DDisclaimer: Nope, not mine. Wish they were, but they're not. Que Sera Sera

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Sometimes, usually when I can't sleep, I go for a walk. Thing is, I always find myself at the same place, sitting under the same tree, on the same patch of grass, looking up at the same window wondering what she's doing. I wouldn't call it "stalking" though. I think of it more like "I can't work up the nerve to ask her out". So I sit and wonder what it would be like to spend time with her away from work and the meals we, as a team, share on a fairly regular basis.

When we all go out she always sits next to me, tries my food and when she's out of her drink, be it water, coffee or iced tea, she'll drink from my glass. This doesn't bother me in the least, as I think it shows that she's very comfortable with me and my presence. A couple of times she'd scooted her chair up next to mine so that we were nearly touching and her arm touching mine. It was almost as though I could feel the heat from her body adding to the heat of mine.

At the lab, during a few semi-private moments, usually in the break room or an evidence processing room, she'd touch me ever so slightly and smile. But then there are the times when she'd put her hand on my arm or knee and lean in close to me and rest her head on my shoulder. She's much more tactile with me than she used to be. When she first came out here she pretty much kept to herself and was really kind of on the bitter side. Now its like she's found her family...and we ARE a family, all of us, no matter how dysfunctional we might be.

I think of Gil as the distant father, Catherine as the ever present, demanding mother figure. Warrick and Nick are as the older brothers and Greg like the younger, more spacey, hyper-active brother. And me, well, I'm not exactly sure where I fit in. Maybe I'm an uncle of sorts, or maybe a cousin. Its this "family" type relationship that has held me back, for the most part, from expressing my true feelings for her. I'd feel like I were some dirty old man, hitting on some young thing; a pervert of sorts, perhaps.

As I sit watching her window that I realize that nothing is going to change between us until and unless I do something about it. But what, and how? Sitting under "my" tree, I try to think on how I might approach her.

But maybe its all in my head. After all, what would a young beauty like her want with a middle-aged, cranky cop? I've been a cop almost as long as she's been alive which doesn't make things any easier. I'm not in the best shape, either. I've got my receding hairline, which she says she loves, my paunch, which she hasn't mentioned, but pinches often and my skin is beginning to sag. Maybe some botox might help. Maybe not, as I remember the James girl from a few years back.

I'm sitting, more or less, out of view of the passing cars coming and going and as I continue to think, I wonder how she'd react if she knew that all I want to do is to hold her in my arms and love her in a way that I know she needs. She hasn't had much success in the lovin' department. There was the "Hank" fiasco, then there's the always present "Grissom" factor. I know she still has feelings for him and he for her, though he'd never admit it, neither to himself nor to anyone else. I don't know what his deal is. He's way too guarded. He lets people in, only as much as he wants, but at the same time he shuts everyone out. How can a man of his years live his life the way he's been for as long as he has? No personal relationships, nothing out of work. After shift he either hangs around the lab going through the piles of paperwork or goes home and lives in his "bubble". Hindsight being 20/20, I guess I'm a bit like him in certain aspects, save for letting people in and developing relationships with those I work with. Getting Gil to share an after work meal is almost like pulling teeth.

It's a warm morning and as I continue to gaze up at her window my cell goes off. I pull it from my pocket and to my surprise its Sara. She says she can't sleep and wonders what I'm doing. Oh, if she only knew. If she only knew I was sitting outside her window looking up at her she'd probably freak out; think me a freak. As we continue to talk, I can see that she's opening her sliding balcony door and leaning against the rail, her back to me. Then she says something that makes me nervous like I've never been before. She flatly, but with a hint of a laugh, tells me to come on up. She knows that I'm down here, but what does she think of it?

She tells me to come in before it starts raining and as I look up at the sky I can see the clouds forming and the sky has turned an ominous shade of a light charcoal. As I stand up and approach her building she turns round' and smiles as she waves me up.

My heart is beating hard in my chest as I climb the steps and when she opens her door I offer my best pseudo-smile and enter. We sit on the couch and as I watch her pace the length of the floor in her apartment I try to rid my mind of all the thoughts I'd been thinking over the past hour or so.

After fifteen minutes or so, she sits, turning to face me. She places her hand on my knee and smiles. Beginning to think not so wholesome thoughts, I quickly stand up and face her, suggesting we take a walk. The rain doesn't bother me and even if it were snowing I'd gladly take a walk with her, even if only to have her beside me.

Without benefit of coat or jacket, we set out and begin down the sidewalk towards Trop. Walking and talking, she doesn't notice the "do not cross" signal and as she steps off the curb, I grab her hand and more or less yank her back up onto the walk just in time to avoid a quite messy accident. When a pedestrian takes on a dump truck, its usually the truck that wins. She turns to me and I can see by her heaving chest that she was a bit scared. Looking at me, after a few moments, she smiles.

"I owe you my life." she says

Without hesitation Jim replied.

"Not your life, just the chance to live it with you."

Oh, my God. Did I actually say that or just think it? Judging by the look on her face, I think the former. She's quiet now and as we cross the street I can't help but think that I've made quite possibly the biggest mistake in my life. I looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction but found nothing.