A/N: Ookkay…for those of you who asked for a sequel, here ya go. It's not as good as the first one, because I honestly had no intention of writing this. Is rated for very brief re-statements of child molestation in season 7 "Burn Out".

…so what would you like?

After making a cheese omelet, Sara sent Grissom to a quick shower, and waited for him to come back to bed. Sitting in bed flipping through a magazine, she thought back to what Brass had told her Grissom had put up with in interrogation with the pedophile.

He was…sick…Sara. Just no other way to explain it. Grissom was in bad shape through the entire investigation. I tried giving him a break but Carl wouldn't talk to me. I don't know the full extent of what went on, but I did hear one response after Gil told him Lucas was dead, "If he killed one boy, he killed the other." What honestly got me was Grissom attempted to put himself in the shoes of a pedophile. I couldn't believe he was doing that cause I know the guy, and believe me, he could've killed that asshole…

Her thoughts ended when Grissom walked through the door, in his usual night attire; boxers and a t-shirt. Clicking out the lamp on his side of the bed, sitting up, he looked over to Sara, who had a questioning and still worried look to her face.

"Gil?"
"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you don't need to talk about…the case?"

Breathing out a sigh of air, both relief and frustration swept back over him. He pursed his lips and squinted his eyes just a little, along with rubbing his index finger over the top of his thumb; a nervous habit you could say.

Sara knew that look. He was a man lost, and searching for the right words.

"No…maybe…I just…I don't know, Sara. I will maybe, just…not now. I can't now…"

Touching his shoulder lightly, she knew he wanted to continue, but couldn't, "It's okay. Just…if you need to talk, I'm here. Know that, okay?"

Looking to her, the tiredness in his blue eyes shot rays of sadness through hers. He took her hand and kissed it lightly. Offering a comforting smile, she reached over, set her magazine on the night stand and clicked off the lamp. Grissom had already gotten under the covers, Sara followed. He spooned up to her back, wrapping his arms around her in a protective embrace.

A few hours later, Grissom woke up; more like jarred awake in a cold sweat. The dream still vivid in mind, he remembered it well. I was the pedophile. I was Carl Fischer. Taking the shirt off of a 9-year-old boy, dreaming and fantasizing about…touching…

Sara was curled up sleeping contentedly on her pillow, her right arm curled under the pillow, facing him. Not wanting to wake her, or worse yet, let her see him in his current condition, he slowly crept away from bed, and made his way to the kitchen. Out of lack for anything else to do, he began to make coffee.

Carl's face wouldn't leave his mind. His empty eyes boring holes at whatever he looked at. He talked so casually about molesting children, as if they were two friends discussing their love for the activity. Toddlers… rape…molest…pleasure…violence…

Staring blindly into his coffee cup, Sara's hand on his shoulder made him jump and come back to reality. Looking up to her, he saw his Sara with a determined look, along with sadness and, as usual for the past few days, worry.

"Gil, you need to let it out."

"I can't Sara."

"Yes, you can. You'll feel better."

"I can't…say… what he said…details…"

"I don't want details, Gil, you just…" gesturing with her hands, she struggled for words herself, "Let out some of the steam. Talk about the memory, that way you can begin to let go."

He let out a long breath, stood to go and sit on the couch, and spoke, "Okay. Can you… just listen? Not say anything?"

Sitting down next to him, simply nodding, she waited for him to continue.

"I just…don't…eh…" Sara knew that look. She had seen it many times, especially in the last few hours.

He continued, "How does a man cross that line, Sara? When raping a 9-year-old boy turns them on?" Staring into the floor below, he kept speaking; Sara just sat there and listened.

"I know you said that Brass told you a little, but…he wasn't there for part of it. He wasn't there when I showed him the pictures of other pedophiles. After he gave me those pictures, I half expected him to stay, but he didn't. Carl pointed out, so… casually what some of the guys liked & didn't like. Toddlers… Sara, he said one guy liked to prey on toddlers. Two & three year olds, I just…don't get it. He made it sound as if I was his friend and we were discussing what… kind of ass we like to get."

Hearing this from Grissom, she knew why he had a migraine. Toddlers? Damn…

For the next 30 minutes or so, Grissom told Sara everything he needed to say. He didn't give details, he let out the emotions that burdened him for the last few days and let Sara help carry the load with him.

"Cases with kids are the ones I can't stand, Sara. I know I seem like a robot with just about any other case, but not…not kids…."

"I know, Gil, I've known that for years."

Giving Sara a questioning look, she continued, "I remember a few cases that got to you. Remember the Anderson case? When you found the baby on a golf course by a statue? I'd never seen you like that before, and that's when I knew what kind of cases found the heart in you."

Smirking just slightly, he took her hand in his. Sliding over closer to him, she rested her head on his shoulder, curled up next to him. They stayed like that for several long minutes, before Grissom had to allow a grin and look up at Sara, whose stomach was growling.

"My turn, m'dear. What would you like…"

fin

A/N #2: I won't be writing a sequel to this one, as I wouldn't know where to take it. But…read & review anyway, please:)