ALL I NEED

Part two

Spoiler: Leapin' Lizards, Leaving Las Vegas, and that episode where Gil writes the letter, (except for the GSR scenes, I didn't much care for the Keppler episodes ).

The song "The Air that I breathe" was written by Albert Hammond and sung by The Hollies.

Sara answered with a quiet 'hey'.

Grissom's eyebrow lifted. He usually knew her moods just by the way she said 'hey,' but this time he couldn't really tell.

"Hey," he said. "Are you busy?"

"Not really. The scene hasn't been cleared yet; apparently, there's someone inside the house. It's starting to look like the cops are going to barge in."

"Where are you now?"

"In the car."

"Stay there," He said, and winced at how stern he sounded.

Fortunately, Sara didn't resent the warning.

"Don't worry," she said, chuckling softly, "I'm leaving the heroics to Brass." Her tone softened. "You ok?"

"Yes. I'm -" he hesitated. "I was trying to get some sleep and -"

He didn't finish but he didn't have to. She obviously knew why he was calling.

"I didn't mean to pry," she said softly. "I just saw my name on the envelope, and -"

"I know, Sara." he said. "It's not like I hid it."

"I thought maybe you'd left it there on purpose -"

"No," he said honestly. "I didn't."

"You didn't want me to read it, then."

He didn't immediately reply.

"I did," he said at last. "Back when I wrote it, I mean. I almost mailed it to you, but then I started thinking -"

"Mmmmh. You do that sometimes," she teased.

Grissom smiled at this. Then his smile faded.

"I missed you," he said. "I wanted you to know, but... it suddenly occurred to me that it was silly, sending you a message written in someone else's words."

"Oh."

"And using a poem seemed -" he hesitated while he looked for the right word, "Old-fashioned."

"I liked it," she replied.

"You did?"

"Yes. It's a beautiful sonnet."

He smiled.

"Yes, it is."

"And it fit, somehow," she added, "While I was reading it, I almost felt like you were reading it to me."

Grissom leant back on the pillow. Her words put his mind at ease.

"I wish I'd sent it to you back when I wrote it," he said. "I just thought I should be using my own words, instead of someone else's. This way it would mean more to you."

He paused. "I almost did." he said, "Use my own words, I mean. I picked up the phone a couple of times but -"

He didn't finish.

"I would have loved hearing from you," she said.

He sighed.

"I'm sorry I didn't call, Sara. I don't know why this is so difficult -"

"Well -" she started, only to stop.

"Yes?"

"It's just…" she hesitated, "You're not the only one who has a problem with words," she said, "I've never said anything, either. It's funny because after all these years, I should be able to tell you -" she paused. "But something holds me back. Maybe I'm afraid -"

"Afraid?"

"Yes. I feel like I'm going to jinx our relationship if I say anything," she said, "That by trying to explain my feelings for you, I'll be diminishing them somehow."

Gil was stunned.

She'd described exactly how he felt.

He took a deep breath.

"You don't have to explain your feelings, Sara."

"I don't?"

"No." he said softly. "You've always been able to show me. From the start." He paused, "I know." He said simply.

She gulped audibly.

"You do?" she asked.

"Yes."

She didn't say anything for a while. Grissom wished he was in the car with her, to gauge the effect of his words on her.

"I'm glad," she said at last.

They were silent for a moment.

"Still." She said suddenly. "I'd like to say it. Some day."

Grissom stared ahead. He realized he wanted to say it, too. Right now.

He gripped the phone tightly.

This was his chance…

But he couldn't do it.

"So," he said instead, "You didn't think using a sonnet to express my feelings was old-fashioned?"

She chuckled softly.

"No," she said. "I mean, it is old-fashioned -but sweet." She paused, "To tell you the truth, I've been having some own old-fashioned ideas of my own."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said, "Like for instance, sometimes when I'm with you, I have this -I don't know how to call it- this urge to burst into song or something."

Grissom's eyebrows shot up.

"Burst into song?"

"Forget I said that," she said quickly.

But of course, Grissom couldn't just forget it.

"You mean, like in a serenata?" he asked.

"A what?"

"A serenata." Gil replied matter-of-factly. "In Spain, a lover would come to a loved-one's home at dawn, stand under her balcony and sing a song to wake her up."

"Oh."

"Is that what you meant by bursting into song?"

"I… Well…" she hesitated. "Yeah. I guess -"

"I'd love to hear you sing," he said quietly.

"Well, it's not gonna happen." She muttered.

"Why not?" he asked.

He was smiling. He knew she had a good singing voice but for some reason she didn't feel comfortable singing out loud. Her best performances were done in the shower.

"No one's ever sung to me," Grissom said then.

"No one?"

"No one. Ever."

"Oh."

"You know what?" he said suddenly, "I'll read you a sonnet in exchange for a song," He actually sat up and reached for the book.

"Griss -"

"I'll read the entire book for one song, Sara."

"Ha! You can't do that," she retorted, "It would take you years -"

"That's ok," he said, his voice straining from the effort of picking the huge tome, "We have all the time in the world."

And suddenly, he realized what he'd just said. He wanted this to last forever. He'd just put into words something he never thought he would be able to.

He gulped.

"Sara?"

"Yes?"

He opened his mouth but he didn't say it right away.

And then -

"I love you."

A sharp intake of breath was all the response he got.

Silence.

"You'd say anything to hear me sing," she said in a shaky voice.

"Yes," he said cheekily, "But I would never lie to you," he lowered his voice, "I love you."

There was a long pause.

"There is a -" she started. "There's a song I found while I was researching Izzy Delancey -"

"Which one?" he asked.

And to his surprise, she simply started to sing.

If I could make a wish,
I think I'd pass.
Can't think of anything I need -
No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound,
Nothing to eat, no books to read.

Grissom pressed the phone against his ear. His heart was beating fast.

Making love with you
Has left me peaceful, warm, and tired.
What more could I ask?
There's nothing left to be desired.

Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak.
So sleep, silent angel, go to sleep.

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe
And to love you.

"Now," she said, "Lie down and close your eyes."

Grissom felt compelled to obey.

Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak.
So sleep, silent angel, go to sleep.

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe
And to love you.

All I need is the air that I breathe,
Yes, to love you.
All I need is the air that I breathe.

Making love with you
Has left me peaceful, warm, and tired.
What more could I ask?

THE END

Oh, I know. Trite. But when I was planning this story and wondering where to find a suitable poem, this song came on the radio. And I started thinking. Mmmmh, what about a song instead of a poem?

There's a version by KD Lang, but I prefer the original, sung by the Hollies.

Thank you for reviewing!