TITLE: Wonderful

AUTHOR: coolbyrne

RATING: PG for one four-letter bad word.

DISTRIBUTION: If you like it, by all means.

SPOILERS: None.

DISCLAIMER: I looked under the Christmas tree, and much to my dismay, Santa did not leave me the rights to CSI and all it entails. Crap.

SUMMARY: Just squeezing in a New Year's story before, you know, New Year's. G/S.

FEEDBACK: Compliments and/or criticisms are greatly appreciated. Flames will be mocked in other forums. Send any combination of the above to: coolbyrne@as-if.com

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just a quick story that came to me as I was listening to Annie Lennox's "Wonderful" (from her latest disc, "Bare"). While it is not a songfic, lyrics are printed at the end of this story. For my beta reader, Jo, who, well, didn't beta this, 'cause she's busy beta-ing a different story of mine. (So, all typos, grammatical errors, switch in POVs, and general sloppiness belong to me.)

*

The cool air of the Las Vegas night was a comforting departure from the close-quartered party he had left behind downstairs. As luck would have it, New Year's Eve fell on a work night, and while he wasn't completely against the idea of a small party with the night staff, as the witching hour grew closer, the more apprehensive he got. Would Sara use the tradition to kiss him? Would he let her? He scoffed at his presumption. 'The way this year went,' he thought to himself, 'I'll be lucky if she doesn't slap me.' And it was at that moment when he realized the subject of his thoughts wasn't in the room.

A quick search of the locker room and nearby offices revealed nothing. She was on the schedule, so he knew she hadn't left the building for the evening. Then it occurred to him. 'Where would I go if I wanted to get away from the crowd?'

This was how he found himself standing in the doorway of the exit that opened to the roof. He took the moment to savour the breeze. He took a longer moment to savour the image of Sara Sidle, leaning languidly against the railing along the roof's edge. Her forearms rested on the metal, her hands clasped in front of her. She was looking off into the distance, though Grissom couldn't be sure she was focussing on anything in particular.

Thinking it best not to get too close and scaring her half to death, he softly scuffed the loose pebbles at his feet as he slowly walked towards her. Her head turned sharply and she stood straight, all grace and ease replaced by rigid tension. He tried to put things right.

"As you were," he joked lightly.

When she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, he took up residence beside her and mimicked her earlier pose. She waited several seconds before doing the same. She reached onto the ledge and retrieved her drink. He waited for her to take a sip before he spoke.

"What are you doing up here?"

She returned the glass to its ledge and a small smirk formed on her lips. "It's getting close to midnight. I didn't think hiding under the table was going to deter Greg from fulfilling a tradition." He smiled and she turned her head to look at him. "What are you doing up here?"

"The same reason."

For the first time in a long time, he saw a genuine smile cross her face, and he was even more surprised when she laughed. He wasn't sure what she saw in his eyes, but she quickly turned away. Her eyes swept over the dark city and the streets below. Everywhere but at him. He watched as her fingers twisted and tangled with each other.

"What a year, huh?" she asked suddenly, startling him.

He nodded in agreement, although she wasn't looking at him to see his response. Out loud, he said, "Yes, it certainly was."

She looked down at her hands and her fingers stopped fidgeting. Silence stretched out until she finally took a deep breath and began. "At risk of, uh, over-talking again, I just wanted to say…" her fingers started linking and unlinking with each other again. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for asking you out to dinner. That was a really stupid thing to do."

He hadn't been expecting that. Feeling slightly short of breath, the best response he could come up with was, "You're sorry?"

She reached down for her drink again, although it was probably more to give her hands something to do rather than quench any thirst she had. "Yeah," she answered. "I mean, I'm not sorry I asked, but, uh, I'm sorry that I didn't consider how serious the fall-out would be." Looking into the amber liquid of her drink, she whispered, "I really fucked things up, didn't I?"

'How the hell did things get this far?' he wondered. 'How could things between two people go so wrong? How do I fix it?' Instead of asking these things out loud, he touched her arm, though she gave no indication. "Sara, I…" he trailed off.

"No, it's okay, Griss. I know it's my fault. And if I could go back in time and change that one moment, I would, if it meant things would go back to the way they were between us."

"Are things really that different?" he asked, hoping for any other answer than the one he knew in his heart to be true.

