Title: Last Dance

Author: Jeanine (jeanine@iol.ie)

Rating: PG

Pairing: Sara/Warrick

Spoilers: Play With Fire

Feedback: Makes my day

Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.

Archive: At my site Checkmate () , Fanfiction.net; anywhere else, please ask.

Summary: Grissom dances with Sara.

Notes: For the LiveJournal CSReports Sarah McLachlan title challenge.

***

They move in silence around the dance floor, their first dance, and Grissom thinks about how things have changed for them. It used to be that he would never have let himself hold Sara like this, so close in his arms that he can feel every breath she takes matching his. No matter how much he wanted to, he never would have done it, even in private, let alone like this, in the middle of a crowded room, slow music swirling around them, meandering through the gaze of a hundred watching eyes.

It used to be that he didn't want to spend too much time with her, would purposely assign her cases separate to his, at first because of his increasing hearing loss, then because he knew that the feelings he had for her were reciprocated. He didn't know what to do about that, knew even less what to do with the warning she'd handed him one night, when she was still bruised and bandaged, a warning that, for all his hearing problems, he'd heard loud and clear.

He knows now.

So he sways with Sara on the dance floor, pulls his head back so that he can see her, tells her how beautiful she looks. She blushes, though he knows he's far from the first person to have as much; people have been saying it all day. She shrugs, affecting nonchalance, mutters something about fine feathers, but he shakes his head, telling her that the dress, stunning as it is, has nothing to do with it.

She blushes even redder, but he knows that it's true. Just like he knew when he saw her walking down the aisle today that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Her words had come back to him then, the words she'd once thrown at him; "By the time you figure it out, it really could be too late." They come to him again now, when she looks at something over his shoulder, and her face splits into a huge grin. Grissom knows what's going to happen next, before he feels the tap on his shoulder, before he looks around to see Warrick there.

"Hey Gris," Warrick says, but he's looking at Sara. "Mind if I have my wife back?"

Sara's already stepping towards him, so Grissom has no choice but to let her go. "She's all yours," he says mildly, and Warrick's grin grows wider.

"Got that right," he murmurs, eyes locked on Sara's.

It's not a dig; Grissom's sure Warrick doesn't know anything about his feelings. But he feels the sting of the words all the same, knows that Sara's long-ago words have taken the ring of prophecy, that no matter what he feels for her, it's too late.

So he does the only thing he can, lets Sara go, kissing her on the cheek and thanking her for the dance.

It was the first time he ever danced with her like that.

He knows it's also the last.