A Hundred Thousand Cycles

Grissom opened the door on the third knock, his cell phone in hand, and was frozen.

"Catherine told me I should come see you? I'm not fired for coming in mid-way, am I?" She grinned. She looked tan, refreshed. He stared at her.

"Grissom? You okay?"

"Sa---Sara?"

"You okay?" she repeated, her voice concerned. She stepped past him and into the townhouse, closing the door behind her.

"Sara Sidle," he said, confirming the sight in front of him, and he grabbed her.

She stiffened, his arms tightening around her, and it was hard to breathe.

"Maybe I should…go on vacation more often," she laughed.

But Gil Grissom wasn't laughing. He was crying, and he went to his knees, pulling her with him.

"Jesus, Grissom, what's the matter?" She wrangled her arms free and took his face in her hands to look at him. His blue eyes were misted over, the tears flowing down his cheeks slowly, and he buried his face in her chest.

"I thought you were dead, Sara…" He lifted his head and held her by her forearms, "My God, don't you understand? I thought you were dead."

"I went to the beach. Y'know, sun and sand and surf?" she tried, and Grissom sniffled.

He looked at her, his half-rough hands smoothing her hair from her face, and Sara smiled. "I'm okay. I'm not dead. See?" she said, pinching her hand, "Flesh and blood."

Grissom nodded frantically and pulled her to him, placing kisses sporadically on her face and neck. Sara blinked and looked at him. He stood up and pulled her to her feet and she looked at him quizzically. "Who are you, and what did you do with the real Grissom?"

Grissom wiped quickly at his eyes. "'The real Grissom'?"

Sara shrugged, "Yeah, you know, 'Gruesome Grissom,' Tin Man…" She paused. "The robot."

Grissom frowned and shook his head. Without saying anything he took Sara's hand and placed it over his chest. "Do you feel that, Sara?"

She nodded.

"That irrational, racing pounding? Do you feel it?"

She nodded again as he stepped closer to her.

"That's your evidence." He smiled, caressed her cheek, "and the evidence never lies."

Sara smiled, tears welling in her eyes. "Guess it was just a cold case, then, huh?"

Grissom chuckled and sniffled again. He stared at her, and said the words with such emotion that Sara felt weak.

"I love you, Sara Sidle."

She laughed and cried at the same time as he kissed her.

"Case closed."

Sara eyed the butterflies along the wall as she waited for the coffee pot to stop. Grissom walked into the living room then, fresh from a shower, buttoning a blue dress shirt. Sara noticed him, chest momentarily bare, in jeans, with his feet bare, and she smiled.

"Feel better?"

He nodded.

Sara filled two mugs and took them to the coffee table. She sat down on the love seat, as did Grissom, and they were silent.

Sara sipped her coffee as Grissom stared at her and she laughed. "What?"

He shook his head and smiled. His eyes were bright, and Sara looked at him. His salt and pepper hair was wet and combed back, and he smelled of soap and fresh linen. She noticed that he hadn't shaved, and his stubble only accentuated his boyish face. He really was quite handsome.

"I'm just enjoying being able to look at you this way, that's all."

"What way?"

Grissom tilted his head in thought and took a sip of coffee.

"Uninhibited, unrestrained." He paused. "Unbound."

Sara smiled.

They sat there a moment longer and then Sara cleared her throat. "So, I, uh…I didn't really go to the beach. Well, I did, but not for a week," she laughed, and Grissom smiled. "I went to see this psychiatrist?" She looked at him, her statement voiced as a question, as if she were waiting for some sort of judgment of her from him. His expression didn't falter, so she continued, "He's really good with childhood trauma…and I talked with him a lot about my parents, what happened with Adam…" She looked down. "I was thinking about what he said, about operating at the wrong frequency, and I thought that maybe I was, too, y'know? And hell, maybe we all are, I don't know…maybe if we get to the right one the world will all seem good and decent and all right…maybe even 'normal,' and maybe then I could have you, after everything was okay, after I was okay." She looked at him. "So I decided to go talk with this guy and try and figure out why I feel the way I do, and I think it's a good thing, you know, to be able to finally get all of that out of the way?" She cleared her throat again. "And I don't know why I'm telling you all this," she grinned, rolling her eyes, "I feel like I have to explain everything to you so you won't think I was thinking of someone else, or…" Her voice faded when she realized what she'd said, and she looked at him, half expecting him to have that Grissom look on his face, but he didn't. He sat there, a tentative listener, interested in each word, and Sara glanced away.

"I uh, I just wouldn't want you to think that I'd given up on you," she said finally, and Grissom put a hand on her knee.

"Sara, it's okay to have a life."

His words stung. How could he say that, of all things, after admitting that he loved her? How could he go back to closed off, cold Grissom after that?

"I can't have a life if you're not in it, don't you get it?" She snapped, the tears welling again, and Grissom frowned: she'd misunderstood him again.

"I didn't mean it like that." He sighed. Why was it so hard for him to speak around this woman? He was an intelligent scientist, and yet, when in her presence, he stuttered like a helpless schoolboy.

"I know it's been a long time. I've turned down your advances---and you don't know how difficult it was for me, too, Sara---but I understood that you needed to have a life of your own." He shrugged, "Just because I was afraid of human contact didn't mean that you were, or that you should've been. Everybody needs somebody, as they say."

Sara looked at him. She spoke before thinking, "You don't," and he touched her face.

"I need you."

He'd said it without missing a beat, and Sara was surprised: Gil Grissom said something without breaking it down a hundred times in his mind to avoid any emotion getting in the way, without being ever so careful of the repercussions.

"I've always needed you. I just never knew how to put it into words." He chuckled. "You talk to me, and I sit silent, contemplating what to say, and how to say it…and althewhile my mind races with the things I want to say…ache to say…" He shook his head, and Sara was intrigued. She shifted her weight to face him.

"And what things would those be?"

Grissom looked at her, hunger running through his entire being, and he decided to stop breaking things down and contemplating them and worrying about the repercussions.

"That I dream about making love to you, that I want to feel your skin," he scoffed, "without latex loves on." He sighed. "I want to hold you, to breathe you, to taste you…I want to be everything that you want me to be, Sara."

She cupped his face in her hands. "You already are, Gris."

For a moment Grissom doubted her, let his own fears creep into his mind again---but when she kissed him, they disappeared. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his, and when Grissom stopped kissing her, Sara pulled back. "What's wrong?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow, "Well, you remember that higher frequency you were talking about?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I think I'm already there."

Sara giggled.