A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a "one shot", hope you enjoy it. It's dedicated to Grissom on his birthday. A big thank you goes out to my wonderful beta Izzy (aka: Ambientflames) Happy 49th Grissom! lol

The Box

It was another one of those days; a rare occurrence that still jabbed at his heart and strained his mind.

Another one got away.

It was indeed a rare occurrence for Gil Grissom to be outwitted by the common criminal. He blamed it on the processing of evidence or the need to cut hours in order to keep the lab's budget balanced. Grissom was on the prowl; he needed to blame someone for his mistakes, even though no true redemption could be acquired. In his mind, he already tried to blame his misdeeds on Greg; his processing of evidence was slow and slightly miscalculated. In the long run Grissom's assumptions were quickly seen as illegitimate when his logic kicked in. His logic only gave him a minute amount of advocacy as the rest of his night unfolded. And yet, he forgot what mattered the most. In actual fact, everyone at CSI had forgotten the significance that the present day of the year entailed. Everyone except…

"Sara? You coming with us? We're all going out for drinks at the Leaky Tavern tonight. We thought we could use a break from Grissom's plethora of 'self pity' for not catching the bad guy." Nick laughed as Catherine tossed him his jacket.

"Um, I'm gonna have to pass on this one guys. I got a ton of paper work to peruse through. It was a long night." Sara explained, while being careful to hide the box, which was in plain sight behind her back.

"Yeah, alright. But if you change your mind--you know where to find us." He yelled before joining the rest of the team in the parking lot.

Sara had worked the case with Grissom, she knew of his unsettling feelings towards letting the killer go. The wealthy casino owner of The Palms was caught almost red handed for the murder of a under aged teen who was gambling inside his vicinity. Security tapes were lost, there were no prints left at the scene. Eyewitnesses swore they saw the casino owner commit the crime in a back alley. However, eyewitness accounts could never seal a case. The evidence was the key. There was only one clue, which linked Henry Rossum to the murder of the young Chris Debski-- a fiber. Clearly, the lab had their work cut out for them. The fiber, which was left on the teen, matched a suit Rossum had stored in his office. Obviously, there was no one to blame for letting the killer go. Nonetheless, Sara knew that Grissom would wallow in self-doubt and debate his skills as a CSI for the rest of the night.

It was another one of those days.

She taped one last edge of the box, before gently patting it for the third time. No one had remembered--she was convinced that even Grissom was absentminded. She could see him looking down at a pile of paper work in frustration through the small cracks of space between the blinds. He was shielding himself from the human element, the one element that he could never comprehend. Grissom was indeed human, no doubt about it. He just lacked the capacity to interact with those of the same species; a trait he could easily acquire through the simplistic observations of humanity. Observing was Grissom's forte, interaction was his foul.

Her hands shook in reaction to her nerves, as she grasped the box in one hand, and gingerly knocked with the other. The gentle taps at the door was more then enough to break his concentration.

"Come in!" Grissom yelled as he rubbed his head, silently pleading for his headache to disperse. Sara was slow to react, she wasn't sure if he had remembered. She wasn't sure if he was upset that no one else cared. With every step that she got closer, she never would have thought that she was living a six-year lie. The truth would soon be revealed in one mistake of cutthroat fallacy.

"May I ask what happened?" He bitterly inquired while gripping a mustard colored file folder. She continued to hold the box behind her back, feeling her sweaty palms slightly wrinkle the paper.

"Sorry?" She innocently inquired. His tone did not seem the slightest bit inviting and she could only hope his mood would lift in due time.

"We lost Rossum because of sloppy lab work, Sara. You didn't hand me Mia's DNA analysis until the last minute and you still haven't filed your report." His voice possessed a hint of anger and a stitch of disappointment, all were sewn into one statement that left her confused and hurt.

"Grissom, I handed you that report ten minutes later then expected due to…" she knew it was a stupid reason. A reason, which lay inside the box, the box, which she thought, could bring a new light to the already deteriorating situation. She should have given him those reports, her mind should have been on the case and not which lay in her grasp. Not on the man who sat in front of her; eyes blazing through the glasses which always reflected her emotions of doubt and self worth. The glasses always held the truth; she would never know him. Grissom would always be just a reflection on what she wanted, but could never acquire.

"To what, Sara? You've been fumbling the entire night, banging into experiments and whenever I walk into the room, you immediately avoid me! I'm your boss, Sara; I'm supposed to be a leader. We all make up the image of this lab, and if you're having problems once more, I would recommend attending AA meetings and not just seeking the inconsequential advice of PEAP." The words still echoed through the dimly lit, insect filled office. Grissom already began to feel regret settle through his veins, as a pang of dejection hit him hard like a bullet to the brain.

"You think I'm acting the way I have been today because I had been drinking? Is that what you're saying? I can't believe this—you're unbelievable, Grissom! Just when I think I have you figured out!" Sara exclaimed, while resting the box behind her on top of a low bookcase filled with works of entomology and science. She didn't remember putting it down, she blamed it on shock. Without warning, her fight-or-flight responses kicked in, and she bolted out of the office and away from Grissom's sight. She needed to calm down and try to assess what had just occurred.

