"Grissom, have you ever wanted to fly?"

She smiled at him, then, asking the question as they leaned against some rocks in the Nevada desert. There was a spectacular sunset taking place, made of up of the brightest pinks and oranges and blues that he'd ever seen. He smiled back, taking a sip of his beer before answering.

"Isn't that the ultimate human ambition? To be volatile?"

"That's not an answer to my question, you know that", she replied, a teasing lilt to her voice, "I want to know if you wanted to fly, and if not, why not?"

She cocked her head at him, and he felt a tug of something in his stomach. He stared, briefly, not understanding the sensation, suddenly feeling like a fool. Come on Gil, do you really need to analyse everything? Just say something, anything that remotely resembles semi intelligence, mocked an eerily Catherine-esque voice in his head.

He felt his head shaking, saying no. He wouldn't give her the reason, but instead, in his first act of bravery in their fragile, non-relationship, he moved slightly closer to her, shivering as he felt them make contact.

The last image of them as co workers was finally smashed, as shaking slightly, he held her hand and gently squeezed it. The last vestige of a simple working relationship was gone. He spoke, again, replying to her last question.

"It would be a little lonely up there, don't you think?"

He'd had been half facing her at the time, almost embarrassed, hoping that she would understand, se the meaning behind his answer, hear what he hadn't said.

She had heard it. She nodded, once, then twice. Then, looking into his eyes, with all her hints of playfulness dropped from her voice, she asked,

"And if I was up there with you?"

He didn't answer, but instead pulled her closer so that his arms were easily wrapped around her slim waist.

She'd smiled then, a true smile, as he'd kissed her gentlyunder the enveloping cloak of darkness that the sunset had conveniently provided.

No more words had been necessary.