"Well, I'm not sure I like my job anymore." She downed her drink, steeling herself with a shot of liquid armour. The empty glass clunked against the cement. For the first time since he showed up on the roof, she looked at him. "And I'm not sure you like me very much anymore."

The shock in his eyes didn't make her turn flinch. His hand moved up from her arm to neck. "Sara…"

"You know, I used to love the sound of my name when you said it." Reaching up to remove his hand, she shook her head sadly. "But now, it's like… it's like a reminder of everything I've ever done wrong to you."

She tried to pull back her hand from his, but he wouldn't let go. "You can't possibly believe that. You know it's not true."

"Isn't it?" she asked. "Can you honestly say I haven't been one big disappointment to you? Disappointment in my personal conduct with Hank and with you. Disappointment in my professional conduct with the promotion and… well, with everything at work, I guess."

"That's not true and you know it."

"Really? Tell me again why we haven't worked a case together in over a year?"

"That… that has nothing to do with you. And everything to do with me."

She raised a puzzled eyebrow, but he gave no further response. "Well, it's a chaos theory then, isn't it?" Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "A butterfly flaps its wings… everything to do with you trickled down and landed at my feet."

"I'm sorry," he whispered honestly.

His voice hitched, and it caught her attention. She opened her mouth to speak, but there was silence. She closed her eyes and tried again. "I'm sorry, too."

He wondered what the source of the apology was when a loud bang jolted them out of the moment. They looked out into the night and saw fireworks in the distance. A symphony of sounds surrounded them, horns honking, people shouting their joy, fireworks shooting off their colourful celebration.

Sara turned back to Grissom. "Happy New Year, Griss."

"Happy New Year, Sara," he returned. The moment was there and he knew it. Her hand was still in his and it took little effort to lean into her. Their lips were so close that he would have sworn he could feel a spark jump from hers to his.

But at the last second, she turned her head and whispered, "Please. Don't."

Instead of pulling back, he remained where he was, his cheek now pressed gently against hers, his body leaning into her. She made no move to step away. He closed his eyes and committed this moment to memory. The smell of her shampoo, the softness of her skin against his. He curled his free hand around her waist and began swaying slightly. He was content to stay like this forever, when she broke his reverie.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Dancing with you," he replied honestly.

She pulled back and gave him another genuine laugh. "That's what I thought. Just checking." Trying to wipe her eyes as surreptitiously as possible, she glanced at her watch. "I should get back. I think I should be safe from Greg's New Year's mission."

"Me, too," Grissom smiled and he was warmed to see her smile in return. As she went to walk away, he held her hand firmly. "Sara, things will be different this year."

"What, you're going to shave your beard?" she asked lightly, though it still fell flat.

He held her gaze and replied, "Do you want me to?"

She shook her head. "It's not about what I want. It should be about what you want."

Leaning into her once again, he did as she had asked earlier and didn't attempt to initiate a kiss. Instead, he turned his head slightly and pressed his lips against her temple. Then he whispered into her ear, "You'll be the first to know what I want." When she didn't respond, he said, "I promise."

She stepped back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Tilting her head towards the door, she said, "I should go. The D.A's presenting the Richardson case on the third. I have to go over the blood samples." She hesitated, unsure if he would follow or not, but he remained where he was. Giving an awkward wave, she left.

Grissom faced the railing again and looked down on the city, full of lights, of life. 'What I want,' he marveled to himself, as if the idea were a novel one. Bending down, he picked up the glass Sara left behind and turned back to join the crew downstairs.

-end

*

"Wonderful"- Annie Lennox

I wanna have you, 'cause you're all I've got

Don't wanna lose you, 'cause it means a lot

All the joy this world can bring

Doesn't give me anything

When you're not here

Idiot me, stupid fool

How could you be so uncool?

To fall in love with someone who

Doesn't really care for you

It's so obscure

I wanna hold you and be so held back

Don't want to need you, but it's where I'm at

Thinkin' 'bout you every day

How come I was made that way?

It's so surreal

But I feel… wonderful

(chorus)

God, it makes me feel so blue

Every time I think about you

All of the heat of my desire

Smokin' like some crazy fire

Come on here, look at me where I stand

Can't you see my heart burnin' in my hand?

Do you want me, do you not?

Does it feel cold, baby, does it feel hot?