It was another one of those days.

Yet again, he pushed the one he loved further away. Once upon a time, he knew how to interact with others and he knew when to draw the line. Sometimes, he wished he had an "off switch" to his vocal cords. Was he too out of line to suggest such a theory to Sara? She had been acting off balance this evening; he only assumed the most fathomable explanation. What evidence did he have to back up his claims? Ironically, the mantra of "only trust the evidence" that he invented only applied to the field. Perhaps, he should add his practices and beliefs to the human element. As his thoughts swirled with apologies, Grissom stood up from his desk and started to make his way out of his office. Just before turning off the lights, an object caught his eye. An innocent looking silver box with a tiny decorative ribbon made his heart skip a beat. He figured it was something Sara mistakenly left behind, he decided he would collect it and give it to her next shift. As he lifted the box up with ease, a tag caught his eye.

"To Grissom

From Sara"

The simplistic note was enough to make his head spin. Not waiting another second, he tore off the paper and watched it gracefully fall to the floor. The silver paper reflected from below, as the fluorescent lighting from above lit up his quest. His heart began to beat faster, as he slipped off the lid, and peered inside. The contents were enough to send him into hiding for the rest of his life. His eyes widened as he examined his gift further.

Dear Grissom,

Writing has never been one of my strongest traits so bare with me. I didn't know what to fill this box with; I saw it in my closet begging to be used. After searching online and every department store, I was dumbfounded as to what I should give you. So, I chose to give you a letter straight from my heart. On this sheet of paper there are no lies and no elaborate games to deceive you. In this past year, you have been there for me more then you could ever imagine. You were the first person I could open up to about my mother, and for that I thank you. You stayed with me and you made sure I was safe. And I did feel safe, Grissom. There are still a few things you don't know about me, so please allow me to state this fact:

I have never found a man that has made me feel as safe and as vulnerable as you do.

I know it's a contradiction of words, again bare with me as I try to explain. I'm scared, Grissom. I'm scared because I feel so many things for you, yet I know you will never return any of my affections.

Although, sometimes I wonder.

Sometimes, I see a look or hear a phrase you dish out to me, which leaves me confused and even more trapped. Grissom, I think I'm in love with you and I'm trying my hardest to stop. I tried going out with Hank, I tried taking vacations, but I always ended up straight back to you. I don't expect you to write back or ever discuss this with me; this is for you. My gift to you is allowing you to know how I truly feel.

I wondered what could I possibly give Gil Grissom on his birthday. I soon realized that I could give him what he has never possessed, a woman's heart. So there you have it, Grissom, you're mine and no one else's. I can't do anything to remedy my feelings, even though I sense that a relationship is out of the question.

Sorry if this does in fact ruin your birthday, there is always next year.

- Sara

It was just a piece of paper, however, the parchment, which Grissom firmly held in his grasp, was an affirmation. No longer could he debate whether or not Sara cared for him, the evidence was right in front of him. After the utter of feeling of shock had dissipated, he was soon feeling fatuous and disheartened for his behavior only moments ago. He was so wrapped up in the case that he forgot his own birthday. As a matter a fact, everyone in the entire lab had forgotten-except Sara. She had always been his anchor, allowing for his feet to be firmly planted on the ground. Life without her would be like life without science and reason. She was the only one who could remember a moment in time that was as obscure and as meaningful as his fiftieth birthday. For once in his life, he finally was able to make a move; he knew what he had to do, he had to somehow reverse his mistakes.

Sara did have feelings for the quiet and shy entomologist, and that was the problem. As she sat on top of her debilitated nineteen-eighties college day's sofa, one thing became clear; Gil Grissom was no longer going to be a factor within her life. His constant flirtations and boisterous behavior was going to diminish, or else she was going to move to another lab. She no longer cared if she jeopardized the reputation of CSI or the reputation of her boss, for that matter. She could no longer sit around and allow Grissom to use her as a pawn in one of his regular chess games. Tonight was the final straw; she knew that if she was given another chance to be alone with him, she could speak her mind without any hesitation. A barely audible knock from her front door drew her out of her exacerbated thoughts. Now was not the time for someone to visit her.

She drew in a cleansing breath, before getting off her sofa, and making her way to the door. The knocks grew more impatient before she began to unlock the bolts, which shielded her from whomever wished to talk with her at nine in the morning. As the door slightly creaked open, her body immediately grew faint. Her mind raced to think of something to say, something that would put him in his place. Gil Grissom always had the ability to numb her senses, even when she was in the middle experiencing a heart felt rage.

He didn't bother looking her in the eye, he focused steadily on the floor as he felt her anger float in the air. He had entered a tempest of swirling depths and unbelievable magnitude, he couldn't escape-- it was too late.

She was the first to speak, even though he knew his apology should have been uttered before she could unleash her rage.

"Go away," she bitterly yelled. Her face was beginning to flush, not due to her lust for him, but due to the undeniable feeling of animosity, which was pouring through her veins. Her hands were already closing the door, which made him act fast before he was indeed too late.

