Chapter One

All he could do was sit there; his head almost seemed like it was glued to the steering wheel. An

all too familiar song blared over his stereo system:

When you make love, do you look in the mirror? Who do you think of, does he look like

Me? Do you tell lies, and say that it's forever? Do you think twice, or just touch n see?

When your alone, do you let go? Are you wild n willing, or is it just for show?

The song had been playing over and over again; it seemed like an eternity. He couldn't bring himself to change it; he didn't think he had the mental capacity to drive himself home, so there he sat; in his Tahoe, unable to move, listening to the same depressing song. 'I have to get out of here,' he thought to himself. He found himself engrossed in the words bellowing from his speakers:

I don't wanna touch you too much baby, Cos making love to you might drive me crazy.

I know you think that love is the way you make it, so I don't wanna be there when you

Decide to break it…Love bites, love bleeds. It's bringing me to my knees. Love lives

Love dies, it's no surprise. Love begs, love pleads. It's what I need.

The shift started like any normal shift: multiple cases being handed out to his subordinates. He was so content sitting in his office filling out paper work; all the cases were being handled. Sophia and Warrick were working together on one murder; they were close in finding their perp. Sara was keeping a close watch on Greg, so Grissom felt very fortunate to have this time to catch up on the part of the job he sometimes considered pointless. Nevertheless, it was all part of his duties as night shift supervisor.

One of his problems with working in his office on paperwork was that it gave him too much time to think. His mind often wondered, and usually it wondered about what might have been. He often thought about that time Sara had asked him to dinner; why was he so wrapped up in his fear of losing his hearing? Regrets…he had many. It all goes back to that day…everything went downhill from there. His ever-so-strained relationship with Sara was in steady decline from there; he wondered why he didn't do anything to repair things. He knew it was his fault. Any chance of happiness, of exploring his true feelings for Sara was lost, or so he thought until today.

Why did Sara tell him these things today? Maybe it was part of her counseling, to face her fears and rejections. Didn't she know what this would do to him? Didn't she know that he had convinced himself already that there was no chance for them? What did that mean 'you were always more than a boss to me'? And 'you're the reason I came to Vegas?' Why didn't she let him respond to her?

The chorus raged on…

Love bites, love bleeds, it's bringing me to my knees. Love lives, love dies…

Just then, there was a loud knock on the window.

"Grissom, are you okay? What are you still doing here? Didn't your shift end about 2 hours ago?"

He opened the door to peer out at a very puzzled looking Catherine standing next to him. "Oh-I'm fine; just needed a little rest before I drove home. I must've dozed off a bit."

She shot him a condescending look, "You better go home, or go to her home and straighten out whatever it is that's making you look like the world has let you down. And Def Leppard? Come on Grissom, isn't that a little too heavy for you?"

Grissom turned his head slightly to the left and shot her an angry look, "Cath, I don't need this from you right not, and I like Def Leppard. I like all types of music, not just Mozart. It depends on my mood."

"Well, if the song is indicative of the mood, then I think you should definitely talk to her. Don't look at me like that. Don't you think I know? Everyone knows. That is everyone except the two of you. Well maybe just you. Don't you know that it takes forever to find someone to love that loves you back; sometimes it never happens, so when you have the opportunity, you have to take the bull by the horns and go for it. No matter what. If not, you will always wonder what if. Do you wanna be 70 years old and still pinning about her? I didn't think so. Go to her and talk it out. You will both feel better, and stop with the Def Leppard. I know you Gil; you've probably been sitting in there for over an hour listening to the same song, trying to talk yourself out of going to see her. Just do it, you can't feel any worse than you do right now, can you?"

As she walked away, he pondered her words. 'How did she know all that? It was more like 2 hours, but she hit everything else right on.' He knew what he had to do; with that, he turned the key, fired up the engine, and headed out of the parking lot. He was on a mission.

The drive to Sara's house seemed long; and it had started to violently rain on the way over. As he continued on, thoughts about what he was going to say to her filled his already aching brain. He rehearsed his speech over 20 times before he pulled into the parking lot. He still wasn't sure he was doing the right thing. The radio had been playing the entire ride over and every song had somehow reminded him of Sara. He was just about to exit the Tahoe when a familiar song echoed from the airwaves:

What would you think if I told you, I've always wanted to hold you. I don't know what

We're afraid of; nothing would change if we made love. So I'll be your friend, and I'll be

Your lover. Cause I know in our hearts we agree. We don't have to be one or the other,

We could be both to each other.

Quickly, he turned off the engine and headed for her apartment. "I really need to find a new radio station," he muttered to himself.

Cascading from above, the torrential downpour seemed to echo his mood. Although he only had a short walk, his shirt was dripping wet as he released the door from its origin. "Great," he garbled, "Of course it would rain, of course I would be soaking wet on the day I was going to have the most overwhelming conversation of my life." Before he approached the stairs, a grave realization came upon him: he was talking to himself. But what was most significant was that he seemed to only talk to himself when it involved Sara.

As the climb to her floor seemed endless, he thought about all the possible speeches he had rehearsed on the way over. Ultimately, he deliberated that it would be best to just say what he felt. That was a new twist. Gee, that thought never crossed his mind before. As he peered around the corner, he could see her apartment door. With every step, his heart seemed to beat a half-beat faster. 'Good thing it's only a few steps away,' he thought. 'Anything further, I would probably go into cardiac arrest.'

Sara was sitting on her big comfy sofa, eating a pint of Ben & Jerry's chunky monkey, and watching a documentary on the mating rituals of spiders. Pretty fascinating stuff. The women spiders trap their men and have their way with them; then they kill them. She thought of that as a very unique way of life. Sara was trying her dandiest to keep her mind off her disaster earlier today. She didn't know what possessed her to have that total one-sided heart-pouring conversation with Grissom today. She assumed, as her counselor told her, that it would make her feel better; well, it didn't. She feared it only complicated things further. Oh well, nothing she could do about it now. Tonight was the perfect "forget about Gil Grissom and all his idiosyncrasies" night. Sara was content to spend the rest of the night, and tomorrow since she was scheduled off, vegging out in front of her TV in pajamas.

'Stupid, stupid Sara,' she scolded herself. 'I really have to learn to keep my trap shut around him sometimes.' Ok, so maybe the idea of forgetting about today's events was moot. What could she do? She considered calling him; no, that would be too traumatic for Grissom. After all, he didn't even say two words today and she could sense how tormented he was. It pained her to see him in such misery; total agony just as he was when she watched him interrogate Vincent Lurie. As much as she tried, Sara had never been able to eliminate the images etched into her memory of Grissom confessing his feelings that day. She often wondered if she should've divulged to him that she had witnessed his declaration. The Debbie Marlin case really got to Grissom. Sara had never been able to shake the uncanny resemblance that she had to Debbie Marlin; apparently, neither could Grissom.

TBC

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Okay, my first fanfic. I am not really a writer. Please review, I will be eternally grateful.