoing a shower. The sooner he left and concluded the meeting, the sooner he could get back to Sara who was now looking at him so despondently. One minute her face was full of life and next it was ridden with hurt and guilt.

Going over to her, Sara brought her left hand to his face, resting her forehead against his.

"I'll come back as soon as I can, honey."

"Promise?"

Grissom could only smile at the child-like tone in her voice. "Promise."

Relinquishing the embrace and the pain from it struck both of them in waves as Sara watched him walk towards her door. She so badly wanted him to stay, forget about Ecklie and the lab, but that idea was quickly abandoned as he would go and speak on her behalf. He would be her voice.

Opening the door, Grissom turned around and met her gaze.

"I love you, Sara. I always have."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, stared into her soft brown eyes for moments before walking down the corridor. As Sara watched him leave, she rested against the door frame and sighed.

"I love you, too."

THE END