"You forgot something." He muttered without emotion as he took the box out of his jacket for her to examine.

Sara's vision immediately became blurry at the thought of Grissom receiving her gift. He had written evidence of her feelings, her heart and her soul, while she was left with nothing in return, but a bitter accusation. She took the box quickly from his grasp, and was shaken to find that the note was no longer safely stored inside. Damn her for leaving it behind, how dare he know the truth after everything he had said to her? She refused to give him any inclination that his attempt at afflicting with her harsh words had broken down her wall of strength. All she could do was hold the box, and pray he would leave.

"Sara, the way I acted earlier was inexcusable. I'm sorry and I wouldn't be surprised if you relocated to another lab. Even though it doesn't matter in the slightest, I'm flattered that you didn't forget. I'm sure you're well aware of the fact that I did indeed forget about my own birthday." He mused. He was rewarded with silence as she continued to grip the empty box in her hand, unable to summon up enough courage to voice her concerns.

"Before I leave, I would just like to say I feel the same way." He handed her a neatly folded sheet of paper before shutting the door behind him. Her hands trembled, as she leaned against the door, and held the sheet of paper as tight as her hands would allow. At least he gave the note back; he didn't deserve to hang onto her confession. She had written the letter merely ten hours ago and it had already become a work of fiction. Gil Grissom was the last man on Earth she could possibly fall in love with. Before throwing her gift in the trash, she noticed changed variables. The letter was on different paper; it was thicker and more elegant feeling then the cheap sheets the lab used in their printers. This note was hand written in calligraphy, a talent she did not possess. A sense of urgency overpowered her feelings of anger, as she unfolded the letter.

Dear Sara,

You didn't ruin my birthday; I did that on my own.

Would it be too forward and completely out of line to reveal the truth? The honest to God truth, Sara, is that I am in love with you. The sad part is I have never possessed the competency to actually tell you. I'm sorry for everything that I have done over the past six years and I would never expect you to forgive me after such a display of arrogance I embellished in earlier.

Ironically, I have lost the one individual who can still remember my birthday, while I sometimes struggle to recall my middle name. It's 'Arthur' by the way-- I've always despised having the initials "GAG".

-Grissom

Her heart was now in her throat, as she threw open the door, and searched her hallway for any sign of Grissom. She was dumbfounded to find him waiting beside an elevator, looking more distressed then she had last seen him moments earlier. His face went slightly pale at the sight of her holding the note he had written in his car. Only he could have written elegant calligraphy in five minutes, on the roof of his car, within a parking lot. She tried to catch her breath, before asking one of the hundreds of questions, which were swirling around within her head. She had run the entire length of her hallway, and passed more then twenty apartments on her floor to reach him yet, she didn't know what to say.

"Grissom?" She had no clue as to how their conversation was going to unfold, the mystery added to the butterflies in her stomach. He merely nodded his head in response as he continued to eye the note, which flapped gently from the AC unit above.

"You think this is going to make me feel better? You think this is going to solve all of our problems? Why couldn't you have told me this earlier?" The questions poured out of her mouth, as she demanded the answers she had been begging for since she started to work at CSI, six years ago.

He didn't expect her to forgive and forget so easily.

"I was lagging in the romantic department Sara-- I never thought I could trust another woman ever again. I did what I thought was best; I shut you out despite what my heart had wanted. Yet again, I can only apologize for what I said to you earlier, that is all I can offer you in return." He bit his lip as he watched her struggled with what to say in rebuttal.

"Was all of this true then?" She pointed to the letter, which was shaking, from her nervousness. Her trembling wouldn't stop and for that she hated herself.

"Yes." He confessed as he locked his eyes on hers, and refused to look down to the ground once the moment became too intense.

Would she give him the one thing that he did not deserve? Second chances were known to all of mankind as a kindred hope for a fresh start to a new beginning. Could she trust him with her emotions once more? He always seemed to juggle her future in the balance. Whenever she was around him, she could never finalize decisions.

"I take it you won't take pity on a brainless, self absorbed scientist on his birthday?" He tried a stab at humor, this time he was offered a small smile in return.

"We could always start at the beginning." She continued to grin, as his eyes grew wide to her response. Her mind must have been incapacitated, as she leaned in closer towards him, breathing in his scent before carrying out the impossible.

"I think I should give you your real birthday present," she whispered into his ear. She felt his chest heave, as he continued to stare at her. Her head moved dangerously close to his. Without bothering to think about her actions, her lips landed on his in a swift motion that an eagle might perform while trying to capture its prey. His heart continued to thump against his chest, as his lips met hers for what seemed liked an eternity. He didn't want their embrace to end, nor did he want his birthday to come to a close.

As their kiss ended, he wished he could pinch himself in order to see if the moment was a true aspect of reality.

"Happy Birthday Grissom." Sara chided, as her head now rested on his shoulder.

He began to quietly chuckle at the situation, as his eyes refused to leave her gaze. He was given a second chance.

"Perhaps birthday wishes do in fact come true, even if they do materialize after a tedious struggle." He thought as he wrapped his arm around her. This was one birthday present he was never going to let out of his sight.